Romeo, Romeo Read online

  She ordered a wake-up call, did a breathing treatment, and crawled into bed. Nestled into the incredible pillows, she made a mental note to hit the hotel's website and buy a couple.

  Rosalie was falling out of bed. Yes, she knew she was too old for that, but for some reason, she must have been sleeping on top of the pillows. She felt herself falling and grabbed onto what she thought was the mattress, but it wasn't. The pillows did cushion her fall, but she doubted whoever was below her thought so.

  Rosalie lay sprawled on the floor at six-thirty in the morning, with a rug burn on her knee. Gathering the pillows, she climbed back in bed. The rug burn hurt like hell and looked even worse. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table, scrolled down to Nick's number, and hit “Send.” Nick answered on the second ring.

  “Lee?”

  “Hi.”

  “Did you just wake up?” “Yeah.”

  “And the first thing you did was call me?”

  It was a question, but it sounded more like a statement of fact. “No, it's not the first thing I did.” She didn't think she had to tell him the first thing she'd done was pick herself up off the floor.

  “Sure, if you say so. You sound sleepy and sexy as hell… the way you always do for the first ten minutes, before your brain starts screaming for caffeine. Did you call room service yet?”

  Damn, she knew she'd forgotten something. “Of course. Um… how's Dave?”

  “He's fine. He seems to be feeling better.”

  “Why, what was wrong?”

  “We went for a run yesterday. You should have seen him. After a mile, he lay down and refused to go any farther. It took me almost an hour to get him to walk home, and then he looked as if he were limping on all fours. I've never seen anything like it. After we talked to you, he was out for the rest of the night.” “Outside?”

  “No. Out, as in asleep on the bed. He takes over the entire bed, like someone else I know. But at least you don't snore.”

  “It's nice to know I'm a better sleeping companion than Dave. You'd better watch it. All these compliments are going right to my head.”

  She heard a siren and then Dave groaning.

  “Dave, cut it out, I'm driving here.”

  “You're driving with Dave?”

  “Yeah, we're going to work.”

  “It's against the law to talk on a cell phone and drive. Pull over.”

  “You know, Dave, when your mom calls, all she does is order me around. I don't think she's had her coffee yet. I'm pulling over. Happy now?”

  “Are you talking to me or to Dave?”

  “You.”

  “I'm thrilled. Let me get this straight—you're taking Dave to work with you? What are you, nuts? Dave isn't a Pekingese. He's not portable.”

  “Sure he is. He likes the car, but he refused to sit in the back seat, so I buckled him in.”

  “You put a seat belt on Dave?”

  “Only the shoulder strap. I thought it would keep him from going too far forward. He should be safe enough, since the car has airbags…”

  “You actually thought of his safety? That's so sweet.”

  “Lee, give me a break. Sweet is almost as bad as cute. We got six inches of snow last night, and the kids have a snow day. My secretary is bringing her son, Tyler, with her to work. I thought Dave would like to hang with us.”

  “You're going to let a kid and a dog follow you around?”

  “Sure. Tyler's great. We shoot hoops and do guy stuff together.”

  “Ooh, the mysterious guy stuff.”

  “Yes, very mysterious. Even Lois doesn't know what we do. Ty took the blood oath right after I taught him how to pee standing up.”

  “What do you mean? I thought the big deal with guys was writing your name in the snow…”

  “Sweetheart, he didn't know how to spell. He was only two. He's a bright kid, but not that bright. Look, I've got to run, or I'll be late, and I'm already on Lois's shit list.”

  “Oh, right. Um, give Dave a kiss for me.” “Not likely.”

  “Make sure he doesn't drink antifreeze or anything.”

  “I'll keep him in my office.”

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Forget about it.”

  Not likely.

  Rosalie disconnected the call on a sigh. Damn the man. There's nothing more attractive than a man who loves dogs or kids. Of course, Nick would do both.

  Again Rosalie hung up before Nick could say goodbye. Damn. He didn't want her thanks. He only wanted her to come home.

  Dave gave him a disappointed look.

  “I miss her too, big guy, but there's no way in hell I'm going to kiss you. Maybe later, after Lois leaves, we can call your mom on the speakerphone. How does that sound?”

  Nick wondered if he was losing it. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was talking to a one-hundred-fifty-pound mutt, he could have sworn Dave raised a brow as if to say, “You really expect me to answer? What do you think this is, an episode of Lassie?”

  Only Rosalie would have a sarcastic dog.

  Nick and Dave spent the next week and a half working long hours. Lois set up a dog bed for Dave beside Nick's desk, and when he had meetings, Nick used the conference room instead of his office. Ty came by every day after school and took Dave to the park for twenty bucks for the week. Dave loved Ty, and Ty needed more responsibility and something to occupy his time after school. Ty was about the same age Nick had been when he'd started down the road to Juvie. He sure as hell wasn't going to let Ty make the same mistake.

  Nick leaned back in his chair and yawned. Christ, he'd thought he'd sleep better without Rosalie around to tie him in knots. It wasn't the case; if anything, his sleep problems were worse. He'd hardly slept at all since she left, and when he did manage to fall asleep, he'd wake up with his arm around Dave. Which was embarrassing as hell, even for Dave.

  “Wake up!”

  “What?” Nick's eyes shot open, and he found Lois leaning over his chair. “Christ, Lois, what are you trying to do? Give me a freakin' heart attack?”

  “If you weren't sleeping on the job, you'd have heard your phone ringing. Maybe you need to set the ring tone louder… or get some sleep. You look like hell.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Time for you to get out of the office. You're no good to me like this, Nick. I've run out of patience. Go home. Don't come back until you get a minimum of eight hours of sleep.”

  “But Ty is coming…”

  “That's okay. I'm taking the afternoon off. I'll take him to the park. Dave can have the day off, too. Now both of you, get out of here.”

  Nick was too tired to argue, and she was right about him being no good to anyone at work. He hooked Dave's leash to his collar and headed home.

  Rosalie opened the door to the apartment, stuck her head in, and waited for Dave to do his sorry impression of the Snoopy Happy Dance. But there was no Dave.

  She wanted to cry. She was tired and cranky, and she wanted to see Dave and Nick. She couldn't believe she'd come all this way at this ungodly hour, and Nick wasn't even here.

  Her eyes stung, not from tears, but because they'd been open for eighteen hours straight.

  It wasn't that she missed Nick. How could she? He'd taken up residence in her brain. The only good thing about Nick filling her thoughts was that she no longer heard her mother.

  Rosalie should have listened when Gina told her to fly back in the morning. But no, she'd wanted to go home. She'd wanted to sleep in her own bed and see her own dog. And yes, she'd wanted to surprise Nick. To think she'd done all that, and he wasn't even here!

  As she lugged in her bags, Dave trudged out of the bedroom. For the first time all week, she felt like celebrating. He did full-body stretches on his way to greet her. It was a far cry from a Snoopy Happy Dance, but she'd take what she could get. He waited for his kiss and butted his head into her. She wasn't sure if it was a sign of affection, but that's how she
chose to take it. Tossing her coat on the couch, she kicked her shoes off and followed Dave to the bedroom.

  Dave crawled onto the bed and resumed sleeping with his big head resting on Nick's chest. Nick reached out, laying his arm over Dave's neck. Talk about a Kodak moment. Not to mention perfect blackmail material. Rosalie had a feeling Nick would do anything to keep Mike and Vinny from knowing he and Dave slept together. It was a shame she was too tired to find her camera.

  She gave Dave's rump a pat and pulled him off the bed, careful to keep him from stepping on Nick.

  Nick didn't even stir. Amazing. She stripped out of her clothes, slipped on a sleep shirt, and slid beneath the covers. God, it was good to be home.

  Rosalie had read somewhere that a person could get addicted to their lover's scent. Even after years apart, if they smelled that person, they would have an intense physical reaction. She'd thought it was a bunch of romantic bunk before now. Of course, she was never one to awaken on top of her lover, with her head pillowed on the soft spot below his collarbone and her nose pressed against his chest. God, he smelled good. “I can hear you thinking.”

  “You cannot. I think silently.” She didn't move. She listened to the drum of his heart and the rumble of his voice and basked in the warmth of his arms surrounding her.

  “Yeah, but it sets off an electric current I can hear. Welcome home.”

  'Thanks. Your hands are on my ass.”

  “I know.” He gave her butt a squeeze. “It seems to be a bone of contention with you.”

  “There's nothing bony about it. It's big.”

  He increased the pressure, kneading the tension out of her glutes and hamstrings. “You've got the perfect ass. An ass a man wants to grab and hold onto for a long time. I've dreamed about your ass.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She meant it to sound sarcastic but missed the bar. Even to her ears, it sounded like an invitation to proceed, which worked, too. She wanted to moan; it felt so good. Who'd have thought your butt could be a direct route to the state of arousal?

  “Why didn't you call? I'd have picked you up.”

  Rosalie smiled against his neck. “I wanted to surprise you.” His pulse thrummed with increasing speed beneath her lips, keeping time with hers. She licked a path to his ear and whispered, “But you didn't wake up.” Rosalie nipped his earlobe and then pulled it into her mouth to soothe it as she slid her leg the rest of the way over to straddle him.

  “Oh, baby, I'm up, and I'm lovin' my surprise.”

  When he said he was up, he wasn't kidding. His erection pressed against the fabric of her boy shorts, and the pressure sent her blood from heated to boiling. Her belly grew warm and heavy. She was melting from the inside out.

  Rosalie pushed herself up to look into his eyes and fell into the swirling vortex she saw there. Hot and possessive need, raw and raging, spinning with a spark of something she couldn't name. So intense, it scared her as much as it excited her.

  Panic skittered through her. She had the urge to run, but as if he'd read her mind, Nick tightened his hold.

  Her breath came out in a whoosh. She wasn't sure if it was because he'd flipped them over none too gently, or because she feared being branded. His body was hard on hers, pushing her into the mattress. His kiss was a staggering embodiment of heat, lust, impatience, and latent anger. Whether the anger was aimed at himself or at her, she was unsure.

  His stubble-covered face scraped her skin, his tongue swept into her mouth, and his power surrounded her. Like a swimmer in a riptide, she sank deeper. Resistance was futile and unthinkable.

  Rosalie's brain was on sensation overload. There was no time to think, only to respond. His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her face, and on her breasts. His rough skin abraded her sensitive nipples before his mouth soothed, laved, and then bit, sending shooting currents of heat skittering. Fires ignited in all the expected places and a few new ones.

  He pulled the sleep shirt over her head and slid himself down her body. She spread her legs to accommodate him, but instead of stopping, he continued lower. His fingers slid under the waistband of her boy shorts, and before she knew his intention, he'd ripped them off.

  Who would have thought the sound of ripping fabric would be such a turn-on? Her toes curled, her breathing rasped, and her heart pounded so hard, it was as if she'd overdosed on adrenaline. She wondered if her heart would burst.

  “Nick, please…”

  His fingers ran around her navel in concentric circles that got larger with every pass. Her hips had a mind of their own, rising to meet his hand. Her legs spread, and her heels dug into the mattress. She'd never felt so needy. When he put his mouth on her, she jerked in his grasp. Her hands held his hair, bringing him closer. His tongue, his mouth, his teeth, the rasp of his beard against her thighs, and the vibration of his groan sent her flying. When his fingers joined his mouth, she soared, screamed, and pulled the sheets from the bed, all the while fighting for breath as his mouth and fingers continued drawing it out, taking her higher and higher, until she imploded.

  Rosalie was vaguely aware of Nick holding her close, kissing her, and murmuring something as her mind reconfigured after the devastating orgasm. He was smiling down at her and brushing the hair from her forehead.

  She wrapped leaden arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Gone was the rage, replaced by quiet tenderness, soft slow strokes of his hands, and the feel of his full-body kiss. She explored the muscles of his back, his arms, his sides, and his hips.

  Her hips rose, and his erection slid into her. Hard, big, smooth.

  “Lee, stop.” Nick groaned and rolled off her. His chest heaved like a bellows.

  “What? What's the matter?”

  “Condoms.”

  “Damn, I forgot.”

  “Yeah, for a second, I did, too.” He reached across the bed, pulled open the bedside table drawer, and tossed some on the bed beside her. She sat, ripped one open with her teeth, and reached for him, but he grabbed her hands.

  “No funny stuff. I'm not sure how much more I can take.”

  “I'll be good. I swear.”

  “Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.”

  She kissed him as she rolled the condom down. The kiss spun out as he pressed her down and covered her with his body.

  Nick rose over Rosalie. She saw emotion swirl in his storm cloud-colored eyes, and for an instant, she knew with absolute certainty they were in the same place. They were suspended somewhere between like and love. A place she'd never been before. A place she didn't want to be. She told herself it was only a dream. But as he settled between her legs, grabbed her hips, and slid into her, slow and long, she knew that was a lie. No dream could ever feel that real, that good, or that scary.

  Nothing she'd ever experienced had prepared her for

  Nick. His eyes locked on hers. He thrust up and back, moving at a slow, easy pace, maddeningly controlled. His pupils darkened, and his breathing turned into gasps, his muscles bunched, and his jaw clenched.

  Rosalie wrapped her legs around his waist and arched her back, and his control snapped. He plunged and bucked, and she met him thrust for thrust. Her orgasm built. She didn't want this to end. He moved to the side, changing the angle, and kissed her as she came apart, swallowing her cries.

  Nick never slowed his pace as her whole body spasmed. He rode out her climax and brought her up again. He moved so perceptively, he seemed to know her body better than she did.

  His face shined with sweat, his back was slick, and his muscles quivered. Watching him drew her closer to the edge. As a shower of mini-explosions shot through her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth as he sunk his body into hers. He came with a roar. He stiffened, shuddered and then exploded. He collapsed, his face pressed against her neck, but his body still tensed and thrust twice more before he relaxed.

  He was heavy, but a good heavy. She kissed his neck and felt him twitch inside her. He slid
off, rolled over, and threw his arm across his eyes. Rosalie snuggled against him and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.

  Nick had finally made love to Rosalie. He'd thought about it so many times, had planned how he'd take it slow, savor it, and not get her too worked up. He knew she wasn't one hundred percent better, and there'd be plenty of time later for extreme sex. He'd wanted this first time to last for hours. What a joke. He'd been lucky if it had lasted ten minutes, and that estimate was generous. He hadn't felt like this… well, ever. He was legendary for his control, but that control disappeared whenever Rosalie was within touching distance. One look from Rosalie, and he was fighting to restrain himself. Even trying to distract himself by naming the players from the Islanders last Stanley Cup win in '83 was a bust. All he could recall was Ronald Melanson, the goalie.

  Making love to Rosalie had nearly done him in. Nothing had ever felt more right, and at the same time, more wrong. Until that moment, he'd never considered keeping things from her a lie. He knew now he'd blown it. Like a line of dominoes, each one pushing the next over, the consequences of his actions tumbled before him, and he was helpless to stop them. He should have come clean about who he was, and what he was, and what he wanted. A woman had a right to know her lover's name, rap sheet, and occupation. But he was already inside her, and God help him, somehow, she had gotten inside him. It was too late to say, “Lee, sweetheart, I have something to tell you…”

  Chapter Eleven

  Nick lay with his arm covering his eyes, and Rosalie snuggled against his side. He'd just had the most amazing sex of his life, and all he felt was guilt.

  He'd wanted to hide his eyes from the depth of her stare, afraid of what she might see—their connection and his guilty conscience. If she'd continued, he'd have spilled his guts and told her how much he'd missed her, how he hadn't been able to sleep without her, who he was, and how he'd been trying for the last five years to take over the company she was working to save, the job her promotion depended upon.

  Good thing he hadn't said anything. If he had, it would have been a monumental mistake—one that would either have given her the wrong idea or sent her running from the room. He thought the latter was more likely. And it was against the rules she'd set, and he'd agreed to. He had no right to change them. Even if he'd been straight with her, even if he'd never told her any lies, he still couldn't have told her he liked sleeping with her and that he missed her when she was away.