“He’d do something to you?” she said tremulously. “His own son?”
“I’m not his son,” Nick said. “I’m flesh and blood, but I’m not his son.” He looked into his mother’s eyes. “Ma . . . I know I should be mad at you for keeping me a secret from him, and him from me. That on some level, it was wrong.”
Her face flushed, but she didn’t look away. Her eyes held his.
“I know that in my head,” Nick continued. “But in my heart . . .” He shrugged and dropped his hands onto his knees. “I’m not mad, and I’m not judging you. I wish I’d known sooner, yes. But I’m not mad at you anymore. I’m not holding a grudge, none of that. I wasn’t in your shoes. That was your decision. It was what it was. You did the best you could. So . . . I don’t want to dwell on it. We just go forward from here, okay?”
Her eyes welled and tears spilled onto her cheeks. “It’s better than I deserve.”
“No, no, stop that,” he demanded. “You did right by me. You raised me in a good home, to be a good man. You did good, Ma. I’m letting this go; you have to also.”
“Are you really?” she asked, peering harder at him. “How can you?”
“I . . . still need to figure some things out,” he said. “But I know who I am. So I’ll be okay.”
She grasped both his hands with hers and squeezed as she sniffled. “Of course you will, mijo.”
“We’re here for you,” Lew said. “I’m glad you’re letting us be.”
“I’m glad you forgive me,” Maria said.
“I should be thanking you,” Nick said to them. “You’ve been great parents. I have a good life. I’m a lucky man. So . . . onward.” He drew a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. He felt better about repairing his relationship with his parents. But really, that was the easiest part. He still felt the slight tension in the muscles of his neck and shoulders.... The rest of the moving parts in his life weren’t an easy fix, and he knew it.
Hey, gorgeous. How’s my favorite nurse tonight?
Amanda looked at the text from Nick and her insides warmed. She’d heard from him a few times over the past week since he’d gone back to Florida. He’d texted when he touched down in Miami, as he’d promised. He checked in every other day, and they’d chatted via texts for a few minutes. But it didn’t feel like enough.
She wanted more. Longer text chats, or more of them, or to hear his voice . . . to hear something from him that indicated the connection she’d felt between them was real, and he’d felt it too. But so far, not so much. And it frustrated her.
She wasn’t sure what frustrated her more: that they weren’t going deeper on an emotional level, or that she was the one bending the unspoken rules by wanting that at all. Both had her overthinking the situation and coming up short. She had to swallow it.
Here it was, ten o’clock on a Friday night. She was back in her apartment after a long, hard week, and all she wanted was to sink into Nick’s arms and have him soothe her headache and heartache away. The Chinese takeout for dinner had filled her, the glass of wine she’d had with it helped to calm her, but nothing could get rid of the gnawing inside. She longed for comfort. Texting with Nick would have to be a good substitute.
She changed into her pajamas first, refilling her wineglass and bringing it to her nightstand along with her phone. The lights stayed off, lending a touch of intimacy to her surroundings as she prepared to dig in for a long chat.
Hey there, Miami Vice. I’m okay, she texted back, then climbed into her bed. She sighed aloud in contentment as her body relaxed into her mattress. Keep it casual, she reminded herself. Nick just wants casual. You told him you wanted that too. So be that.
Nick’s text came back right away. Is that true?
Is what true? she wrote back.
Are you really okay? I know things with Myles this week must’ve been hard.
Her throat thickened unexpectedly. She swallowed and texted, Truth? Yes, it was a rough week. But I’m okay.
I’m sure, Nick wrote. On both counts. But . . . wanna talk about it?
Nope. How’d your first full week go, Detective? she wrote, hoping to deflect away from herself. If he was nice to her, she’d spill all over him, and she didn’t want to. She scowled at herself and reached over to grab her glass. Why did he make her feel so much, when she didn’t want to feel anything at all?
It was fine, thanks. But you’re deflecting, he wrote. Talk to me. I have time. Not working. Home alone, got all night.
The lump in her throat felt like it got bigger. She swallowed down a sip of wine. Home alone on a Friday night? After your first week on the new job? That doesn’t seem right. You should be out celebrating.
A few friends wanted to take me out, but I was tired. Maybe tomorrow night.
Go clubbing, she wrote. Dance with a hot girl. Laugh with your friends. Drink like you’re out with Pierce.You deserve it.
LOL, Nick responded. Pierce can drink. That’s more like a challenge than a suggestion.
Amanda sent back a wink emoji.
Then he texted: Are you telling me to go hook up?
Amanda’s heart skipped a beat, and embarrassment flooded her. Shit. What should she say?
I’m not looking to hook up right now, Amanda, Nick wrote. Got enough on my plate. Just saying.
She felt her face turn crimson, grateful he couldn’t see her. Okay.
That’s it? Nope. Say what you meant.
I didn’t mean anything by that, she wrote, her stomach churning now.
Then why’d you say it? Seems odd.
I just meant I wanted you to go out and have fun. That’s all.
I’m kinda too tired to have fun right now. And . . .
She waited. After thirty seconds, she realized she was holding her breath and expelled it in a gust. And what? she typed.
And I’m not looking to hook up with a stranger right now, because if I close my eyes, I can still remember how you felt in bed. How you tasted, how you smelled, how you sounded. I want to hold on to that right now. It’s enough.
Amanda almost spilled her wine all over herself. Her heart pounding, she swallowed a huge gulp, put the glass back on the nightstand, then called Nick.
“Hey.” His voice was low and sexy, sending a shiver through her.
“You made me melt,” she said quietly. “I needed to hear your voice.”
“Hmm. I like that.” She could hear the smile in his voice, pictured it on his gorgeous face. “I’m glad you called, then. It’s good to hear your voice too.”
She drew a shaky breath, heart still beating fast, and nestled further into her pillows. “Did you mean that? What you just wrote?”
“Yup.” He paused, then blurted out, “I’ve thought about you every day. I know I’m not supposed to, but to hell with that. And I . . . I know you had a hard week, so I just thought I’d tell you that. Maybe it’d help, or make you smile, or—”
“It did. It does.” Her heart squeezed, and her stomach did a flighty little flip. She ached for him. “I missed your voice. This week was hell,” she confessed. “I wish you were here tonight to help me forget it.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he said gently. “Talk to me. I’m listening.”
“Well, he started losing his hair again.” Her voice was barely above a murmur, but it suddenly felt thick in her throat. “It happened quicker than last time, and it upset him pretty bad. When he wasn’t sleeping. His blood sugar was all over the place because of the chemo, the steroids, and . . . dammit, I don’t know how much I should be telling you. It sucked—how’s that?”
She heard Nick swear under his breath. “I called Charles on Wednesday morning to see how Myles was doing. He said it was hard, and sounded stressed. But he said you were taking good care of him. Didn’t give me a lot of details.”
“You don’t need any more details,” she said. “You can guess the rest.”
“You’re so strong, Amanda,” Nick said, his voice a caress. “You know that, right? Charles and L
isette are so glad Myles has you. And so am I. You’re an angel.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just doing my job.”
“The job of an angel. I couldn’t do what you do. You’re amazing.”
Tears pricked her eyes and she drew a long, shallow breath. “Thanks. But I don’t feel so amazing at the moment. I feel sad and worried and exhausted and emotionally wrung out. I might not get out of bed for the rest of the weekend so I can recharge my battery and go back on Monday with a smile for that kid. That’s the truth.”
“And that’s okay. Do that if you have to.” He paused before adding, “I wish I was holding you, in that case.”
Her breath caught. God, he was being so sweet. “Me too. That sounds nice.”
“It does.” They were quiet for a few seconds before he added, “I wish I was doing a little more than holding you, truth be told. Or, if I was, that at least you’d be naked. Can I envision holding you but you’re naked? Oops, too late. Already doing it.”
A giggle popped out of her. “I wish you were too, I admit it.”
“Sounds good, right?” He paused. “So, um . . . have you . . . ever had phone sex?”
Heat seared through her body, making her skin tingle. “Maybe. Why?”
“Why do you think?” His voice dipped low, playful yet seductive. “I can’t hold you, but I can do something else for you. Could be a great way to help you relax.”
“Relax? You getting me all worked up is not my idea of relaxing.”
He laughed softly. “Well . . . I’d talk you through and get you all worked up until you come. Hopefully, come hard. After which, you’d relax. Get it?”
“Jesus,” she breathed. Just hearing him say something like that, with that sex-on-a-stick deep voice of his, had her wet already.
“So, Favorite Nurse. You game?”
“Um. Hold on.” Heart rate rising, she reached for her wineglass again. She drank down three huge gulps, then set it back down. Her whole body was already pulsing with lusty desire. “Okay, Miami Vice. Show me your A game. Why not, right?”
“You sound a little nervous.”
“I . . . no. I’m not. You just got me all flustered over here.”
“Good. I mean . . . it’s not like I haven’t heard you come before, mi reina.” His voice was pure sin. “And I loved it. Every time.”
A jolt of electricity shot through her, ending right between her legs. She squirmed in her bed, pressing her thighs together.
“You keep talking like that,” she warned, “it won’t take me long at all.”
He chuckled. “What’s the rush? We have all night. This is going to be fun.”
“It is, huh?”
“Fuck yeah. Hearing you when you’re turned on is so hot. Thinking about you touching yourself? I’m hard already.”
A soft moan fluttered out of her. “Jesus, Nick. Your voice alone should be illegal, much less the dirty things that come out of your mouth.”
He gave a little snort-laugh of triumph. “But you like when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?”
She shivered. “Yes. Like you couldn’t tell.”
“I have to admit . . . I could tell. Which is why I’ll keep doing it.”
Fifteen minutes later, she was moaning out a powerful orgasm, one hand pressing the phone against her ear while the other worked herself into a frenzy. She panted as she regained her senses, then realized what she’d done, what she must have sounded like, and let out a hoarse laugh. “Ohhh my God.”
“That,” Nick said roughly, “was unbelievably fucking hot.”
She smiled as she tried to catch her breath. “Glad you enjoyed.”
“I’m glad you did, babe. Damn, you’re sexy.”
Still a little woozy, she said, “Well, I don’t know if I can match your dirty talk, but I’ll give it my best shot. Your turn.”
He groaned. “I’m halfway there, you kidding? Won’t take much.”
She hoped she’d be able to cast a spell over him the way he had over her. His powers of seduction, even just with sexy talk over the phone, were epic as far as she was concerned. But she felt suddenly shy. She hadn’t done this since college.
He must have sensed her sudden nerves, her hesitation. In a low, sexy rumble, he coaxed, “Just tell me what you’d do to me if you were here right now. Go on . . .”
She started out slowly, feeling awkward, but eased into it with his guidance. Luckily, he must’ve been as turned on as he claimed, because it only took about five minutes before he came. The sounds of his heavy breathing and groaning climax made her insides clench and want to go another round.
“Jesus,” he panted. “See, you’re good at this. Knew you had it in you.”
“Did you? I didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. You’re my bold New York girl.”
“I loved hearing you,” she admitted. “That was hot.”
He laughed. “I’m glad. Give me a minute?”
She reached over and drained what was left in her wineglass. Between the slight buzz from the Chardonnay and the after-buzz of her orgasm, she felt floaty and content.
“I’m back,” he said. “You know what? If I can’t see you, this was the next best thing. It was fun, anyway. Right?”
She giggled and rolled onto her side. “Yes, it was.”
“You warmed up to it quickly. You weren’t shy after the first minute or two.”
“Because you led me down the path to ruin like a master.”
“Did I? Awesome. I feel like a king now. Or a naughty Pied Piper. Not sure.”
She laughed, and “I miss you” came spilling out of her mouth. She cringed and squeezed her eyes shut. Damn, damn, double damn, why had she told him that?
“I miss you too,” he said softly.
“You don’t have to say that because I did.”
“I wouldn’t. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He paused, and she could hear the rustle of sheets. She figured he was easing back into his bed. “So you miss me?”
She sighed. “Yeah. I do. I wasn’t going to tell you that. Sorry.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”
“Because we . . . we’re not like that.”
“Like what? Two people who like each other? Yeah, we are.”
She bit down on her lip before saying, “I don’t really know what we are.”
“I don’t either. But I miss you too, if that makes you feel better about saying it.” Nick paused. “I’ve been busy as hell this week, but I’ve thought about you.”
She smiled and her trepidation lessened. “That’s nice to hear.” With a yawn, she rolled onto her side and burrowed deeper into her bed. “Between the wine and the O, I’m so nice and sleepy now.”
“Maybe I should let you go, then.”
“Not yet. Soon, but not yet. I like talking to you.”
“Amanda, you know what . . .” His voice trailed off, and she waited. “It’s okay that we’re into each other. We’re hiding it from the others, but we shouldn’t have to hide it from each other. We spent a night together. An amazing night. And we’re staying in touch. So . . . I don’t know what this is either, but I know I’m into you, so I’m just gonna go with that for now. There, I said it. Okay?”
“Works for me,” she murmured, her heart growing a size or two.
Chapter Eighteen
Nick rubbed his eyes, then raked his hand over his hair as he pored over the file yet again. This case was eating at him. Three weeks ago, it’d been the first case he’d been given as an investigator, and he desperately wanted to solve it. Not just to prove something to himself or his superiors, but for the victim’s family. They deserved answers and hopefully, eventually, some closure. Clearly the twenty-four-year-old murder victim had been a case of mistaken identity—poor bastard had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If the killer had made that mistake, there had to be other mistakes too. Nick just had to find them. But he wasn’t used to the new pace. Things worked much more slowly, with more steps, and t
hough he knew it was necessary, it frustrated him. He had to learn to dial it back and get used to it.
His cell phone rang on the desk beside him. He didn’t even look at the screen when he answered it, eyes still on the computer screen. “Martell.”
“Hi . . . Mr. Martell? Nick Martell?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. This is Dr. Greenberg, from Northwell Hospital.”
Nick snapped to attention. “Sure, right. Hi.”
“Hi. Do you have a few minutes to talk? I realize you may be at work.”
Nick’s whole body went tight. The doctor in charge of Myles’s medical team was calling him? Something had to be up. “Yes, I’m at work, but that’s fine. Sure, I have a few minutes. What’s up?”
“We’re ready for you to come back to New York,” the doctor said. “Myles is done with the conditioning and we’re just about ready to do the surgery. How soon can you come back? Any idea?”
“I’ll be there tomorrow if you need me to be,” Nick said without pause.
Fifteen minutes later, Nick was walking into his boss’s office to request the leave of absence they’d known would be coming. After that, he sat down at his desk to book a flight to New York when his phone rang. Charles’s number lit up the screen.
“Hey,” Nick said. “I was going to call you in a bit. Just had a meeting with my superior, got the clearance. I’m on my way.”
“Wonderful. I heard from Dr. Greenberg that you said you’d be coming,” Charles said. “So everything’s swinging into action. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Of course,” Nick said. “I was actually about to book my flight. I’m going to work tomorrow to finish out the week, but I’ll take an evening flight, get there late tomorrow night.”
“Glad I caught you, then,” Charles said, “because that’s not necessary. That’s why I called. My private plane will bring you to New York. Don’t book anything.”
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