Читать книгу All Wrapped Up - Jennifer Drew - Страница 10

STANDING IN the lobby of the Syracuse Building where she worked, Liv stared at a tiny butterfly in the design on one of the elevator doors, a detail she hadn’t noticed in the five years she’d worked there. Of course, she’d never stood in the lobby for nearly twenty minutes. Dana and several other people stopped to ask if Liv needed anything as she waited and waited for Nick to arrive. Time meant nothing to Nick, one more reason why she was fortunate their relationship had ended.

Even the two uniformed security guards sitting in the cubicle where they monitored cameras were beginning to look at her too frequently for comfort. She knew the routine, of course. At six sharp the door would be locked. Then no one, not even fast-talking Nick Matheson, could get in without buzzing and showing a special identity card.

She’d had it with waiting. She turned up her coat collar and braced herself to fight Chicago wind and commuter crowds. If the snow kept falling in big fluffy clumps, the lot where she’d left her car would be snowed shut before she got there for the last lap of her trip home. She hoped her temperamental little compact, seven years old and counting, would start.

Nick stepped out of the snowy darkness just as she opened the door. She met him on the pavement where wet slushy snow was already as high as the ankles of her boots.

“Thanks for waiting,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I got held up.”

He was wearing a red squall jacket, the hood hanging down and filling with snow. Nick never covered his head in less than a raging blizzard, Liv remembered. She had to resist an urge to brush silvery flakes from his hair.

“I only wanted to tell you I can’t have dinner,” she said. “The way it’s snowing, I’ll be lucky to get home before the streets drift shut.”

“You drive into the city? Where do you live?” he asked, stomping snow from his boots.

“Haley Park. I take the train, but I have to drive home from the station.”

“Have dinner with me, and I’ll drive you home. You can take a cab to your car in the morning.”

“No thanks to both. I’m going to take the Metra.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ve got four-wheel drive, and I pretty much go in your direction anyway. I live in Ira Heights.”

Nick took her arm as the door behind them opened. A couple came out, and she got a glimpse of the man, tall and broad-shouldered with a big square face, a felt derby and a tan wool overcoat. She opened her mouth to acknowledge the president of William Lawrence Associates, but Billy wasn’t looking in her direction. He was too busy gazing fondly down on Brandi Jo’s sleek blond head.

She should’ve known.

Liv scooted around Nick and started to walk away before Brandi Jo saw her, not that the intern wasn’t fully focused on her conquest. Liv feared her job was toast. The intern had one more semester before graduation, then Billy might slot her into Liv’s position.

The restructuring was a ruse as far as she was concerned. They were setting her up to fail. If she couldn’t attract the kind of new clients Billy wanted, he’d use it as an excuse to replace her with Brandi Jo. The whole staff would shake their heads and say, “Poor Liv couldn’t hack it.”

“Where are you going?” Nick asked. He was half running and half sliding to keep up with her on the slushy sidewalk.

“You wanted dinner. Let’s have dinner,” she said, too upset about Brandi Jo to worry about catching a train.

“I had in mind a little Italian place,” he said. “We’re going in the wrong direction.”

She wanted to explode. Had he conveniently forgotten how they’d loved romantic Italian dinners? It was the worst possible restaurant choice after what he’d done to her five years ago. She stopped and took a deep breath.

Her parents were splitting up. Her job was in jeopardy. Now Nick had barged back into her life and wanted her to do something that could violate client confidentiality. She might as well pig out on pasta and get fat.

“Fine,” she said sharply. “Where is it?”

She’d retreated far enough so there was no danger of catching up with Billy and Brandi Jo. Dinner with Nick was just what she needed to cap off a perfectly awful day.

NICK OFFERED LIV his arm, but she stubbornly refused it even though the sidewalk was as slippery as a toboggan run. The way she was stomping along, she was cruising for a fall. She was so hostile he had second thoughts about dinner.

“Hey, slow down,” he said. “No rush to get to the restaurant. The Milano won’t be crowded on a night like this.”

Maybe he was crazy to take her to a cozy little place. The last thing he wanted was to start something with her. She took life much too seriously for him. Breaking up with her once had been hard enough. He still had residual guilt and absolutely did not want to go through that again. Maybe if she hadn’t been standing there in her office in a lacy bra…

Sometimes a good memory was a pain. He could recall every important play in a game and write a story about it with minimal notes, but he could also remember the rosy-brown pebbling around Liv’s nipples and the way they used to harden under his tongue. The downy auburn hair on her mound was the softest thing he’d ever touched, and he hoped she hadn’t started shaving it as his last girlfriend had. Bristles were a turnoff, not that he would ever have sex with Liv again.

“How far is this place?” Liv asked, still sounding angry.

“Another block.”

They were waiting for a stoplight along with a few other people with heads bowed against the blinding snow.

Nick needed to concentrate on the favor he wanted from Liv. She wouldn’t be easy to convince, but instead of planning a good argument, he was remembering her dewy-eyed look after sex. He even remembered the cute little mole on her butt and the bright red polish she’d worn on her toes when they’d celebrated Christmas Eve in the middle of the night under her parents’ Christmas tree. The next day she’d blushed every time he hinted at it, but he’d never unwrapped a package as exciting as Liv.

She barged past the steps leading down to the Milano. He caught her arm to stop her.

“Here’s the restaurant,” he said.

“Ah, basement cuisine. Charming.”

“You didn’t used to be sarcastic.” He took her elbow because snow had drifted onto the concrete steps, and he didn’t want her to slip.

“I used to be—” She broke off whatever she’d intended to say.

He opened the door and let her go ahead of him. Hopefully they could get through the meal without a trip down memory lane. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d broken off their relationship, but it wouldn’t do his cause any good to rehash it.

The restaurant wasn’t crowded. Less than half of the round tables with green-and-white-checkered tablecloths were occupied. Nick spotted an empty one against the far wall.

“Okay if we sit over there, Tony?” he asked the lean, hawk-nosed waiter with a white apron tied tightly around his waist.

“Sure thing, Nick.”

He guided Liv over to the table, leery of putting his hand on her arm again. Tonight he had to concentrate on getting her help. When he took her coat, he noticed Liv was wearing a black turtleneck like armor under her sweater.

“He knows you by name?” she asked. “Have you been working in Chicago long enough to be chummy with waiters?”

“I’ve been at the Post since September. Once people find out I’m a sportswriter, they like talking to me. Everyone in Chicago thinks and lives sports.”

“I don’t,” she said dryly.

“You used to love baseball,” he reminded her.

“I’ve grown up. I don’t have time for games.”

He was pretty sure she was playing one now, but he didn’t know what the rules were yet. She knew he wanted something from her. If she hated him so much, why was she here? He was a little nervous about it, which was pretty unusual for him.

Tony came over to the table with spicy Italian sausages standing on end in a basket, a tradition at the Milano, and a small loaf of hard-crusted bread on a wooden board.

“What can I get you and the pretty lady to drink, Nick?”

“A bottle of Chianti, unless you’d like something else?” he asked Liv.

“Whatever you want,” she said indifferently.

She seemed determined not to enjoy having dinner with him, but Nick liked a challenge. Liv was going to have a good time if he had to do handstands on the table to amuse her. He realized he wanted to please her, and it had nothing to do with his job.

He sliced the bread and pushed it toward her, then picked up a sausage and chewed it with relish.

“These are delicious. Try one.”

She hesitated. Given her mood, he expected a lecture on eating fatty food, but instead she chose one of the meat sticks and delicately nibbled at it.

“It is good.” She sounded surprised.

He watched her lips pucker around the finger-shaped sausage. If she was trying to torment him, she’d succeeded. She looked sexier munching the sausage than she had in a skimpy bra, and he was getting hard against his will. He adjusted the tablecloth to make sure it was covering his lap.

“Try the bread,” he suggested.

He wasn’t sure how he could persuade her to help him, but he had to stay focused. Liv was pretty much his last chance.

Tony came with the wine, popping the cork before he set it on the table. He poured an inch of the red liquid into a goblet and handed it to Nick.

Nick was no connoisseur, but he knew the taste test was part of the ritual. He sipped and pronounced the wine satisfactory, then watched as the waiter poured for Liv.

“Cheers,” Nick said, raising his glass.

“Could we see a menu, please?” Liv asked, halfheartedly raising her glass to his.

“There aren’t any menus,” Nick quickly said. “Tony will tell us what’s good today.”

“You got a game to cover tonight?” the waiter asked, not concealing his disappointment at their unseemly haste.

Nick knew a good Italian dinner was supposed to be an event that took hours. The Milano was a great place to bring a date when he was trying to get lucky. A couple of bottles of wine and some groping under the table, and anything could happen.

That wasn’t why he was here with Liv. She was still the kind of woman who wanted to settle down—not that he didn’t plan to himself sometime in the future, but definitely not now. First he wanted to make a reputation and get a shot at a local column, then maybe syndication or a chance to be an editor. He wasn’t as driven as some reporters, but he was ambitious.

“My friend has to catch a train,” Nick explained.

“Yeah, I guess the weather is going to get worse,” Tony said. “Lousy climate for human beings. If the Cubs ever leave town, I’m outta here.”

“So what do you recommend?” Nick asked, trying not to watch as Liv devoured another sausage with puckered lips and licked away the grease with the tip of her tongue. Lips like hers were wasted on a stick of meat.

“Prawns in garlic butter and linguini with clam sauce.”

Tony was telling them what to have, not offering choices, but he never steered Nick wrong.

“Sounds great,” Nick agreed. “Is that all right with you, Liv?”

He knew she loved prawns, and linguini with clam sauce was one of her favorites. He was surprised when she rejected the waiter’s suggestions.

“I’d like a plate of spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread. Lots of garlic bread.”

She smiled sweetly at the waiter and gave Nick a defiant look. He had a bad feeling. She wasn’t going to be convinced of anything tonight. Worse, he was more interested in talking with her than in convincing her to help him. He remembered how much he used to enjoy her lively conversation and humorous take on things.

By the time he’d refilled her wineglass three times to his one, Nick was pretty sure he was going to strike out on enlisting Liv’s help. Among other things, his timing was bad. She wasn’t taking her parents’ divorce at all well.

“Are your parents really happy now?” she asked after they’d pretty much covered their careers for the last five years including her worries about losing her job.

“I think so,” he said, glad he could give her some reassurance. “Mom seems to like her new husband. Dad’s wife is forty trying to look twenty, but they enjoy going to flea markets and auctions together.”

Tony brought their meals in record time. Nick loaded up on prawns and pasta because the waiter, who was also part owner, took it personally if customers didn’t stuff themselves. Liv inhaled the spaghetti and drank more wine with uncharacteristic gusto.

“I’m really good at what I do,” she said. “I should be vice president instead of that prick Boz.”

Nick suspected she was drunk. The prim-and-proper Liv that he knew thought a prick was something you got from a thorn.

Would he be evil if he took advantage of her unhappiness at work to get what he wanted? His editor would say, “Get the story regardless of what you have to do.” But this was Liv, and he wasn’t sure how far he should go.

“I’m supposed to loosen up, be more spontaneous…. Kind of like you,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Is that why you were doing a striptease in your office?”

“He wanted me to ask my intern for hints on how to dress!” She put down her fork and bristled with indignation. “That blond babe is after my job!”

Nick laughed. He couldn’t help it.

“It’s not funny, Nick! I love my job. I don’t want to look for a new one.”

“I can’t imagine anyone being dumb enough to fire you,” he said, meaning it. “You’re smart, clever and—”

“Dull, conservative—”

“Never dull,” he interrupted. “I was never bored with you.”

“I wish I knew how to be like you…reckless, daring, spontaneous. Remember when you talked me into driving to Milwaukee in the middle of the night? We both had tons of work for school, but we drove halfway there for no reason at all and ended up in a bar in some little town in Wisconsin.”

He remembered all right. When they got back, they’d had fantastic sex in his apartment. He’d never forget the rocking chair or the way she’d thrown aside all her inhibitions for a change.

“It was fun. You were fun.”

“You made me have fun. You always had all the good ideas.”

He didn’t want to play the remember-when game with a woman he’d once been crazy about. But whatever else Liv was, she wasn’t spontaneous. She couldn’t stand to be out of control in any situation. He’d literally bolted for his life when she started mentioning marriage. In her mind it had been the next logical step in their relationship, but it wasn’t for him. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t just enjoy things the way they were.

“I wish you could tell me how to be spontaneous,” she said.

She sounded deeply unhappy, and he was sure the wine had nothing to do with it.

“I don’t think it’s something you can learn.”

“You could show me how to loosen up.” She sounded surprised by her own idea. “We can make a deal. Just a little help with a work problem.”

He shrugged dismissively, not at all liking the way this reunion with Liv was going. Did she mean what she was saying?

He could think of lots of ways she could loosen up—all of them fun for him. He’d start by burning all her cotton panties. Come to think of it, she’d look spectacular in a black thong. And she’d have to get rid of her sex-only-in-bed mentality. He wondered if Tony had a storeroom they could use. Or he could ride home on the train with her.

But he was pretty damn sure his fantasies had nothing to do with the loosening up she had in mind.

“I’m good at work problems. That’s what I do, crisis management at William Lawrence Associates. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to change the way they want me to, and Brandi Jo will get my job.”

“Brandi Jo?”

“My intern,” she said, sounding more like the cranky woman he’d brought to the restaurant. “You met her in my office. If you can show me how to loosen up and be spontaneous, I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

“I’ll walk you to Union Station, and we’ll talk about it,” Nick said, signaling Tony for the bill.

“We’ll help each other,” she said emphatically.

“You may want to think about it a little more first,” he warned.

“No, I make good snap decisions.”

He fervently hoped Liv would be stone cold sober by the time they got to the station so they could talk rationally. As for wanting to sleep with her, what man wouldn’t?

His memory was too vivid for comfort. He remembered all the things about her that turned him on, especially the way she liked to tease his ear with her tongue and run her nails over his skin. Maybe because she’d been so cool and restrained at first, it had been doubly exciting when she lost her initial inhibitions. He could remember the first time she’d tasted him with her tongue as clearly as if it had been yesterday. He’d given up a lot when he left Liv. Part of him still regretted it.

He took a deep breath and stood up. He had a story to get, but no way would he get involved with Liv again. She was beautiful, clever and amusing, but she was a woman who wanted commitment.

To do his job, he had to be available whenever there was a sporting event to cover. That meant lots of night work and few free weekends. He hadn’t met any woman who would put up with his hours, and he didn’t want a life punctuated by arguments and guilt trips. More importantly, he didn’t want to be responsible for another person’s happiness. A good relationship demanded a whole lot of compromise. His father had never been able to do it, much to his mother’s sorrow. He didn’t have any reason to believe he’d be better at it.