Romeo, Romeo Read online

  “Good idea. You have a meeting with Mr. Hunter, the senior loan officer, at three. His office. He's making you dance.”

  “I'll remember to wear my tap shoes. Is there anything I need to look over before Monday morning's staff meeting?”

  “I have a file on my desk that will fill you in on everything you missed this last week.”

  “Fine. I'm going to take off. Have a good weekend.”

  Gina picked up the flowers. “I'll help you downstairs with these.”

  “No, thanks, I've got it.” Rosalie threw the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder and took the flowers from Gina.

  “You won't even let me catch a glimpse of your Romeo, will you?”

  “Not if lean help it.”

  “What if I promise not to say anything?”

  “As if that were possible. Come on, Gina. Just because you promised not to say anything about who he is doesn't mean you won't say something else equally horrible. You're passive-aggressive.” She didn't mention the fact that sometimes Gina was not quite so passive.

  Gina crossed her arms and pouted—a pout that would have had every male on the planet rushing to do her bidding.

  “It's not going to work.”

  She humphed and blew her straight black bangs out of her eyes. “Fine. Here. Give me your briefcase, and I'll leave it at the security desk.”

  Nick had had a lunch meeting with his bankers in the financial district, so it wasn't a big deal to stop by and pick up Rosalie. Of course, he had to go all the way uptown to the New York Athletic Club on Central Park South to change clothes. Okay, so he was pathetic; it wasn't as if he didn't know he was pathetic.

  He couldn't stop thinking about how she'd looked the night before when she caught her father with his mistress. She'd been an amazing mixture of a scared little girl and a pissed off, indignant woman. For a minute, he'd been afraid she'd go after her father, which would have been very bad on several levels. It would have been the last time he'd have been able to take her to his favorite restaurant in Nolita, plus it would have cost him a fortune to get her out of jail and defend her for murder. After he'd shuffled her out of the restaurant, he'd thought for sure he was in for an evening of weeping. He'd been wrong again. Rosalie hadn't shed one tear. After the blood returned to her face, she'd pulled herself together, and though she'd been quiet, she'd never shown weakness. It was scary. She had a way of putting up an impenetrable wall that, even when they'd made love, he hadn't been able to breach. It bothered him. Not that making love to her was a hardship, but it would be nice to feel as if it meant something to her other than a physical release.

  Nick scrubbed his hands over his face and laughed out loud. He felt like an ass. He had exactly what he wanted. He'd finally found someone who wasn't falling all over herself to trick him into marriage, and it was denting his ego. Ain't that a kick in the pants? Damn, he'd thought he knew himself, then one woman walked into his life and turned everything upside down.

  A flash of red caught his eye. She'd stepped out of the revolving door, and all he could see were her legs. The wind had whipped down the street and blown open her long, red cashmere coat. He couldn't complain about the view but wondered what she was thinking. She was getting over pneumonia, and she didn't have the sense to button her damn coat? Was she asking for a relapse? The flowers covered the rest of her. Maybe he had overdone the flowers. He'd never even asked the florist the price. Damn, he had to remember he was supposedly living on a service manager's salary. He was sure a greenhouse full of flowers would set a service manager back a year's poker money.

  She rested the vase on her hip to scan the street, and when she saw him leaning against the car, a smile took shape before she consciously shut it down. It wasn't much, but it was something. Maybe she wasn't as immune to him as she acted.

  Nick nodded at her and jaywalked through the throng of cabs waiting at the light.

  “Here, let me take those.” Nick took the flowers from her with one hand and pulled her in close for a kiss. “Button up. It's cold as hell out here.”

  Rosalie raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She made fast work of the buttons while groaning her displeasure. He figured he'd gotten off easy.

  “I'll be right back. I need to run to the security desk for my briefcase.”

  “Okay. I'll put these in the car.”

  He was contemplating where to put the arrangement when she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “How are you going to get that monstrosity in there?”

  “I'm going to have to push your seat forward as far as it'll go and set them on the floor in the back.”

  “You know, everyone I saw while I was carrying these down from my office looked at me with such pity. A couple of them even asked if you had done something awful and were groveling.”

  Nick handed her the flowers and bent down to move the seat. He looked up and smiled. “Yeah? What did you say?”

  “I told them no. Now they all think you're compensating for something.”

  He shook his head, took the flowers from her, and wedged them into the backseat. “Great.”

  She reached out and squeezed his shoulder before she gave him a nudge. “Oh, come on, Nick. You have to admit, the flowers are a little over the top.”

  He slid the seat as far back as he could without breaking the vase and stood, pulling her into his arms. “All right. I went a little overboard, but it was worth it. You look happy.”

  “I don't know about happy, but I did have a good laugh.”

  Nick helped her into the car. He got a bonus on the flowers as she tried to pull her skirt down in the legroom-less front seat. A good deed rewarded.

  He climbed in beside her and laughed. “You know, the show I'm getting here,” his hand traced the hem of her skirt, which barely reached the top of her thigh-high stockings, “was worth every penny those flowers set me back. You have the most amazing legs.”

  “I don't know about amazing, but they're long. And right now, they're practically wrapped around my neck, so would you mind driving?”

  “You expect me to be able to drive after putting that image in my head?”

  Rosalie had to hand it to the man; he sure knew how to make a girl feel wanted. He had no problem driving. He drove the car and drove her crazy at the same time. Whenever his hand wasn't on the gearshift, it was on her thigh, tracing slow and lazy circles above her stocking but never moving closer to the one place she ached for him to touch. By the time they pulled up in front of her brownstone, she was ready for bed, but the last thing on her mind was sleep. All thoughts of her crazy family, her bad day, and her worse mood had slipped into oblivion.

  Nick killed the engine and reached across her to get her door. They were face-to-face, and she fought the urge to nuzzle his neck.

  Nick stilled for a moment before he continued. “I'll get the flowers. I need them to hide behind, if you get my drift. Bending down to get them might be a problem, though.”

  “Oh…” She reached over and ran her hand down the length of his fly. “Oh, my.” It hadn't occurred to her that he might have been… uncomfortable, too.

  “What? You think I can spend twenty minutes with you in a car in your sexy stockings and fuck-me shoes, with my hand up your skirt, and not have a hard-on? Sweetheart, I can barely be in the same room with you and not react like a kid at his first porn flick.”

  She opened the door, hoping the cool air would dissipate the heat building up in the car. “I'll get the flowers. You can use my briefcase.” She cleared her throat, trying to rid her voice of its sudden huskiness. “I hope we don't run into Henry and Wayne.”

  Nick pressed closer, and the timbre of his voice made it clear the cool air wasn't doing the job. “If we do, they'll know I'm not compensating for anything.”

  There was no chance of that. They spent the evening making love. Nick wasn't one of those once-a-day-if-you're-lucky lovers. No, he was the good-for-two-in-a-row, every-few-hours kind of lover
she'd only read about in romance novels. Nick proved those guys did exist. Thank God and Nora Roberts.

  Saturday, they only ventured out once for food—if you called Bosco Chocolate Syrup food. Nick had the kitchen well stocked with all the other essentials—ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream. They'd had Bosco but had run out. Who knew she had such a taste for chocolate—especially after she learned it wasn't just for ice cream any more?

  By Sunday morning, Rosalie had exhausted the poor guy into what looked like a coma. She and Dave took pity on him and went without him on their weekly excursion to the dog park and then to Fiorentino's Italian-Jewish deli and bakery. A perfect combination. Where else could you buy cannolis and knishes? She bought bagels, lox, and cream cheese with chives, plus dessert to go with a box of coffee, and headed home with plans to kiss Nick awake.

  Nick rolled over and groaned at the sunlight streaming through the windows. His stomach muscles were sore. He'd never had enough sex to wear him out—until now. Either he was getting out of shape, or he'd never stayed long enough for round two. Or three. Or four. Damn. If he'd known that spending the weekend with a woman would be this good, he would have done it a while ago. But he'd never spent time with a woman who didn't get on his nerves before. Rosalie had her idiosyncrasies, an aversion to all things closet-related being at the top of the list, but they were more cute than annoying.

  The bed dipped. He reached behind him and wrapped his arm around her waist. Oh, man. The waist wasn't Rosalie's. It was smaller and bonier. He let go, rolled over while grabbing the sheet that rode low on his hips, and sat up in a split second.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  The black-haired, dark-eyed pixie looked him over. Nick fought the urge to pull the sheet up higher. “So, you're Nick, just Nick, eh?” “Yes. And you are?” “Gina.”

  She stuck her delicate, manicured hand out to shake his, forcing Nick to switch the hand that held the sheet around him before shaking. If she hadn't looked so serious, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

  She wore a tight, long-sleeved T-shirt tucked into spray-painted-on jeans, with a big belt that accentuated her small waist and anything but small bust. Damn, a few weeks ago, waking up to a woman who looked like Gina would have been a dream come true. Now, it was a nightmare.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Do I know you?”

  “No. But I know all about you, Nick, just Nick, so I'm not going to waste time with the niceties.”

  “I think that's pretty clear, considering the way you barged in here.”

  Gina rolled her eyes heavenward, as if she were praying for patience. “Whatever. Rosalie is entirely too nice and trusting, and you've got her eating out of your hand. I'm looking out for her, and I thought you should know I'm keeping my eye on you. You hurt her, and I'll cut your privates off with rusty nail clippers. That way it's slow, painful, and guaranteed to cause lockjaw. Any questions?”

  “Yes. Would you mind waiting to threaten me until I'm dressed?”

  “No, I don't mind.” Gina sat and waited.

  “Are you going to watch?”

  “As if you have anything I haven't seen before.” She turned her back and crossed her arms while she tapped the toe of an extremely dangerous-looking black boot with a heel thin enough to double as a weapon.

  “Where's Lee?”

  “She took Dave to the dog park. They'll be at least a half hour. They left a few minutes ago.”

  “She knew you were here?” Nick asked.

  “Of course not. I waited for her to leave. She'd kill me if she knew I came to meet you.”

  “You mean you came to threaten me.”

  “Exactly. Are you going to get dressed, or are you going to sit there looking pretty? I need a cup of coffee.”

  “I do not look pretty. And the last thing I want is to be in bed, naked, with you. I'll get dressed as soon as you leave the room. You're welcome to help yourself to coffee. I'm sure you can figure out where everything is, since you figured out how to get in here.”

  “That was easy enough. I buzzed Henry and Wayne. They let me in. Rosalie never locks her door when she's not going out for long.”

  Gina turned and glared at him. “I'll go make coffee, but only because I'm dying for a cup. I don't like you. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Crystal. I don't like you, either.”

  She nodded and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

  Nick got up, threw on sweats and a T-shirt, brushed his teeth, and was out before the coffee was ready. He hoped she made it strong. He was going to need a lot of caffeine to take on this pint-sized bulldog.

  Nick reminded himself that this was his turf. He was going to make sure Gina knew it. He grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet and peered into the fridge. “Do you take milk or half-and-half?

  “Black.”

  “Sugar?”

  “No.”

  He poured coffee and set a mug in front of her at the breakfast bar.

  “So, Gina. You work for Lee.”

  “I work with Rosalie.”

  Nick took a sip of coffee and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, right.” He meant for that to zing her. It didn't. “You don't need to worry about Lee. We're playing by her rules, not mine.”

  “Rosalie never played with fire before, rules or no rules. I don't want her getting burned.”

  “She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Besides, I'd never hurt her.”

  Gina gave him a long, long, long look—one that he was sure would make a weaker man squirm like a worm on the end of a hook. He stood stock-still. Damn, for a tiny thing, she sure packed a punch. Nick couldn't afford to lose, so he stared her down, using his height advantage, though truth be told, it didn't seem to have any effect on her.

  He couldn't help but admire her. It took balls of steel to walk in on a sleeping, naked man twice her size and threaten him. Especially a man she'd never met before.

  She was all that and looked as dangerous as a crate of dynamite near a bonfire.

  Gina broke eye contact and checked her watch. “Okay, as long as we understand each other, I'll go. Remember what I said about rusty nail clippers.”

  “How could I forget?”

  “I trust we'll keep this little tete-a-tete between us?” “Fine.”

  “I still don't like you.”

  Nick smiled for the first time since he saw her. He knew she was kidding. Not about castration—she was dead serious about that—but she was kidding about not liking him. It would take a bigger woman than her to resist a Romeo. Hell, the only woman who had was Rosalie. For kicks, Nick winked at her to piss her off. “I still don't like you, either.”

  Gina laughed. “Behave, Nick, just Nick. I would really hate to have to hurt you.” She picked up a black leather trench coat and slid into it.

  “I'd tell you to behave,” Nick smiled, “but I think there's little chance of that.”

  “You're pretty perceptive. It's been… interesting.”

  She gave him a quick salute and walked out as silently as she'd entered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rosalie had missed Gina's visit by moments. Nick didn't know if he was pleased that she hadn't caught Gina or not. He hated keeping things from her, but at this point, what difference did one more little lie of omission make?

  Rosalie closed the door behind her, and Dave ran to him, dragging his leash. Nick bent down to unhook it and was putting it away when he caught Rosalie smiling at him. It wasn't the usual pasted-on smile. She smiled her genuine smile, the one that slipped out when she didn't have her guard up. The one that made him feel— what? Good? Yeah, the one that made him feel good.

  He found himself smiling back. He hoped he didn't look as idiotic as he felt, standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face, but how could he help it? She looked, well… adorable. He'd be happy to spend the day doing nothing but looking at her. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and her hair was windblown. She was
wearing his old bomber jacket, which was huge on her, and holding an armload of bags and boxes.

  “I hope you didn't make breakfast. I stopped at Fiorentino's. Mrs. F. must have been in the back. I think we're safe from my mother's wrath.”

  She dumped the bags on the table, spun around, and ran into Nick. He caught her arms to steady her.

  She blew the bangs out of her eyes and tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “You always do that to me.”

  “I know.” He kissed her, warming her lips under his. “How was your walk?”

  Rosalie unzipped her coat and threw it on the back of the chair. “Good. We ran into Tommy and Jasmine. Have you met them yet? Dave has a crush on Jasmine, a cute little basset. It's hysterical.”

  Nick took the coat and hung it in the closet while he listened.

  “She has him totally wrapped. He drools all over her, literally. We had to towel her off. It was gross.” She pulled out plates and a cup, poured herself coffee from the insulated box, and topped his off. After adding creamer to both cups, she set them on the table. “I think Jasmine watches for us out their front window. We take them to the dog park and let them run around together.”

  Nick took juice from the fridge, got glasses, and handed her one. Rosalie dug through the bags, bit into the first chocolate-covered doughnut she found, and continued talking with a full mouth. “Do you want a bagel and lox, or pastry?”

  He had to laugh. She had chocolate all over her mouth. Hell, she even had a spot on her nose. He handed her a napkin. “Bagel first, dessert later.”

  “Spoilsport. What do you have planned today?”

  “I was going to see if Dave might want to try running again.”

  Dave stretched out under the table, rolled over, and groaned.

  Rosalie laughed. “I wouldn't count on it.”

  “It looks as if I'll have to go it alone then.”

  “I think he's more the walking type. The only time he runs is when there's food involved.”

  “Tell me about it.” Nick went back into the kitchen and got silverware. “The Islanders are playing Montreal. It's a home game. I thought we could watch it. How about you? Any plans?”