They talked. He found it so easy to talk to her, even though he wanted to touch her every other minute. Her V-neck top gave just the slightest glimpse of cleavage if she moved the right way, but combined with those cute Converse shoes . . . it made her both sweet and sexy at the same time. That was the effect she had on him, and it was powerful. Her mixture of subtle siren and girl next door—with a drop of an edge—made her downright irresistible to him. Even watching her eat a slice of pizza was a slightly erotic act. Watching her teeth sink into the cheese and crust, or her little pink tongue dart out to lick her lips . . .
Focus, he chastised himself. Eat your lunch, you animal.
At one point, she mentioned something about her two best friends who were like sisters to her, and he got her to tell a few stories about them, giving him a glimpse of another side of her. She told him how just two weeks before, she and Roni had gone to Connecticut for the weekend to have a sleepover at Steph’s house, something they tried to do every three or four months. Eagerly, she pulled up a picture on her phone of the three of them to show to Nick. He studied it, seeing the obvious lovefest there. Fair Amanda sandwiched between Steph, a petite, olive-skinned brunette, and Roni, a stunning African-American who towered over the other two, big giddy smiles on all three faces.
“How tall is Roni? Jesus, she makes you two look shrimpy.”
Amanda laughed. “She’s five-foot-nine. Compared to my five-four and Steph, who’s only five-one? Yeah, it’s noticeable. She’s our warrior.” She reached for another napkin from the metal dispenser on the table. “And men flock to her. She’s dated more in the last year than I have in my whole life. So I’ve been dating my way through New York City vicariously through her.”
He chuckled, but noted the tone of Amanda’s voice when she spoke of her friends, filled with affection and deep feeling. “It’s great you have friends like that.”
“They’re my lifeline,” she admitted.
“Good friends usually are.” He took the last bite of his slice.
“What about you? You have any close friends?”
He nodded, finishing chewing before he answered. “There’s my best friend since high school, Tom. He got married and moved to Jacksonville two years ago, but we’re still tight. We text and all that.” Nick wiped his hands on another paper napkin. The pizza was outrageously good, he had to admit it. “And I have Darin. We met at the academy, trained together, and we just stuck. He works in the same precinct as me, but we’re not partners. We hang out with a few other friends, but he’s the one I trust the most. Guess you could call him a lifeline for me.” He finished off his Coke. “Let’s put it this way: the night I found out I was a Harrison? He’s the one I called to talk about it.”
Amanda nodded in understanding. “Are all your friends cops now?”
“Pretty much.” He’d never really given that much thought. “Guess it’s natural, right? I mean . . . I spend a lot of my time at work, and other cops understand what life is like on the job, so . . .” He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. You? Are most of your local friends nurses?”
“I suppose. I stopped working at the hospital three years ago to switch to private home care, but I’ve stayed in touch with some of my friends from there. That’s actually how I got the job with the Harrisons.”
Nick arched a brow at her in unspoken question.
“One of my friends from the hospital, Fiona, is a nurse. She’s also Abby Harrison’s sister,” Amanda explained. “When Charles and Lisette decided to hire private nurses, Abby went to Fiona to see if she knew anyone she’d recommend. Fi told her about me, and the rest is history.” Amanda brushed her hair back from her face. “So yeah, she and I are still friendly, and I am with others too. And you know, there’s always Facebook, so you can keep up.”
“I’m not a fan of Facebook,” he said. “I’m on it, because of my sisters nagging me. But I’m rarely on there. Just saying.”
“Duly noted.” Amanda’s grin faded a little as she pondered. “It’s easy to keep up with friends online. And with my schedule, that’s been a good thing, I guess. But actually going out and socializing . . . haven’t done as much of that as I used to.”
“You should go out more,” he urged, as if it were obvious.
“Oh, okay. Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” She rolled her eyes.
He laughed, crumpling up a napkin and tossing it at her playfully. She batted it away, sending it back to him with a triumphant grin.
“Can I ask you something?” he ventured.
“Sure.”
“Your last boyfriend . . . how long ago was that?”
“About ten months or so now. Why?”
He narrowed his eyes on her, assessing. “Wondering if that ended badly, if you’re still . . . I don’t know, I’m curious.”
“If I’m still what?” she asked. “Hung up on my ex? No. I’m the one who ended it.”
“Was he a douchebag?” Nick asked.
“No,” Amanda said with a tiny laugh. “Actually, the opposite. He was very nice. Perfectly nice. But . . .” She blew out a sigh and reached for her Sprite. “You sure you wanna hear this? Really?”
“Yeah, I’m curious,” Nick admitted.
She didn’t seem at all upset, which was a good sign. Finally, she said, “I broke up with him because I realized he was more into the idea of me than the real me. Long story. But, well, I deserved more. And so did he, since I wasn’t really what he wanted when it came down to it. So I ended it.”
Nick took that in. She didn’t sound bitter or jaded, more like matter-of-fact and resigned. She wasn’t nursing a broken heart; she wasn’t pining for someone.... She was emotionally free. The relationship had ended on her terms, and for good reasons. All good. He wasn’t sure why that mattered. Why he cared. But he did, and felt a twinge of something like relief at her words. He gave a short nod and said, “Power to you, then.”
She shrugged. “Just seemed like the right thing to do. For both our sakes. I mean, I could’ve gone along with it, just to have someone. But I’m not like that. So . . . yeah, that’s it.” She sipped through her straw until the bubbling sound of the last of her soda came out. “So. Real New York pizza. You liked it? You approve?”
“Big thumbs-up,” Nick said with a grin as he thought, And a big thumbs-up for you too, Amanda Kozlov. Biiiiig thumbs-up.
They started walking again, window shopping as they went, and walked farther up Broadway until they got to what she told him was Columbus Circle. He’d heard of it. Since it was such a nice day, it was crowded. A thick stream of cars and taxis moved around the circle, seeming to never end. There were so many people walking around the high-traffic area, but also lots just sitting and hanging out, soaking in the sunshine.
They found seats on the famous cement that encircled the statue of Christopher Columbus and sat for a while, just people watching, taking in their surroundings, and still talking. They’d talked all along, at ease with each other. Finally, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little closer, the contact filling him with something warm and bright. Her dark honey hair was soft against his jaw. She smelled like flowers—it wasn’t overpowering, just sweet and feminine enough to entice him. Her leg pressed up against his as she nestled carefully into his side. He savored the feel of her.
“This is nice,” she said softly. “I’ve really enjoyed everything today.”
“I’m glad,” he said, smiling. “Me too. Really. This has been . . .” He ran a finger along her jaw, tipping her chin up. “Only one thing’s needed to seal this day as off-the-charts fantastic . . .”
He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, soft and sweet. She leaned into him. Then he kissed her more firmly, with a little more pressure. Her lips parted in invitation and he took it, slipping his tongue inside to touch hers, sweeping into her mouth to taste her. Her mouth was warm, her kisses intoxicating, pulling him under like he’d been drugged. She did that thing again, where she sighed into his mouth, an
d his blood raced through him, making his heart speed up and his cock grow heavy.
She turned in his arms to better hold him and be held by him. With a tiny groan, he pulled her even closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her fingers played along the hair at the back of his neck as the kisses deepened. He could have kissed her there until the sun went down. Except he wanted to do much more than kiss her. He wanted to take her back to his hotel and explore every sweet and sexy inch of her.
But he pulled back, reining himself in even though it was hard to catch his breath. He cradled her face in his hands, smiled, and murmured, “Yup, that’s what I wanted. Now it’s a perfect day.”
“Then maybe you should do it again,” she whispered. Her voice sounded breathless, and her gorgeous pink mouth was a little puffy from his kisses. Her light blue eyes seemed to glow around her dilated pupils as she gazed at him. He wanted to devour her.
“You don’t mind PDAs, huh?” he asked, grinning.
“This is New York City. No one cares about us,” she scoffed. “Kiss me again.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice.
Chapter Eleven
When Nick pulled into Charles’s long sandy driveway on Monday evening, it was full. Amanda’s car was parked at the end, so she was on duty. But there were eight cars there; apparently all the siblings would be there for this . . . this . . . whatever the fuck this introductory meeting would be. He’d been dreading it all day. The dread had simmered in his veins since he’d woken up that morning. An early, brutal workout hadn’t made it go away. A quick trip to the hospital to give more blood and talk again with the doctor and his team had only made it more acute. A big lunch and vegging out in his suite watching TV hadn’t made that feeling of dread disappear.
He wasn’t afraid to meet Charles Roger Harrison II, for fuck’s sake. Nick slammed the car door closed a little more forcefully than he’d intended. All his senses were on alert, like when he was on the job and in a potentially dangerous situation. That’s exactly how he felt now, and he tried to chip away at why as he stood there and gazed up at his half brother’s enormous mansion.
He wasn’t afraid; what he was . . . was uneasy. On guard. Because he knew what kind of man his biological father was, and by all accounts, this wouldn’t be a pleasant encounter. No one liked walking into what they knew ahead of time wouldn’t be a pleasant encounter. No one sane, anyway.
He was pretty sure Daddy Dearest wasn’t going to be opening his arms for a big hug. No, Daddy was likely planning to take him apart, thinking like his eldest son originally had—that Nick was there for money and blackmail. Add to that getting caught on his shenanigans with the Latina housekeeper, bringing a smudge to his highly esteemed name? Charles Harrison II was likely more than livid, maybe rabid.
Blowing out a harsh breath, Nick raked his hands through his hair and stared up at the mansion. All he’d wanted to do was be a bone marrow donor for a sick kid. How had his life turned into this ridiculous drama?
He closed his eyes, took another breath, and reminded himself of who he was. Just plain old Nick Martell, sergeant on the Miami PD, from a modest background and close-knit family . . . his eyes opened as it hit him. Jesus, that just wasn’t true anymore. And it never would be again. He was a Harrison, of the famous New York Harrisons, and even if he never did a damn thing with that, it didn’t make it any less true. He was a member of one of the most wealthy and powerful families in the Northeast . . . hell, the whole country. He still hadn’t figured out what that meant for him. It was insane.
Shaking his head, he marched up the stairs and rang the doorbell. He just wanted this done. Every muscle was a little tense, every nerve lit up and jangling, ready for whatever went down. He’d gone on undercover jobs over the past year where his life had actually been on the line. This meeting was pure bullshit in comparison. He had this.
The door opened, and both Lisette and Charles stood there.
“Great,” Charles said. “We’ve all been waiting for you.”
“Like a firing squad,” Nick muttered under his breath in Spanish. “Let’s fucking get this over with.”
Charles blinked, stared at him for an extra beat, then looked to his wife. “What did he say?”
“He wants to get this over with,” she said. “Can you blame him?”
Now it was Nick who stopped, blinked, and stared in surprise as he looked into Lisette’s dark eyes. Well, goddamn.
“It’s not a firing squad,” she stage-whispered to him and winked.
“My wife is fluent in several languages,” Charles said with open pride and a hint of a smirk on his face. He was clearly amused at having caught Nick off guard. “I guess you’re glad you didn’t curse me, huh?” Moving aside, he gestured inside. “Come in, please.”
Nick had to chuckle. “What other languages do you speak?” he asked Lisette in Spanish, hoping both to hear her speak it in return and to irk her momentarily smug husband.
“Spanish, Portuguese, French. Little bit of Italian. But English is my first language,” she said, answering in Spanish. “A long time ago, I was planning to be a translator for the government. I majored in linguistics in college.”
Jesus. He felt like an idiot. “I’ve spoken both languages my whole life,” he said, fumbling for something to say. “First at home, now at work too.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“I guess it wouldn’t. But I admit, I didn’t think anyone in this family would speak Spanish. That was wrong of me. I assumed. Sorry about that.”
“No offense taken. You’re kind of right, for what it’s worth. None of them do, really. Just me.” She grinned. “I’ve always spoken Spanish with Tina, who works here and is a close friend of mine, when we didn’t want the kids to know what we were saying. But Ava started taking it in middle school so she could understand us. Be careful around her.”
“Good to know,” he said in English, noting the half-amused, half-curious look on Charles’s face. “Thanks for the tips.” He shot a glance at Charles and added, “Your wife’s impressive.”
“Damn right she is.” Charles smiled and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead before saying to her, “I’m going to bring him to the firing squad now. You’ll keep the kids away from the living room?”
“Of course.” She looked up to Nick and said, “Good luck. I wish I could say you didn’t need it, but . . . Charles II and I had some bad blood ourselves, back when he found out about my dating his precious heir. He usually comes out swinging.”
Charles scowled briefly at the memory, then leaned down to give his wife a kiss. “See you after.”
“Tell Myles I said hi,” Nick said to her. “Maybe I can hang out with him again soon. How’s he doing?”
“He’s, um . . .” Any light that had been in Lisette’s eyes faded. “He’s starting the conditioning on Wednesday. He’ll be pretty sick from that afterwards. . . .”
“How about tomorrow?” Charles suggested. “Some video games with his favorite new buddy might be just the thing.”
Nick noticed Charles had gone all tense too at the mention of Myles’s health. Damn, he felt for them. Amanda had told him how Myles would be prepared for the transplant: by flooding him with high doses of chemo and radiation, called “conditioning.” He didn’t even want to think about it. He noted how Charles reached out to caress Lisette’s cheek for a minute, catching her eyes as they looked at each other. They must be so worried, so . . . no, he couldn’t imagine how they felt, knowing what was ahead for their child. “Sure. You tell me what time. I have no plans tomorrow.”
Two minutes later, he followed Charles down the hall to the living room.
Charles stopped him right outside the door, a hand on his shoulder. “Listen . . .” His voice was low, his gaze intent. “Whatever my father says, know that we’re behind you. He’s full of bluster, gets nasty, and loves to manipulate. Don’t let him get to you.”
“I’ll be fine.” Nick’s adrenaline levels were kicking
up again; he could feel his blood in his veins, feel his pulse start to pound in his neck. “Let’s just do this.”
Charles opened the double doors wide. Tess and Dane sat on the couch to the left, Pierce was sprawled out casually on the couch to the right. But Nick couldn’t take his eyes off the older gentleman in the big armchair by the fireplace, who slowly rose to stand as he stared right back at him.
Jesus Christ. He did look like the old man. It was devastating.
Charles II’s hair was gray and thin, but impeccably groomed, no bald spot. His pale skin was weathered, lines on his face . . . goddamn, Nick realized that was his nose. And his square jawline, and the arch of his brows . . . all the contours of his face, even the shape of his eyes. But Charles Harrison II’s eyes were cold, steely gray—like those of a hawk, shrewd, glittering, sizing up its prey. And as they focused on Nick like lasers, for a few seconds, the whole thing stole his breath.
“Jesus Christ,” Charles II said softly. “He does look like me.”
Nick’s mouth went dry.
“Told you so,” Pierce said, a hint of neener-neener-neener in his smug tone.
“Pierce,” Tess whispered, a warning.
But it broke the tension for Nick, and he looked over gratefully at Pierce. He was going to have too much fun with this. Eh, why not?
“Hello,” Nick said. And that was it. He was at a loss for words all of a sudden. What the hell was he supposed to say to this man? He was a stranger. They gazed at each other, assessing.
“How’s it goin’, man?” Pierce smiled and got up to shake his hand in greeting.
Dane also rose and leaned in for a handshake, giving Nick a pointed look and an extra clap on the arm as if to say, You got this. Tess went to him and kissed his cheek hello. Charles gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked to the wet bar in the corner. “Scotch for me. Want a drink, Nick?”
It Might Be You Page 13