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  “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 tête-à-tête 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 13

  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?”

  “I’m supposed to go to my parents’ for supper. You know, the weekly torture. I could get out of it.”

  “Is that what you want?” Nick passed her a plate, sat down, and cut his bagel.

  “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m going to be able to avoid my father forever. I might as well face him sooner rather than later. Things like this tend to get more and more ominous the longer they’re avoided.”

  “It sounds as if you’re trying to talk yourself into going.”

  “I guess I am. I don’t know how I’m going to sit across from him and act as if I hadn’t caught him playing tonsil hockey with the puttana.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Nick heard himself ask the question, but it took a second to register that he actually had. The look on Rosalie’s face took away any doubt. She couldn’t have been any more shocked than he was.

  “What, are you nuts? No, I don’t want you to come with me! That’s all I need. They’d take one look at you, and my dad’s screwing around would be the least of
my worries.”

  Nick called himself every name in the book. He should have been relieved that he didn’t have to do the “meet the parents” thing. But did the thought of him meeting her family have to horrify her so? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already met her mother, though he’d been angry, and he was sure he hadn’t shown her his best side. Hell, who was he kidding? He’d thrown her out of the apartment.

  Rosalie went on fixing her bagel as if she hadn’t insulted him. He watched as her comment registered, and she thought about what she’d said. She looked up from her plate guilty as hell.

  “Gosh, Nick, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It’s my family, they’re . . . well, if you don’t want them to start planning a wedding, you’ll stay clear. Besides, they already think I’m some kind of puttana. God, it’s like a cosmic joke, isn’t it? Bringing you home with me will only make matters worse.”

  “Stop already. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He got up and drained his juice in one gulp. “I’m going for a run.”

  He went into the bedroom to put on his socks. Ignoring her, he passed the table on his way to the door and stepped into his running shoes. He bent down to tie them.

  Rosalie came up behind him and touched his shoulder. “Nick?”

  He stood and took his Polar fleece jacket off the hook next to Dave’s leash. “It’s fine, Lee. Forget about it. I’ll be back in awhile.”

  Running had always been like therapy for Nick. An escape. Only now, he didn’t do it to escape arrest; he escaped his world and all its problems. He concentrated on breathing, the slap of his shoes against the pavement, and the feeling of freedom when he hit the zone.

  Somehow, running had a way of making things clearer. After many a run, he’d found that somewhere beneath all the everyday problems and trials that kept him occupied, he’d already made the important decision he’d been mulling over. He just hadn’t recognized it. Today was different. The only thing he saw was how close he’d come to getting his ass caught in the string of lies he’d so neatly woven. The string was beginning to resemble a noose.

  If Rosalie had taken him up on his offer, what was the chance that someone wouldn’t have recognized him? They’d either see him as Rich’s ex-con friend who, in their eyes, led their son down the path to military school. Or they’d recognize him as Dominick Romeo of Romeo’s Auto Mall, et al. Add the name of a car company to the end of Romeo’s, and it would name at least one of his dealerships.

  Hell, he was lucky Gina hadn’t recognized him. Of course, most people were used to seeing him in a power suit, not bare-assed naked and covered only by a thin sheet.

  He considered coming clean and telling Rosalie the truth about everything. His history with her brother, and his interest in taking over Premier Motors. But what good would it do—other than to clear his guilty conscience? Rosalie would find out the truth in her own time and then it would be over. She’d kick him to the curb, and who could blame her? He’d do the same if he were in her shoes.

  Nick jogged in place as he waited for a break in traffic. He ran across the street, but his thoughts followed him.

  It wasn’t as if he wanted to be with Rosalie forever, but taking his best guess as to when the noose would tighten, he wouldn’t have the time he needed. He wanted more. He couldn’t afford to do anything that might risk what little time he had left.

  No matter how he envisioned the end of this thing with Rosalie, he was always the one who got screwed—the one who hadn’t had enough. Enough what? Enough time? Enough fun? Aw, hell, enough of Rosalie? The only variable was when he’d get screwed. Not if, or how, but when.

  He picked up his pace as he hit the park. There was nothing to stop him—no streetlights or old ladies pulling their grocery carts, no mothers with kids in strollers or women with little yappy dogs. No one he couldn’t run around.

  He’d told Gina he wouldn’t hurt Rosalie. Another lie. He’d gladly deal with Gina and her rusty nail clippers to avoid the look of betrayal he knew he’d eventually see on Rosalie’s face. He imagined her expression wouldn’t be much different than the one he’d seen the other night when she’d caught her father cheating on her mother. Christ, how did he ever get to be such a total asshole?

  “Dominick!”

  Nick heard his name and slowed when he spotted his mother and grandmother walking toward him on the path. Nick bent over and rested with his hands on his knees, cooling down and waiting for them. He pulled his T-shirt from beneath his Polar fleece jacket and wiped his face with it. So much for his run.

  “Mama, Nana, hi.” He bent down for his kiss. His mother first and then Nana, who kissed both cheeks and gave him a pat for good measure. At least she’d given up pinching. Nick’s grandmother—all five foot, two inches and a hundred and nineteen pounds of her—was tough as nails. Back when he was a kid and Park Slope was one of the toughest neighborhoods in New York, he’d seen her take down men three times her size with just a look. She bragged about her weight as often as possible—it was the same her whole adult life, except for when she was pregnant—and the fact she still had great legs—something she mentioned more often than any grandson wanted to hear. Nick might not have liked it, but he had to admit that for a woman pushing eighty, she looked damn good. She took great pride in the fact that she still caught old men’s eyes. Nick even heard that Father Francis had been caught checking out his grandmother, which was yet another thing he could have lived a long and happy life without knowing. Nick shook his head. He didn’t have a large family, but the few family members he had were colorful.

  She held his face close to hers. “What? You forget how to shave? And your hair, it’s too long.”

  “Nana, I’ll shave and shower after I get home.”

  “And you’ll go to the barbershop Monday?”

  “Soon. I promise.”

  Short hair was a big thing for his grandmother; Nick’s grandfather had been a barber. There were pictures of a kind, white-haired man giving Nick his first haircut, and every one after that until the day his grandfather died. Nick had memories of going to the barbershop his grandfather owned with Uncle Giovanni and watching his grandfather cut hair, shave men with straight-blade razors, and sing along with the opera playing on an old plastic art deco radio.

  Nana let go of his face, and with a frown on hers, crossed herself and patted the black shawl she still wore bobby pinned to her head. “You going to church?”

  Nick’s mother gave him a thorough once over before taking her mother’s arm. “Not today, Mama. Remember, I told you that Nick is taking care of a sick friend? That’s why he couldn’t take you to church this morning.”

  Nick kicked the dirt. Another lie. If his mother knew how he was taking care of Rosalie, she wouldn’t be quite so understanding. He wondered if his mother knew more than she was letting on. She inexplicably knew more than she should be capable of finding out, something that wigged him out on a regular basis.

  Even after working two or three jobs at a time for most of her life, she was still a beautiful woman. When she was younger, she was a dead ringer for Gina Lollobrigida, which was why Nick’s father married her. Even now, she was stunning—her dark brunette hair had been replaced by silver, but that did nothing to dim her beauty. Nick knew that every strand of silver was due to him. Before he’d gotten into trouble, her hair was the deepest brunette with just a touch of gray. When he came out of Juvie, her hair was pure silver; there wasn’t a strand of brown to be found. Nick didn’t think it was a coincidence. He’d never forget the hell he put her through when he was a kid, and all she’d done to try to get him out of the trouble he’d run headlong toward. Nick owed her the world and now he was lying to her.

  “Is your girlfriend feeling better?”

  “Yeah, Mama. She is. Thanks for asking.”

  “Good, so you’ll bring her over to the house for dinner then.”

  “Mama, we’re friends. We don’t take each other to meet our family . . . we’re not serious.”r />
  His mother raised her eyebrow but didn’t say what she was thinking. The lecture he had coming to him was written all over her face.

  “It’s complicated, Mama.”

  “Fine, you come over and tell me all about it. It’s been too long since we had a talk. Now that your friend is feeling better, you having a meal with your family won’t be a problem, will it?”

  “No, it’s no problem.” Nick took his grandmother’s arm. “Come on, it’s getting cold. Let me walk you home.”

  Nick walked, holding his grandmother’s arm and slowing his steps to match hers, and caught his mother’s eye over his grandmother’s head.

  “Mona tells me your girlfriend Rosalie was very nice when you brought her to the restaurant.”

  “Of course, Lee’s nice. Why would I go out with a girl who’s not nice?”

  “I don’t know, Dominick. It seems to me you’ve gone out with a lot of girls who weren’t nice. Mona said your Rosalie is different from the rest.”

  “Yeah, she’s different, all right.”

  Nick was never so happy in his life to see the brownstone he’d bought for his mother and grandmother. He took his mother’s key, unlocked the door, and helped his grandmother in. The smell he’d always considered the smell of home assaulted his senses, and he waited for that feeling of comfort and belonging to waft over him. It didn’t. All it did was make him miss Rosalie’s place. The sound of Dave running up to greet him, the smile Rosalie shot him before she caught herself, the smell of Rosalie that permeated everything in the apartment.

  “’Bye, Mama.” He kissed his mother and gave her a hug. “I’ll call you soon about dinner.” Nick turned to his grandmother. “’Bye, Nana. Save me some of whatever it is you got in the oven.”

  “Ricotta pie. You come back and have some with me tomorrow, no?”

  “I’ll try, Nana. Ti amo.” Nick kissed her cheek, winked at his mother, and took off for home. Running the whole way.

  How far can one man run? It’d been an hour, and Nick still wasn’t back. Why had she opened her big fat mouth? Damn, it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his offer, but what the hell was he thinking? Did he think no one would recognize him? He was a freaking genius when it came to business, but as a liar, he sucked. Being a lousy liar wasn’t a bad thing, but it sure made keeping him thinking his little secret was still a secret a pain in the ass. Why did she bother? Maybe she should bring him home and let Annabelle squeal with delight. Annabelle was, Rosalie was sure, the founding member of the Dominick Romeo Fan Club.