by Robin Kaye
Nick opened the door for Rosalie and cringed when he saw Mona working the desk. “Nicky!”
The bleached blonde bimbo threw herself at Nick, and he caught her. Rosalie looked for the ladies' room.
“Mona, this is a friend of mine, Rosalie. Lee, this is my cousin Vinny's wife, Mona.”
Lee? “Nice to meet you.” Mona shook her hand and gave her the once-over. Rosalie didn't mind, since it turned out to be a “Is she good enough for our Nick?” and not a “What's she doing with my Nick?” kind of inspection. She could tell Mona liked the shoes, wondered if the boobs were real, and if she dyed her hair. Mona's came straight from a bottle of peroxide.
Mona gave her the sisterhood look, the one designed to make you spill juicy gossip on your first trip to the ladies' room. Rosalie returned the smile and looked around for a back door to the place. She'd never be able to pull off an escape via the ladies' room with this one in front.
“Mona, tell Vinny we're here. We'll grab a table in the back.”
“Tell him yourself. He's in the kitchen. Antonio's got the flu, and Vinny's cooking.”
Nick had his annoyed look on. It seemed to have no effect on Mona, but it had the same effect on Rosalie it had earlier, even when aimed at someone else. Damn.
“Mona Constantina DiNicola.” Nick pulled the full name gambit, which most often worked, if for no other reason than force of habit.
“Okay, but you owe me, Nick.”
“No way. You're still paying up for the Rita incident.”
Mona headed to the kitchen, and Nick steered Rosalie into the dimly lit bar.
“The Rita incident? Sounds intriguing,” Rosalie said as Nick shuffled her past bar stools and quiet booths.
“Just the opposite. It was a nightmare blind date to her sister's wedding.”
“Oh, man, she'll be paying for life.” Italian weddings sometimes lasted the entire weekend, and you can't escape. “You have my sympathies.”
Nick took her hand on the other side of the bar and ushered her into the small dining room beyond. One used for private parties. Small, quiet, and empty. Frank Sinatra crooned in the background; the lights were low and the feeling intimate. She turned and took in the scene he'd set. He scored points for romance but lost a few for lack of originality.
“So, does this always work for you?” said the fly to the spider.
Nick helped her out of her coat, folded it, and laid it over the back of a chair. Rosalie sensed the debate going on in his head—Should he feign ignorance, or give her a straight answer?
“Yes, it does, but if it's any consolation, I haven't used it for years.”
He held her chair as she sat. “How come? Were you in a long-term relationship?”
Nick took his seat, shot her a grin, and she melted a little.
He shook his head. “No one else seemed worth the trouble.”
Damn, this guy was good. He handed her a line, and her bullshit meter didn't even go off.
A busboy came in and caught Nick's eye. “Yo, Nick.”
“How's it going, Sonny?”
“Dad asked if your date was one of those vegetarians. If not, he said you should order the special. Veal saltimbocca.”
Nick laughed. “Does she look like a vegetarian?”
Rosalie didn't know whether to be insulted or not. Had he just called her fat? Sonny looked at Rosalie and then away. She had a hard time seeing in the dimly lit room, but she could swear the kid blushed.
“Nope.”
“Rosalie, meet Sonny, Vinny and Mona's son.”
She bit back a grin. The kid looked about sixteen, and once he grew into his feet and filled out, he would be a lady-killer. “Hi.”
Sonny kept his eyes averted. Nick winked at her. “Veal okay with you?” “Sounds good.”
Nick pushed his chair back and dug into his back pocket for his wallet. “How much is she paying you for spying?”
“Ma said I'd get a ten, and she'd buy me the new Xbox 360 game I want.”
Nick took out a twenty. “Here's the deal. You tell her what we ate, say Rosalie was nice, and we held hands, but you didn't hear or see anything beyond that, capisce? You do that, and you can keep this and your mother's bribe. Agreed?”
“Yeah, whatever you say, Nick.” Sonny pulled on the twenty, but Nick didn't let go.
“I find out you told Mona anything else, I'll stop adding to your college fund. You get me?”
Sonny nodded and stashed the bill in his pocket. “You know, if I don't get back out there, Ma will figure this out for herself, and we'll both be in deep sh—”
“Watch your language and get out of here.”
Nick took Rosalie's hand. She tried pulling away, but he held on.
“You don't want to make a liar out of Sonny, do you?”
She shook her head. She didn't want to make a big deal of it. Nick held her hand and rubbed his thumb on the center of her palm. She wouldn't say it felt as if a lightning bolt shot through her, because that sounded so cliched, but she needed to rethink her opinion on reflexology. There had to be something to it, because whatever he did to her hand had a definite effect on several other parts of her body.
Nick sat back, rocking on the back legs of the chair. “So, when did you see Joey?”
“How did you know I saw him?”
“You wouldn't be here with me if you were still in a relationship with him, and you're too nice to break up with a guy over the phone.”
“You're assuming a lot.”
Nick dropped her hand and slid his chair back before he stood.
“I'll take you home.”
What? Confused, she asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I'll take you home. I'm no saint, Lee, but I don't poach.”
Rosalie's anger got the better of her. She stood, because she couldn't very well let the guy have it when she sat eye level with his crotch. “Fine, but for the record, I don't cheat. I broke up with Joey last night, but it had nothing to do with you. Second, I resent the term “poaching.” It brings to mind images of hunting poor defenseless elephants. I am neither defenseless nor an elephant. And nobody calls me Lee.” Rosalie turned to grab her coat.
“Whoa.” Nick caught her by the arm and held her gently, but firmly. She wouldn't get away unless she struggled, and if she did, it would kill any chance of a dignified exit. He stepped closer.
“You're the one who said I assumed a lot. You can't blame me for misinterpreting your meaning.”
Okay, she'd give him that. She started to tell him so, but he took both her hands in his, leaving her speechless. Rosalie had a really hard time talking without using her hands. She'd become mute. Nick, however, didn't suffer the same affliction.
“I don't see you as defenseless, and the only thing you have in common with an elephant is your ability to walk all over a guy. I'm sorry if you don't like me calling you Lee, but Rosalie is too damn long, and you don't look like a Rose or even Rosa. Lee suits you. So shoot me.”
Sometime during his little speech, he'd moved closer. She didn't know what shocked her more, that she could feel his breath on her cheek or that he thought she could walk all over a guy. She put her hand on his chest to try to control the distance between them as he closed in and kissed her. He sent no silent message that said, “I'm going to kiss you now unless you back away.” There were none of the typical signs. He went for it full throttle.
The word kiss didn't describe what he did to her, with her. It was too tame to express the possessive, carnal dance of mouths, tongues, teeth, and breath. It bespoke intimacy and need, and vibrated with barely controlled passion. He explored her mouth with a diligence so complete, it was almost a religious experience.
It took Rosalie a moment to realize that Nick had stopped kissing her. She had her fingers tangled in his hair, and her chest flattened against his. Nick had his knee between her legs, pushing her skirt higher than it should ever be in public, his hands were on her butt, and they were both breathing heavily. She
opened her eyes and stepped back on weak legs. Nick stared at the table behind her. When she turned, she understood why. The table now held two glasses of wine, an opened bottle of Chianti, and a loaf of bread with a plate of olive oil sprinkled with cheese and cracked black pepper. She didn't know who groaned, but one of them did.
“I'm going to have to pay Sonny a lot more than a twenty to hush this one up, though maybe I should charge him for the lesson.”
Rosalie wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole. She'd never been more embarrassed.
Someone knocked on the now-closed door. It opened, and a big man walked in wearing an apron and black-and-white checked pants with a soiled towel thrown over his shoulder.
“I brought the wine, in case you were wondering. Sonny's too young to serve alcohol.”
“Thanks, Vin.” Nick looked equal parts relieved and embarrassed.
“Eh? You two goin' somewhere before dinner? Sit down.”
Nick held Rosalie's chair. She had no choice but to sit. Vinny put a plate of antipasti on the table. “Buon appetite.”
She reached for her wine and drank it down. Nick went for his water. From the looks of it, water hadn't worked any better than wine to stop the flames shooting between them, but the wine definitely helped the embarrassment factor.
She couldn't believe she'd been humping his leg!
Her face got hot all over again, thinking about it. He looked at her, she looked at him, and neither one of them seemed to know what to say, so they ate.
Rosalie stomach suddenly felt as if her throat had been cut. It must have been the embarrassment. The more wine she consumed, the easier the dinner conversation flowed. Unfortunately, her newfound ease didn't reduce her appetite. At least, their clean plates made Vinny happy.
After dinner and two bottles of wine, they drank demitasse spiked with sambuca and ate an exceptional cannoli, one of her all-time favorites. She took a bite of the delectable dessert and eyed Nick as she licked powdered sugar off her top lip. Nick cleared his throat. He'd been doing that all night.
She had a smile on her face, but how could she not, when she ate cannoli? She was having a great time, and it wasn't because of the food, though she had to admit, great food helped. Nick had turned out to be a lot of fun. She wanted to see him again, so she needed to warn him. She knew it wouldn't make a difference. Guys don't listen, but never let it be said she hadn't been straight from the get-go. She put down her cannoli and looked him square in the eye.
“You know, you're making me break one of my rules.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have rules? About what?”
“About dating. Dating rules.”
“Should I ask what they are?”
“I'm breaking rule number three. If you fight on a first date, don't make a second.”
“I haven't asked you out on a second date.”
“After that kiss, if you hadn't asked me out, I would have asked you.”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his plate aside. Then he rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “Really?”
“Yeah, but don't let it go to your head. Now, before I do something like ask you out—”
“You know, I don't think I've ever been asked out. I've been propositioned, but never asked out. Why do you think that is?”
“Maybe because you never let a girl get a word in edgewise?”
Nick smirked and she melted more, but then she'd kinda been melting like a Fudgsicle at the beach ever since she'd set eyes on him.
Rosalie cleared her throat. “As I was saying, before I ask you out—”
“Do you think I'll accept?”
“Nick, if you don't put a sock in it, it will never happen, believe me.” She rushed on before he could comment yet again. “We have to get a few things straight. First and foremost is that I'm not looking for marriage, and I'm not one to change my mind. If that's a problem, you might want to pull a Barbara Bush and just say no.”
“Nancy Reagan.”
“Nancy Reagan what?”
“She coined the phrase 'Just Say No.' Do most men say no?”
“No, most men smile and nod, and two years later they're down on one knee.” “This happens often?” “Well, twice now.” “I see. Two out of how many?” “Three.”
“What happened to number three?”
“He was number one, and well, he ranoffand-joinedtheseminary.” “Excuse me?”
“I said, he ran off and joined the seminary.”
“Was this before or after you… um, spoke to him?”
“After. Anyway, back to the point. I like being single. I like having my own place. I like my job, and I like doing what I want to do when I want to do it. I'm not looking for a man to take over my life. So, unless you're looking for a monogamous, commitment-free, no strings relationship, do us both a favor and just say no.”
“What about the others?”
“What others?”
“The other men you've dated. Come on, you're what, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-seven. What's your point?”
“You're twenty-seven, and you expect me to believe you've only dated three men? Come on, Lee, I wasn't born yesterday.”
“I never said I'd only dated three men. I dated plenty. I meant I've only had three relationships.”
“Now, I don't want to misinterpret your meaning again, so let me see if I understand. You told me you didn't want a 'relationship,' because the word relationship implies commitment, which, if my hearing is correct, you want no part of.”
She nodded.
“I don't understand what you're talking about.”
“Christ, Nick.” He smiled, one of those smiles again. She watched as the dimple in his left cheek popped out, or in, really, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. Then his mouth did this amazing twisty thing before his lips curved up and opened enough to show off a beautiful set of white teeth. They were perfect, she thought, except his right front tooth slanted over the other. Not that a person would notice, unless she looked close or kissed him, both of which she'd done. But, like everything else about him, Rosalie mused, it screamed sexy. She remembered how it felt when her tongue slid over it and… A shiver ran its way up her spine.
“Lee? Are you okay? You're shivering.”
“Oh, I'm fine.” She rubbed her arms and tried to catch her train of thought—it must have slipped out of the station without her. Oh, yeah, she remembered. “Anyway, I meant… um, a sexual relationship.”
“Oh, so you are propositioning me.” He smirked again as he leaned back in his chair, turning toward her. He crossed his arms and looked so damn smug.
“I never said… You know, forget I said anything.” She took a sip of her demitasse and the last bite of her dessert. She didn't look at him, but felt him watching her. She brought her fingers to her mouth to lick off the cannoli cream, but remembered her manners and refrained, even though the thought of wiping the cream on her napkin almost killed her. What a waste.
She was reaching for her napkin when Nick caught her hand. Great, cream would get all over him. For the life of her, she didn't see how he could miss such a big glob of the stuff. She obsessed over it while Nick brought her hand to his mouth and licked off the cream. He proceeded to suck on every one of her fingers while keeping his eyes locked on hers.
She'd heard guys sucked on fingers and toes and other things. But not any of her guys. She was no virgin, but it was as if the guys she'd been with had gotten directions from the same book—How to Get Off in Ten Minutes or Less—and took it as a challenge. They all beat it.
Nick knew how to take his time. She didn't know how long he'd spent sucking on her fingers, but she wouldn't be surprised if they were pruny. He only stopped because Vinny came to tell them to lock up on their way out.
Nick helped Rosalie up—and she needed help. In her quest to drown her embarrassment, they'd finished two bottles of wine and had sambuca with their demitasse. It worked like a charm. Nick h
eld on to her and smiled. She felt so good, tucked under a guy's arm and held close to his side, especially a big guy like Nick. She felt all warm and toasty and slightly buzzed. Okay, maybe more than slightly.
The next thing she knew, they were face-to-face and moving, but not going anywhere. He held her so close, she felt the vibration of his humming in her chest.
“What are we doing?”
“We're dancing.” He kissed her temple, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Frank sang “I've Got You Under My Skin,” and she couldn't help but chuckle at the warning, but like Frank, she couldn't resist. She kissed him.
She brushed her lips over his when “Night and Day” began, and they didn't come up for air until well after the song ended. Nick held her, and she wondered how he could kiss like that and dance at the same time. She had a hard time standing.
“I'm taking you home.”
His words may have said “I'm taking you home,” but his eyes said, “I'm taking you.” So much for rule number two.
Chapter Four
“Yo, Vin, it's Nick.”
“Nick? What the hell time is it? Five? Who died?” “Nobody. How come you're not up?” “It's Tuesday. Nino always opens on Tuesday.” “Oh, sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I'm up now. What do you want, and who the hell is snoring like a freakin' freight train?” “Dave.”
“Who the fuck is Dave?” “Rosalie's dog.”
“Ah, so that's why you're whispering. I can't believe you get laid after you give 'em your first-date talk. I guess Sinatra's still your lucky charm, eh? So, is she as hot as she looks?”
“Lee's a nice girl.”
Nick had promised himself a long time ago he wouldn't do anything he'd regret the next morning. No matter how badly he'd wanted to take the delicious Rosalie up on her offer last night, he knew he couldn't have taken the look he'd have seen when she remembered she'd gotten drunk and allowed him, no, begged him, to take advantage. That was the reason he was on the phone with his cousin while he had an erection hard enough to pound rock salt. The same problem he'd had since he undressed her and put her to bed—alone.