“I believe so. Not that any of it was your fault. Personally, I don’t know how you can stand all that attention.” Her voice sounded reasonably composed. The rest of her was a mess. By the time he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, she could barely swallow.
“All part of the game.” A resigned smile tugged at his mouth as he lowered his hand. “The money and perks are great. Can’t very well shut out the folks who make it all happen.”
“I admire your attitude. But I’d still want to hurt somebody if they got in my face.”
He laughed. “I have my moments. Too many moments.”
Emily grinned. “Maybe you’d better get out of here while you still can.”
He drew back slightly. “Trying to get rid of me?”
“Just looking out for you, is all.”
His nostrils flared and his hazel gaze darkened to warm chocolate as he looked down at her. “I believe you are.” His hand returned to her face, and he cupped her cheek.
For a heart-stopping second, she was certain he was going to kiss her. Right here, out in public view. Any moment…
And then his gaze darted somewhere over her head, and he quickly lowered his hand. “Better get to your room while you still can.”
Confused, she froze, growing even more bewildered when he seemed agitated that she hadn’t immediately done as he asked. No, not asked. It had practically been an order. More like a dismissal, the more she thought about it. The idea chafed. “Look, Nick, I don’t respond well—”
He let out a disheartened sigh, his attention focused on something behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Two women rushed toward them, holding magazines in each of their hands.
“Nicky, I’m so glad we caught you,” the taller blonde said, slightly breathless. “We saw you in the bar and rushed around the corner to get these.”
The other one—shorter, curvier, a brunette—held out her magazine. “I’d love to have your autograph.” Her pink tinted lips curved. “Make it out to Tammy, will you, Nicky?”
“Sure.” He smiled back, took both the pen and magazine she passed him. “No problem.”
The women were beyond rude. Neither of them acknowledged Emily’s existence and, in fact, had effectively crowded her away from Nick. That didn’t bother her because the lack of manners was their problem, not hers. But that Nick had seemed to forget she was there really hurt. It might not have ten minutes ago, but after that tender moment they’d just shared…
She briefly closed her eyes and swallowed around the foolish lump in her throat. There had been no moment. It was her, imagining something that hadn’t been there. Starved for male company, she’d been caught up in the fantasy of an attractive man paying her a bit of attention. That’s all. What she needed was a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow her head would be screwed back on straight.
Several feet away, the elevator bell dinged. If she hurried, she could catch the next car. She flicked a glance his way, but he was busy smiling and signing and listening to the women chatter. Disappointed, she turned away. After all, he had recommended she go to her room. No wonder. He saw that he was going to have enough company.
She stepped into the elevator, pushed the button for her floor and reluctantly turned around as she waited for the doors to close. Her gaze went helplessly to the trio, and she now understood the human proclivity for watching the horrors of a train wreck.
The doors were blessedly about to close when a couple rushed up to catch the car, the man’s hand stopping the motion of the doors. Nick looked up then, surprise flickering across his face when he spotted her.
He lowered the magazine he was signing, and called out, “What about tomorrow?”
AFTER FULFILLING HIS DUTIES, including an excruciatingly long five minutes of idle chatter, Nick broke away from the two clinging women. The strain on his nerves after having to decline the third offer of a drink nearly drove him back into the bar. He even thought about getting on an elevator and charming his way back into Emily’s room, begging if he had to. But she had claimed she was tired, and since the rain had stopped, he figured his best course of action was to grab a cab, get his ass home and think about what he was doing.
She hadn’t looked exactly overjoyed when he’d brought up tomorrow. He’d expected more enthusiasm, he thought as he stepped out onto the sidewalk and hailed a cab that had just let off a woman a block away.
Man, he hoped there was enough room in the mid-size sedan for his inflated ego. He smirked to himself, thinking about how irked he’d been that she’d referred to him as a baseball player. Around here, he was generally regarded as The Nicky Corrigan. He was the face of the Knights. The MVP of the World Series. Not just this season, but every season the Knights had gone to the Series. He was hardly just a baseball player.
Hell, he was so full of himself it had taken more than a minute to figure out that that was part of what he liked about Emily. She didn’t care how many players he’d struck out, or home runs he’d hit out of the park. It made her happy that he wasn’t a con man after her money.
The thought made him laugh out loud just as he slid into the backseat. At the sound, the driver threw a worried glance over his shoulder, and then grinned when he obviously recognized Nick. The guy thought he could rest assured a crazy man hadn’t just commandeered his cab.
Nick, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure he wasn’t as whacko as he’d earlier accused Emily of being. He enjoyed his pick of women, even before being voted Manhattan’s sexiest man alive for three years running. Clearly he wasn’t the best-looking guy around, or the richest or the most high profile. It was probably a simple magazine-selling gimmick. No matter what the angle, he scored, too, and he’d never been shy about reaping the benefits.
So with all the women and money at his disposal, what was it about Emily that had him willing to go sightseeing, for God’s sake? At this point, she probably wouldn’t believe him, but he did want to spend time with her. Go do all those goofy tourist things she was set on doing.
There was something comfortable and familiar about her that appealed to him. He knew where she came from, she reminded him of the Midwestern girls he’d gone to school with his whole life. Sensible, steady, occasionally curious and daring, but basically, what you saw was what you got. But that had been years ago, and for all he knew it was different now, even back in sleepy Pilner, Illinois.
Hell, he’d never been overly sentimental around the holidays, and he wasn’t sure that was his problem now. But Emily reminded him of simpler days back home and took his mind off baseball. So he had every intention of calling her tomorrow. Letting her distract him for a few days. And he sure wouldn’t mind learning what she’d discovered in that little pink book of hers.
6
DEEP IN HER HEART, Emily had known he wouldn’t show up, or even call, so there was absolutely no reason to be disappointed. At eleven o’clock, she pushed the silk blinds back as far as they would go and stared out at the city. The sun was shining, the sky was a perfect blue without a single cloud in sight and the buildings, tall and overwhelming, extended for miles. It was a glorious morning, much better than she could’ve hoped for in late November. If she remembered her camera, she’d get some amazing pictures.
Her gaze went to the nightstand where she’d strategically placed her new camera by her watch so she wouldn’t miss it. They both sat next to the box of condoms that she’d forgotten to put away. Sighing, she released the blinds and crossed the room. It wasn’t as if the housekeeping staff hadn’t seen more than their share of condoms in guest rooms before, but Emily opened the drawer and stuffed the box inside anyway, right next to Erotic New York.
Last night when she couldn’t sleep, she’d entertained herself by leafing through the pages. Some of it made her laugh, parts of it had her blushing, but a good deal of it made her wish she’d brought her vibrator. Who was she kidding? That’s what happened when her thoughts had lingered on Nick.
Staring at the magazine for a good hour hadn’t helpe
d. Like a damn fool she’d run out at close to midnight to buy one. When she’d seen the two women asking him to sign the magazines in the lobby, Emily figured it was some sort of sports issue that had featured him for his World Series play. It wasn’t until she’d stood at the newspaper stand with the last two copies of City Lights in her hands that she discovered he was on the cover. Looking tan and fit in an unbuttoned white shirt, his chest a wall of solid-looking muscle, his sexy hazel eyes full of secrets and mischief…
“Damn it.”
She flipped open her suitcase and dug out the bag with the magazines, even though she’d promised herself she would leave both copies tucked safely away. Hadn’t she already drooled over them enough? How were they going to stay in good shape until she got home? The hell with it. She’d buy more copies today, she decided, and stared at his image, still finding it hard to believe that she’d spent a total of two hours with him, counting the time in the cab.
Half of her wanted to call her sisters and Marnie this very minute, but the sensible half knew she’d be out of her mind to admit that she’d had him in her room, had the opportunity to get him in bed and had blown it entirely.
At least she’d like to believe he’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t turn her down if she’d offered. She flipped through the pages of the magazine until she found the article about him, along with the additional seven photographs taken of him at the ballpark and at a fancy nightclub.
In four of the photos he was by himself, but in the other three he was accompanied by models. She recognized one of the women, the blonde one with her hand wrapped possessively around his arm. Although Emily wasn’t familiar with the woman’s name, she knew she was a spokeswoman for a popular cosmetic lines. Emily was pretty sure she was German, or maybe Swedish. Whatever, she was stunningly beautiful. So was the redhead in the other picture, a daytime soap actress, according to the caption.
She leafed through a few more pages. Where were the brunettes? She huffed at the bias and gave her head an indignant toss. And then laughed at herself as she caught her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. Wow, she was having a great hair day, and she hadn’t even worked on it all that much.
A knock at the door had her slipping the magazine back in the bag. She knew it was housekeeping. They’d come by an hour ago and she assured them she’d be out of the room by now. Her fault. She should have put the Do Not Disturb sign out last night.
“Coming,” she called, hurriedly returning the bag to her suitcase and then grabbing her purse and camera. She opened the door and saw nothing but a pair of hands holding an enormous vase of fresh-cut flowers.
“Bet you didn’t look through the peephole again.” Nick lowered the bouquet and smiled at her. In a cream-colored pullover, jeans and a brown leather jacket, his jaw freshly shaven, he looked good enough to gobble down in one sitting. “I was afraid I’d missed you.”
“What are those for?”
“You.”
“I kind of guessed that part.” She motioned for him to enter, dragging her suddenly clammy palms down the front of her jeans. Her heart had started racing. “Why?”
“For being such a good sport last night.” His mouth curved in a confident smile. “Now that you know I’m not a hustler, is it safe for me to come in?”
“I don’t know. You’re still too slick for my tastes.”
He laughed. “You did not just call me slick.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Man, is this you on too much sleep?”
“No, it’s me on too little sleep.” She inwardly cringed at the inadvertent admission. Shouldering past him, she pretended that touching him hadn’t made her knees shaky and she craned her neck to look down the hall. “I told the housekeeper I’d be out of my room by now,” she muttered.
“I didn’t see anyone. She must be on another floor. We have time to find a place for these flowers.”
“Oh, all right.” She didn’t miss the amusement in his eyes as she gruffly accepted the heavy vase of a fine crystal with elaborate etchings.
Carefully, she set it at the back of the sleek black secretary, until she could rearrange her collection of city maps, guidebooks and local newspapers to make some room. She heard Nick laugh and turned around to see him checking out her reading pile.
“It’s going to take you the entire week to read all this stuff,” he said.
“Actually, I can get rid of these.” She scooped up the stack of newspapers. “I read them at breakfast.” Locating the wastebasket, she folded the papers in thirds and stuffed them inside.
“All of them?” Nick stared at the overflowing wastebasket. “Are you joking?”
She frowned, paused to glance at the trash, before setting the vase in the perfect corner where she could see them from the bed. “Why would I joke about something like that?”
His brows rose briefly in disbelief. “You must be one of those speed readers. Either that, or you only look at the comics.”
Keeping a straight face, she wrinkled her nose at him. “They still run comic strips in the newspapers?”
He seemed taken aback. “Seriously?”
Emily grinned. “I do read rather quickly. Plus I skip the stuff that doesn’t interest me, like the sports section.”
A pained expression crossed his face. “You know how to hit ’em low.” Then he lifted a shoulder in a cocky shrug. “Sorry, I never finished college,” he said dryly. “This is the best I can do.”
“I was teasing,” she said, feeling horrible because she’d very obviously struck a nerve.
“Gotcha.”
“Touché.” She sniffed. “I should’ve seen that coming. Best you can do. Right. Make mega bucks while us common folk limp along.”
“It’s not all about money. Besides, tomorrow it could be gone just like that.” He snapped his fingers, and then immediately looked away as if he’d regretted his words.
She gave him a moment of privacy by focusing on the bouquet of yellow daisies, pink carnations, white mums, red tulips and a few others. There had to be over seventy flowers fanning over the sides of the vase. “These flowers are breathtaking. I’d say you shouldn’t have but I’m so glad you did.”
Suddenly, she realized, he’d moved closer so that his broad shoulder brushed her arm. She instantly flashed back to their cab ride when she’d clutched his rock-hard thigh. How had she not figured out he was an athlete? Not sure what he was doing, she moved to give him room.
He pressed his palm to the small of her back to keep her where she was, and bent his head toward the bouquet. “Not very fragrant. Guess that’s my fault. I wasn’t specific enough.”
“Are you kidding? I wish I could keep them just like that forever.” Her smile faltered when he turned toward her, bringing their faces to within inches apart. Her gaze fell to his mouth, to his perfect lower lip, and her body reacted so intensely she cleared her throat. “I should take a picture of them.”
“Later,” he whispered huskily, increasing the pressure at the small of her back before he pulled her against him.
Emily swallowed hard and placed a hand on his chest because she’d been dying to feel those pecs since she’d seen the magazine. Oh, yeah, no Photoshop involved there. He slanted his head to the side, and her belly fluttered as he kissed the corner of her mouth. His lips moved coaxingly across hers, and she parted them, dying a little when he smoothly slid his tongue inside.
He wasn’t pushy or the let’s-get-down-to-business type. Instead, he took his time, as if he wanted to learn her mouth, starting with her tongue and then the fleshy inside of her cheeks. He swept across her upper teeth, and she silently thanked her mom for forcing her to wear braces for those extra six months.
When he moved his hips and she felt the hardness behind his fly, her scalp tingled, sending an electric shock all the way down her spine. The experience was so unnerving that it took her a minute to admit that she wasn’t participating in the kiss, just standing there, letting him do all the work, as if i
t were her first time.
He stopped and drew back to look at her.
“I really have kissed a boy before,” she said wryly, wishing away the heat that had rushed to her face.
“I’m sure you have,” he said, amusement entering his eyes. “We didn’t double-lock it, did we?”
“What?”
“The door.”
She blinked, her gaze darting toward the door at the same time she heard the knock and a woman announce it was housekeeping.
“That’s the second knock,” he said quietly. “You might want to acknowledge her.”
“Oh.” She took a quick breath. “I’ll be right there.”
Too late. The door opened.
Emily stepped away from Nick and smiled at the slightly built, middle-aged maid in the gray uniform, who’d started humming as she pushed the door wide, a bucket of supplies in her other hand.
The woman didn’t see them at first and stooped down to drive a wedge under the door. When she straightened, she gasped, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. “I am so sorry, señor, señora,” she said in broken English and forced her eyes to the floor as she fumbled with the wooden wedge that was keeping the door open.
“It’s okay. My fault.” Emily rushed over to reassure her. “I didn’t hear you, but we’re on our way out. In fact, you don’t have to do anything in the room. Leave towels. Just towels will be fine,” Emily said, but the woman kept backing out.
“Señora, por favor?”
At the sound of Nick’s deep voice, the woman stopped in the middle of the doorway, still reluctant to look them in the eyes.
Nick plucked three flowers from the bouquet and approached the woman. He said something to her in Spanish, to which she replied with a shy smile and in her own language so that Emily had no idea what was being said.
He tried to pass her the stems, but she fisted her hands and cast a horrified look at Emily. “No, please, por favor,” Emily reiterated. She only knew about ten words in Spanish.
The Real Deal Page 6