Part 1 (2/2)
”Who? Dominick Romeo?” Right, like that was going to happen. She strapped herself in, trying to ignore the grease-covered seat belt and the cleft in Nick's chin. Both made her squirm in her seat, for very different reasons. ”Bite your tongue. The last thing I need is a husband, rich or otherwise. I have a hard enough time cleaning up after my dog. But if you ever tell another living soul I said that, I'll have to kill you.”
He laughed, and his scowl disappeared. ”Your secret's safe with me. So, they're comparing Romeo to Trump now?”
”Yeah. I've heard he's Brooklyn's version of The Donald, minus the comb-over. He might not be as wealthy, but I hear he's younger and much better looking.”
Nick smiled, and she felt as if she'd been hit with a tire iron. He should register his smile as a lethal weapon and be careful where he aimed it. That smile would make any normal woman throw her arms up and scream, ”Take me.”
It was a good thing Rosalie wasn't normal. h.e.l.l, she wasn't even single. She was in a relations.h.i.+p-one of convenience, but still, it was enough. Correction, it had been enough to keep her parents off her back about marrying, until today. Today her mother had informed her that it was the two-year anniversary of her first date with Joey-a date that obviously had made more of an impression on her mother than it had on Rosalie.
Joey seemed content to let things go on the way they were. She fed him several times a week; they had occasional, albeit boring, missionary-position s.e.x; and they both had a significant other to take to family functions. It also helped that his mother no longer questioned his s.e.xuality. For a while there, he'd said, Mrs. Manetti would ask if he'd like to bring a boyfriend or girlfriend to dinner. She'd said that a boyfriend wouldn't upset her, although she'd looked relieved the first time Rosalie joined them for a meal. Somehow, Rosalie doubted Nick had ever had his s.e.xuality questioned.
Nick took another look at the woman next to him. Crazy Lady was giving him the ”alien arrival” stare again. Too bad the only single woman he'd ever met who wasn't looking to marry a rich man was a nut job. Though, to be fair, it could be temporary insanity. He had to admit, he'd go a little crazy if someone left him without a spare.
After getting a good look at her, Nick decided sanity was way overrated. Miss Loco was every guy's wet dream. She reminded him of the Sophia Loren pinup his Great Uncle Giovanni had hanging in the back room of his barbershop. Nick liked his women curvy and built. None of those bony women who looked more like a boy than a girl for him. Tonya was always trying to lose weight, and it drove him nuts. Her a.s.s was so small, there was almost nothing to hold. Psycho had an a.s.s like you read about. d.a.m.n, he should ask her out for her a.s.s alone. Plus, a guy had to admire a woman who could curse in several languages. And she was beautiful, even without makeup. He'd never seen Tonya without makeup, not even after sweaty s.e.x, but he'd bet she wouldn't look so good. La Donna Pazza La Donna Pazza wasn't drop-dead gorgeous like Tonya, but he'd lay odds she didn't get Botox injections and collagen implants-and didn't have b.r.e.a.s.t.s you were afraid to squeeze for fear they'd pop. Hers looked like one hundred percent natural 36Ds. wasn't drop-dead gorgeous like Tonya, but he'd lay odds she didn't get Botox injections and collagen implants-and didn't have b.r.e.a.s.t.s you were afraid to squeeze for fear they'd pop. Hers looked like one hundred percent natural 36Ds.
He had a real problem with her car, though. The sunflower yellow VW Beatle couldn't have been girlier if she'd painted it pink. It had a freaking bud vase built into the dashboard. If he did decide to date her, he'd have to get her a new car. He couldn't date a woman who drove a car he'd be embarra.s.sed to be seen in.
”Are you going to give me your address, or do you want me to drop you off at a bar or something? Since I need your name and address for the work order, you might as well let me take you home.”
”Huh?”
Nick was tempted to snap his fingers in front of her face. Instead, he picked up the clipboard and filled out the form.
”I need your name.”
”Rosalie. Rosalie Ronaldi.”
”Ronaldi? Any relation to Rich Ronaldi?”
”He's my older brother and the reason I'm missing a spare. You know him?”
Nick smiled. The less she knew about his history with her brother, the better. Even at fifteen, getting drunk and sleeping with Rich's girl had been unforgivable. Getting them both arrested for grand theft auto had added insult to injury.
The last he'd heard, Rich had been teaching at some college in New Hamps.h.i.+re or Vermont-one of those states that had more trees than people and way too much snow. He saw no need to alert either the delicious Rosalie or her brother that Nick Romeo was d.o.g.g.i.ng her. She'd figure it out soon enough, and by the time Rich heard, it would be too late to do anything but wipe her tears. Not that Nick intended to leave his women crying, but more often than not, that's what happened. His relations.h.i.+ps never lasted long, so why complicate things by bringing up old news? He'd be history by the time Rich came back to town. Although for some reason, the thought wasn't gratifying.
He shook it off. He was a Romeo in every sense of the word. It was a legacy and a curse. Nick came from a long line of men who married women, knocked them up, and left, never to be seen again. He'd never put a woman and a kid through what he and his mother had gone through. No, the Romeo line would end with him. It wasn't as if he did anything underhanded. All his women knew the score. He practiced serial monogamy, refused to marry, and always used condoms. The way he looked at it, he was doing women a favor.
”Rich still teaching?”
Rosalie turned to face him, pulled her leg up, and tucked it under her. ”He is. It's hard to believe, I know. I can't imagine an ex-juvenile delinquent like Richie in charge of impressionable kids, though I hear he's great at it.”
”It just goes to show you, we all grow up sooner or later.”
”Do we?”
Rosalie looked as if she doubted it. He remembered Tonya saying he ”suffered” from Peter Pan syndrome. But his definition of suffering and hers were two different things. He got to sleep with a beautiful woman until the novelty wore off or she started talking about marriage, whichever came first. He kept his place off-limits, so he never had to worry about putting the toilet seat down. And, best of all, he didn't have to be at anyone's beck and call. If he didn't want to do something, he didn't. Yeah, that was his kind of suffering.
Nick pulled into the slow lane and stole a glance at his pa.s.senger. ”So, Rosalie, are you going to tell me where you live, or do I have to guess?”
”Get off at the next exit, and head toward the park. Left on 4th Street.”
Rosalie tried not to stare, honest she did. She fumbled with her bag, but her eyes always returned to Nick. He must have been having a bad day. His eyes were bloodshot, and he wore a pained expression as if he had the mother of all headaches. The emotions that swept over his face were telling-anger, determination, and a c.o.c.ky ”I'll show you” look.
The man could grace the covers of magazines and romance novels, but if she needed eye candy, she'd buy herself a beefcake calendar. She knew they made one with guys from the NYFD. Maybe they made one with mechanics. She had no problem imagining Nick with the zipper of his coveralls pulled low, showing his muscled chest, washboard abs, and treasure trail leading down to...well, let's just say she wouldn't mind checking out his undercarriage.
”Well, what do you think?”
The sound of Nick's voice pulled Rosalie's mind out of the gutter. ”Excuse me? I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention...urn, what did you say?”
”I asked if you wanted to grab lunch or a cup of coffee when you pick up your car.”
”Why?” Okay, now he looked as if he thought she'd escaped from a mental ward, which, today, wasn't far from the truth. ”I mean, um, I guess, okay.”
”Gosh, try to contain your excitement. You got something against dating a mechanic?”
”A date? With you?” she sputtered. Great. She sounded like an idiot. ”I've got a boyfriend--”
”Look, if you don't want to go out, just say so. There's no reason to lie.”
”I'm not lying. I have a boyfriend.”
”Yeah? Then why didn't you call him when you got stuck on the side of the road?”
”I did. He wasn't home.”
”Where is he?”
”How the h.e.l.l do I know? We don't check in with each other.”
”You two are real close, huh?”
”My relations.h.i.+p with Joey is no concern-”
”So, how long have you and Joey been going out?”
”Two years. Why?”
”I see.”
”You see what?”
”I see that either Joey's an idiot, or he's ready to move on. Maybe both.”
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