Part 20 (1/2)
He climbed in beside her and laughed. ”You know, the show I'm getting here,” his hand traced the hem of her skirt, which barely reached the top of her thigh-high stockings, ”was worth every penny those flowers set me back. You have the most amazing legs.”
”I don't know about amazing, but they're long. And right now, they're practically wrapped around my neck, so would you mind driving?”
”You expect me to be able to drive after putting that image in my head?”
Rosalie had to hand it to the man; he sure knew how to make a girl feel wanted. He had no problem driving. He drove the car and drove her crazy at the same time. Whenever his hand wasn't on the gears.h.i.+ft, it was on her thigh, tracing slow and lazy circles above her stocking but never moving closer to the one place she ached for him to touch. By the time they pulled up in front of her brownstone, she was ready for bed, but the last thing on her mind was sleep. All thoughts of her crazy family, her bad day, and her worse mood had slipped into oblivion.
Nick killed the engine and reached across her to get her door. They were face-to-face, and she fought the urge to nuzzle his neck.
Nick stilled for a moment before he continued. ”I'll get the flowers. I need them to hide behind, if you get my drift. Bending down to get them might be a problem, though.”
”Oh...” She reached over and ran her hand down the length of his fly. ”Oh, my.” It hadn't occurred to her that he might have been... uncomfortable, too.
”What? You think I can spend twenty minutes with you in a car in your s.e.xy stockings and f.u.c.k-me shoes, with my hand up your skirt, and not have a hard-on? Sweetheart, I can barely be in the same room with you and not react like a kid at his first p.o.r.n flick.”
She opened the door, hoping the cool air would dissipate the heat building up in the car. ”I'll get the flowers. You can use my briefcase.” She cleared her throat, trying to rid her voice of its sudden huskiness. ”I hope we don't run into Henry and Wayne.”
Nick pressed closer, and the timbre of his voice made it clear the cool air wasn't doing the job. ”If we do, they'll know I'm not compensating for anything.”
There was no chance of that. They spent the evening making love. Nick wasn't one of those once-a-day-if-you're-lucky lovers. No, he was the good-for-two-in-a-row, every-few-hours kind of lover she'd only read about in romance novels. Nick proved those guys did exist. Thank G.o.d and Nora Roberts.
Sat.u.r.day, they only ventured out once for food-if you called Bosco Chocolate Syrup food. Nick had the kitchen well stocked with all the other essentials-ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream. They'd had Bos...o...b..t had run out. Who knew she had such a taste for chocolate-especially after she learned it wasn't just for ice cream any more?
By Sunday morning, Rosalie had exhausted the poor guy into what looked like a coma. She and Dave took pity on him and went without him on their weekly excursion to the dog park and then to Fiorentino's Italian-Jewish deli and bakery. A perfect combination. Where else could you buy cannolis and knishes? She bought bagels, lox, and cream cheese with chives, plus dessert to go with a box of coffee, and headed home with plans to kiss Nick awake.
Nick rolled over and groaned at the sunlight streaming through the windows. His stomach muscles were sore. He'd never had enough s.e.x to wear him out-until now. Either he was getting out of shape, or he'd never stayed long enough for round two. Or three. Or four. d.a.m.n. If he'd known that spending the weekend with a woman would be this good, he would have done it a while ago. But he'd never spent time with a woman who didn't get on his nerves before. Rosalie had her idiosyncrasies, an aversion to all things closet-related being at the top of the list, but they were more cute than annoying.
The bed dipped. He reached behind him and wrapped his arm around her waist. Oh, man. The waist wasn't Rosalie's. It was smaller and bonier. He let go, rolled over while grabbing the sheet that rode low on his hips, and sat up in a split second.
”Who the h.e.l.l are you?”
The black-haired, dark-eyed pixie looked him over. Nick fought the urge to pull the sheet up higher. ”So, you're Nick, just Nick, eh?” ”Yes. And you are?” ”Gina.”
She stuck her delicate, manicured hand out to shake his, forcing Nick to switch the hand that held the sheet around him before shaking. If she hadn't looked so serious, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
She wore a tight, long-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt tucked into spray-painted-on jeans, with a big belt that accentuated her small waist and anything but small bust. d.a.m.n, a few weeks ago, waking up to a woman who looked like Gina would have been a dream come true. Now, it was a nightmare.
Nick cleared his throat. ”Do I know you?”
”No. But I know all about you, Nick, just Nick, so I'm not going to waste time with the niceties.”
”I think that's pretty clear, considering the way you barged in here.”
Gina rolled her eyes heavenward, as if she were praying for patience. ”Whatever. Rosalie is entirely too nice and trusting, and you've got her eating out of your hand. I'm looking out for her, and I thought you should know I'm keeping my eye on you. You hurt her, and I'll cut your privates off with rusty nail clippers. That way it's slow, painful, and guaranteed to cause lockjaw. Any questions?”
”Yes. Would you mind waiting to threaten me until I'm dressed?”
”No, I don't mind.” Gina sat and waited.
”Are you going to watch?”
”As if you have anything I haven't seen before.” She turned her back and crossed her arms while she tapped the toe of an extremely dangerous-looking black boot with a heel thin enough to double as a weapon.
”Where's Lee?”
”She took Dave to the dog park. They'll be at least a half hour. They left a few minutes ago.”
”She knew you were here?” Nick asked.
”Of course not. I waited for her to leave. She'd kill me if she knew I came to meet you.”
”You mean you came to threaten me.”
”Exactly. Are you going to get dressed, or are you going to sit there looking pretty? I need a cup of coffee.”
”I do not look pretty. And the last thing I want is to be in bed, naked, with you. I'll get dressed as soon as you leave the room. You're welcome to help yourself to coffee. I'm sure you can figure out where everything is, since you figured out how to get in here.”
”That was easy enough. I buzzed Henry and Wayne. They let me in. Rosalie never locks her door when she's not going out for long.”
Gina turned and glared at him. ”I'll go make coffee, but only because I'm dying for a cup. I don't like you. Am I making myself clear?”
”Crystal. I don't like you, either.”
She nodded and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Nick got up, threw on sweats and a T-s.h.i.+rt, brushed his teeth, and was out before the coffee was ready. He hoped she made it strong. He was going to need a lot of caffeine to take on this pint-sized bulldog.
Nick reminded himself that this was his turf. He was going to make sure Gina knew it. He grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet and peered into the fridge. ”Do you take milk or half-and-half?
”Black.”
”Sugar?”
”No.”
He poured coffee and set a mug in front of her at the breakfast bar.
”So, Gina. You work for Lee.”
”I work with Rosalie.”
Nick took a sip of coffee and leaned against the counter. ”Yeah, right.” He meant for that to zing her. It didn't. ”You don't need to worry about Lee. We're playing by her rules, not mine.”
”Rosalie never played with fire before, rules or no rules. I don't want her getting burned.”
”She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Besides, I'd never hurt her.”