The Stanislaski Series Collection, Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  “You know, Muldoon, you look like you went ten rounds with the champ.”

  His lips curved. It was about all he had the energy for. “You pack a hell of a punch, sugar.”

  As a matter of principle, she bit his shoulder. “Don’t call me ‘sugar.’ But, since you mention it, you didn’t do too badly yourself.”

  He opened one eye. “Too badly? I melted you down to a gooey puddle.”

  True enough, she admitted, but she wouldn’t stroke his ego by agreeing. “I’ll say that you have a certain unrefined style that is strangely appealing.” She trailed a fingertip down his chest. “But the simple fact is, I had to carry you.” That got his other eye open, she thought with satisfaction. “Not that I minded. I didn’t have anything else pressing to do this afternoon.”

  “You carried me?”

  “Metaphorically speaking.”

  His opinion of that was short and rude. “Want to take me on again? Champ?”

  She fluttered her lashes. “Any time. Any place.”

  “Here and now.” She was laughing as he rolled her over, but the laughter ended on a hiss of pain when he bumped her bruised cheek. “Klutz,” she said as he jerked back and swore.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Come on, Zack.” She smiled, wanting to lighten the concern in his eyes and bring back the laughter. “I was only kidding.”

  Ignoring that, he turned her head for a closer look at the mark on her cheek. “I should have put ice on that. He didn’t break the skin, but it’s…”

  She could feel the tension hardening his shoulders. Instead of trying to stroke it away, she pinched him. “Listen, Buster, I come from tough stock. I got worse than that wrestling with my brothers.”

  “If he ever gets out—”

  “Stop it.” Very firmly she put her hands on either side of his face. “Don’t say anything you might regret. Remember, I’m an officer of the court.”

  “I wouldn’t regret it.” He tugged her upward until she was sitting beside him. They were circled, he realized, by the tattered remains of her clothes. “And I don’t regret this—except for the unrefined style.”

  She let out an impatient breath. “Look, if you can’t take a joke, learn to.”

  “Wait until I’m finished before you swipe at me, okay? I swear, you come on faster than a typhoon.” He tucked her hair back and kissed her once, hard. “I wasn’t going to stay. Not today. I figured a bout of hot sex wasn’t the best encore after you’d been strangled.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  He interrupted her. “Close enough. You know that I wanted you however I could get you, Rachel. I sure as hell didn’t make a secret of it. But it occurs to me that you were upset and vulnerable and I took advantage of that.”

  She had to wait nearly a full minute before she could speak. “Don’t make me mad at you, Muldoon. And don’t insult me.”

  “All I’m trying to say is… I don’t know what the hell I’m trying to say,” he muttered, and tried again. “Except—well, maybe I could have pulled that stupid couch out instead of using the floor.”

  Eyes narrowed, she leaned her face close to his. Her eyes were the color of gold doubloons, and just as exotic. “I like the floor. Get it?”

  He was starting to feel better. Zack knew that tending to fragility was out of his league. But this tough, hardheaded woman was just his style. Watching her, he picked up her ruined blouse. “I ripped your clothes off.”

  “Proud of yourself?”

  He tossed it aside. “Yeah. I can wait, if you want to put some more on. Then I can rip them off you again.”

  She bit the inside of her lip, but didn’t quite defeat the smile. “Those were ruined anyway. Next time I’ll have to bill you for damages. I’m on a budget.”

  Chuckling, he flicked her earring with his finger. “I’m crazy about you.”

  Her heart did a fast skip and shudder. The statement was as romantic as a whispered endearment to her. “Hey, don’t get sloppy on me.”

  “Crazy,” he said again, amazed and delighted at the faint blush that stole into her cheeks. “And did I mention that your body makes me wild?”

  She was a great deal more comfortable with that. “No.” She tilted her head. “Why don’t you?”

  “From stem to stern,” he said, letting his hand speak more eloquently. “Forward and aft. Port and starboard.”

  “Oh, God.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and shiver. “Salty talk. I just love a man out of uniform.” More than willing to be aroused, she nuzzled her lips against his. “Tell me something, sailor.”

  “You bet.”

  “Which part is the stern?”

  “I’ll show you.” Very gently, he touched his lips to her bruised throat. “Honey, we better pull that couch out before this gets out of hand again.”

  “Okay.” There was something unspeakably erotic about a callused finger stroking the underside of her breast. “If you want.”

  Though the idea had merit, the couch seemed entirely too far away. “Or we could do it later. Tell you what, if you’d say something in Ukrainian, I’d forget we were on the floor. And I promise to make you forget it, too.”

  “Why should I say something in Ukrainian?”

  “Because it drives me insane.”

  She tilted her head back. “Are you putting me on?”

  “Uh-uh.” His tongue traced a slow, teasing circle on her lips. “Go ahead. Say anything.”

  After a little sigh, she twined her arms around his neck. Against his ear, she murmured the words, then chuckled when he groaned.

  “What did it mean?” he demanded, busying himself by nibbling his way along her shoulder.

  “Loosely translated? I said you were a big, pigheaded fool.”

  “Mmm…are you sure you didn’t say how much you wanted my body?”

  “No. This is how you say that.”

  She told him, but by the time she was finished, he was already obliging her.

  * * *

  In the dark, he drew her close. They had managed, finally, to pull out the bed. Now they were tangled in her sheets. The afternoon had become evening, and evening night.

  “I’d like to stay,” he said quietly.

  “I know.” It was silly, she thought, to be unhappy that he would go. She’d always jealously prized her nights alone. “But you can’t. It’s too soon to trust Nick overnight.”

  “If things were different…” Damn, he hadn’t expected it to be so frustrating. “I’d like to take you back home with me. I’d like to have you in my bed tonight, wake up with you tomorrow.”

  “He’s not ready for that, either.” She wasn’t sure she was ready herself. “Until I have a chance to smooth things out with him, and make him understand, it’s probably best if he doesn’t know we’re…”

  What were they? The question ran through both their heads. Neither of them voiced it.

  “You’re right.” The mattress creaked as he shifted. “Rachel, I want to be with you again. It doesn’t just have to be in bed.” He traced the curve of her cheek. “Or on the floor.”

  “I want to be with you.” She touched her fingers to the back of his hand. “It’s good. And that’s enough.”

  “Yeah.” He was nearly sure it was. “I can take some time Wednesday. How about an early dinner?”

  “I’d like that.” They fell into silence again, until she sighed. “You’d better go.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe Sunday you and Nick could come to dinner at my parents’. We talked about it before, remember?”

  “That would be good.” He kissed her again, and the kiss went on and on. “Just once more.”

  “Yes.” She enfolded him. “Just once more.”

  * * *

  Rachel shifted the phone to her other ear, scribbled on a legal pad and stared dubiously at the stack of files on her desk.

  “Yes, Mrs. Macetti, I understand. What we need are a couple of good character witnesses for your son. Your priest, perha
ps, or a teacher.” As she listened to the rapid-fire broken English, she wondered if she could catch the attention of any of her harried coworkers and hope that they’d feel sorry enough for her to bring her a cup of coffee. “I can’t tell you that, Mrs. Macetti. Our chances are very good for a suspended sentence and probation, since Carlo wasn’t driving. But the fact is, he was riding in a stolen car, and…”

  She trailed off, carefully folding the page she’d written on. “Uh-huh. Well, as I explained before, it would be rather difficult to convince anyone he didn’t know the car was stolen, since the locks had been sprung and the engine hot-wired.” Satisfied with the shape of her paper airplane, she shot it out her door. It was as good as a note in a bottle.

  “I’m sure he’s a good boy, Mrs. Macetti.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Bad companions, yes. Let’s hope that this experience will have him keeping his distance from the Hombres. Mrs. Macetti. Mrs. Macetti,” Rachel said, trying to be firm, “I’m doing everything I can. Try to be optimistic, and I’ll see you in court next week. No—no, really. I’ll call you. Yes, I promise. Goodbye. Yes, absolutely. Goodbye.”

  Rachel hung up the phone, then dropped her head on her desk. Ten minutes of trying to deal with the frantic mother of six was as exhausting as a full day in court.

  “Tough day?”

  Lifting her head, Rachel spotted Nick in her doorway. He had her paper airplane in one hand, and a large paper cup in the other.

  “Tough month.” Her gaze locked on the steaming cup. “Tell me that’s coffee.”

  “Light, no sugar.” He stepped in and offered it. “Your note sounded desperate.” As she took the first sip, he grinned. “I was coming down the hall, and it hit me in the chest. Nice form.”

  “I find they make excellent interoffice memos.” Another sip and she felt the caffeine begin to pump through her system. “Since you saved my life, what can I do for you?”

  “I was just kicking around. Thought maybe we could grab some lunch.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick.” She gestured to the clutter on her desk. “I’m swamped.”

  “They don’t let you eat?” Because he found he enjoyed seeing her here, entrenched in the business of justice, he eased a hip down on the corner of the desk.

  “Oh, they throw us some raw meat now and again.” Lord, he was flirting with her, she realized. Rachel gauged the files piled in front of her, calculated how much time she had before her meeting with the DA to bargain on a half a dozen cases. It was going to be close. “Actually, I would like to talk to you, if you have a few minutes.”

  “I’m on six to two tonight, so I’ve got plenty of minutes.”

  “Good.” She stood, easing by him to close the door. The moment she turned back, she realized he’d taken that gesture the wrong way. His hands went to her waist. She had a moment to think that in a few years that combination of smooth moves and rough manners would devastate hordes of women. Then she managed to slip aside.

  “Nick,” she began, then hesitated. “Sit down.” When he settled in her battered office chair, she sat behind the desk. “We’re going on three weeks. I’d like to know how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m cool.”

  “What I mean is, when we go back in front of Judge Beckett, it’s very likely she’ll give you probation—unless you make a big mistake in the meantime.”

  “I don’t plan on mistakes.” The chair creaked rustily as he leaned back. “Going to jail isn’t high on my list these days.”

  “Glad to hear it. But she may also ask about your plans. This might be the time to start thinking about that, whether you’d like to make the situation with Zack more permanent.”

  “Permanent?” He gave a quick laugh. “Hey, I don’t know about that. I’ll probably want my own place, you know. Zack and me…well, maybe we’re getting on a little better, but he cramps my style. Kind of hard to have a lady over when big brother can walk in any time.” He flicked his green eyes over her face. “Know what I mean?”

  An opening, she thought, and dived in. “Do you have a girl?”

  His smile was very male and very attractive. “I’m more interested in women. Women with big brown eyes.”

  “Nick—”

  “You know, when I was walking over here, I started to think how getting busted turned out to be a pretty lucky break.” He lifted her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles before toying with her fingers. His eyes never left hers. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have needed such a great-looking lawyer.”

  “Nick, I’m twenty-six.” It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, or how she’d meant to say it, but he only tilted his head.

  “Yeah? So?”

  “And I’m your court-appointed guardian.”

  “Kind of an interesting situation.” His smile spread. “It’ll be over in about five weeks.”

  “I’ll still be seven years older than you.”

  “More like six,” he said easily. “But who’s counting?”

  “I am.” Frustrated, she started to rise, then realized it would be best if she stayed in the position of authority behind the desk. “Nick, I like you, very much. And I meant what I said when I told you I wanted to be your friend.”

  “You can’t let the age thing bother you, babe.” When he rose, she realized she’d miscalculated by staying behind the desk. When he came around to sit on the edge of it, she was trapped between him and the wall.

  “Of course I can. I was in college when you were starting puberty.”

  “Well, I’ve finished now.” He grinned and traced his finger down her cheek. And his eyes narrowed. “Is that a bruise?”

  “I ran into something,” she said, and tried again. “The bottom line is, I’m too old for you.”

  He frowned at the bruise another minute, then lifted his eyes to hers. “I don’t think so. Let me put it this way. Do you figure a woman shouldn’t get tangled up with a guy six years older than she is?”

  “That’s entirely different.”

  “Sexist,” he said clucking his tongue. “Here I figured you’d be all for equal rights.”

  “Of course I am, but—” She broke off with a hiss of breath.

  “Gotcha.”

  “Regardless of age—” since that wasn’t working, she thought “—I’m your guardian, and it would be wrong, certainly unethical, for me to encourage or agree to anything beyond that. I care about what happens to you, and if I’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in anything more than friendship, I’m sorry.”

  He considered. “I guess you take your work pretty seriously.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I can dig it. No pressure, right?”

  Relief made her sigh. “Right.” She rose, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “You’re all right, Nick.”

  “You too.” They both looked around when her phone began to shrill. “I’ll let you get back to serving justice,” he told her, then had her mouth dropping open as he brought her hand to his lips. “Five weeks isn’t so long to wait.”

  “But—”

  “Catch you later.” He strolled out, leaving Rachel wondering if it would help to beat her head against the wall.

  * * *

  Nick was feeling great. He had the whole day ahead of him, money in his pocket, and a gorgeous woman planted in his heart. He had to grin when he thought about the way he’d flustered her. He hadn’t realized it could be so satisfying to make a woman nervous.

  And imagine a knockout like Rachel worrying about her age. Shaking his head, he jogged down to the subway. Maybe he’d thought she was a couple of years younger, but it didn’t matter one way or the other. Everything about her was dead-on perfect.

  He wondered how Zack would react when he saw Nick LeBeck strut into the bar one night with Rachel on his arm. He didn’t imagine Zack would think of him as a kid when everybody saw he’d bagged a babe like Rachel Stanislaski.

  Wrong, he told himself as he hopped on a car that would take him to Times Square. That was no way to talk a
bout a classy lady. What they’d have was a relationship. As the subway car rattled and squeaked, he occupied himself by daydreaming about what they’d do together.

  There would be dinners and long walks, quiet talks. They’d go listen to music, and dance. Now and again they’d have a lazy evening snuggled up in front of the television.

  Nick considered it a sign of his commitment that he hadn’t put sex at the top of the list.

  On top of the world, he came out into the bustle and blare of Times Square and decided to use some of his loose change for a little pinball.

  The arcade was noisy, and there was a loud rock backbeat blasting over the metallic sounds of beeps and buzzes. Though he’d missed the freedom of being able to breeze into an arcade any time he chose, he had to admit it felt good to be able to spend money he’d earned.

  No sneaking around, no vague sense of guilt. Maybe he didn’t have the gang to hang around with, but he didn’t feel nearly as lonely as he’d thought he would.

  It wasn’t something he’d admit out loud, but he was getting a kick out of working in the kitchen with Rio. The big cook had plenty of stories, many of them about Zack. When he listened to them, Nick almost felt as though he’d been part of it.

  Of course, he hadn’t, Nick reminded himself, using expert body English to play out the ball. There was no possible way he could explain how miserable he’d been when Zack shipped out. Then he’d had no one again. His mother had tried, he supposed, but she’d always been more shadow than substance in his life.

  It had taken all her energy to put food on the table and clothes on his back. She’d had little of herself left over once that was done.

  Then there had been Zack.

  Nick could still remember the first time he’d seen his stepbrother. In the kitchen of the bar. Zack had been sitting at the counter, gobbling potato chips. He’d been tall and dark, with an easy grin and a casually generous manner. Once Nick had gotten up the courage to follow him around, Zack hadn’t tried to shake him off.