Книга - The Real Deal

The Real Deal
Debbi Rawlins


Emily Carter is in Manhattan for a weeklong adventure - shopping, sightseeing and maybe, possibly, hopefully, sex. She's got a copy of Erotic New York and she's not afraid to use it…. Nick Corrigan finds Emily's naughty guidebook in their cab and hand-delivers it to her hotel. Enticingly anonymous for once, the sexy all-star pitcher is intrigued by the bossy, brainy out-of-towner.Soon the unlikely pair is steaming up the windows of Nick's penthouse apartment. Could this be just a fun vacation fling…or the real thing?












It’s said that you have to lose yourself in order to find who you really are…

Three intrepid Harlequin Blaze heroines are about to test that theory—in the sexiest way possible!

Watch for:

Shiver by Jo Leigh

(October 2010)

The Real Deal by Debbi Rawlins

(November 2010)

Under Wraps by Joanne Rock

(December 2010)

Lose Yourself…

What you find might change your life!







Dear Reader,

This was an interesting book for me to write. I connected with Emily immediately. In fact, as soon as I was asked to be a part of this series, I knew she would be the character I would create. In some ways, she is more like me than any other character I’ve used. More like the old me, anyway. The person who always wanted to please, who prided herself on being dependable and who rarely could say no. Thank goodness that’s changed. I still like to think of myself as dependable, but unable to say no? Amazing how easy that simple little word has fit so nicely into my vocabulary.

Although this story was supposed to primarily be about the heroine’s journey, the hero ended up surprising me. Initially, I hadn’t intended for Nick Corrigan to share equal billing in the self-discovery department, but the more layers I peeled back and the more I learned about him, the more I believed Nick needed to return to his roots. And who better to help him see the light than Emily?

Thank you for following their journey with me.

Enjoy!

Debbi Rawlins




The Real Deal

Debbi Rawlins










ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Debbi Rawlins lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl, who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until four years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity has never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college she spontaneously left her home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.




Contents


Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue




Prologue


From: AdventureGirl@FantasyEscapes.com

Okay, ladies, I did it. Fantasy Escapes is opening its doors to the public tomorrow morning and I’m officially trolling for business among my best friends—call me tacky, but I think you all deserve a fabulous getaway!

For those of you who’ve been under a rock this last year, I’ve been working on a new start-up business ever since Premiere Properties downsized me out of a job. I’m putting my extensive travel experience to good use to help clients take one-of-a-kind vacations. Need a massage on the beach in Miami? I can book you with the best hands on South Beach and I know which places have the most luxurious cabanas. Need a ski trip complete with a sleigh ride? A bicycle trip to the top of a Hawaiian mountain? I can make sure you pick the best time to see the perfect sunset while you’re there. You’ll recall I’m a bit Type A? Picture the power of Marnie perfectionism at your fingertips! I’ll create that once-in-a-lifetime experience you dream about.

So here I sit, brimming with knowledge and ready to send all of my fave foxy friends on an adventure. Email me when you’re ready to get away! You all know you deserve it….

P.S. Emily, sweetie, I’d bet my new convertible that you’re sitting in five-year-old sweats right now and wearing those horrible fuzzy slippers you used to wear every night in college. I know you enjoy commuting to the coffeepot every morning, but you need to get out more. Seriously. You have to step out of your comfort zone every once in a while. This is not about me drumming up business. This is coming from your friend who adores you and wants to see you have a life….

Hugs and kisses,

Marnie

AFTER READING THE EMAIL, Emily Carter leaned back in her chair, glanced down at her worn gray sweatpants and sighed. She wasn’t about to get rid of a perfectly good pair of sweats just because they had some mileage on them. After all, as her friend had pointed out, Emily didn’t go out much. She worked at home, so why bother getting dressed?

Good for Marnie, though. She’d sworn up and down she’d start her own business before their next reunion. Not that Emily ever had any doubt that Marnie would come through. The woman was savvy, ambitious and always had an abundance of great ideas. This Fantasy Escapes for instance. She was smart in hitting up their sorority sisters. Most of them had done well and could afford to treat themselves to one of Marnie’s planned vacations. They’d all love that kind of thing.

Not her, though. She hadn’t done too badly herself, with more work coming in than she could handle sometimes, but she’d taken a different path than most of her sorority sisters. She was more a hermit, content to stay away from the pressure of a fast-paced career. She liked working at home, and yes, wearing comfy sweats every day. Her online social life was quite active and stimulating and perfectly suited her needs.

Well, most of them, she thought, her gaze wandering back to Marnie’s email. Some sex wouldn’t be a bad thing.




1


“OH, YOU’RE A BLONDE.” Emily opened the front door wider and then relieved her sister of two of her shopping bags.

“Since yesterday. What do you think?”

“Very nice. You look like a natural.”

“I know, right?” Pam swept past her, angling her head so she could catch her reflection in the grandfather clock that had graced the Carter foyer for three generations.

A gust of brisk autumn air rushed in, carrying two fallen yellow leaves. Emily ducked her head to make sure neither of her nieces were trailing behind, and then closed the door. Her sister was one of those people who seemed to fill a room, sucking out all the oxygen and squeezing out everyone else. Sometimes that included her children. Oh, it wasn’t intentional and she never meant to be mean, that was simply the way of it.

“Although I did like your hair red, too,” Emily offered, as she followed her older sister into the den, envying how her short gray pencil skirt showed off her long legs. Pam was tall and elegant, while their younger sister, Denise, was petite and way too adorable. Emily had ended up right smack in the middle, average in every way. Which wasn’t a big deal. When she was younger, yeah. But not now, not at twenty-eight.

Pam snorted. “Auburn, not red. Where’s Mom?”

“She’s out back gathering the last of the roses from the greenhouse. What’s in the bags?”

“Christmas presents.”

“And you brought them here instead of taking them home because…?” Emily figured she knew the answer.

“So you could wrap them. No hurry.”

“Uh, yeah, with Thanksgiving still being three weeks away.”

Ignoring Emily’s sarcasm, Pam dumped the bags on the tan leather couch and then frowned at her watch. “I hope Denise isn’t late. Mark and I have dinner reservations at the club tonight.”

“Denise is coming, too?”

“Oh, didn’t anyone tell you about getting together today?”

Sighing, Emily shook her head. Why would they? She was always here. She worked at home, spent her free time reading or cooking, only going out on a Saturday night when needed as a last-minute babysitter for her nieces and nephews. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to discuss Thanksgiving dinner.” Pam moved to the wet bar and helped herself to a martini. She set down the bottle of gin and critically eyed Emily’s favorite baggy gray sweats. “I can’t believe you still have those things.” Her gaze moved to the fuzzy pink house slippers. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” Emily glanced down. Okay, they had gotten pretty ratty over the years. “It’s not like I’m out in public.”

“But what if someone came to the door?”

“Like who?”

“Like that cute UPS guy who delivers your manuscripts.”

Emily sighed. Sad that he used to be the highlight of her week. Hell, of her life. She’d even broken down and started applying mascara when she knew he was coming. “They changed his route.”

“Hmm. Who took his place?”

“A woman.”

“Too bad. Your only prospect gone.” Pam took a sip of her martini. “You really need to get out more.”

“I like my life, thank you very much. By working at home, look how much money I save on clothes.”

“Apparently.”

Emily rolled her eyes. She loved her sister. She did, but Pam could be so irritating at times. “I think I heard a car door,” she muttered and went to the window and watched their younger sister, looking smart in a mauve silk suit and impossibly high heels, bow her tawny head in deference to the wind as she hurried up the walkway.

“Denise?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Go get Mom, will you, while I give Mark a quick ring.”

Gladly. Then she’d be left in peace again. She heard the front door open as she trudged toward the kitchen at the back of the house. It was a joke, really. Discuss Thanksgiving dinner? She knew how that would go. Just like it always did. With her doing most of the cooking.

Before Emily got to the door, Laura Carter, the matriarch of the Carter clan, entered the kitchen with her gloved hands full of fragrant pink and yellow roses.

“Are the girls here?” she asked, using the back of her wrist to push the blond bob away from her face.

“Yes.” Emily stretched on tiptoes to reach the crystal vase sitting on top of the antique oak hutch that had been passed down for five generations. “You didn’t mention they were coming.”

“Didn’t I?” She smiled. “Sorry, honey. Fill that only half full, would you?”

Emily dutifully filled the vase to specification. “Pam and Mark have dinner reservations so she’s kind of in a hurry.”

“Well, she can wait a few extra minutes.” She clipped the stems and then carefully arranged the roses to her satisfaction.

Emily leaned a hip against the counter and fondly watched her mother work. In a way, Emily was most like her. Definitely more Zen than either Pam or Denise, with a greater appreciation for long sentimental movies and heart-tugging books that kept them reading until three in the morning.

Conversely, Pam and Denise were more gregarious and ambitious, like their father. At least that’s what Emily had gleaned over the years. She’d been eight when he’d died, and although she remembered him quite vividly, at least through the eyes of a child, she relied on her mother’s memory for the nuances of his personality.

Her mother took a step back to admire her arrangement. “I should have brought in some greens.”

“You realize the girls will start hollering for us any second.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t started already,” she said, unconcerned, and moved a pink rose to the other side of the vase.

Emily chuckled. She had to give her mother credit for gumption. The trace of a Southern accent that had survived living in Indiana for the past thirty years often misled the uninformed. Beneath her petite and genteel exterior, she was a tough cookie who generally knew what she wanted. Except when it came to men. Then she flaked out. Sad, really—it was if she was still chasing the great love she’d once had with Emily’s father.

In that regard, Emily was nothing like her mother. Dating and men were a nonissue. Mostly due to lack of opportunity, but still, it wasn’t as if she laid awake at night longing for that special someone, not even the UPS guy, as cute as he was. She’d always been a bookworm in high school and could count the dates she’d had on one hand. College hadn’t produced any significant long-term romantic interludes. She’d made a couple of good male friends, but that was it. No matter, primarily she was content with her life. Really. She had her work and her books…though sometimes she missed sex. Her recent two-year dry spell was starting to get to her.

Briefly she thought about Marnie’s email. Maybe next year she’d venture out. Consider taking a cruise or a guided tour of France and Italy. She had enough money saved. Sharing the family home with her mother had its financial advantage. Laura Carter did not do well living on her own, and after divorce number three, Emily had agreed to move back into the large brick colonial to help out with the mortgage and expenses.

Two years later, they still got along great, rarely stepping on each other’s toes. Mainly, she suspected, because she spent so much time in her office and her mother was out and about most days. Ironically, or maybe tragically was more apt, at fifty-four, her mom had a more active social life than Emily did.

“I haven’t got all night, you two.” It was Pam yelling from the den. “Can we get on with this?”

Emily sighed. “Don’t be shocked, but I actually agree with her. Let’s get this over with.”

“You have a point.” She glanced at the clock. “I may still make it to bridge at Sheila’s.”

“Don’t see why not,” Emily muttered. “This shouldn’t take long.” Her mood had suddenly plummeted and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t give a tinker’s damn that everyone but her had someplace to go tonight. She truly didn’t. Her irritation had more to do with how she knew the so-called family discussion would inevitably play out.

Oblivious to Emily’s crankiness, her mother led the way into the den, heading straight for the wet bar. Pam and Denise were sitting on the leather sofa, sipping their cocktails. Emily claimed the matching recliner and watched her mother pour herself a glass of white wine.

“I’ll have one of those, if you don’t mind,” Emily said, aware that everyone turned to stare at her. She rarely drank, generally on a holiday or a special occasion, but that was it.

Sliding her feet out from the pink house slippers, she drew her legs up and curled them under her bottom, feeling a tad better just because she’d surprised them. Silly, but there it was.

Pam eyed the slippers with disdain. “I guess we know what you’ll be asking Santa for this Christmas.”

“A new sister?” Emily said sweetly.

Denise burst out laughing.

“Be nice, girls.” Their mother shook her head with mock disapproval and passed Emily the glass of wine.

Pam snorted, finished her drink and checked the time. “I know this is tradition and all, but honestly, we should’ve just done this on the phone. I assume Thanksgiving dinner will be at four,” she said, glancing at everyone and then promptly continuing, apparently requiring no agreement. “This year I’ll be in charge of drinks for the adults and kids, and there’s a fabulous new bakery around the corner from my office that’s taking orders for dinner rolls and pies, so I’ll take care of that, as well.”

“Store-bought pies and rolls?” Denise gaped. “Seriously?”

“Look, most of the time everyone is too stuffed for dessert, and shouldn’t we give Emily a break? Unless you’re planning on making the turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and yam casserole?”

Denise flushed and slid Emily an apologetic look. “I figured I’d bring the salad, cranberry sauce and nuts as usual. We’ll be arriving home that morning after skiing in Vail so I won’t have time to actually cook.”

Pam raised her brows at their mother. “You’ll take care of the peas and pearl onions?”

“I’ll be gone overnight to Chicago myself. I promised Carla I’d go shopping with her before the Christmas rush. But I think I can handle the peas and onion dish. I know how much Mark looks forward to it.”

“How fun. Chicago will be perfect. I bet the city will have decorated for Christmas by then,” Pam said, and went on to describe the surprise she had for her husband.

With growing frustration, Emily listened to them discuss their respective plans for shopping and visiting friends and skiing. Firmly reminding herself that this was as much her fault as it was theirs didn’t seem to help. No one had bothered to ask her what she wanted to contribute or even if she felt like tackling the epic meal. They assumed she’d be in charge, just like they did every holiday. It was a task to which she herself had always acquiesced without complaint.

She quietly cleared her throat. “I won’t be here.”

Pam and Denise abruptly looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief.

Their mother, who was in the middle of relating an anecdote about her last Chicago shopping trip, stopped talking. Obviously she hadn’t heard Emily. Looking confused, her gaze skipped to each of her daughters. “What?”

“Repeat that,” Pam ordered.

“I won’t be here for Thanksgiving.” Just saying the words scared the living daylights out at her, but too bad. She’d had it.

“You’re kidding.” Denise frowned. “Where else would you be?”

Emily hesitated, her heart thudding. “New York.”

“Seriously,” Denise said in a suspicious voice. “New York. You never go anywhere, and you’re suddenly going someplace like New York?”

“I thought it would be fun to do my shopping there this year.” Emily gritted her teeth at the amused way Pam and her mother were staring at her. They thought she was bluffing. Oh, God, there’d be no backing out now.

“And when were you going to tell us you had other plans for Thanksgiving?” Pam asked with that hint of reproach her older sister had mastered over the years.

“As soon as you guys bothered to ask.”

Pam made a sound of exasperation. “But you always… This is because of the UPS guy, isn’t it? Really, Emily, you so need to get laid.”

“Come on, girls.” Their mother pinned them with a warning look she hadn’t used since they were in high school.

Emily huffed out a laugh. Not that she’d ever admit it in this lifetime, but her sister was right. Getting laid was exactly what Emily needed. And New York sounded like the perfect place to do it.

THE FLIGHT HAD BEEN BUMPY, the layover in Detroit endless and now dark threatening clouds hovered over LaGuardia airport as Emily stood at the curb waiting for a shuttle to take her to the overpriced Manhattan hotel that she had impulsively allowed Marnie to book. At least her bag had made it. Two other women standing at baggage claim next to her found out that their luggage had gone to Florida by mistake.

Although, even if she and her bag had parted ways, the loss would’ve been minimal. She’d purposely packed light. No baggy sweats, no fuzzy pink slippers or holey T-shirts, only one pair of jeans, two blouses and enough underwear to get her to the nearest Victoria’s Secret. She knew herself too well. If she didn’t force herself to shop for new clothes, she would stoop to wearing the same comfy rags she always wore.

Instead, she’d searched online for stores before she’d left home and had an entire shopping itinerary planned for tomorrow, her first full day in the city. The second thing she was going to do was find a guide. Not for the entire week of her stay, but just for a few days. The recommendations she’d gotten from Marnie sounded pretty cool but really expensive.

Meanwhile, she just hoped she’d meet a guy sometime during her trip that she liked well enough to dust off a condom. And that she’d be brave enough to go through with it.

The idea of a vacation fling was mostly scary but also exhilarating. Maybe here, where it was…nothing like home, she’d find a whole new side to herself. After all, she had a whole glorious week ahead of her, as she’d reminded herself on the plane ride often enough. Because if she hadn’t continually given herself pep talks, fear and uncertainty would have made her wish she’d never opened her mouth that fateful day in the den.

The trepidation she’d been experiencing was totally irrational, a fact she admitted. Not even thirty and she’d become a creature of habit, afraid to step out of her comfort zone, afraid to take the smallest chance or make the most minimal change in her life.

No, that wasn’t quite true. Fear was the simple answer. The pathetic truth was, the idea to broaden her horizons never entered her complacent mind. For the past five years she’d been insidiously content to be a hermit. Crazy really, because she was curious by nature. She loved learning new things. That’s why she adored her job as a freelance copy editor.

She noticed a shuttle approaching, and to make sure she boarded the right van, she checked the name that the woman at the information booth had scribbled down for her.

This trip would be good for her. Just what she needed to push herself out into the world. Instead of slaving over a hot stove all Thanksgiving morning while her family was out cavorting, she’d find a sinfully decadent brunch in a fancy hotel. Maybe she’d go all out. Not even have turkey and all the trimmings, but a big old plate of rich, gooey desserts instead.

For once in her life, no adventure would be too intimidating or too exotic. Each day she’d tackle something unthinkable. Hire a drop-dead gorgeous guide to show her around the town. Eat at a five-star restaurant by herself. Nope, she wouldn’t be afraid to try anything, she decided with conviction, clutching her carry-on with a clammy palm.

At least, that was the plan.




2


“HEY, NICKY, OVER HERE! Wait. Come on, sign this cap for my nephew, will ya?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick Corrigan saw the dark-haired man waving the blue baseball cap. He’d come out of the shadows, just to the left of the door, as if he’d been waiting outside of the apartment building for Nick to leave.

“Get lost, pal. I’m not telling you again,” the bulky doorman growled and positioned himself in between Nick and the insistent fan.

“It’s okay, Leo. I’ll sign his hat.”

The older man shook his graying head, his gaze sweeping up and down the street. “You know what happens after you stop to sign one, Nicky. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork.”

“I know.” He reached around to take the cap, and sure enough, nearly a block away, a pair of kids—about twelve or thirteen years old—scampered across the street, weaving around speeding taxis in their haste to waylay him.

“Make it out to Toby.” The guy gave Leo a smug look as he handed Nick a black felt pen. “Man, he’s not gonna believe this. My nephew, he’ll be ten on Saturday. You’re his idol.”

Nick smiled wryly. “Tell him he needs a better role model than a jock who has a good arm.”

“Hell, you’re my idol, too. You still dating that model from Germany?”

“You know better than to ask a personal question,” Leo interjected, glaring at the other man. The doorman took the cap from Nick and shoved it back at the fan.

“Thanks, Nicky.” The man sauntered away while reading the inscription to his nephew.

Huffing and puffing, the kids who’d charged down from 68th Street stopped just short of running them over. “Hey, Nicky, would you sign our shirts, too?” the tall lanky redheaded boy asked, his breathing labored, his mouth spread in a broad grin.

“I shouldn’t sign anything.” He pinned them with a warning look. “What were you doing darting into traffic like that?”

The shorter, stouter boy’s eyes widened. “We didn’t want to miss you.”

“Use the crosswalk next time,” Nick muttered, and scrawled his name across the back of each of their shirts.

“Cool. Thanks.” Both boys craned their necks over their shoulders to check out his barely legible signature.

“Your car’s waiting,” Leo reminded him. “Better get in before someone else spots you.”

Nick nodded and quickly moved toward the black Lincoln Town Car, where the driver stood holding open the back door.

Leo followed him, waited until he got in and then leaned over. “Looks like rain. You want to take an umbrella?”

“No, thanks. I’m just going to go grab something to eat. I won’t be out late.”

“You expecting anyone I should let in?” the doorman asked quietly.

“Not tonight.”

Leo slowly nodded, his face creased with concern. “Okay. I’ll be off duty when you get back so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll bring you coffee and a bagel after my run.”

The older man scowled as he straightened, and patted his round belly. “Better skip the bagel. The wife says I gotta lose this by Christmas.”

Nick grinned. “I should leave out the cream and sugar from your coffee then.”

“Don’t get crazy on me.” Leo noticed a couple exiting the apartment building and with a wave hurried back to his station.

Nick leaned his head back against the leather headrest as the driver eased into traffic. Up ahead, near the intersection, he saw the two boys whose shirts he’d autographed dash across the street, several yards short of the crosswalk. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. Man, he had to be getting old lecturing kids about pedestrian safety. What was that about?

The holidays were coming up. That was the problem. He hated this time of year. Part of it for him was the end of the season letdown. Baseball was over until next spring. And although he spent the winter months trying to keep in shape and was able to do a bit of traveling, the downtime always made him restless. Made him think too much. This year was even worse since Billy’s accident a month ago.

Nick stared out the window at the steady drizzle that was beginning to turn into a nightmare for commuters. Why hadn’t he ordered in? It was crazy to go out for dinner in weather like this, especially when he wasn’t even that hungry. Couldn’t he stand his own company for one lousy evening? At least when he was by himself he didn’t have to suffer questions regarding his plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

His teammates and their wives, the media, waiters at restaurants he frequented, even complete strangers, they all wanted to know what he would be doing. Who cared where or if he’d eat a slab of turkey on Thursday?

Ironically, the only people who hadn’t asked were his family. They’d assumed he wouldn’t be going home because he rarely did. He’d had the passing thought of surprising them and showing up on his parents’ doorstep Thanksgiving morning. But then he found out from his sister that they were all headed for the Vermont ski slopes to catch the early snow. All the more ironic, he’d given the whole clan the vacation as a gift last Christmas.

He knew he could tag along. They’d be happy to have him join them, but spending three days in a resort with them along with a bunch of strangers wasn’t what he had in mind. Bad enough he had so little privacy. Hell, maybe he should go to Louisiana and spend the time with Billy and his wife.

He shook his head at the depressing thought. They needed their privacy, too. He couldn’t imagine what the poor guy was going through right now. Though Nick had spent hours with him in the hospital, and Billy’s spirits hadn’t been too bad, by now the shock had to have worn off. Reality would be eating a hole in his gut, as weeks of rehab and his uncertain future lay before him. Hell, Nick was pretty shaken himself, and he wasn’t the one with the mangled arm and leg.

Was he being selfish? Did Billy need privacy, or did he need a friend about now? Damn, Nick was a coward. Seeing Billy laid up had reminded him of his own vulnerability. Of how in a matter of minutes his charmed life could disappear. And then what would he have to fall back on? He hadn’t finished college. All he knew was baseball.

The car stopped, and Nick peered out to see what was holding up traffic, startled to find that they’d already pulled up in front of Orso. The popular restaurant already had a line out the door.

“Should I wait, Mr. Corrigan? Or do you want me to come back in a couple of hours?” the driver asked, meeting Nick’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“No use waiting around.” He dug in his pocket. “Go on home.”

The man blinked. “So you’ll call me when you’re ready?”

“Nope. Take the rest of the night off.”

“But, sir—” He turned around, obviously alarmed. “The service said you needed me for the entire evening.” His eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

Nick shook his head. The man was new. Tony normally drove Nick but he’d taken the week off. “Nothing personal. I like taking cabs sometimes. You’ll get paid for the whole night.”

He jumped out with an umbrella when he heard Nick lift the handle. “I wish you’d reconsider,” the driver said while holding the door open and the umbrella aloft. “With this rain, it might be tough to get a cab.”

Nick smiled and tucked a fifty in the guy’s breast pocket. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”

There was always a cab for Nick Corrigan. Or anything else the pride of the Knight’s wanted.

At least for now.

“OH, THIS IS JUST PERFECT,” Emily muttered, tilting her face up to the blackened sky. She’d been in New York for one night and, until now, she’d been lucky.

Raindrops hit her cheeks. Quickly she bowed her head and backed up until she was sheltered by the overhang of the crowded restaurant. She didn’t care if her jeans and sweatshirt got wet, or even her hair. Her only concern was the shopping bags full of silk lingerie, obscenely expensive sweaters and an indecently short dress she was trying to juggle.

If she got them wet, she couldn’t chicken out and take them back tomorrow. Of course the lingerie was a done deal but she wouldn’t return any of those things, anyway. How long had it been since she’d treated herself to anything but granny pants? She felt positively decadent. Now if she could only keep everything dry. It wouldn’t be easy. She’d been waiting for a cab for ten minutes, along with everyone else on West 46th, and the storm had only just started.

A taxi rounded the corner, and she stuck out her arm, tote bags and all, but the cab stopped for someone else half a block away. If only she hadn’t spent so much time at the bookstore she would’ve beaten the rain and been safely back at her hotel by now. Served her right, really. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t go near a library, computer or bookstore while she was here. But feeling sorry for herself when the guide she’d hired had stood her up, she’d broken down and popped into the first bookstore she spotted.

She peeked into the large tote bag holding her new dress and the two books she’d purchased. No doubt she’d turned three shades of red while standing in line at the register. She’d almost hidden the one paperback in with her new lingerie until she could pay for it and have the books wrapped, but common sense prevailed. Embarrassment was easier to get over than getting arrested for shoplifting.

Another taxi sped through the intersection. She stepped into the rain to wave the cab down, and the car miraculously stopped in front of her. But before she could get to the back door, two men rushed past her. The one holding an umbrella over the taller man’s head edged her aside and grabbed the door handle.

Emily automatically stepped back, but no. Not this time. “Hey, that’s my cab.”

They both looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. The one with the umbrella wore a name tag. He shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but I called for this cab.”

“Right.” She used the back of her wrist to shove the damp hair away from her face, blinking hard at the drop of rain that caught on her lashes.

“It’s okay, James,” the taller, dark-haired man said, “let her have it. I can wait.”

“But it’s gonna take another—”

“Really, it’s okay.” He opened the back door and turned to Emily. “Sorry about the confusion,” he said, regarding her with sincere hazel eyes and gesturing for her to slide in. “Please.”

She hesitated, her pulse quickening as she took in the perfectly shaped mouth and the strong angular jaw. He seemed vaguely familiar, except she didn’t know anyone here in Manhattan.

“Better hurry. Your packages are getting wet.”

She glanced down. Although she’d been partially protected by the umbrella, her soggy bags hadn’t. All she needed was for them to rip and spill their contents in the middle of the sidewalk. “Look, we can share the cab if you want,” she said, shoving the sacks into the backseat and out of the rain.

He looked surprised, thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

The guy named James seemed even more taken aback. “You sure, Nicky?”

He pressed a bill into the man’s palm. “If I don’t see you before then, have a good Thanksgiving.”

Knowing the umbrella was about to disappear, Emily quickly scrambled in beside her packages. They took up a third of the bench seat, so when the stranger slid in next to her, she found her thigh pressed firmly against his. The innocuous contact sent a shiver up her spine.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked.

“The Thornton hotel for me.” Emily lifted a couple of the totes onto her lap and slid over toward the far door, leaving a few inches between her and the good-looking stranger.

“And you, buddy?” The driver pulled into traffic, directly in front of another taxi.

Emily jumped, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for impact and the crunch of metal to explode in her ears. Seconds later they were moving along with the flow of cars, and she cautiously opened her eyes. To her horror, she saw her hand clutching her seatmate’s thigh.

“Oh, my God.” She promptly drew back, but not before noticing the rock-hard muscle beneath her palm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

He chuckled. “Not in the least. I’m Nick, by the way.”

“Mister, I need to know which way to turn at the intersection.” The driver glanced at Nick in the rearview mirror. “Where you headed…? Damn, you’re—”

“Um, I really wish you’d watch the road.” Emily tensed as brake lights lit up in front of them. This time she fisted one of the bags on her lap, silently vowing that she’d stick to walking while she was here.

“Let’s drop the lady off first, and then we’ll worry about me.”

“I don’t mind stopping for you,” Emily offered. “I’m in no hurry.”

“This is New York. Everybody’s in a hurry.”

Emily sighed. “Not me.”

“What? No hot date tonight?”

She smiled wryly. “A warm bath maybe.”

He smiled, too, and then turned his head to gaze out the window. He was clean shaven, and his dark wavy hair was cut short. His sports jacket fit his broad shoulders so perfectly it might have been tailored for him. No matter, it was cashmere and expensive. Made her wonder what he did for a living. A stockbroker, maybe? Or a lawyer? No, not a lawyer. Whatever he did, he kept himself in awesome shape.

She wanted to keep checking him out, enchanted with the attractive groove in his cheek when he smiled. But he turned back to look at her, and since it was too late to pretend she wasn’t staring, she said, “I should’ve stayed snug in that bookstore until the rain passed.”

He frowned. “You’re staying at the Thornton. You’re either a tourist or here on business.”

“Tourist.”

“And you’re spending your time in a bookstore?”

She felt the heat rise from her chest to her face. “I was looking for guidebooks.”

“Ah.” He glanced at her packages. “Which one did you get?”

Her cheeks really flamed then as her mind scrambled for an acceptable answer. She couldn’t very well admit she’d picked up Erotic New York: The Best Sex in the City. Mostly out of curiosity, not that she cared to explain.

The ringing of her cell phone saved her. She fumbled with the bags on her lap, looking for the ridiculously tiny purse she’d bought specifically for her foray into the big, bad city. No bigger than an oversized postage stamp, it barely held her cell, room key and wallet, but she liked that she could strap it safely and snugly against her body. It had to be here. And she hated to miss the call in case it was her wayward guide.

“May I?” Nick lifted the larger bag off her lap and onto his.

“Thanks.” She found her purse and managed to answer before it went to voice mail.

“Hey.” It was Marnie. “So, are you having the best time?”

Emily smiled. “I only just got here yesterday.”

“Plenty of time to get laid.”

“Jeez, have you been talking to my sister?”

Marnie laughed. “How’s the hotel? Tell me everything.”

“Um, the Thornton is great. I’ll be eating nothing but mac and cheese for the next three months after I get the bill, but yeah, it’s terrific.” She slid Nick a glance. He was looking out his window, but it was impossible for him not to overhear.

“Oh, come on. You’ve got to be rolling in dough since you never spend a dime on yourself. You don’t buy clothes, and you don’t go anywhere.”

“If that’s what you called to tell me, I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait.” Marnie laughed. “What’s your itinerary? What does your guide have planned?”

“Uh, that didn’t pan out.”

“What?”

“He stood me up.” Emily had lowered her voice, but quickly realized that had only guaranteed Nick’s interest. He was trying not to be obvious but she could tell he was straining to hear. She cleared her throat. “I don’t need anyone to show me around, anyway. I picked up a couple of travel books this afternoon.”

“Ooh, tell me you took my advice and got Erotic New York.”

“Take some time off, Marnie. Enjoy the holidays. I have to go.”

“Wait.”

“Seriously, hanging up now.”

“You sound odd.” Marnie paused. “Are you with someone?” Emily took a heartbeat too long to respond. “Good God. You are. Why didn’t you say something.”

“Goodbye, Marnie.” Emily flipped her cell phone shut and then switched it to vibrate because her friend’s persistence was legendary. Although if she thought Emily were with a guy, maybe she’d lay off for a while.

Emily felt Nick watching her, and she furtively looked his way again. That’s when she saw that the tote bag sitting on his lap had torn. It wasn’t a big tear, but enough that her new lacy black panties were sticking out of the bottom corner.

“Thank you,” she said, and carefully retrieved the bag and stuffed it into another one.

“Small quarters,” he said, “so I couldn’t help but overhear. You’re looking for a guide?”

“I was, but it’s silly really. I mean, who doesn’t know what to see in New York, right?” She abruptly turned her face and stared out at the cheery Christmas displays twinkling from the store windows. Who would put up the tree? Not her mother. Emily always did that the day after Thanksgiving.

God, why had she overreacted with her sisters? She should be at home right now, thawing the turkey and baking pumpkin pies. She shook her head. Away for two days and already homesick.

“You okay?”

His voice startled her. She’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Fine.” She darted him a look and silently cleared her throat. “Just tired. I had a tough travel day yesterday with everything so crowded and intense.” She had to quit being a baby. She was going to have a terrific time.

Everyone was right. She was too much of a hermit and needed to step out of her comfortable life. The more she’d hidden out, surrounded by her books and computer, the less social she’d become. But this was her big chance. She was going to rock this city and have all kinds of wild stories to tell Marnie and her sisters.

She would. She absolutely would. Or else, lie her ass off.




3


DAMN, WAS SHE CRYING? With growing apprehension, Nick watched the reflection of her heart-shaped face in the window. She nibbled her lower lip and stared forlornly at the pedestrians crowding the sidewalk who were making better time than they were. Her chin quivered, or maybe that was the trick of the light coming through the rain-splattered glass. Was she upset about not having a guide? Or maybe she was just plain lonely.

He turned away and ordered himself to forget about her. She was a grown woman. If she wanted company she would have brought a friend. He focused on two young women in absurdly high heels, huddled under one umbrella and rushing to cross the street. He often liked being alone himself, so that was easy to understand. What he needed to do was mind his own business. Next time he was gonna use the car service. No more cabs for him. And definitely no sharing.

He tensed when he thought he heard her sniffle. Slowly he angled back toward her, regarding her from the corner of his eye. She wasn’t crying, but was messing with her phone. Her dark head bent forward, her cute, slightly upturned nose wrinkled in concentration and her fingers worked quickly. Probably texting someone to meet her. Didn’t matter to him. Not his business, he reminded himself.

“Do you know—?”

“What are you—?”

They both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry,” she murmured, tucking her phone into her purse. “Go ahead.”

“After you.”

She smiled wryly, flashing both dimples. She really was cute, with her wavy collar-length hair swinging as she moved her head. Her eyes looked like they might be brown, but the lighting wasn’t good enough for him to tell for sure. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

He chuckled. “Me, too.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and blinked at him, her head tilting slightly. “I know this sounds crazy, but you look familiar.”

The driver’s head bobbed suddenly, and Nick caught the man’s eye in the rearview mirror. Nick narrowed his gaze in warning. She didn’t know who he was, and he liked it that way.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but gasped when the cab swerved sharply to keep from rear-ending a bus. She clutched the back of the driver’s seat, and with the other hand, tried to stop the packages on her lap from sliding to the floor. “Please tell me we’re close to the Thornton,” she muttered.

A brown shopping bag ended up on the floor, and he reached to retrieve it, but she quickly snatched it up as if she thought he were going to steal the thing.

“Not too far,” he said, leaning back.

“Close enough that I can walk?”

“Only if you don’t mind hiking twenty blocks in the rain.”

“Twenty blocks?” Her alarmed gaze lowered to the ticking meter. “You don’t think that’s far?”

With the rain and heavy traffic, it had taken fifteen minutes to go only a few blocks, and they’d already racked up quite a hefty fare. Nick hadn’t given it a second thought, but then he wasn’t on a budget. Anyway, he planned on dropping her off first and paying the whole thing.

“I’m going as fast as I can, miss,” the driver said, and then angrily muttered something in Italian and purposely lurched the cab forward when a black Mercedes tried to squeeze in front of them. A couple of explicit hand gestures were exchanged between the two drivers and then all was calm again.

Crazy, but Nick kind of missed the horn honking. A few hotheads ignored the law to cut back on noise that had been instituted some years back and still leaned on their horns as if that would make the traffic go any faster, but overall, the city was a quieter place.

Nick noticed her death grip on the armrest and, to distract her, said, “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Emily.” She relaxed her hold and slid him a brief glance. “Emily Carter.”

“So, where are you from, Emily Carter?”

“Berber, Indiana.”

“Is that anywhere near Logansport?”

She lifted her eyebrows at him. “About fifty miles. I can’t believe you’ve heard of it.”

“I grew up across the border in Pilner, Illinois.”

“Really? So you’re a tourist, too.”

“No, I’ve lived here for about ten years now.”

“Big change.”

“Yep.” He nodded. “It took a while to get used to the faster pace.” He could feel the driver staring at him in the rearview mirror again, but he felt confident he’d made his point and the man would keep his mouth shut.

“You said your name is Nick, right?”

“I did.”

She squinted, studying him quizzically.

If she recognized him it was his own fault. He didn’t know why he was being all chatty. He tended to shy away from people unless he was cornered. As much as he appreciated the money and fame that playing pro ball afforded him, he missed his privacy. Missed the days when he could go to a restaurant and eat an entire meal without being interrupted for an autograph. Hard to believe he used to lap up the attention. But he’d been young and easily impressed when he’d first been drafted into the majors. The arrogance had come later.

The traffic started to move again, and she abruptly turned to look out her window. This time they made it through the intersection and didn’t stop moving for the next eight blocks. The rain had eased up some, and Emily craned her neck, appearing eager to miss nothing they passed. He supposed they should consider themselves lucky. At this time of year, it could just as easily have been snow and not rain that had fallen on the city. Of course, he wouldn’t mind some of the white stuff, at least not until it turned to gray sludge pushed aside and piled high at the curbs.

Almost as if she’d read his mind, she met his eyes, gave him a dazzling smile, and said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if this suddenly turned to snow? You know, those kind of big fat fluffy flakes that cling to your hair and eyelashes and trick you into swearing you smell fresh Christmas trees and hot apple cider?”

He smiled back. “And hauling out your sled even before there’s enough accumulation for a decent ride down the neighborhood slope.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, all dimples. And then she sighed. “I checked the forecast before I left. It’s supposed to snow on Thanksgiving day back home.”

“Don’t tell me you still have your sled.”

“I’ve always been kind of partial to inner tubes.”

“Oh, yeah, you could get some speed out of those suckers.”

She laughed. “I’ve suffered more than one broken bone to prove it.”

“Amazingly I didn’t break anything, but I have a few scars on my arms and legs, courtesy of snowboarding.”

“Would’ve been a shame to mess up that pretty face,” she said, and then touched the tips of her fingers to her mouth. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

“Hey.” Nick gave her a teasing frown, mostly to hide his surprise. Did she know about Manhattan’s Sexiest Man Alive list that had just come out? Had she been messing with him all along?

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She pressed her lips together, which did little to hide her anything-but-contrite smile. Then she straightened and moved her head into the light so that he could see that her eyes were a rich chocolate-brown. “Oh, good, I see the Thornton.”

A surge of disappointment came out of left field. He watched her hug her bags to her body while she fished out her purse and withdrew her wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving away the money she produced. “I’ve got it.”

“No, let’s be fair about this.” She peered at the numbers on the meter, and pulled out another bill.

“I was coming this way, anyway.” He closed his fist over her hand. “Please.”

Her startled eyes met his.

Her hand was small. She was kind of small, period, maybe five-five.

“No, that’s not fair,” she said, her eyes widening slightly. “We agreed to share the cab.”

“Emily.”

She blinked and tugged her hand away. “Well, thank you, Nick.”

He hadn’t realized the driver had pulled to the curb, that a uniformed doorman was approaching with an umbrella to assist Emily out of the cab.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said haltingly.

“Same here.” Damn, he hadn’t felt this awkward since he was in junior high. And for no reason at all. “Have a good vacation.”

“Thanks.” She opened the door. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Right. You, too.” He hesitated. “Need help with your bags?”

“No, I’m good. Stay dry.” She struggled a moment until she had a firm hold of each tote, and by then the doorman offered her his gloved hand.

Nick watched her climb out, his gaze taking in the snug fit of her jeans as they stretched across a nicely rounded backside. No designer label on the pocket or peeking coyly from the seam, just regular faded blue denim worn by most of the women around Berber, Indiana.

That’s what was wrong, he realized. Why he was feeling soft in the head. Nostalgia. Nothing complicated. Emily reminded him of home. And for the first time in years, he’d actually wanted to spend the holidays there. But it hadn’t worked out. No big deal. Maybe he’d reconsider and take a flight south tomorrow. He had open invitations from three of his teammates who lived in Florida. Or maybe it would be better to spend the time alone. On the beach. Forget the rain and snow for a week or two.

Forget that his best friend might never play ball again.

Nick closed his eyes and shoved a hand through his hair. They’d talked about contracts and trades and eventual retirement, him and Billy. But they’d never dared to bring up being sidelined too early. It was bad luck to talk about something like that, according to Billy. He was from the bayous of Louisiana and was a superstitious old boy. No matter how much he’d joked about his family’s odd beliefs, Nick knew Billy had his own hang-ups about Cajun folklore.

In the end, none of the superstitions had mattered. The fate of Billy’s career had come down to a slick curve in the Catskills and a drunk driver. Well-meaning fans had written cards and sent flowers, while the press murmured that matters could have been worse…at least Billy was alive and could still walk. But they didn’t understand. For a star outfielder in his prime, there were far greater fates than death.

“Hey, Nicky, which way? You going home?”

The cab driver had turned around in his seat and stared at Nick, as if he’d been trying to get his attention for a while.

“Yeah.” He nodded and slid a glance toward the flashy but elegant entrance. Emily had already disappeared inside. Funny, he hadn’t figured her for choosing a trendy boutique hotel like the Thornton. “Upper East Side.”

“You got it,” the driver said and continued to chatter about the Knights’ winning season.

Half listening, Nick slouched down and laid his head back. Maybe returning to his apartment so early wasn’t such a hot idea. Nothing to do but watch the tube. Though he could call the folks and wish them a safe trip. Tomorrow morning they’d be leaving for Vermont.

He snorted. Yeah, that call would take all of five minutes. Not true. He and his mother always had a good chat. But him and his father, they didn’t seem to have that much to say to each other these past few years. He supposed he could call Marla and take her out for a drink and then spend the night at her place. She’d pout for half an hour, let him know what she thought about him not calling her for two weeks, but she’d give in. She always did.

The cab came to an abrupt halt behind a silver Escalade. Nick threw up his arm to brace himself. On the floor near his feet shot out something pink. It looked like a book. Had Emily dropped it? Frowning, he picked it up and slanted the cover toward the illumination of a streetlight. Erotic New York: The Best Sex in the City.

Nick choked out a laugh. This couldn’t be Emily’s. It probably belonged to an earlier passenger. The sudden stop must have jarred it loose. Though she had said she’d been to the bookstore. He opened the book and leafed through the pages, his jaw dropping at some of the pictures. Whether the book belonged to her or not, this was too good to pass up.

“Driver, we need to turn around. I’d like to go back to the Thornton.”

EMILY REMOVED HER PURCHASES from the bags and spread all the clothes, apart from the black teddy, on the queen-size bed. The small box of condoms she’d bought at the drugstore next to the bookshop she placed on the nightstand. She wanted to read the box before putting it away. Having never bought condoms before, she was curious.

The teddy had gotten damp so she hung it over the glass shower door in the luxurious bathroom that she desperately wanted to take home with her. The deep black-and-white tiled tub alone was worth the price of the room. In the twenty-four hours she’d been here, she’d already taken two indecently long baths.

She caught her reflection in the mirror and groaned at her wavy hair. Well, so much for taking an extra fifteen minutes to blow it dry all nice and sleek this morning. What little makeup she’d applied was also smudged at the bottom corners of her eyes, and the mineral powder she’d brushed on her face had faded away. Kaput. Totally gone. As if it had never been there. And her pale lips, well, they just sort of blended into her face.

Why couldn’t she have met the totally toe-curling Nick this morning? She’d looked rather cute then. Almost stylish, at least from the shoulders up, she thought wryly and eyed the old jeans that she’d stubbornly hung on to since college. Although she didn’t expect he would’ve given her a second look, anyway. He’d been truly nice while they shared the cab, but he was way too sophisticated and suave for someone like her, even if he did come from her neck of the woods.

She walked back to the bedroom and surveyed her purchases. Clothes had never been high on her list of priorities, but admittedly, staring at the three sets of matching bras and panties laying on the bed had her feeling a bit giddy. Usually she bought functional white cotton, or whatever else was on sale.

And fancy sweaters? Almost never. Until today. She picked up the red off-the-shoulder number that had been an impulse buy, and rubbed the soft cashmere against her cheek. Damn, it felt good. Better than her best sweatshirt that had taken a year and twenty washings to soften.

She couldn’t stand it another second. She unbuttoned and unzipped, and then pushed the jeans down to the floor. While she stepped out of them, she pulled off her top and unhooked her bra. Should she go with red panties and bra with the sweater, or try the black set? Nah, she’d go all red. What the heck.

Her sudden excitement confused her. She was acting like her airhead sister. Not that Emily would be giving up her jeans or sweatshirts, but hey, she was in New York. She was supposed to have fun and throw caution to the wind, right? That’s what this trip was all about.

She pulled on the silk panties, quite certain she’d never worn anything this skimpy. It felt kind of weird, barely covering anything, and she hoped she didn’t have to keep picking the fabric out of her butt. Good thing she was giving it a trial run before wearing it in public.

The bra was absolutely dreamy, with satiny cups and a beautiful lace edging. With a simple adjustment, she actually produced some cleavage. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and grinned. Striking a sexy pose, she leaned forward and pursed her mouth. Without some color on her lips, she looked like an anemic fish, and she burst out laughing.

Straightening, she reached for the sweater and was startled by a knock at the door. But then she remembered she’d called housekeeping for more towels in anticipation of another sumptuous bath. She found the white fluffy courtesy robe hanging in the bathroom, slipped it on and opened the door.

It wasn’t housekeeping.

She swallowed and automatically stepped back. “Nick?”

“Hi.” He gave her a slow lazy smile that sent the blood roaring to her ears, her heart thudding to her stomach, her knees instantly weakening.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice remarkably calm. In the dim light of the cab he’d been good-looking. Up close and in full view, he was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Am I interrupting?”

“How did you know my room number?”

“The front desk.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to give out that kind of information.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably not.” His smile broadened, and she knew that there was no way the two young women manning the desk would’ve denied him anything. His gaze flicked to the front of her robe. “Sorry. I guess you were expecting company.”

“Only housekeeping.” Dumb admission, she realized too late. She tried to cinch the robe tighter, but couldn’t find the sash. Glancing down, she saw that she hadn’t secured the belt and the robe gaped a couple of inches. Not much, but enough to give him a peek of red silk and lace. She swallowed a gasp and quickly gathered the front of the terry lapels.

He looked away and said, “You should’ve checked the peephole before opening the door. It’s a nice hotel but this is still New York.”

“Good advice. I’ll be sure to remember.” Heat smoldered in her cheeks. She knew her face was as pink as a summer rose. Not much she could do about it. Except act nonchalant. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

Holy crap. She stepped aside, opened the door wider and held on to the doorknob for support. Somehow she hadn’t expected him to come in. More like state his business and be on his way. Although what he could possibly want from her she couldn’t fathom.

“I’ve never been here before,” he said, glancing around at the sleek modern black-and-white furniture and colorful abstract art on the walls.

She slowly followed, fists clenched around the belt of her robe, her gaze glued to his broad back, absolutely certain she’d gone out of her mind. Had she really just let a strange man into her room? Albeit a stunning, well-dressed one, but come on. This was so not her.

But wasn’t this the point of this vacation? If she wanted to get laid, she’d eventually end up with a man she barely knew in a room somewhere. After all, she’d gone through the trouble of splurging on new lingerie and even bought condoms.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

The condoms. Sitting in full view on the nightstand. Sexy lingerie spread across the bed. Oh, crap.




4


EMILY RUSHED AROUND to face him, placing herself between him and the bed. Not only could she not have been more obvious in her attempt to block his view, but her effort had also been in vain. He was well over six feet, and could see right over her head. Which was exactly what he did, his hazel gaze flickering over the lingerie buffet and then landing in the vicinity of the nightstand.

“Um, I didn’t catch why you’re here,” she said, ordering herself to stay calm and cool. He’d already seen everything. Nothing left for her to do but gather her dignity.

He met her eyes, his lit with brief amusement before he schooled them blank. “I think you might have left something in the cab.”

“I don’t think so.” She thought for a moment. Everything she’d bought was accounted for, and she had her purse. The bag with her books she’d left in the bathroom for her bath later. She stared at his empty hands. What was this guy’s angle? She stepped back, wishing she hadn’t let him in.

He promptly reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and produced the distinctive hot-pink book. “I found this on the floor where you were sitting.”

She stared incredulously at Erotic New York in bold black letters, and her first instinct was to deny the book was hers. Lifting her chin a notch, she accepted the book, nearly jumping when her fingers brushed his palm. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“You really shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”

He shrugged, and she caught a brief whiff of his musky scent, rugged and masculine and far too intoxicating. “I was only a few blocks away.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “This is awkward.”

He smiled. “I thought about leaving it at the desk, but I figured you might prefer a personal delivery.”

“Yes, I think so.” She slipped the book into her pocket. “You see, I’m a copy editor and I keep an assortment of research material and—”

“Hey.” He threw up his hands. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“No, of course not. Look, I’d offer you a drink but I don’t have anything up here—” The words were no sooner out of her mouth when her restless gaze fell on the minibar. “Except what’s in there,” she added lamely.

“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”

“Really?”

He seemed taken aback, and then gave a small self-derisive shake of his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” She touched her hair, instantly remembering what a fright it was. “How about you wait for me in the bar while I get dressed?”

His disenchanted expression said he wasn’t fond of the idea, which he confirmed with a step toward the door. “Nah, I’ll just be shoving off.”

“I really would like to buy you a drink,” she said quickly. “It’s the least I could do, and frankly, I’d like the company.”

He still seemed hesitant, as he checked his watch and pressed his lips together.

“Oh, I get it now.” How stupid of her. “You thought you’d get lucky. Just a quickie, but now it’s getting too complicated.”

His eyebrows rose in disbelief, and he gave a short bark of laughter. “Not true. I mean, I wouldn’t turn it down if you’re offering.” He paused, and when she said nothing, only pulled her belt tighter, he smiled and added, “I’ll be in the bar.”

Damn, but he had gorgeous eyes. And great full lips. Hot body. Maybe she was being an idiot. Skipping the bar and getting down to business wasn’t such a bad idea. “I’ll be down in twenty minutes.”

“I thought you were just gonna change.”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“That’s all you need to do,” he said, his gaze roaming her face. “You look great the way you are.”

Emily sighed as she shooed him toward the door. Gorgeous, confident and charming. And he wanted to sleep with her? If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought Marnie or her sisters had staged their meeting. The troubling thought momentarily stopped her. No, impossible. More likely he was a slick Casanova who figured that her staying here at the Thornton meant she had a few bucks. Boy, would he end up disappointed. So would she if that turned out to be true.

At the open door, his hand on the knob, he looked over his shoulder and winked. “Twenty minutes then.”

Obviously he still thought he was getting lucky. She closed the door behind him, and smiled broadly. Maybe he would.

THE THORNTON BAR WAS a typical upper-middle-class yuppy hangout. Lots of black lacquer, polished brass and premium bottles lining the back of the U-shaped bar. Nick slipped into the crowded room, pleased to spot a dimly lit, empty table in the corner. Man, he hoped no one recognized him. But that was like going to bat with a broken arm and expecting to hit a home run. So far Emily didn’t know who he was, but that was probably because she wasn’t from New York and apparently wasn’t a baseball fan.

Was that her appeal? Sure, she was cute and had the kind of woman’s body he preferred; breasts on the small side, tiny waist, generous bottom. He also liked that she said what she thought. No hedging or playing coy. He even liked that she blushed when she saw that he’d had the book. She probably hadn’t lied. The book could very well have been intended for research. The box of condoms had thrown him, though. That had been totally unexpected.

He sat at the small table for two, facing the entrance to the bar, and checked his watch. He had fifteen minutes before she was supposed to show up, although he wouldn’t be surprised if she took longer. Nick hadn’t met a woman yet who didn’t take forever to get ready. But at least tonight it would give him time to get rid of any fans who might notice him and want an autograph. That’s why he would’ve preferred staying in her room. Yet good for her for being cautious and insisting on the bar. Still, she’d bought condoms. She had to be looking for some action.

The waitress approached, a practiced smile on her heavily made-up face, wearing a tasteful yet subtly revealing uniform in black and gold. She gave her long blond hair a brief toss before stationing herself in front of him. “I’m Sabrina. I’ll be your server this evening. What can I get you?”

“What kind of beer do you have on tap?”

Her gaze narrowed, and then she blinked. “You’re Nicky Corrigan.”

“There’s a hundred-dollar tip in it for you if you keep that between us.”

Her glossy pink lips parted slightly and then formed a pout. “Really? Can I just tell the other girls?”

“Sabrina?” He motioned for her with a crooked finger, while digging in his pocket.

“Yes.” She moved closer and leaned expectantly toward him.

“No one.” He took her hand and pressed a hundred against her palm. “I’d also consider your silence a personal favor.”

“Why, sure, Nicky,” she said huskily. “Not a word.” Sabrina glanced over her shoulder toward the bar and then the entrance. “You’re here alone?”

“Someone will be joining me in a few minutes.” He briefly debated warning her to include Emily in her discretion, but decided that might be inviting trouble. The next thing he knew he’d be reading tabloid headlines about the mystery woman in his life.

Not bothering to hide her disappointment, Sabrina sighed as she straightened. “I guess you’ll be wanting a Gold lite since you are their spokesman.”

“Yeah. Right.” He snorted. How could he have forgotten about his latest endorsement? His agent would ream him out if he caught him drinking anything else in public. Rightfully so. That kind of endorsement meant a lot of money for a lot of people, not the least being Nick himself. He’d be a fool not to cash in and toe the line while he was still a hot ticket.

Not like poor Billy.

Shit. He had to stop the negative thoughts. It wasn’t over for Billy. The doctors said that if he applied himself to rehab, he had a chance. A slim chance, but it was there.

Nick noticed that Sabrina was staring at him with a puzzled frown. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Did you want to order for your friend?”

He shook his head, having no idea what Emily drank. “I’ll let her order for herself.”

“I’ll be right back with your beer.” She gave him a seductive smile and a calculated head-toss, then sashayed toward the bar.

She was a beauty all right. Probably a wanna-be model or actress, hoping for a stint on Broadway or to be discovered by a top designer while waiting tables to pay the bills. He’d dated a couple of those types when he was new to the majors. But it had been a while since he’d gone out with any woman who wasn’t an actress, a socialite or at the top of her modeling career.

He slumped back in his chair, keeping his face in shadow, glad to see that there were mostly couples in the room who seemed lost in conversation. Three guys sat at the bar but they were busy chatting up the waitresses and female bartender.

When his cell phone rang, he withdrew it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Billy. A wave of pain that was becoming too familiar swept over Nick.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Nick. It’s Liz.”

At the sound of Billy’s wife’s voice, Nick’s gut clenched. She never called. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” She laughed softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Everything is fine, but I don’t want Billy to know I’ve called.”

“All right,” Nick said slowly, suspecting he wasn’t going to like having this conversation. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about coming for Thanksgiving.”

Nick scrubbed at his jaw, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to outright lie to her, but he knew staying away from Billy for now was the right thing to do. “I’m hoping to see my folks,” he said finally. “I thought your family was going to be spending the week with you.”

“They are. Billy’s mom and brother, too.” She sighed. “But they don’t understand.”

Neither did she, Nick thought. Only another player could identify with the pain and fear Billy was going through right now, suffering the uncertainty of his career, his future.

“He’s depressed,” Liz whispered, “and I don’t know what to do for him.”

“I don’t think my showing up will change that.”

“It might,” she said eagerly.

Guilt cut deep. Was he wrong in staying away? If it were him lying in that bed, he wouldn’t want the constant reminder that there would be no spring training for him in a few months. “He’ll be kept busy once your company starts arriving. They’ll take his mind off things. Later next month, when it gets quiet, I’ll fly down for a visit.”

“Promise?”

He briefly closed his eyes. He knew Liz thought she was doing the right thing, but she wasn’t. When Billy was ready to talk, he’d be the one to call Nick. “As soon as Billy wants me there, I’ll be there.”

“Come on, Nick. You know he won’t ask.”

“He won’t have to. I’ll know, okay?”

“Have you talked to him lately?”

“I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Her resentful silence was as thick as country gravy.

He saw the waitress approaching with his beer. “Billy is my best friend. I know what I’m doing, Liz. Trust me.”

“Sure,” she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

She disconnected the call before he could say another word, offer any comfort. Not that he knew what to say, but he knew she was suffering, too. It sucked feeling helpless.

“Here you go.” Sabrina set down the beer, along with a small bowl of mixed nuts. “I’ll be on the lookout for your friend. A woman, I assume?”

“It’s okay. There she is.” Nick glanced at his watch and smiled to himself. Two minutes early. He lifted a hand to get her attention.

Emily nodded acknowledgment, touched her hair and briefly tugged at the hem of her red sweater. Was she still wearing the red lingerie underneath? he wondered.

“Guess I’ll just wait then,” Sabrina said, balancing the tray against her hip and curiously eyeing Emily.

“Come back in a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“All right.”

To his annoyance, the waitress lingered long enough that she had to directly pass Emily. After so many years in the limelight, he ought to be used to people’s nosiness by now, but he wasn’t.

Just as she got to the table, he stood and pulled out the other chair.

Emily grinned. “Why, thank you.”

He waited until she was settled, and then reclaimed his seat across from her. “Well worth the wait. You look lovely,” he said, liking the way the sweater clung to her subtle curves. Her hair was different, but he couldn’t pinpoint how. “Although you looked mighty good twenty minutes ago, too.”

She chuckled. “Boy, are you smooth.”

“What?” He gave a startled laugh. “I meant it.”

Her smile broadened, and then her gaze fell to his untouched beer. “Funny, I didn’t peg you for the beer type.”

“No? What then?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, and the sweater, which was already off her shoulder, slipped an inch. No way she was wearing that red bra he’d glimpsed earlier. No bra, period, he guessed, and tried to stay focused on her face. “One of those new fancy martinis maybe.”

“You mean like those flavored ones? Apple or whatever?”

“Yeah, like that.”

He frowned. “Those are sissy drinks.”

“Well, excuse me. I was planning on trying one of those.”

“You’re a girl. The term ‘sissy’ doesn’t apply.”

“A girl?” Her eyebrows went up.

“Scratch that. A woman.”

A smile tugged at her lips. They were a pale pink and slightly shiny. She’d done something with her eyes, too. But not too much. Good. He hated when women wore too much makeup.

“Do you mind?” She indicated the bowl of nuts.

“No, here.” He slid the bowl toward her and signaled for Sabrina.

“Thanks. I skipped dinner, and I’m starving.”

“Oh, man, I didn’t think—We could go to a restaurant. There are plenty around here.”

She waved off the offer and popped a cashew into her mouth. “This is perfect,” she said, and the tip of her tongue darted out to lick the salt from the corner of her mouth.

To his amazement, his body reacted to the simple gesture, and he shifted in his seat. Sabrina showed up just in time to take Emily’s order, which took a couple of minutes because Emily had half a dozen questions about the different flavors the bar offered and how the drinks were made.





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