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  With Rosalie, everything was different. Maybe it was because he felt comfortable that she wouldn’t go off on a marriage bender, or maybe it was because she didn’t expect much. She didn’t expect him to talk during a game and didn’t ask him what he was thinking. She didn’t expect him to care about things like the discontinuation of her favorite color of lipstick, and she wouldn’t think it deserved national tragedy status. She didn’t even freak out if he or Dave spilled food on the bed. She said that’s why man made sheets washable. Go figure.

  Being with her was easy, comfortable—just like her place. She wasn’t the type to get pissed off if he put his feet up on the furniture; she didn’t cling unless they were in bed; and he had to admit, waking up with her on top of him was nice. It would be even nicer if he could do something about it. He’d been good about following Mike’s orders but tonight—well, tonight was the night. Rosalie had an appointment with Mike, and Nick was going to call his buddy and make sure he got the all clear for extracurricular activities.

  Nick’s intercom beeped. “Yes, Lois?”

  “Dr. Flynn calling. He said it was important.”

  “Thanks, put him through.”

  “What’s up, Mike?”

  “That’s what I want to know. Rosalie canceled her appointment.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. My receptionist said she wouldn’t reschedule. She said she’d have to call next week to do it.”

  “When was this?”

  “A half hour ago.”

  “Okay, thanks for the heads up.”

  “No problem. Is she doing well?”

  “Yeah, she seems to be better every day.”

  “That’s good, at least, but I need to see her.”

  “Oh, believe me, you will.” Nick disconnected the call and dialed Rosalie’s number. The line was busy. Who didn’t have call waiting? He hung up and changed into his casual clothes.

  It took Nick all of fifteen minutes to get to Rosalie’s apartment. He let himself in and heard her before he saw her.

  “Look, by definition, an emergency is something that isn’t planned. I couldn’t call earlier to make a reservation. I didn’t know I needed one.”

  Nick crossed his arms and eavesdropped without guilt.

  “I know he’s giant. You must have more than one giant dog that boards with you. Okay, fine, how big is the large K-E-N-N-E-L? No, I don’t know how long I’ll—”

  Nick heard her rummaging in the bathroom and moved closer to the bedroom door. Dave had his head and shoulders stuffed as far under the bed as caninely possible.

  “I don’t think it will be more than a week.” She let out an exasperated breath and coughed.

  That was it. Nick walked in and took the telephone out of her hand. “Thank you. We’ll get back to you. Good-bye.” He disconnected the call.

  Rosalie blew the hair out of her eyes and glared. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  “I’m going out of town on business. It’s an emergency. I need to find a K-E-N-N-E-L for Dave.”

  “First off, you might as well stop spelling the word. Dave’s not stupid. He knows you’re going to send him to doggie jail, which is why he’s hiding under the bed. Second, a kennel is unnecessary—”

  “Oh, don’t even go there. You have no right to tell me where I can and cannot go.”

  “I’m not. I was only saying—”

  “Look, just because you’ve been helpful doesn’t give you the—”

  “I’ll take care of Dave.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I’m not letting you put Dave in a kennel. I’ll take care of him.” Nick moved in close. They were nose to nose. “When did you plan on telling me you were leaving?”

  Rosalie backed into the sink. “I was going to call from the airport. How did you find out?”

  “Mike called. He was concerned. You canceled your appointment without rescheduling.”

  “So you came all the way over here?”

  “I called first. The line was busy.”

  “I spent the morning on the phone with Gina. I’ve got to go to Michigan and deal with a few things and have dinner with an old college buddy.”

  “You’re having dinner with an old . . . buddy?”

  “Yeah, is that a problem?”

  Hell, yeah, it was a problem, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “No, no problem. Have a nice time.”

  “I will, but it’s mostly business. I need to see if Leisure can give me any information.”

  “Leisure?”

  “A nickname. Someone’s been spreading a rumor that Premier Motors is having trouble with their financing. I’m hoping Leisure can help ferret out the culprit. My plane leaves in three hours.”

  Good luck with that. There was absolutely no way that information could be traced back to him. “It won’t do any good to tell you that you shouldn’t be traveling, so I’ll ask if you’ve packed all your medicine.”

  “Yes, it’s in my carry-on.”

  “Your nebulizer?”

  “I’ve got my inhaler. I’m not taking the nebulizer.”

  “Lee.”

  “Do you know how heavy that damn thing is?”

  “Lee.”

  “Fine. I’ll probably die of exhaustion from carrying it and then you can live with the guilt.”

  “I’ll have someone take you—”

  “Oh, no. I’m not going to get into a wheelchair.”

  Nick held his hands up. “No wheelchair, I promise. They’ll drive you to the gate in a golf cart. Give me your itinerary. I’ll set it up.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Lee.”

  She pushed away from him and went into the living-room. Nick followed so closely, he bumped into her when she stopped to pull her itinerary out of her briefcase.

  “You know I hate when you’re pushy.”

  “I know.” Nick smiled and pulled her into his arms.

  God, he felt good. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. He rubbed her back, and the tension she’d been holding since he walked in drained away. She’d thought for sure he was going to do something stupid, like tell her she couldn’t go. Then she’d have had to stop seeing him, and she really didn’t want to do that.

  Nick kissed her temple and gave her a good squeeze.

  “Better?”

  She nodded. She couldn’t very well tell him that dressing, packing, and working on the phone all morning had left her so drained, she only had enough energy left to crawl into bed and sleep.

  “Are you packed?”

  “Yes. I’m just waiting for a fax from Gina, and the limo will—”

  “Call her and tell her to cancel the limo. I’m taking you to the airport.”

  “Nick.”

  He handed her the phone and called the airport on his cell.

  Twenty minutes later, Nick and Rosalie left for the airport. She spent the drive fighting to stay awake while Nurse Nick gave her the daily lecture on taking her medicine, drinking fluids, and working no more than four hours a day. Yeah, like that was going to happen, but she saw no need to tell him.

  They pulled up to the curb. Nick released the trunk, got out, and unloaded her bags. She checked her suitcase curbside, and Nick tipped the baggage handler before she could get money out of her wallet. She decided not to argue with him. She was way too tired.

  Rosalie waited for Nick to say good-bye. She wasn’t sure how one went about doing that. She’d never had a guy take her to the airport before.

  “Try to sleep on the plane. You look exhausted.”

  Nothing got by him. “Okay.”

  “Call me when you get in and let me know how to get in touch with you.”

  “Why?”

  “In case I need to get in touch with you. What if something happens to Dave?”

  “Fine, I’ll call.”

  “Fine.”
/>   He scowled at her. His jaw had a tick in it, and he raked his fingers through his hair. Why was an irritated Nick such a complete turn-on? Her body started buzzing; her hormones did the hula; and when she met his gaze, he had that stormy eye thing going on in a big way.

  “Transportation is waiting for you by the ticket counter. They’ll take you to your gate.”

  She nodded.

  “You take care.” He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Tingles shot through her body.

  “You, too.”

  “Call me when you get to your hotel. You have all my numbers. I’ll pick you up from the airport when you come home.” He gave her his don’t-you-dare-argue-with-me look.

  “Fine, I’ll call you with my return flight information.” Rosalie waited for him to do something. He must have been waiting for the same thing. She decided to make a fast retreat.

  “Well, I’ll see ya.” She picked up her bag and headed to the terminal.

  A heartbeat later, he caught her arm. “Lee?”

  She turned, and he was right there, against her. She lost her balance, and he caught her. He’d snuck up on her again. Damn him. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but he kissed her and stole her thoughts. She’d almost forgotten how fabulous a kisser Nick was. It had been so long since he’d done anything but pat her. He sure wasn’t patting her now. No, he was nibbling on her lips, teasing her with the hot tip of his tongue, and making her want more.

  A car behind them beeped, and the driver yelled, “Get a room!”

  Nick gave her another hard kiss, winked, and let her go. “Later.”

  Later they’d get a room, or he’d see her later? His smile told her he knew that a room sounded really good—any room with him in it. But that wasn’t going to happen. Damn him.

  Rosalie walked into the terminal.

  Motor City, here I come.

  Chapter 10

  NICK SAT IN THE MUSTANG AND WATCHED ROSALIE disappear into the terminal. Rosalie wasn’t well enough to travel, but he couldn’t tell her that. She’d been waiting to hear him say that—and one word from him was all it would take for her to end whatever it was they had. Not that she wanted to, which was why she hadn’t planned to say good-bye before she left.

  If Nick could kick his own ass around a city block, he would. He’d seen the exhaustion on her face; not that anyone else would notice it. She looked every bit the hot New York executive. Her head was held high, her chin raised in defiance of the world, and her long-legged stride ate up distance and walked over anyone in her way. The crease of her pants was sharp enough to cut, and her four-inch designer heels doubled as weapons. He tried to remember if the women in Michigan wore sexy pantsuits like hers. Not that it mattered. He had a feeling wherever Rosalie went west of New Jersey, she’d stick out like a sore thumb. She might as well have had Made in New York stamped on her forehead. It wasn’t that she looked typical—she didn’t. But she had that attitude Nick found only in New Yorkers.

  The woman he watched walk away was quite a switch from the makeup free, sweatshirt and flannel pant-clad Islanders fanatic with whom he’d spent the weekend fighting over the remote and eating in bed.

  Nick tried not to think about the fact that he was the reason Rosalie was leaving and having dinner with some college buddy named Leisure. The only female buddies Nick had in college were bed buddies—again, not something he wanted to contemplate. Damn.

  He shook his head, put the car in gear, and headed back to Brooklyn feeling way too somber. But what did he expect? He had been looking forward to a night of slow, explosive lovemaking, not a run in the park with Dave.

  Nick let himself into the apartment and tossed his keys on the table. Dave sauntered out of the bedroom and eyed him warily. The poor guy must still be wondering when he was going to jail. Nick followed Dave back to the bedroom, lugging the bag he’d packed when he’d stopped to pick up his mail. Dave resumed hiding under the bed.

  “Come on out, Dave, you’re going to hang with the big boys this week. Relax, I’m not taking you to jail.” Nick kicked off his shoes and made room in the dresser for his things. He wondered if his clothes would end up smelling like Rosalie. She kept sachets in her underwear drawer, and their scent permeated the room. Everything smelled like Trouble. He didn’t think it mattered what his boxers smelled like, so he neatly folded her undies and tucked his boxers in next to them. Too bad checking out her underwear didn’t hold the same appeal without her in it. At least he’d been dead-on when he guessed her size. What could he say? It was a gift.

  Nick finished unpacking and thought a run might bring him out of his foul mood, so he changed into sweats and running shoes.

  “Come on, Dave. Let’s go for a run. You need the exercise, if you’re going to keep sneaking lasagna.”

  Dave was not a runner. Nick took it slow, but after only about a mile, Dave planted his ass and refused to move in any direction except toward home. Nick tugged on his collar, even tried cajoling him. Dave lay down and played dead until Nick bribed him with a foot-long from a street vendor to get him moving again. Dave walked all the way home with a limp. How he’d managed to make it look as if all four legs were in pain was a true Oscar-worthy performance.

  Nick couldn’t wait to tell Rosalie about their quasirun. Well, all except for the part about the hot dog. She’d have a cow about Nick feeding Dave meat, so he’d leave that factoid out.

  By the time they got home, Nick calculated Rosalie was checking into her hotel. Which hotel, he wasn’t sure, and not knowing wasn’t helping his mood. He’d run all the way to the apartment to check on her. He’d been worried sick, only to be smacked upside the head with proof of how little she cared. He should have at least rated a good-bye in person—not over the phone from the airport.

  The words sounded familiar. He recalled his old girlfriend, Tonya, saying something similar when he’d had Lois call and cancel their date due to an unexpected trip. She’d said he’d hurt her. Damn, now he felt like a real schmuck about that. But he wasn’t hurt—he was mad.

  Nick showered with his cell phone within reach. The one that didn’t ring. He ate leftover pad thai, minus every shrimp—Rosalie had been excavating again. She’d have made a great anthropologist.

  The landline rang. As was his habit, Nick let the machine answer. When they heard Rosalie’s voice, he and Dave ran to the phone. Dave almost knocked him over in his excitement, though Nick suspected the near tumble could well have been a payback for the run.

  “Hi, sweetie! How are you?”

  Nick picked up the handset. “Hi.”

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah, who were you expecting?”

  “Why did you pick up?”

  “You called.”

  “I was calling for Dave.”

  “You called to talk to the dog?”

  “I always do. He likes it.”

  “I can see that. I thought you were calling to talk to me.”

  “I never call you “sweetie.” What made you think I called for you?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because most people don’t telephone dogs.”

  “Well, I do. It keeps him from walking around the apartment with my clothes.”

  Nick let that one go. There were some things better left unknown.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Rosalie groaned. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when I missed a guy asking me ‘what are you wearing,’ but it sure beats the dreaded ‘how are you feeling’ question.”

  “Okay, what are you wearing?”

  “Never mind. I’m feeling fine. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you my cell number.”

  “You have a cell phone?” Well, of course she did. Now he remembered hearing her purse ring right before her sister had called.

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Nick wrote down the number and bit his tongue to keep from asking why she hadn’t given it to him a week ago.

  “When are you coming home?”

  “I do
n’t know. I don’t know what I’m dealing with yet. I’ll call you.”

  “Get some rest. You sound tired.”

  “I know, I know, drink fluids, take my medicine, eat well. Did I forget anything?”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight, when you’re sleepy. . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “And you’re lying in that big, cold hotel bed all alone. . .”

  He heard her breath catch. “Uh huh. . .” came out as half word, half moan.

  He took a deep breath and tried to sound normal, even bored. “Sleep well.”

  “Nick!”

  “’Bye, Lee, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He disconnected the call and found a morose Dave watching. The reason it was called a hangdog expression was brought into crystal clarity. Nick knew how the dog felt.

  “Look on the bright side, big guy. At least you’re not in a kennel.” Try as he might, Nick failed to see the bright side of his own situation.

  Dave limped into the bedroom, lumbered onto the bed, and fell into a run-induced coma. So much for dogs being good company. Nick wandered around the apartment and, after about an hour, realized what was wrong. He was lonely.

  Rosalie rolled over again and looked at the clock. It was only eight-thirty, and she’d been lying down for two hours. What a complete waste of time. How was she supposed to nap after what Nick had done to her? All he had to do was talk to her in that come-to-papa voice, and she turned to unset Jell-O.

  Sitting up, she ordered room service. She wasn’t hungry, but she needed to take her medicine. In her head, she heard Nick bugging her about the importance of taking medicine on a full stomach.

  Oh, God, when had his voice replaced her mother’s as her inner nag?

  The phone rang, and she stared at it. It had to be either Nick or Gina. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to either of them, but she knew wondering who had called would drive her crazy. She might as well answer the damn phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Well, ain’t that a fine how-do-you-do?”

  “Gina? Why are you talking like a yokel?”

  “I thought it might take some getting used to. I’m trying to help you out.

  “You know, just because Michigan is west of the Hudson doesn’t mean it’s full of country bumpkins.