Robin Kaye Bundle Page 12

  Nick shrugged his coat on and stepped into his running shoes. Maybe a nice long walk in sub-zero temperatures would take the edge off. Lord knows, cold showers weren’t cutting it.

  “Come on, Dave, I’ll take you out one last time tonight. But if you take another dump, you’re on your own.” Nick grabbed Dave’s leash. “Someone should invent a way to attach a bag to your ass. The pooper-scooper law sucks.”

  At least Dave had the decency to look embarrassed.

  Monday morning, Nick disengaged himself from Rosalie’s grasp and slipped out of bed. It was only five-thirty, still fully dark, and Nick wondered if all those stories he’d heard about blue balls were true.

  He’d been awake and trying to fall back to sleep for over an hour. He’d come to the conclusion that sleep wasn’t going to happen. Typical. Maybe he’d go to the office and stretch out on the couch. Rosalie’s couch was too close to Rosalie, and the way he felt right now, if he didn’t leave, he’d either attack her or go crazy. She was too soft in all the places he was hard; she was too comfortable; she smelled too good; and damn, the way she wrapped herself around him was enough to tempt a saint. Nick was no saint.

  He hit the bathroom, showered, and dressed in jeans and a sweater. He’d change into one of the suits he’d hauled to the office since staying at Rosalie’s. It was faster than going home to change and then to the dealership. Sure, his secretary was giving him funny looks, but that was nothing new. Lois had been doing that for the last ten years. He was used to it.

  Nick fed and walked Dave, made coffee for himself, and set the pot to brew automatically for Rosalie. It didn’t take long for him to learn that coffee was necessary to Rosalie’s survival, as well as everyone else’s. Being around Rosalie before she had coffee was like waving a red cape at a Brahma bull—not a bright idea. The woman was downright vicious. Nick grabbed his briefcase, keys, and phone, and patted Dave’s head.

  “I’ll be back with lunch. You take care of Lee for me.”

  He went to the door to get his coat and he the oddest feeling he should stay—an ominous feeling. Nick shook his head. Talk about melodramatic—he heard organ music playing in his head. Da-da-duh-dum. He was being ridiculous. Rosalie was fine. Her breathing was back to normal; she hadn’t wheezed all night; and her cough was under control. In short, she was sleeping like a babe. A very sexy, hot, arousing, desirable babe. Damn, he had to get the hell out of there, or all his good intentions would disappear. She’d definitely be better off without him hanging around wanting to get her all excited and breathing heavy.

  He adjusted himself, pulled his jacket on, and checked to make sure it covered his bulge. He didn’t want Henry and Wayne getting the wrong idea if he passed them on the way out. Grabbing his briefcase, he took a deep breath, pushed the bad feeling aside, and left for work.

  Nick crashed for a few hours in his office and spent the rest of the morning going through the motions. He knew that he spoke to people, had meetings, and made decisions, but he did it all by rote. His mind was on Rosalie. He couldn’t get past the feeling that something was wrong.

  “Earth to Nick.”

  Nick looked up from the ad copy he’d been staring at for the last half hour. Lois was looking at him as if she wanted to commit murder.

  Nick had the urge to get out of his chair and step out of her reach. He’d hired her because she was a real hard ass. A single mom with five boys, only one of whom was still at home, the woman could give a Marine Drill Sergeant lessons on how to be one of the few, the proud . . . Hell, the Marines could use her as a secret weapon. She looked harmless enough, but as Nick had found out early on, she was more dangerous than a nuclear bomb. Until now, she had never directed her rage at him. It was okay if she directed it at the press or pushy salesmen, but he’d thought he was safe because he signed her paychecks. He’d been wrong.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Me?” Nick sputtered. “What do you mean? Nothing’s the matter with me.”

  “Okay,” Lois threw up her hands, “don’t tell me. I don’t care, but let me tell you something. You’ve been acting strange since the beginning of last week, and you’re walking around here with your head up your ass. You came this close to losing our biggest client today. Mr. Ackerman was going to take his business elsewhere. Do you know how big a fleet his company has? How many cars, trucks, and vans he purchases from us annually? How much he spends on repairs and maintenance each year?”

  “I do not have my head up my ass—”

  “Oh, really? Is that why you slept through your break-fast meeting this morning? Do you realize that’s the second time you’ve stood him up? You didn’t even have the decency to cancel.”

  “A breakfast meeting? Damn.”

  “I just spent an hour on the phone placating him. Do you mind telling me where the hell your head is? Because it’s not here. Hell, it’s not even at Premier Motors. You couldn’t find Premier’s file when you were looking right at it, and you’ve yet to comment on the new interim CFO. What’s going on with you, Nick?”

  “Okay . . . you know that woman I’ve been seeing?”

  “Rosalie Ronaldi? Yeah, what about her?”

  “You remember when I told you how I got in trouble as a kid?”

  “When you and a friend got arrested for grand theft auto? How could I forget?”

  Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, the friend happened to be Rosalie’s big brother.”

  Lois shook her head and looked as if she was about to give him hell. He might as well get the inevitable over with. He braced for it, as if he were about to pull a Band-Aid off a hairy part of his body. It was going to sting . . . badly. He held up his hand to stop the onslaught until he was finished. “Wait, there’s more.”

  “More? Spit it out, Nick.”

  “She’s a turnaround expert, and she’s turning around Premier Motors. She’s the new interim CFO.”

  Lois crossed her arms over her abundant chest and gave Nick a look that had him saying Hail Marys under his breath. “You know, Nick, I thought you had your head up your ass, but now I know the truth. You can’t have your head up your ass, because you are an ass. How dare you use that poor woman for your own purposes? That’s just wrong in so many ways—”

  “Whoa, hold on. I’m not using Lee—well, not without her consent, anyway. I didn’t know she was the interim CFO. I didn’t know she had anything to do with Premier Motors until Wednesday. What do you take me for?”

  “A guy who’d keep his identity a secret from the woman he’s sleeping with, because she’d probably never see him if she knew who he really was. I know you, Dominick Romeo. You’re determined to acquire Premier Motors, and you’re not above using others to forward your agenda.”

  “Okay, I’ll admit I’ve skated on the edge of propriety when it comes to business dealings, but I’ve never done anything illegal.”

  “Last time I checked, corporate espionage was illegal, not to mention immoral. Hell, you could get Rosalie fired and blackballed. Who’s going to hire a turnaround expert who gives information to the man planning a hostile takeover?”

  “It’s hardly hostile. I made them a very fair offer.”

  “That’s not the point, and you know it. You need to choose between your girlfriend and Premier Motors.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Rosalie is temporary, and Premier is business. I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

  “How’s it going to look when someone finds out she’s sleeping with the man intent on taking over the company she’s been hired to save?”

  “That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to do, nor have I done, anything to hurt Premier. I simply sat back and watched Lassiter run it into the ground, all by his lonesome. I haven’t done anything to hurt Lee, either, but there’s little chance of her turning around Premier Motors.”

  Lois looked skeptical.

  “Besides, Lee and I will be history by the time I make my next offer to Lassiter, and I’ll make s
ure she’s not hurt by any of this.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You’re the great and powerful Oz. You control everything and everyone. You know what, Nick? Since you’re so good at it, next time you sleep through a breakfast meeting and destroy a valuable client relationship, clean up your own mess. I’m finished. And if Rosalie knew who you were and what you’re doing, she’d be finished, too.”

  Nick had to hand it to her. Lois sure could dish it out. He’d never thought of how this might affect Rosalie, but hey, they were just sleeping together. They never talked business. Rosalie thought he was a mechanic. Why would she talk about confidential information with a mechanic? Sure, when she found out the truth, there’d be hell to pay, but until then, he was going to enjoy himself. Besides, it wasn’t as if he needed to take advantage of Rosalie. He was the best in the business. What would be the fun of winning if he had to cheat to do it? Rosalie knew him well enough to know he’d never use her. Well, he hoped she did, anyway.

  “Look, Lois. I promise, nothing’s going to happen to Lee, so stop worrying. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

  “No, you haven’t. But Nick, think about what you’re doing.”

  “I will, and Lois, thanks for covering for me today. I’m sorry I put you in an uncomfortable situation. It’s been a hard couple of weeks.” Nick checked his watch and stood, walking toward his private bathroom. “I’m on my way out. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

  “Nick, it’s not even noon, and you didn’t wake up until nine thirty. Aren’t you even going to tell me what you’re doing sleeping in your office?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Stop the buzzing, stop the buzzing! Who would come over this early in the morning?” Rosalie got out of bed and moved as quickly as she could—which she had to admit was a snail’s pace—to the door, slapped the intercom button, and croaked, “What?”

  “Rosalie Angelina Ronaldi, you open this door this minute, or I’m going to call your father and see what he has to say.”

  She buzzed her mother in and wondered if her cough medicine had enough codeine in it to make dealing with Mama bearable. Somehow, she doubted it.

  Rosalie unlocked the door before Mama started ringing that bell, too. As if her head didn’t hurt enough. God, she hoped Nick had made coffee.

  Dave sat next to the door and whined. “I feel your pain, buddy.”

  Mrs. Ronaldi started talking even before she had the door open an inch.

  “Rosalie, what is the meaning—my Lord, you look like something the cat dragged in. Can’t you fix yourself up a little? It’s noon, why aren’t you dressed? Put some makeup on, for God’s sake. What if Joey comes to see you? I told him you were sick. Such a nice boy, that Joey.”

  “Hi, Ma.”

  “What? You couldn’t call me yourself and tell me you were sick? What’s wrong with you? You know better than to make me worry.”

  “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

  “And get that mangy mutt away from me. I’ll have black hair all over my outfit.”

  She took her coat off and handed it to Rosalie, who threw it on the couch. Dave, the traitor, ran into the bedroom.

  “Well, at least you cleaned the apartment.”

  “I did?” Rosalie looked around. She could see all the counters and tabletops. Amazing. “Um, yeah, I did.”

  “I suppose you did that because Joey called and will be coming over?”

  Rosalie poured two coffees and smiled to herself. Thank you, Nick. You’re a prince among men—the prince of darkness, but a prince all the same.

  “I don’t know if Joey called, Ma, and I don’t care. I don’t want Joey to call; I don’t want Joey to come over; and once and for all, I don’t want to marry Joey. The only thing I want from Joey is for him to leave me alone.”

  After sliding the coffee cup across the breakfast bar to her mother, Rosalie opened a box of biscotti and stuffed one in her mouth. When she offered the box to her mother, the woman walked into the kitchen and took out two plates. Rosalie didn’t see the point of dirtying a plate. If you ate over the sink, you never had to do dishes.

  “You’re sick. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Mama continued as she took the biscotti out of Rosalie’s hand and set it on the plate.

  “I’m sick, not crazy.” Though she might be hallucinating. She couldn’t believe how nice her place looked. Wow. She felt like someone on that show Clean Sweep. She was dying to open a closet door but afraid it might cause an avalanche if Nick had shoved everything in there, like she always did.

  “You’re coming home with me, so I can take care of you.”

  “No, thanks. Ma, I’m fine. Really. I feel a lot better.”

  Her mother eyed the refrigerator. Oh, no. If she opened the door before Rosalie blocked it and saw there was no food, Rosalie’s position as failure of the Ronaldi family was cemented for eternity. Damn. It was hard to move fast when she couldn’t breathe, and her mother beat her. As the door swung open, Rosalie closed her eyes, shook her head, and prayed for divine intervention—hell, any intervention would do, she wasn’t picky.

  “And I thought you couldn’t cook.”

  “I can, too.” She opened her eyes and did another double take. The refrigerator was overflowing. And not only with beer and batteries, which would have been typical.

  “I don’t consider boiling pasta and heating canned sauce cooking.” Her mother quipped. “This lasagna looks homemade.”

  “A friend brought it over. Look, I’m being well fed, and I’m tired. I want to sleep, so thanks for coming, Ma. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She put her arm around her mother and was trying to usher her to the door when Mama turned and walked into the bedroom. Of course, she freaked when she found Dave sleeping on the bed with all fours in the air and a smile on his face—well, when his jowls flopped open like that, it looked like a smile, anyway.

  “You sleep with that in your bed?”

  Among other things. If she only knew. . .

  “Get off!”

  Poor Dave flew off the bed and out into the garden. Only the sound of the doggy door swinging back and forth penetrated the silence, until Rosalie heard the front door open.

  “Lucy, I’m home.”

  Oh, no. It wasn’t only the bad Ricky Ricardo imitation that was upsetting. Things were beginning to get dark and fuzzy. She sat on her bed and considered putting her head between her knees, but she wasn’t sure if that was the crash position or what one should do when feeling faint.

  “Lee, do you want to eat in bed?”

  From what she could see through the gray fuzz, her mother was crossing herself and doing that breast-beating thing she did when she was über-upset. Yeah. She was mumbling that prayer to the Virgin Mother again.

  “Lee?”

  The bedroom door swung open and there was Nick in all his glory, though he looked kinda squiggy around the edges. Maybe she’d taken too much of that cough syrup. She could never get the spoon from the bottle to her mouth without spilling it all over herself, so she improvised and took a swig or two.

  She lay down, faced the wall, and groaned.

  “Mama, Nick; Nick, that’s my mother, Maria Ronaldi. Mama was just leaving.”

  “Well, I never!”

  “Yeah, Ma, I know. I’m a disappointment, a puttana, yada, yada, yada. I’ll call you and give you plenty of time to yell all about it. But not now. I’m not up to it.”

  Rosalie felt as if she were floating away and far below her, she heard Nick’s hushed voice. . .

  “I think you’d better go now, Mrs. Ronaldi.”

  Chapter 9

  NICK EYED ROSALIE’S MOTHER WHO, HE HAD TO ADMIT, was a beautiful woman in an old-world way. She was a hotter, Italian version of Mrs. Cleaver, without the pearls. Damn, he hoped like hell she didn’t recognize him either as Richie’s long-lost friend or as Dominick Romeo.

  Mrs. Ronaldi stomped into the living room and turned, bringing Nick back to the present. She wore the same exp
ression his Nana did before she gave someone the evil eye—an Italian curse. He knew it well. He’d been on the receiving end a few times, usually by a mother who didn’t want him messing with her daughter, but as far as he could tell, the curses never amounted to much more than insomnia. He’d spent more than a few sleepless nights wondering what horror would befall him. It wasn’t enough to make him change his ways, but it was enough to make him want to hold a crucifix in front of him for protection.

  “Who do you think you are, telling me to leave my own daughter’s apartment?”

  “I’m the one who spent the last week taking care of her, the one who spent nine hours pacing the damn emergency room, the one who dragged her to the best pulmonologist in the state. Who do you think you are, upsetting her? Can’t you see she’s sick? She has pneumonia, for Christ’s sake. Lee didn’t look this bad when I carried her into the hospital.”

  “Lee?”

  What was it about this woman that made him want to act like a caveman and pound something with a club? He settled for puffing up his chest and crossing his arms. “Yeah, Lee.”

  “Rosalie never said anything about going to the hosp—”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  Nick spun around and plucked Mrs. Ronaldi’s coat off the couch, put it on the stunned woman’s shoulders, and herded her out the door.

  “I’ll have Lee call you when she feels better.”

  Nick let out a breath of relief when he got Mrs. Ronaldi out of the building and the security door closed behind her. She hadn’t recognized him. Thank God.

  When Nick returned, he found Dave at the front window with his paws on the sill, growling at the retreating Mrs. Ronaldi.

  “Some watchdog you are. Where were you when the battle-ax was hounding Lee?”

  Nick grabbed the bag of Thai food and brought it into the bedroom.

  Rosalie still had her head buried in the pillows. She uttered a muffled, “Is she gone yet?”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s gone all right.”