Читать книгу Cinderella's Billion-Dollar Christmas - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 13

NICK TURNED TOWARD the entry of a grand hotel. Leni glanced up. A white facade was the perfect backdrop for the huge green wreath that sat above the portico. Red ornaments scattered around it glittered in the late afternoon sun.

The muscles around her heart tweaked. She was missing everything happening at home. Christmas parties, carolers, making cookies with her mom. Nick had told her to pack for two weeks and she assumed that’s the longest she’d be away. She might miss the baking and extra-special holiday tips from regular customers at the diner, along with the occasional gift, but she’d be home over a week before Christmas.

There was no point in getting homesick. Everything was under control.

She followed Nick as he walked into the lobby, marched to the reservations clerk, gave his name and got a key card. Within seconds, they were in the elevator.

He continued the silence through the ride to the tenth floor and down a quiet hall. When they stopped at a door, he opened it by scanning the key card. She stepped inside the room and gasped.

A huge window ran along the entire back wall, bringing the sights of Times Square into her room. Two red sofas sat parallel, in front of a marble fireplace with a bar off to the left. A dining table and upholstered chairs had been set up near the window.

“All this is for me?”

“Yes.”

She looked around in awe. “This has got to be costing the estate a pretty penny.”

“The estate has lots of pretty pennies, so don’t worry about it.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back at seven.”

She nodded.

“If you need anything...and I mean anything, call the concierge.”

“I do wish I had a book.”

“I’m sure they can get you one.”

With that he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

She glanced around again. “No television.” She spotted the big mirror above the fireplace, saw the remote on the mantel and laughed. “Thank goodness I watch enough house fixer-upper shows to know how they hide televisions these days.”

She carefully lowered herself onto one of the two red sofas, running her hand along the smooth leather, enjoying the luxury.

Was this how she’d live if she really was rich?

Even as she thought that, the silence of her suite enveloped her. She’d hate to think that all wealthy people were lonely. But Nick was rich...a simple billionaire he’d said...and he barely spoke. Of course, she knew why he didn’t want to talk to her, but he didn’t even speak to his driver.

That was what had bothered her. He never even said hello to his driver, the pilot for their plane or any of the ground crew scrambling to get their luggage into the jet’s belly. He walked around as if he were in his own little world.

Which was a shame. Good-looking guy like that should be the happiest man around. And with all his money, he should realize he was one of the luckiest.

She thought of her adoptive dad. How he’d worked and scrimped and saved and barely made ends meet. Yet, he considered himself one of the luckiest people on the planet.

Nick Kourakis should be swinging-from-the-chandeliers happy and if she got the chance, maybe she would tell him that.

Nick arrived at Leni’s suite at exactly seven. When she opened the door to him, he almost stepped back. His former elf wore a simple black dress with a red sweater. Her eyes had been painted with shadow and liner and mascara—but only enough to make her pretty, not overdone—and her lips were ruby red. Her long brown hair had been caught up in a twist in the back, giving her face a look of sophistication that nearly stole his breath. Black heels provided at least three inches of height and put her right at his chin. The perfect place for a woman to be.

He shook his head to clear it of that stupidity. She might be beautiful, but they’d never get to test out why coming to chin level was perfect. He would never kiss her.

That registered oddly, way deep down in his soul, in a place he hadn’t acknowledged for so long the ping was a hollow, empty sound.

Calling himself foolish and exhausted, he ignored the weird feeling and said the one thing that might get her to tell him if she’d gone to the boutique after all. “You look nice.”

“Nice?” She spun around once. “I look fabulous. This is the dress I’d bought for my college graduation ceremony last week. I’d brought it to wear to meet the lawyer, but I can wear it twice.”

The hope that she’d shopped was replaced by another ping of acknowledgment in his soul. Her simple pleasure in the dress was fun. Almost cute enough to make him laugh.

He’d forgotten what it was like to really enjoy something ordinary. Actually, he’d forgotten what it was like to enjoy anything. He’d snuffed out that feeling, but one laugh from her and he remembered it, longed to feel it again.

Even though he knew he wouldn’t.

He cleared his throat. “You made a good choice with the dress—and shoes.”

She extended her foot and looked at her black pumps with love in her sparkling green eyes. “I know. They make me feel like I’m tall enough to talk to you without having to stretch my neck.”

He’d thought they made her tall enough to kiss easily, naturally.

He really needed to get some sleep. The well-rested New Wolf of Wall Street didn’t care about enjoying things, didn’t compliment a woman he wasn’t dating, didn’t notice anybody’s shoes.

But when Leni put on her worn leather jacket, he remembered her real world again. Remembered why this dress was so important to her. And told himself that no matter how tired he was, he could be nice to her.

Then she spoke. “You look pretty good yourself.”

He glanced down at his black suit. “This is what I had on this morning.” And the day before. It was a wonder he wasn’t a wrinkled mess.

She winked and headed for the exit. “I know. You looked fabulous then, too.”

His brain scrambled. Had she just flirted with him?

Realizing she was almost at the door, he had to hurry to open it before she did, confusion and fear skittering along his nerve endings. They’d talked about this. There was no point in flirting.

He opened his mouth to remind her they’d already decided they shouldn’t get chummy, which in his book included flirting, but as she stepped into the hall, she casually said, “I’m starving.”

His brain stopped and then started again. She’d said he looked fabulous, but he hadn’t confirmed that she’d flirted with him. And the “I’m starving” comment shifted them back to normal conversational territory.

Did he really want to bring up flirting?

Especially when they’d already discussed this?

Not in a million years. “Then let’s get you some food.”

Outside the hotel, at a time of day when the avenue should have been dark, it was lit by hundreds of thousands of lights from jumbotrons, video advertisements, scrolling newsfeeds and storefronts. Leni looked up and down the street, her curiosity and wonder evident on her face.

Nick suddenly understood why Danny had put her in Times Square. The place was filled with tourists and her interest blended with the curiosity of the people around her. Even if she couldn’t control her reactions, she didn’t stand out. Half the people on the sidewalk were gawking in awe at the lights and videos and shops.

“I hope you like Italian food.”

Her eyes widened. “I love it.”

“Great.” He motioned to his driver that they were going to walk and headed down the street to the left. “I know a wonderful place. It’s low-key. A favorite hangout of visitors to the city, most of whom are going to a Broadway play.”

She huddled against the cold, sinking into her jacket, but her eyes were big, taking in everything in the exciting city he barely noticed anymore.

He slowed his pace, let her enjoy the walls of advertisements on the buildings, the vendors, the Christmas shoppers, and the cacophony of sounds from people and taxis and buses.

Seeing the city through her eyes, he felt the rhythm of it. The movement of tourists and vehicles in the brisk night air, all lit by thousands of colored lights.

The crowd thinned as they drifted away from Times Square. In another block they were at the restaurant. He gestured for her to walk down the black iron steps and opened the door for her when they reached the bottom.

Warmth hit him immediately, along with the shift in noise from a busy street to a crowded bar. After a clerk checked their coats, the hostess led them to a table in the middle of the dining area. The waiter poured wine for sampling. Nick almost told him it would be fine but realized he didn’t even know if Leni liked wine. Mark had been someone who drank tequila with a beer chaser. Of course, her father hadn’t been around to influence her decisions.

“Is wine okay?”

“Are you kidding? Wine would be great about now.”

The waiter grinned, poured two glasses and scurried away, leaving them to read the menus.

She took a slow sip of the wine and savored. “This is fabulous.”

He loved the way her eyes closed as she enjoyed her sip and slowed himself down as he took another taste from his glass. It was fabulous. “I think you’re having a fabulous night.”

She snickered. “That’s pretty cocky of you to say.”

“It’s not me. It’s you. You said you looked fabulous and I looked fabulous and now the wine is fabulous.”

“Sometimes fabulous really is the only word.”

He shrugged, but she was right. He’d known it when he took the time to savor the wine. He might not put himself or his clothes in the fabulous category, but her in that dress, with her green eyes and red lips? She was fabulous.

“Anything you recommend?”

He glanced up and saw her studying the menu. “Any of their pasta is—” he grinned “—fabulous.”

She laughed. “You do have a sense of humor.”

“No. I just took advantage of your love of fabulous.”

“Nick?”

His brain stalled at the sound of his mother’s voice, but he quickly gathered his wits and rose. “Mom!”

Leni glanced up at the pretty blonde with perfect makeup, wearing a bright blue dress, standing next to an older version of Nick. His mom and dad?