Читать книгу The Real Deal - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 11

DAMN, WAS SHE CRYING? With growing apprehension, Nick watched the reflection of her heart-shaped face in the window. She nibbled her lower lip and stared forlornly at the pedestrians crowding the sidewalk who were making better time than they were. Her chin quivered, or maybe that was the trick of the light coming through the rain-splattered glass. Was she upset about not having a guide? Or maybe she was just plain lonely.

He turned away and ordered himself to forget about her. She was a grown woman. If she wanted company she would have brought a friend. He focused on two young women in absurdly high heels, huddled under one umbrella and rushing to cross the street. He often liked being alone himself, so that was easy to understand. What he needed to do was mind his own business. Next time he was gonna use the car service. No more cabs for him. And definitely no sharing.

He tensed when he thought he heard her sniffle. Slowly he angled back toward her, regarding her from the corner of his eye. She wasn’t crying, but was messing with her phone. Her dark head bent forward, her cute, slightly upturned nose wrinkled in concentration and her fingers worked quickly. Probably texting someone to meet her. Didn’t matter to him. Not his business, he reminded himself.

“Do you know—?”

“What are you—?”

They both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry,” she murmured, tucking her phone into her purse. “Go ahead.”

“After you.”

She smiled wryly, flashing both dimples. She really was cute, with her wavy collar-length hair swinging as she moved her head. Her eyes looked like they might be brown, but the lighting wasn’t good enough for him to tell for sure. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

He chuckled. “Me, too.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and blinked at him, her head tilting slightly. “I know this sounds crazy, but you look familiar.”

The driver’s head bobbed suddenly, and Nick caught the man’s eye in the rearview mirror. Nick narrowed his gaze in warning. She didn’t know who he was, and he liked it that way.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but gasped when the cab swerved sharply to keep from rear-ending a bus. She clutched the back of the driver’s seat, and with the other hand, tried to stop the packages on her lap from sliding to the floor. “Please tell me we’re close to the Thornton,” she muttered.

A brown shopping bag ended up on the floor, and he reached to retrieve it, but she quickly snatched it up as if she thought he were going to steal the thing.

“Not too far,” he said, leaning back.

“Close enough that I can walk?”

“Only if you don’t mind hiking twenty blocks in the rain.”

“Twenty blocks?” Her alarmed gaze lowered to the ticking meter. “You don’t think that’s far?”

With the rain and heavy traffic, it had taken fifteen minutes to go only a few blocks, and they’d already racked up quite a hefty fare. Nick hadn’t given it a second thought, but then he wasn’t on a budget. Anyway, he planned on dropping her off first and paying the whole thing.

“I’m going as fast as I can, miss,” the driver said, and then angrily muttered something in Italian and purposely lurched the cab forward when a black Mercedes tried to squeeze in front of them. A couple of explicit hand gestures were exchanged between the two drivers and then all was calm again.

Crazy, but Nick kind of missed the horn honking. A few hotheads ignored the law to cut back on noise that had been instituted some years back and still leaned on their horns as if that would make the traffic go any faster, but overall, the city was a quieter place.

Nick noticed her death grip on the armrest and, to distract her, said, “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Emily.” She relaxed her hold and slid him a brief glance. “Emily Carter.”

“So, where are you from, Emily Carter?”

“Berber, Indiana.”

“Is that anywhere near Logansport?”

She lifted her eyebrows at him. “About fifty miles. I can’t believe you’ve heard of it.”

“I grew up across the border in Pilner, Illinois.”

“Really? So you’re a tourist, too.”

“No, I’ve lived here for about ten years now.”

“Big change.”

“Yep.” He nodded. “It took a while to get used to the faster pace.” He could feel the driver staring at him in the rearview mirror again, but he felt confident he’d made his point and the man would keep his mouth shut.

“You said your name is Nick, right?”

“I did.”

She squinted, studying him quizzically.

If she recognized him it was his own fault. He didn’t know why he was being all chatty. He tended to shy away from people unless he was cornered. As much as he appreciated the money and fame that playing pro ball afforded him, he missed his privacy. Missed the days when he could go to a restaurant and eat an entire meal without being interrupted for an autograph. Hard to believe he used to lap up the attention. But he’d been young and easily impressed when he’d first been drafted into the majors. The arrogance had come later.

The traffic started to move again, and she abruptly turned to look out her window. This time they made it through the intersection and didn’t stop moving for the next eight blocks. The rain had eased up some, and Emily craned her neck, appearing eager to miss nothing they passed. He supposed they should consider themselves lucky. At this time of year, it could just as easily have been snow and not rain that had fallen on the city. Of course, he wouldn’t mind some of the white stuff, at least not until it turned to gray sludge pushed aside and piled high at the curbs.

Almost as if she’d read his mind, she met his eyes, gave him a dazzling smile, and said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if this suddenly turned to snow? You know, those kind of big fat fluffy flakes that cling to your hair and eyelashes and trick you into swearing you smell fresh Christmas trees and hot apple cider?”

He smiled back. “And hauling out your sled even before there’s enough accumulation for a decent ride down the neighborhood slope.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, all dimples. And then she sighed. “I checked the forecast before I left. It’s supposed to snow on Thanksgiving day back home.”

“Don’t tell me you still have your sled.”

“I’ve always been kind of partial to inner tubes.”

“Oh, yeah, you could get some speed out of those suckers.”

She laughed. “I’ve suffered more than one broken bone to prove it.”

“Amazingly I didn’t break anything, but I have a few scars on my arms and legs, courtesy of snowboarding.”

“Would’ve been a shame to mess up that pretty face,” she said, and then touched the tips of her fingers to her mouth. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

“Hey.” Nick gave her a teasing frown, mostly to hide his surprise. Did she know about Manhattan’s Sexiest Man Alive list that had just come out? Had she been messing with him all along?

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She pressed her lips together, which did little to hide her anything-but-contrite smile. Then she straightened and moved her head into the light so that he could see that her eyes were a rich chocolate-brown. “Oh, good, I see the Thornton.”

A surge of disappointment came out of left field. He watched her hug her bags to her body while she fished out her purse and withdrew her wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving away the money she produced. “I’ve got it.”

“No, let’s be fair about this.” She peered at the numbers on the meter, and pulled out another bill.

“I was coming this way, anyway.” He closed his fist over her hand. “Please.”

Her startled eyes met his.

Her hand was small. She was kind of small, period, maybe five-five.

“No, that’s not fair,” she said, her eyes widening slightly. “We agreed to share the cab.”

“Emily.”

She blinked and tugged her hand away. “Well, thank you, Nick.”

He hadn’t realized the driver had pulled to the curb, that a uniformed doorman was approaching with an umbrella to assist Emily out of the cab.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said haltingly.

“Same here.” Damn, he hadn’t felt this awkward since he was in junior high. And for no reason at all. “Have a good vacation.”

“Thanks.” She opened the door. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Right. You, too.” He hesitated. “Need help with your bags?”

“No, I’m good. Stay dry.” She struggled a moment until she had a firm hold of each tote, and by then the doorman offered her his gloved hand.

Nick watched her climb out, his gaze taking in the snug fit of her jeans as they stretched across a nicely rounded backside. No designer label on the pocket or peeking coyly from the seam, just regular faded blue denim worn by most of the women around Berber, Indiana.

That’s what was wrong, he realized. Why he was feeling soft in the head. Nostalgia. Nothing complicated. Emily reminded him of home. And for the first time in years, he’d actually wanted to spend the holidays there. But it hadn’t worked out. No big deal. Maybe he’d reconsider and take a flight south tomorrow. He had open invitations from three of his teammates who lived in Florida. Or maybe it would be better to spend the time alone. On the beach. Forget the rain and snow for a week or two.

Forget that his best friend might never play ball again.

Nick closed his eyes and shoved a hand through his hair. They’d talked about contracts and trades and eventual retirement, him and Billy. But they’d never dared to bring up being sidelined too early. It was bad luck to talk about something like that, according to Billy. He was from the bayous of Louisiana and was a superstitious old boy. No matter how much he’d joked about his family’s odd beliefs, Nick knew Billy had his own hang-ups about Cajun folklore.

In the end, none of the superstitions had mattered. The fate of Billy’s career had come down to a slick curve in the Catskills and a drunk driver. Well-meaning fans had written cards and sent flowers, while the press murmured that matters could have been worse…at least Billy was alive and could still walk. But they didn’t understand. For a star outfielder in his prime, there were far greater fates than death.

“Hey, Nicky, which way? You going home?”

The cab driver had turned around in his seat and stared at Nick, as if he’d been trying to get his attention for a while.

“Yeah.” He nodded and slid a glance toward the flashy but elegant entrance. Emily had already disappeared inside. Funny, he hadn’t figured her for choosing a trendy boutique hotel like the Thornton. “Upper East Side.”

“You got it,” the driver said and continued to chatter about the Knights’ winning season.

Half listening, Nick slouched down and laid his head back. Maybe returning to his apartment so early wasn’t such a hot idea. Nothing to do but watch the tube. Though he could call the folks and wish them a safe trip. Tomorrow morning they’d be leaving for Vermont.

He snorted. Yeah, that call would take all of five minutes. Not true. He and his mother always had a good chat. But him and his father, they didn’t seem to have that much to say to each other these past few years. He supposed he could call Marla and take her out for a drink and then spend the night at her place. She’d pout for half an hour, let him know what she thought about him not calling her for two weeks, but she’d give in. She always did.

The cab came to an abrupt halt behind a silver Escalade. Nick threw up his arm to brace himself. On the floor near his feet shot out something pink. It looked like a book. Had Emily dropped it? Frowning, he picked it up and slanted the cover toward the illumination of a streetlight. Erotic New York: The Best Sex in the City.

Nick choked out a laugh. This couldn’t be Emily’s. It probably belonged to an earlier passenger. The sudden stop must have jarred it loose. Though she had said she’d been to the bookstore. He opened the book and leafed through the pages, his jaw dropping at some of the pictures. Whether the book belonged to her or not, this was too good to pass up.

“Driver, we need to turn around. I’d like to go back to the Thornton.”

EMILY REMOVED HER PURCHASES from the bags and spread all the clothes, apart from the black teddy, on the queen-size bed. The small box of condoms she’d bought at the drugstore next to the bookshop she placed on the nightstand. She wanted to read the box before putting it away. Having never bought condoms before, she was curious.

The teddy had gotten damp so she hung it over the glass shower door in the luxurious bathroom that she desperately wanted to take home with her. The deep black-and-white tiled tub alone was worth the price of the room. In the twenty-four hours she’d been here, she’d already taken two indecently long baths.

She caught her reflection in the mirror and groaned at her wavy hair. Well, so much for taking an extra fifteen minutes to blow it dry all nice and sleek this morning. What little makeup she’d applied was also smudged at the bottom corners of her eyes, and the mineral powder she’d brushed on her face had faded away. Kaput. Totally gone. As if it had never been there. And her pale lips, well, they just sort of blended into her face.

Why couldn’t she have met the totally toe-curling Nick this morning? She’d looked rather cute then. Almost stylish, at least from the shoulders up, she thought wryly and eyed the old jeans that she’d stubbornly hung on to since college. Although she didn’t expect he would’ve given her a second look, anyway. He’d been truly nice while they shared the cab, but he was way too sophisticated and suave for someone like her, even if he did come from her neck of the woods.

She walked back to the bedroom and surveyed her purchases. Clothes had never been high on her list of priorities, but admittedly, staring at the three sets of matching bras and panties laying on the bed had her feeling a bit giddy. Usually she bought functional white cotton, or whatever else was on sale.

And fancy sweaters? Almost never. Until today. She picked up the red off-the-shoulder number that had been an impulse buy, and rubbed the soft cashmere against her cheek. Damn, it felt good. Better than her best sweatshirt that had taken a year and twenty washings to soften.

She couldn’t stand it another second. She unbuttoned and unzipped, and then pushed the jeans down to the floor. While she stepped out of them, she pulled off her top and unhooked her bra. Should she go with red panties and bra with the sweater, or try the black set? Nah, she’d go all red. What the heck.

Her sudden excitement confused her. She was acting like her airhead sister. Not that Emily would be giving up her jeans or sweatshirts, but hey, she was in New York. She was supposed to have fun and throw caution to the wind, right? That’s what this trip was all about.

She pulled on the silk panties, quite certain she’d never worn anything this skimpy. It felt kind of weird, barely covering anything, and she hoped she didn’t have to keep picking the fabric out of her butt. Good thing she was giving it a trial run before wearing it in public.

The bra was absolutely dreamy, with satiny cups and a beautiful lace edging. With a simple adjustment, she actually produced some cleavage. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and grinned. Striking a sexy pose, she leaned forward and pursed her mouth. Without some color on her lips, she looked like an anemic fish, and she burst out laughing.

Straightening, she reached for the sweater and was startled by a knock at the door. But then she remembered she’d called housekeeping for more towels in anticipation of another sumptuous bath. She found the white fluffy courtesy robe hanging in the bathroom, slipped it on and opened the door.

It wasn’t housekeeping.

She swallowed and automatically stepped back. “Nick?”

“Hi.” He gave her a slow lazy smile that sent the blood roaring to her ears, her heart thudding to her stomach, her knees instantly weakening.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice remarkably calm. In the dim light of the cab he’d been good-looking. Up close and in full view, he was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Am I interrupting?”

“How did you know my room number?”

“The front desk.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to give out that kind of information.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably not.” His smile broadened, and she knew that there was no way the two young women manning the desk would’ve denied him anything. His gaze flicked to the front of her robe. “Sorry. I guess you were expecting company.”

“Only housekeeping.” Dumb admission, she realized too late. She tried to cinch the robe tighter, but couldn’t find the sash. Glancing down, she saw that she hadn’t secured the belt and the robe gaped a couple of inches. Not much, but enough to give him a peek of red silk and lace. She swallowed a gasp and quickly gathered the front of the terry lapels.

He looked away and said, “You should’ve checked the peephole before opening the door. It’s a nice hotel but this is still New York.”

“Good advice. I’ll be sure to remember.” Heat smoldered in her cheeks. She knew her face was as pink as a summer rose. Not much she could do about it. Except act nonchalant. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

Holy crap. She stepped aside, opened the door wider and held on to the doorknob for support. Somehow she hadn’t expected him to come in. More like state his business and be on his way. Although what he could possibly want from her she couldn’t fathom.

“I’ve never been here before,” he said, glancing around at the sleek modern black-and-white furniture and colorful abstract art on the walls.

She slowly followed, fists clenched around the belt of her robe, her gaze glued to his broad back, absolutely certain she’d gone out of her mind. Had she really just let a strange man into her room? Albeit a stunning, well-dressed one, but come on. This was so not her.

But wasn’t this the point of this vacation? If she wanted to get laid, she’d eventually end up with a man she barely knew in a room somewhere. After all, she’d gone through the trouble of splurging on new lingerie and even bought condoms.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

The condoms. Sitting in full view on the nightstand. Sexy lingerie spread across the bed. Oh, crap.