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  Johnny turned his eyes to Rosalie and used the tip of his knife to pick his teeth. Ewww. He put his knife down and sat back in his chair. “How long have you and what’s-his-name been seeing each other? Since the day after Joey proposed, right, Rosalie?”

  The pig put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. Rosalie stifled the urge to stab him with her fork. Instead, she broke her roll in half and dug an elbow into his ribs. Oops. She heard a pleasing grunt and smiled a feigned apology as she whispered under her breath, “Move your hand, or I’ll mail it back to you.” She should have left the damn carving knife on the table.

  Annabelle was too busy watching Joey to notice her fiancé’s behavior . . . well, other than his lack of tact, which only pleased her.

  “Who I date, and when, is none of your business,” Rosalie said.

  Annabelle smiled sweetly, which was the equivalent of a warning flare. “That’s right. Rosalie can sleep with whoever she wants.”

  Johnny raised his glass with one hand and stroked Rosalie’s thigh with the other. “Here, here.”

  Joey choked. Mama started thumping her chest and praying to the Virgin again. Papa drank his wine, slammed the glass down on the table so hard the dishes rattled, and then refilled it. Annabelle smacked Joey on the back as Aunt Rose smacked Annabelle upside the head and cursed her in Italian.

  Rosalie took advantage of the chaos to bend one of Johnny’s fingers back until she felt a crack. She didn’t know if it was his knuckle cracking or his finger breaking. She didn’t care. His face turned red, and he started cursing, too. She calmly rose from the table, went to the front door, gathered her purse and coat, and left the asylum.

  Nick vacuumed the living room, trying to calm down. Cleaning usually relaxed him—today, it wasn’t working. There had been half a dozen calls for Rosalie from hysterical family members in the last hour, and Rosalie still wasn’t home. Something had happened at dinner. Something bad. With every phone call, his worry increased until he was sick with it. The last call came from someone named Aunt Rose. Nick shook his head, wondering what the hell the message meant.

  He turned off the vacuum and listened to the message again.

  “You, the one who Maria calls the cafone, you take good care of my Rosalie. She needs you, but she don’t know she needs you. Oh, and you’re a good man—stupid, but good. What can I say? All men turn stupid some time—this is your time. At least you won’t be buying a toupee in thirty years, you already got a sports car, and you’re no cheater. I can die knowing my Rosalie will be happy.”

  Nick wondered if insanity ran in Rosalie’s family. That would explain the phone calls. He continued pacing. Dave lay on the couch following Nick’s progress, letting out a whine every now and then, as if commiserating.

  Nick needed to find Rosalie. Doing nothing but vacuuming was driving him crazy. He went to the closet, got his jacket, and was putting it on when the front door opened. A weary, haggard, and demoralized-looking Rosalie stepped inside. Christ, she was gone an hour and a half, and she looked as if she’d been tortured for a week.

  “What took you so long to come home? You scared me. I thought . . . hell, I don’t know what I thought.” Nick drew her close and held her. “What happened?”

  He slipped the coat off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Ignoring it, they went to the couch and sat. Nick pulled her onto his lap. He still wore his jacket but couldn’t figure out how to take it off without letting go of her. She’d tucked her head under his chin, her face resting against his neck, and she had yet to say anything. A quiet Rosalie was disconcerting.

  “Lee, are you okay?”

  She nodded against his neck. He felt her chest expand as she took a deep breath, as if she was trying to calm herself.

  “Where were you?”

  “Green-Wood Cemetery. I took a walk.”

  “In this cold? Are you nuts? You’re frozen.”

  “I had to get out of there, and I was so mad, I didn’t want to drive. I turned into the cemetery, parked your car, and took a walk. Then all I wanted was to come home.”

  “What happened?”

  “God, what didn’t? Ma invited Joey to dinner—”

  “The idiot?”

  She nodded, her cold nose moving up and down against his neck.

  “Before he showed up, my mother . . . God, Nick— she knows. How could she know and stay?”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t know—”

  “I know. Aunt Rose said. I don’t know how Mama can still live with him.”

  “You talked to your aunt about your father’s affair? You told her?”

  “Papa was there when I told them I was seeing someone else and that we’d gone to Pane e Vino in Nolita on Thursday night. Papa looked as if he were about to have a coronary. He knows I know. Then it kept getting worse. It was awful. When we sat down to supper, Johnny rubbed Joey’s nose in it because I drove your car. He kept putting his greasy hand on my thigh, and then Annabelle said I could sleep with whoever I wanted—”

  “Wait a minute. Who put his hand on you?

  “Johnny.”

  “Who the hell is Johnny?”

  “Annabelle’s fiancé.”

  “I’ll break his fuckin’ neck.”

  “Not necessary. I broke his finger. Well, it could have been his knuckle. It was hard to tell.”

  He patted her ass. “That’s my girl.”

  “All hell broke loose. Johnny cursed. Joey choked. Mama prayed. Aunt Rose smacked Annabelle. Papa rattled the dishes. And I left.”

  “You’re home now. I’ve got you. It’s going to be all right.”

  “You feel so good.” She snuggled closer. “Where were you going? You have your jacket on. And why is your prized vacuum out?”

  “There are a ton of crazy messages from your family. I knew something was wrong. What can I say? I vacuum when I worry. Not that it helped. I had to do something so I was going to find you.”

  “I don’t need a knight in shining armor, Nick. I take care of myself.”

  He tried not to laugh. Sure, she took care of herself, but she’d been clinging to him since the second she walked through the door. She’d come home, because she had to see him. She’d die before she’d admit it, but she needed him, even if it was only to hold her. Maybe old Aunt Rose wasn’t crazy after all.

  “Did you eat?”

  She shook her head. “Not a bite.”

  “Good, me, either. I’ll throw together a quick meal.”

  “Great.”

  “What do you feel like?”

  “Anything but puttanesca.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow at that but thought it best not to ask any more questions.

  She gave him a squeeze and a slow, thorough kiss before sliding off his lap. “I’m going to take a hot shower. I’m still cold to the bone, and I want to wash off the icky feeling of Johnny’s sweaty hand. God, he’s such a pig. I might have to burn this skirt.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to pay him a visit? I’ll teach him to keep his hands to himself.”

  She patted his cheek. “That’s a sweet offer. Cro-Magnon, but sweet.”

  Nick wrapped his arm around her waist as she slid back on his lap. He held her hips as he moved beneath her and whispered in her ear. “I know how much you like it when I play ‘caveman.’”

  He nipped her earlobe, and she groaned. “Oh, yeah. Let me get a shower; you get your club. I’ll meet you in the cave in a half hour.”

  “Take your time. I have to hunt for food first.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Chapter 14

  IN THE THREE MONTHS SHE AND NICK HAD BEEN TOGETHER, they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. Nick took Dave to work with him most days, and he cooked dinner most nights. Rosalie almost always helped Nick with the dishes. Sometimes, if Nick worked late, they’d go to DiNicola’s for a bite. And today Rosalie was, as usual, running late for her Monday morning staff meeting. Shoot.

  “Nick, I can’t find my black bra. Do
you know where it is? It was right here the last time I looked.”

  The bras that were always hung to dry on a hanger on the shower curtain rod had suddenly disappeared.

  Nick stuck his head in the bathroom and smiled that smile. Every time he did that, she ended up late for work. Of course, she walked around all day with a smile on her face. Still, her constant tardiness wasn’t setting a good example for the staff.

  She should have known better than to walk around with nothing on except her stockings and thong. She was beginning to think she subconsciously planned for him to find her in compromising positions. They both enjoyed the outcome, but why couldn’t he ever catch her when she was running early? Probably because they didn’t get out of bed until she was already running late. Damn it.

  Nick turned the corner and leered. Rosalie crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t look at me in that tone of face. I’m late. Where is my black bra?”

  Nick leaned against the doorjamb and smirked. “Do you want the thin one that shows your nipples or that shiny one that accentuates your cleavage?”

  Rosalie uncrossed her arms, looked down, and saw that the thin one might cause undue attention. “The shiny one.”

  “They’re both put away where they belong.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rosalie took the hanger off the rod and held it out to him. “This is where they belong.”

  “No, sweetheart, that’s where you hang them to dry. Then you’re supposed to put them away in something called a drawer.”

  “Why? They were fine hanging right here, and I always knew where they were. See? Now I have to look in two places.”

  “You know, it’s a good thing you’re so cute when you say things like that. If you weren’t, you’d drive me crazy.”

  “Don’t even go there. You’re the one who has me wondering if I’m on the fast track to Bellevue. You’re always putting stuff where I can’t find it. I spend my life looking for things I swear I’d put down a second ago.”

  She walked past Nick into the bedroom and started searching for the drawer he’d designated as the bra drawer.

  “Come on, don’t tell me you miss coming home to a place that looks as if it has been tossed.”

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  Rosalie slammed a drawer that contained Nick’s boxer shorts. Nick opened the one next to it and pulled out her black satiny bra that matched her thong . . . well, except for the little red bow on the back. The one he was tracing with his fingers. She slapped his hand away. “Stop it, Nick. I have a staff meeting, and it’ll look really bad if I’m late . . . again.”

  “It’s not my fault you can’t resist my body.”

  “Don’t you have a car to fix or something?”

  He wrapped his arms around Rosalie and kissed her shoulder, watching the reflection in the mirror of his dark hands moving over her much lighter stomach.

  “Okay, get dressed, and I’ll drive you to the express train. Hurry, Dave’s already got his leash and is waiting by the door.”

  “You’re bringing Dave?”

  “Yeah, of course. Don’t worry; I’ll make him ride in the back until I drop you off.”

  “You’re all heart.” Rosalie slipped a silk shell over her bra and stepped into her skirt. She caught his eye in the mirror as he helped her into her suit jacket.

  She stepped into the shoes she’d spent twenty minutes searching for. She still hadn’t gotten into the habit of looking in the closet. Who would have thought to look for her shoes where they belonged? Nick waited by the front door, holding her coat. Her briefcase and purse sat on the table beside the door for her to grab on the way out. Odd, since she’d thrown them on the couch Friday.

  Nick took Dave’s leash out of his mouth and snapped it to his collar. “Get used to it, buddy. No matter how great they are, women always leave a guy cooling his jets by the door.”

  “Men.” Rosalie walked out, leaving Nick to lock up, and waited for him by the car, tapping her foot the whole time. He opened her door. Rosalie moved to get in, but Dave snuck past her and jumped in the front seat.

  “Dave, get in back until we drop your mom off. Go on, move it.”

  Dave whined, moved between the seats, and lay down in back. Nick handed her in before taking the driver’s seat.

  He started the car and pulled into traffic. “What do you want to do for dinner tonight?”

  “I have a late meeting with my boss to give him a status report on Premier Motors. I don’t know how long that will take. I’ll call you on the way out of the office, okay?”

  “Sure. If you want, take the express, and I’ll meet you back here. Let me know.”

  He pulled up to the curb by the station. They kissed each other good-bye, and Rosalie got out. Dave jumped in the front seat. They were getting better at the whole “’Bye, honey, see you tonight” kissing thing. She waved as Nick reached around Dave and buckled the seat belt. The lunatic.

  Rosalie pressed the intercom button, waited for the beep, and spoke. “Gina?”

  “You rang?”

  “Is the computer tech still working in your office?”

  “No. He works normal hours. It’s after closing time. He’s long gone.”

  Rosalie had been so preoccupied when she’d returned from her meeting downtown that she’d walked past Gina’s desk with a mumbled greeting and hadn’t noticed.

  “Would you come in here, please?”

  A moment later, Gina sashayed in, steno pad in hand, zebra-print stilettos on. The stilettos matched the belt that turned a plain black wraparound into a dress worthy of a sex goddess—which explained why the computer tech had been in Gina’s office for at least three hours. Not that Rosalie cared, since Premier was paying the guy by the job, not by the hour, and Gina wasn’t one to let work slide. Still, it was painful to watch her toy with a man like a cat with a mouse before making the kill.

  “So, did you put the poor guy out of his misery and agree to go out with him?”

  Gina sat, kicked off her left stiletto, and curled her leg beneath her. “What? Oh, Gary. We’re meeting for drinks after work tomorrow night.” She examined her manicure. “But I don’t know. He’s really not my type.”

  “He’s breathing, isn’t he?”

  “Ha, very funny. What’s put you in attack mode today?”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m in a bad mood, and I’m taking it out on you. The meeting didn’t go well. All I got were more questions I couldn’t answer. I keep hitting brick walls. Missing files, incomplete accounting information, and huge holes in the information I’ve been getting from Mr. Jack Lassiter Jr. Not to mention the rumor that Premier is in worse shape that it actually is. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I can’t help feeling as if I’ve stepped into the middle of a dastardly plan.”

  “So what role do you play? Dudley Do-Right, or maybe you’re the love interest, Nell?”

  “Gina, be serious. We’ve got a real problem here.”

  “I am being serious. Think about it. Who would make the best Snidley Whiplash?” She tapped the side of her head. “Think, think, think. I’d say Jack Jr., but really, I doubt he’s smart enough, and why would he want to hurt the company his family started? He’d be cutting off his nose to spite his face. Now, if we were looking for the source of the rumors, you’d have to look for a high roller, someone who has firsthand knowledge of the financial workings of car dealerships. Someone who’d be hot to take over this dealership, if Premier should fold. Hmm . . . maybe you could ask Nick, just Nick. Oh! Or . . . maybe it is Nick, just Nick. Say, does he have a mustache and a funny yet evil laugh?”

  “Come on, Gina. Talk about grasping for straws. Nick knows how much this job means to me. He’d never hurt me like that.

  “Rosalie, you’re thinking like a girlfriend, not a businesswoman.”

  Rosalie shook her head no, but Gina was right. Damn, how embarrassing.

  “A man would never look at this situation and think of the CFO’s feelings. He’d see it a
s business—which would give him free rein to destroy anything and anyone in his way.”

  Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean he’d target the business his girlfriend is supposed to be saving—even if it is the most prestigious car dealership in Manhattan. Damn, this was so not looking good. What car guy wouldn’t want to own the Ferrari dealership?

  “You can be sure Nick the Dick would see you as his lover in the bedroom, his adversary in the boardroom, and never the twain shall meet. How do you think he got to be so successful? By being a nice guy and making sure he didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings? Wake up and smell the exhaust fumes.”

  “Drop it, Gina. It’s not Nick.” Oh, man, it better not be Nick, because if it was, she’d kill him.

  “Fine. But you have to admit, it makes sense. Who else would have that kind of clout? Nick Romeo deals with every automobile financing company known to man, and every bank either has a piece of his business or would do anything to get it. One well-placed word from a player like Nick Romeo, and a schmuck like Junior would be persona non grata. Hell, some would deny Lassiter credit, just to score points with Nick Romeo.”

  “Okay, Gina. Let’s just say you’re right. How could Nick control what goes on inside Premier?

  “Maybe he can’t. Maybe there’s more than one culprit. Maybe they’re working together. Stranger things have happened.”

  “Then it’s definitely not Nick. He’s not much of a team player.” Well, at least, not in his personal life.

  “The only employee who has a grudge against Premier that I know of is Jack Jr., which is a given. You take over a man’s job, and he’s going to get his feelings hurt. Junior couldn’t have been happy to be demoted. If he wasn’t the son of the founder, he’d be out of a job.”

  Rosalie fought off a sudden chill as she pictured Jack Lassiter, Jr. “The guy creeps me out. He gives off really bad vibes.”

  Gina nodded. “Yeah, he’s your typical past-his-prime playboy who hasn’t come to grips with his thinning hair, his expanding waistline, and his several chins. He’s still a legend in his own mind. He’s got a wife, a mistress, and he’s looking to cheat on both.”