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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.”
