Romeo, Romeo Read online

  “Why not? All he's going to do is look down your throat, right, Mike?”

  “Nick, I'm a doctor. Rosalie's a patient. Grow up.”

  Nick followed them up the stairs. When they got to a guest room, Mike led her inside and shut the door on Nick.

  “I'll be right out here.” She heard Nick yell through the heavy door.

  Mike sat on a comfortable chair and nodded toward the other. “I think we should make him stand out there for a good long time. It'll serve him right for dragging me out here under false pretenses.”

  “I'm sorry about that. I told him I wasn't sick.”

  “I understand why he's concerned. You don't look well, Rosalie. What's the problem?”

  “My stomach has been bothering me. I think it's stress.”

  “Bothering you how, exactly?”

  “You know. My stomach hurts; I'm nauseous a lot; I don't have much of an appetite.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “A little over a month.”

  “Is it getting better? Worse?”

  “You're not going to talk to Nick about this, are you?”

  “No, but if that's an engagement ring on your hand, you probably should. Could you be pregnant?”

  “Not unless it's the second Immaculate Conception.”

  Mike looked questioningly at that. “Contraceptives aren't one hundred percent reliable.”

  “I know, but abstinence is. I haven't seen Nick in a month, and I had my period after we stopped seeing each other.”

  “You stopped seeing each other a month ago, and now you're engaged?”

  “It's a long story. What else do you need to know?”

  “I'm going to take your blood pressure, listen to your heart and lungs.”

  “Fine.” He did his thing and didn't say much, so she figured everything must be normal. He took her temperature with one of those ear things. Again, he said nothing. He looked in her ears, down her throat, up her nose. “Are we done yet? I told you I was fine.”

  “Lie down on the bed and show me where it hurts.”

  Rosalie kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed. She pointed just below the breastbone. “Here.”

  “Unzip your pants for me, and pull your shirt up to right under your bra.”

  She did, and he did the usual poking and prodding thing on her stomach, and even listened to it with the stethoscope, a very cold stethoscope.

  “Well, your uterus isn't enlarged, so it doesn't look as if you're pregnant.”

  “I told you that. Geez, Mike. You charge for this?”

  Rosalie zipped up her pants and pulled her shirt back down. He offered her a hand up.

  “Have you been vomiting?”

  “A little.”

  “Is there blood in the vomit?”

  “No.” Okay, now she was beginning to worry.

  “What have you been eating?”

  “Not much.”

  “Do you drink a lot of coffee?” “Yes.”

  “How much?”

  'Three or four Venti, triple shot lattes a day.” “No more coffee. I want you to see a gastroenterologist friend of mine. I'll call and set something up right away.” “Why?”

  “Well, my dear, it sounds to me like you have an ulcer. Do you take painkillers? Ibuprofen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not any more. Acetaminophen, if you must. I'll give you a prescription for something that will help decrease the acid level in your stomach, and I'll call and get you an appointment for Monday. You'll have to take a few tests. No canceling.”

  “Is this serious?”

  “It can be. Ulcers are caused by bacteria, but stress, poor diet, and irregular and skipped meals are contributing factors.”

  “What am I going to tell Nick? He's going to freak.” Mike patted her on the back. “Well, if I were you, I'd start out by telling him I cured your pneumonia.” “Yeah, great.”

  “Why don't you go calm the bear while I pick up my things? I don't know who pissed him off and gave him that black eye, but I don't want one of those.”

  “He's harmless, and he's happy… well, except for the whole Premier Motors fiasco. Mr. Lassiter called me last night and told me they'd made a deal. Nick's always wanted Premier, but he never wanted to get it this way.”

  “Yeah, Nick's a good guy. He'd never hurt Mr. Lassiter if he could avoid it. But it sounds to me like he had no choice. Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you two all the best. I suppose I'll have to start finding my own dates now. Damn, that takes time.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I have, on occasion, comforted Nick's old girlfriends after he dumped them. Unfortunately, none were of your caliber.”

  “Is that a compliment I heard?”

  “Yes, it's a definite compliment. Nick's a lucky man.”

  “Thanks, but I'm pretty lucky, too.”

  Nick knocked on the door. “What's going on in there? Lee? Sweetheart—”

  She opened the door to a frantic Nick.

  “What's taking so long?” He wrapped his arms around her and looked over her head at Mike. “Is she okay?”

  Mike closed his little black bag and walked past them down the hall. “Your fiancee will tell you everything you need to know.”

  Rosalie smiled. “Thanks, Mike.”

  He jogged down the steps. It looked like he was in a hurry to get back to whomever he'd been dragged away from. “You're welcome. Consider it an engagement present,” he called back. They heard the front door slam behind him.

  Nick looked at her expectantly. “So?”

  “Mike thinks I might have a little ulcer.”

  “A little ulcer? A little ulcer! Maddnne, what's wrong with that head of yours?”

  “Nick, it's okay. Mike gave me a prescription to calm my stomach, and I'll go to the doctor he recommended on Monday. I promise. So don't break my chops, because he says stress is a contributing factor, and you're stressing me out.”

  “I'm sorry. I really thought you were pregnant.” He actually looked disappointed. “I told you I wasn't.”

  “Yeah, but what do you know? You thought you had a cold, and you had pneumonia.”

  “I'm never going to live that down, am I?”

  “Nope, I'll remind you of that for the rest of your life.”

  “Nick? Can we go home?”

  “Sure, sweetheart, anything you want.”

  Oh, God, he used his deep, sexy, “do me baby” voice, and she almost climaxed right then and there. She made Pavlov's dogs seem unresponsive.

  “You know,” he pinned her against the wall. “I have a Jacuzzi.”

  “You do, huh?” He had a hell of a lot more than a Jacuzzi, but she wouldn't mind getting all that in a tub of hot bubbly water.

  “It's great for relaxing—a great stress reliever.” His fingers slipped under her shirt and over the skin of her stomach. Her breath rushed out with a whoosh. Her stomach muscles clenched—hell, so did all her muscles down there.

  Nick kissed her neck. “I want you so bad. I've dreamed of being with you every night.” His hands moved upward, over her rib cage. “I'd wake up alone and…”

  His hold on her tightened as quickly as the mood changed. The desperation in his voice shocked her as much as it mirrored hers.

  “I know. Me, too. I haven't had a good night's sleep since you left.”

  Nick took her face in his hands and placed his forehead against hers, his eyes shut tightly. “You're not keeping anything from me? You're really okay? Mike didn't say anything—”

  “Nick, I told you everything. I'm fine. Promise.” She kissed him—a kiss of understanding, forgiveness, love, hope, and relief. It blossomed from comforting to exciting, needy, and giving, to tender and demanding. There was no more pretending, no more doubting, no more hiding from each other or themselves.

  Rosalie touched him with shaking hands. She was nervous. For the first time, she was unprotected, armed with only love and trust. She realized how a first tand
em skydiving jump must feel—falling through the sky tied to one person and a parachute, with no control of either.

  It was the scariest thing she'd ever done—and the most exciting. Every touch was magnified, every breath deeper, every look more intense, more meaningful. Their clothes shed like layers of armor until they lay naked on the bed, bursting with urgency and heat. Mutual desire was a palpable thing, heady and strong. The scent of Nick, the feel of him beneath her and within her, was familiar and new at the same time.

  Nick held her in a vise like grip, as if he was afraid she'd disappear. His eyes were closed tight, concentration evident. She was on intensity overload. She needed him with her. Leaning forward, she kissed his mouth and cheeks. When he opened his eyes, tears appeared. She couldn't tell whose they were. Maybe both of theirs.

  Their gazes locked, and the connection was complete—mind, spirit, body, and soul. Her climax raged through her like a wildfire, white-hot and all consuming. Nick groaned her name. His orgasm went on and on, fueling, feeding, and increasing hers.

  She collapsed. She knew she should move, but she hadn't the energy to do anything but breathe and wonder at the enormity of it all.

  Making love, true love, for the first time must be akin to a blind person seeing for the first time. Only one aspect of the person's life would change, but that change would color every other facet of his being forever. And no matter how long his vision lasted, he'd always have the memory of the first sight, the first light, the first person he laid eyes on. Nick would always be her first.

  When they'd returned to Rosalie's apartment, her answering machine had been blinking. Rosalie had refused to listen to the messages. She'd said she wanted one day where no one could intrude on them. Since they weren't at cross-purposes, Nick hadn't argued with her.

  The next morning, Nick held Rosalie while she slept. He couldn't imagine anything more perfect. Her left hand lay on his chest, her engagement ring catching the morning sun shining through her bedroom window. He'd wanted to take Dave to his house and stay there, but Rosalie had refused. She'd said Dave would wreak havoc and destroy everything. Like Nick actually cared about any of that stuff. But he cared enough about Rosalie to drop the subject when he saw it upset her. He'd woken up every half hour to make sure she was there. And yet, he'd still slept better than he had since he'd left.

  Nick slid out from beneath Rosalie. He'd spent a lot of time forcing the issue of announcing their engagement to her family. Rosalie thought they should wait until after her sister's wedding. What Annabelle's wedding to that creep Johnny, the one who'd put his hands on Rosalie, had to do with them, Nick wasn't sure. The only thing

  Nick was sure of was that Johnny's hands would be broken if he ever looked sideways at Rosalie again.

  Nick watched Rosalie dress for dinner at her parents' house. He bit his tongue when he saw her take off her engagement ring and put it in her jewelry box. He took it out when she was in the bathroom and slipped the box into his jacket pocket. They were engaged, so in his mind, wherever she went, so did his ring. She'd want to put it on after they announced it. At least, he hoped she would. Damn. Nick knew she was dreading the Ronaldi family dinner he'd invited himself to. She wasn't feeling well—he'd only allowed her one cup of coffee instead of the usual pot—and he knew how scary she was without her daily overdose of caffeine. She was not in the best frame of mind.

  It wasn't until he was standing beside her outside the opened front door of the Ronaldi house, watching all hell break loose, that Nick questioned the wisdom of escorting his fiancee to her family's home without invitation.

  Rosalie hadn't even finished crossing the threshold before trouble began. Everyone was in the living room. Mr. Ronaldi was sitting on the Barcalounger with his newspaper; Rich was standing at the top of the steps; and an older woman Nick thought must be Rosalie's Aunt Rose stood next to a younger, anorexic version of Rosalie, who Nick was pretty sure was Annabelle.

  Mrs. Ronaldi made the first move before Rosalie even got her jacket off. “Talk some sense into your sister, Rosalie. Tell her she can't cancel the wedding three weeks before the ceremony.”

  Annabelle shook her fist at her mother. “Ma, Johnny was screwing Wanda Rigoletto at the funeral home beside a corpse. How can I marry him now?”

  Mrs. Ronaldi waved her hand as if swatting a fly. “Men will be men. You don't cancel a wedding because he had one last fling.”

  Nick slid his arm around Rosalie. It looked as if she was about to blow. She shook with anger.

  “Ma, what are you? Crazy? You don't expect Annabelle to still marry him, do you? Johnny De Palma is a disgusting pig. Why she wanted to marry him in the first place is a mystery. I think Annabelle has finally come to her senses.” Rosalie shook her head with disgust. “If Annabelle was the one screwing around, you'd call her a puttana. When Johnny does it, you say men will be men? You know, Ma, I don't get you. If he's cheating now, he'll cheat later. But I guess that's okay. It doesn't matter if we marry the scum of the earth, as long as we're married and have babies. Right, Ma?”

  Mrs. Ronaldi crossed herself. “You! What do you know? You work, work, work. You're so busy in your big office, you don't see what's important. You have no husband, no family. You'll die old and alone. If I rely on you, I'll go to my grave with no grandchildren.”

  Nick cleared his throat and pulled Rosalie closer. He wasn't sure if he was being supportive or proactive. “Mrs. Ronaldi.”

  She ground her teeth together, trying not to look as if she minded being interrupted. She wasn't much of an actor.

  Nick threw in one of his dimpled grins. No woman had ever been able to resist him when he grinned—no woman except Rosalie. “I don't think you have anything to worry ab—”

  Mrs. Ronaldi cut him off. “Who are you to tell me anything? What do you know?”

  “I'm sorry, I don't think we've ever been properly introduced.” He held his hand out toward her. “I'm Dominick Romeo. Since we're practically family, you can call me Nick.”

  Annabelle pointed to Nick. “I thought you were Nick, the rebound guy.”

  “No, I'm Nick, the fiance guy.”

  A chorus of gasps followed Nick's announcement. Rosalie said nothing, but the hard elbow in his ribs conveyed her displeasure.

  “What in the hell is this world coming to?” Annabelle screamed. “Rosalie lands Dominick Romeo, the car baron, and I can't even keep a freaking mortician? I'm the pretty one! I'm the one who everyone wants to be seen with!” Annabelle stomped her feet, turned, and ran from the room, crying.

  Mrs. Ronaldi sputtered, “The animal? The animal is Dominick Romeo? My Rosalie is marrying Dominick Romeo?” She crossed herself, beat her breast, and said a prayer under her breath. Nick didn't know if she prayed for protection, or if she said a prayer of thanks.

  Rosalie wanted to kill Nick. But she couldn't complain about the reaction. She should have sold tickets, or at the very least, videotaped it.

  Rich smiled, nodding his approval. Annabelle had shown her true colors—as expected. Aunt Rose ran to

  Rosalie and kissed both of her cheeks. “Bene, bene, porta fortuna.” Then she grabbed Nick, held his face in her hands, and looked him over. “So, you not so stupid after all, eh?” She kissed him on both cheeks and gave him a little smack. “No more acting stupid. We already have enough of that in this familia. Capisce?”

  Nick winked at Aunt Rose. “Capisce.” He took both her hands in his and kissed each one. “Grazi, tante, grazi.”

  Rosalie watched as Aunt Rose stood speechless, a first in Rosalie's experience. The old girl blushed. Madbnne, she'd seen everything now.

  Rich kissed Rosalie on both cheeks, “Congratulations, Ro. I'm so happy for you. Nick's a great guy.”

  “Thanks, Richie.”

  He and Nick did the whole guy hug thing, clapping each other on the back and generally acting macho.

  It was good to see Nick and Rich together. They'd obviously come to terms after the fistfight and were acting like ol
d friends, which she guessed they were.

  Papa hefted himself out of his chair, stood beside Mama, and cleared his throat. “You happy, Rosalie?”

  “Yeah, Pop, I'm very happy.”

  Pop moved forward and shook Nick's hand. “Welcome to the family. Rich, hurry down to the corner, buy champagne. We will celebrate.”

  Rich grabbed his coat and ran out. Mama and Aunt Rose scurried off to get champagne glasses.

  Nick pulled Rosalie closer to his side, nuzzled her ear, and whispered, “So, are you still angry I spilled the beans?”

  “Yes, no… I don't know. I thought Mama was going to have a coronary.”

  “Your sister's a piece of work. And for the record, you're the pretty one.”

  “Okay, you're forgiven. You don't need to suck up any more.”

  “Oh, yeah, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “You'll see.”

  Nick pulled the Tiffany box from his pocket, opened it, and slipped her engagement ring back onto her finger.

  A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Rosalie answered the door, and Gina shot forward and hugged her. “Rosalie, Nick, congratulations! I'm so happy for you.”

  Nick hugged her. “Thanks, Gina. How've you been?” “Better than you.”

  “Not now, you're not. It's good to see you again.”

  Rosalie scoffed. “Hold on, what's all this buddy, buddy stuff?”

  Nick winked at Gina. “We've met before. I knew you'd want Gina here to celebrate with everyone, so I gave her a call.”

  Rosalie raised an eyebrow. There was something they weren't telling her—not that she cared too much. It was sweet of Nick to ask Gina to join them. Lord knew, she'd been nervous enough about bringing Nick to meet the parents. Why Nick had insisted on making the big announcement now was beyond her.

  “Ma, Gina's here. We're going to need another plate at the table,” Rosalie called to the kitchen.

  The front door opened and hit Gina in the back. Rich stuck his head in. “What the… Gina?”

  Gina's smile disappeared. “Rich. What are you doing here? I thought you'd flown back to Maine or New Hampshire or wherever.”