Part 2 (1/2)

”He just gave me his phone and said I could call you.”

There was a brief moment of silence before the woman she'd just dialed said, ”Is my son all right?”

His mother? That was the last person he'd called before coming to the club?

Nicola was stunned silent for a moment, before realizing she needed to rea.s.sure his mother. ”Yes, he's fine. Perfectly fine.”

Marcus was leaning back against the seat, his arms folded across his chest as he watched her fumble through this unexpected conversation.

All these years, she'd never met anyone else who spoke with their parents as much as she did. Especially not a man, probably because they thought it made them seem less masculine.

Nicola found herself reacting in exactly the opposite way. A man who loved his mother won a lot of points in her book, and instead of seeing Marcus as less s.e.xy, or as some kind of mama's boy, a glimmer of respect began to form for the beautiful stranger sitting beside her.

”Good,” his mother said with obvious relief. ”I'm glad he's fine.”

Nicola knew she should simply apologize for bothering the woman and disconnect. Instead, she found herself saying, ”Mary, can I ask you a question about your son?”

She could have sworn she heard a smile across the line from this ridiculously patient woman who, for all Nicola knew, got calls like this every Friday night from the girls Marcus picked up to fool around with.

”Yes, you may, although I'd very much like to know who I'm speaking with.”

”Oh. Sorry. My name is Nicola.” For the second time in one night, she was getting to be the girl she used to be, rather than the pop star she'd been playing for the past several years.

”Nicola is a lovely name.”

”Thank you.” Nicola tried to regain her bearings, but it was really difficult to do with Marcus looking down at her with his eyes never once leaving her face.

”What would you like to know about Marcus, Nicola?”

Oh G.o.d, she shouldn't be asking his mother a question like this, but if she hung up now she'd only be left with doubts. Doubts she didn't want to have if she and Marcus were going to be alone together and naked in a hotel room in a little while.

She looked up into his eyes and held his dark gaze as she said, ”Will I be safe with him?”

”Oh,” his mother said, ”well, that's certainly an unexpected question.”

Nicola could feel her hand trembling slightly as she held the phone up against her ear. ”Why is that a strange question?”

”Marcus is my oldest son,” his mother gently explained. ”He helped me take care of his brothers and sisters when my husband pa.s.sed away many years ago. I love all of my children, but without a doubt, he is one of the most trustworthy men I've ever known.”

Nicola's heart shouldn't have swelled at his mother's words. She shouldn't have cared that the man sitting next to her was a good son, a good older brother. All that should have mattered was that she was physically safe with him and that he wouldn't dare hurt her now that she'd spoken with his mother and alerted her to what was about to go down.

And yet, she couldn't manage to pull her gaze away from his-or stop herself from feeling any of those things-as she said, ”Thank you for telling me that.”

”It was my pleasure, Nicola.”

”I'm sorry I bothered you so late,” she said suddenly, hating that she'd worried his mother with her out-of-the-blue call.

”It's no problem at all, although I would love to speak with Marcus for a moment.”

”I'll give him the phone right now, Mary. And thank you.” Nicola held the phone out, hardly able to believe she was saying, ”Your mother wants to speak with you.”

This night wasn't going at all the way she'd thought it would. Well, the meeting a ridiculously gorgeous guy in a club part was right on track, but talking to his mom to be rea.s.sured that she wasn't going to end the night in a body bag...that just didn't happen in her world. In anyone's world, actually.

The conversation with his mother made her feel almost as if she'd met him at some family gathering, rather than at a seedy club downtown.

She watched him listen to whatever his mother was saying. A slight frown moved across his face before he said, ”Yes, tonight. Before the party,” and then, ”Don't worry, I will. Good night.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. ”Do you feel better now?”

”Your mom seems really nice,” she said, rather than answer the question that suddenly seemed a thousand times more loaded than it had ten minutes ago, especially after the awkward phone call she'd just made to his mother. She s.h.i.+fted on the seat. Too late, she realized her short leather dress had ridden up nearly high enough to flash Marcus a big huge chunk of bare thigh.

”She's great,” he told her, even as his eyes moved to the skin he couldn't possibly miss, then back up to her face.

His jaw was tight, his expression full of desire...and something else she couldn't quite decipher. It was, she finally decided, almost as if he was warring with himself over wanting her.

Just as she was warring with herself over wanting him.

The taxi driver interrupted them. ”Are you going or not?”

Marcus looked at her. ”Nicola?”

If he'd said her name differently, if there'd been any pressure, any demands behind it, she might still have said no and gotten the heck out of there.

But his question was gentle enough to have her suddenly making up her mind. ”I do feel better. Much better. I'm ready to go with you now.”

He reached across her lap to close her door, then told the driver, ”The Fairmont.”

Her muscles instantly tensed again. Here she'd just convinced herself he wasn't some creepy star-stalker. Had she been wrong? Did he know she was staying at the Fairmont?

Obviously sensing her sudden discomfort, he turned to her and said in a low voice, ”I don't live in San Francisco. The Fairmont is the best hotel in town.”

She nodded. ”It is.”

He gave her a strange look and she realized she'd almost given herself away. Marcus clearly had no idea who she was, didn't know that no one had called her Nicola in half a decade at least. If they went to her hotel, he'd find out the truth as soon as they pulled up in front of the building.

Trying to think quickly was difficult when sitting this close to him sent her synapses flying off in a billion different directions, but she finally managed to say, ”Is there anywhere we could go that isn't a hotel?”

”Your place is off limits?”

Again, she nodded, hoping he wasn't going to ask her for an explanation. She didn't want to outright lie to him, didn't want to have to make up some excuse about roommates. She didn't want to tell him she wasn't from San Francisco, either.

It was a heck of a position to be in, she suddenly realized. Here she was on the verge of taking off all her clothes with some total stranger, but she didn't want him to actually learn anything about her apart from how she liked to be kissed. Sure, he'd find out soon enough. As soon as he went back to his home-wherever it was-he was bound to see her face on some magazine somewhere, probably next to his from whatever pictures had been taken of them at the club.

But for one night she didn't want to have to live up to being Nico.

Instead, she wanted the chance to see what Nicola liked, what Nicola wanted, what Nicola desired. Then again, she supposed she already knew at least one answer to each of those questions.