Part 14 (1/2)

Nick vacuumed with such attention to detail and skill that it put her own vacuuming skills to shame. He was even careful to go over the indentations left by the feet of the couch several times to make sure he'd sucked up all the dirt while he held up a couch so heavy, it took three men to deliver.

It took a while, since there was no shortage of dirt- she hadn't vacuumed under the couch since she'd bought the d.a.m.n thing five years ago. The clear plastic cylinder on the Trekkie-in spired vacuum was filled with a tornado of dirt and dog hair.

That vacuum was a far cry from the green Hoover upright she'd inherited from her grandmother-G.o.d rest her soul. Rosalie crossed herself. The vacuum might be old, but it was tough-even though the last time she used it, the apartment filled with the scent of burning rubber. Rosalie knew she had it somewhere in the apartment, she just wasn't sure where. Maybe she'd put it down in her storage area in the bas.e.m.e.nt? No, the last time she'd seen it was in the den next to the ironing board she never used. Come to think of it, she never used the vacuum, either. Maybe because the to-be-ironed pile was hanging on the handle.

Nick bent down and gently lowered the couch to the floor, showing off his b.u.t.t. He'd taken off the sweater he'd worn earlier and wore only a white T-s.h.i.+rt. What was it about men in faded 501s and white-white T-s.h.i.+rts?

Nick's T-s.h.i.+rts were as white as a movie star's teeth. If she didn't know any better, she'd think his mother did his laundry. But after watching him sort laundry while she pretended to sleep the other day, she knew he definitely bleached the whites himself. She hadn't seen her whites that bright since she'd taken them out of the shopping bags.

The man was a regular domestic G.o.d-he cooked, he cleaned, and he looked s.e.xy as h.e.l.l doing it. No wonder most Italian men watched while their women cleaned the house. It was a total turn on-even watching Nick stir the pasta sauce he made (which would give her own grandmother's sauce a run for the money) made her hot. Too bad he wouldn't touch her. She was going to die of terminal horniness. d.a.m.n him.

The room went silent. Nick turned and caught her watching. Busted.

”What are you doing up? Did the noise wake you?”

”No, the noise didn't wake me. I could hardly sleep for the rest of the day, could I? Nick, what is that?”

”What?”

Nick lovingly ran his hand over the machine beside him. Rosalie couldn't believe she was jealous of a dumb vacuum. But sadly, it was the truth.

”This? It's the Animal. Isn't it great? It's specially made for homes with pets. It's got more power to suck up animal hair, and a HEPA filter to cut down on allergens-”

”Where did it come from?”

”I went out and picked up a few things when you were sleeping yesterday.”

”You bought me a vacuum?”

”Well, yeah. But it's not like it's a gift or anything. I couldn't use that useless excuse for a vacuum I found in the den. What was I supposed to do? I didn't want to bring one of mine over, when there was a model that was perfect for what I need here.”

”You have more than one vacuum? Why on earth would anyone need more than one vacuum?” Frankly, she didn't really see the need for the one she had. Well, okay, there was a need, but it wasn't as if the world would end if you didn't use the right right vacuum. vacuum.

Nick crossed his arms. ”You have to have the right tool for the job. Have you ever tried to use a Phillips screwdriver instead of a regular slotted screwdriver?”

Rosalie was losing steam, so she walked around Nick, stepped over the cord for the Animal, and couldn't help but wonder when they started naming vacuums after WWF Wrestlers. She pushed the corner seat cus.h.i.+on into place and sat. ”No, can't say that I have.”

”It doesn't work. You can't make it work. And if you try, you ruin both the screw and the screwdriver.” Nick smugly nodded his head, as if screwdrivers had anything to do with vacuums. When it came down to it, Rosalie didn't have the energy to care. She did make a mental note to find out how much he spent on the vacuum and pay him back. After all, he said it wasn't a gift. Of course, if it was a gift, she'd have to rethink her taste in... whatever he was to her-bed buddy? s.e.x buddy? As depressing as it was, Rosalie had to admit that lately, Nick had been more of a nursemaid-a s.e.xy nursemaid, one that took the job way too seriously for her taste, but he sure beat Nurse Gus any day.

Nick sat at his desk bright and early on Monday morning and couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He'd had a great weekend. If someone had told him a month ago he could have a good time with a woman doing nothing in particular, and without so much as a kiss on the mouth, he'd have told him to have his head examined.

With Rosalie, everything was different. Maybe it was because he felt comfortable that she wouldn't go off on a marriage bender, or maybe it was because she didn't expect much. She didn't expect him to talk during a game and didn't ask him what he was thinking. She didn't expect him to care about things like the discontinuation of her favorite color of lipstick, and she wouldn't think it deserved national tragedy status. She didn't even freak out if he or Dave spilled food on the bed. She said that's why man made sheets washable. Go figure.

Being with her was easy, comfortable-just like her place. She wasn't the type to get p.i.s.sed off if he put his feet up on the furniture; she didn't cling unless they were in bed; and he had to admit, waking up with her on top of him was nice. It would be even nicer if he could do something about it. He'd been good about following Mike's orders but tonight-well, tonight was the night. Rosalie had an appointment with Mike, and Nick was going to call his buddy and make sure he got the all clear for extracurricular activities.

Nick's intercom beeped. ”Yes, Lois?”

”Dr. Flynn calling. He said it was important.”

”Thanks, put him through.”

”What's up, Mike?”

”That's what I want to know. Rosalie canceled her appointment.” ”What?”

”You heard me. My receptionist said she wouldn't reschedule. She said she'd have to call next week to do it.”

”When was this?”

”A half hour ago.”

”Okay, thanks for the heads up.”

”No problem. Is she doing well?”

”Yeah, she seems to be better every day.”

”That's good, at least, but I need to see her.”

”Oh, believe me, you will.” Nick disconnected the call and dialed Rosalie's number. The line was busy. Who didn't have call waiting? He hung up and changed into his casual clothes.

It took Nick all of fifteen minutes to get to Rosalie's apartment. He let himself in and heard her before he saw her.

”Look, by definition, an emergency is something that isn't planned. I couldn't call earlier to make a reservation. I didn't know I needed one.”

Nick crossed his arms and eavesdropped without guilt.

”I know he's giant. You must have more than one giant dog that boards with you. Okay, fine, how big is the large K-E-N-N-E-L? No, I don't know how long I'll-”

Nick heard her rummaging in the bathroom and moved closer to the bedroom door. Dave had his head and shoulders stuffed as far under the bed as caninely possible.

”I don't think it will be more than a week.” She let out an exasperated breath and coughed.

That was it. Nick walked in and took the telephone out of her hand. ”Thank you. We'll get back to you. Good-bye.” He disconnected the call.

Rosalie blew the hair out of her eyes and glared. ”What in the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?”

”I was going to ask you the same question.”

”I'm going out of town on business. It's an emergency. I need to find a K-E-N-N-E-L for Dave.”

”First off, you might as well stop spelling the word. Dave's not stupid. He knows you're going to send him to doggie jail, which is why he's hiding under the bed. Second, a kennel is unnecessary-”

”Oh, don't even go there. You have no right to tell me where I can and cannot go.”

”I'm not. I was only saying-”

”Look, just because you've been helpful doesn't give you the-”

”I'll take care of Dave.” ”What?”