The Real Deal Read online

  Again, Nick spoke to the woman, his fluency impressive. She spoke rapidly to him, but he seemed to understand everything she said. When he took her hand and placed a light kiss on the back of it, the older woman blushed furiously and giggled like a young girl. Then she gave him a playful shove, and Emily caught a glimpse of the money that Nick had apparently pressed against her palm.

  A few more words were exchanged, and then the maid left, smiling and nodding at Emily on her way out the door.

  “What happened?” Emily asked. “I don’t know any Spanish.”

  “She was embarrassed and afraid she’d lose her job if you complained.”

  “Oh, my gosh, it wasn’t her fault. She knocked and announced herself like she was supposed to.”

  He shrugged. “She’s only had the job for a month, and she’s trying to save up enough money to buy her grandkids Christmas presents.”

  “Is that why you slipped her the cash?”

  “Ah, you saw that, huh?” He looked a bit embarrassed.

  “I’m not a total bumpkin. I had every intention of tipping her at the end of my stay.”

  “You go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Her grandson is hoping to find a baseball glove and bat under the tree on Christmas morning. Just call me Santa’s helper.”

  “You’re kind of big for an elf.”

  One side of his mouth lifted as he took a step closer, forcing her to move backward. “I figured out how to shut you up, so you’d better be careful.”

  “Yes?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He slid an arm around her waist and hauled her up against him. “Now, where were we?” He pushed the hair off her neck and nibbled lightly. She felt his smile against her skin, and then he said, “Oh, right, I was teaching you how to kiss.”

  She blinked, remembering how they’d left off, and smacked his arm, a solid mass of hard muscle. She doubted he’d felt a thing.

  “Ouch,” he said a few seconds later.

  “Very funny.”

  “What do you expect? You hit like a girl.”

  “Hmm, what a coincidence. I am a girl,” she taunted, and rubbed her breasts against his chest, taking great pleasure in his sudden groan.

  But when he rubbed back, his hardened cock hitting her midbelly and propelling her toward the bed, she shivered so fiercely that she privately conceded she’d lost the upper hand.

  He gripped both sides of her waist and took her earlobe between his teeth, biting lightly while he ran his hands over her hips and then back to her waist. He spent some more time nibbling her ear, and then trailing feather-light kisses down the side of her neck.

  Emily decided she had just as much right to explore and started with the breadth of his back. But it was frustrating trying to feel him through the leather, so she slipped her hands beneath his jacket and, with her eager fingers, traced the cords of muscle around his shoulders.

  Drawing away from her, he shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it onto a sling-back chair. Emily met his eyes, and seeing the desire lurking in those hazel depths, her entire body started to quiver. She held her breath, expecting him to pull off his shirt. But instead he took her back into his arms, his heart pounding rhythmically against her breast.

  “I swear this isn’t why I came here this morning,” he said in a low gravelly voice.

  “I’m not complaining.”

  He smiled and dipped his head to nip at her chin. “I thought about you a lot after I left last night.”

  She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his hot moist breath drifting over her sensitized skin. “I have a confession to make.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I ran to the corner at midnight and bought one of those magazines.”

  He stiffened slightly, and though he still held her close, she sensed his withdrawal. “That spread wasn’t my idea.”

  “I didn’t think it was.” She paused, sorry she’d brought up the subject. “But those are great photographs of you.”

  In response, he used his tongue to demand entrance to her mouth, tracing the tip along the seam of her lips until she opened for him. He pushed in deep, and then swept the inside of her mouth while he passed his hand down her back, lingering to squeeze her fanny.

  She automatically bucked against him, and he moaned into her mouth, squeezing her cheeks harder, holding her still while he moved against her. She couldn’t wait another minute, so she slid one hand beneath the hem of his shirt and ran her palm up his bare back.

  His skin was warm and surprisingly smooth. She encountered a small patch of soft hair at the base of his spine, but after that there was nothing but an expanse of surprisingly soft flesh. He had no scars, not even a mole, at least on his left side. How she wanted to feel his bare chest. So why not? Because she didn’t think she could get her hand between their bodies with him holding her so tight.

  He wasn’t hurting her, though she imagined it would take hardly any more pressure to inflict some pain. He was a strong man, who had to be disciplined in working out. Baseball alone wouldn’t account for the steely strength in his arms, or the ridges across his stomach. She’d seen them in the magazine pictures, and she itched to touch them now. She retraced the path she’d taken on his back and drew her palm over his firm, rounded backside. Sheer muscle there, too. She wanted to see him naked. Now.

  In the next instant, she felt herself moving, yet she hadn’t taken a step. Stiffening, she tried to clear the fog that had infiltrated her brain. They were still standing, face-to-face, her body pressed to his, but something was different…. The bed. It nudged the back of her legs. He’d steered her backward over six feet, and she hadn’t realized it.

  “Emily?”

  She tilted her head back, her breath catching at the burning intensity in his face. She’d only read about seeing hunger in a man’s eyes, but here it was right in front of her. His pupils were so dilated, merely a slight greenish-gold ringed them. His lips were damp from their kiss, and his chest heaved against hers. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like to him. Her face had to be flushed, her whole body was warm. She only hoped there were no purple blotches on her cheeks and throat.

  Nick cupped her nape and stroked the pad of his thumb along her jawline. “Where are we going with this?” His voice was low and husky and entirely too seductive to allow her to think straight.

  “I’m not sure.” She should know what he meant, but she was too fuzzy. Was he asking if she wanted—

  A knock at the door fractured her thoughts.

  Nick threw his head back, looking defeated. “Unbelievable.”

  “Housekeeping,” came the accented voice. “I have your towels.”

  7

  THIS WAS BETTER, Nick told himself as he held the elevator door and watched her walk in ahead of him. Her jeans were worn and snug, cupping her nice firm ass. Only minutes ago he’d cupped those nicely rounded cheeks himself, and if he didn’t stop thinking about it he was gonna end up having a pretty damn embarrassing reaction.

  No, it was good the maid had come back. Better that they ditched the room and got some fresh air. If they’d stayed, there wouldn’t be any sightseeing for Emily today. He would’ve selfishly sweet-talked her into slipping between the sheets with him and she would’ve missed the only nice day left in November. Anyway, there was always tonight…a little dinner, some wine and Emily à la carte.

  “How long ago did you have breakfast?” he asked as they stepped outside and he slid on his sunglasses. He pulled up the collar of his jacket, not because he was cold, but anything to keep from being recognized.

  “About three hours ago. Why? Are you hungry?”

  “I’ll grab an apple for now and then wait for lunch.”

  “We can have lunch now if you’d like. I only had some fruit.”

  “Wait, it’s this way,” he said when she started to go right, and gestured to a black Town Car he’d reserved for the day.

  She frowned. “Is that yours?”


  “No, I have a contract with a car service.” The driver saw them approaching and immediately climbed out and opened the back door for them.

  She looked disappointed. “It’s such a beautiful day. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk?”

  “Later, okay? We’ll go eat and talk about where we want to go.” He took her arm and urged her to get inside. He tried not to complain about fans bothering him for autographs, and he wouldn’t bring it up now. His public life was trying enough, and he accepted that, but after winning a Series, and with the magazine recently having come out, the unwanted attention could get overwhelming. Alone, he could deal with the frenzy. But not with Emily. She didn’t deserve constantly being shoved aside.

  Nick had no sooner slid in beside her and closed the door, when a young man, late teens, spotted Nick and excitedly jogged toward the Town Car. The driver saw him and quickly pulled away from the curb and into traffic, which thankfully was moving nicely.

  Emily twisted around in her seat to watch the young man trot dejectedly after the car. “I think someone was trying to get your attention.”

  He tugged at her hand until she faced him. Wrapping his fingers around her dainty hand, he squeezed gently. “He probably wanted an autograph.”

  “So why didn’t you give him one?”

  “Because it never stops at one person. You saw what happened last night.”

  “So that’s all the time? Wherever you go? Isn’t that…well, awful?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been a baseball fan my whole life. If I could’ve gotten Sandy Koufax’s autograph, I would have stood in line for a week.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the price of fame.”

  “It is, no question, but I have to draw the line at times.”

  “How do you do that?”

  He sighed. “To tell you the truth, it’s not always that big a problem because I don’t go out in public all that much. When I do, I either stick to places where people know me or where they aren’t the type who’d bother me for something like an autograph or to dissect the last game.”

  Emily reared her head. “You’re a snob.”

  “What? No.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “How can you say that after last night? Did I once act like I was put out when someone asked for an autograph?”

  “No, you were quite gracious, actually.”

  “Well, then—”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Corrigan.” It was the driver. “I hate to interrupt, but you haven’t said where you’re going. I’ll have to take Lexington unless you tell me otherwise.”

  “Oh, man, sorry.” He glanced at Emily. “You have a preference?”

  She shrugged indifferently. “Wherever makes you feel comfortable. You know, among your kind.”

  Okay, so it was going to be like that. “Tony, go to Broadway and 138th.”

  In the rearview mirror, Tony’s bushy dark brows drew together. “Did you say 138th?”

  “I did.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yep. I am.”

  EMILY MUNCHED ON HER second order of fries while she watched wave after wave of children, and a surprising number of adults, converge on Nick. Ten minutes ago she’d moved two tables away so as not to get stampeded, and it seemed as if she might have to move again. Another five minutes and she’d be sitting smack-dab under the Golden Arches.

  He’d been asked to sign everything from food wrappers to the backs of T-shirts to one young woman’s bare skin, just above her plunging neckline. Even the fast food establishment’s manager had run down the street to buy a couple of baseballs for Nick to sign for the man’s sons.

  Every once in a while he threw Emily an apologetic look. There was no need. Maybe signing autographs seemed like an exciting thing, something a lot of people would give their right thumb for, but it really must be kind of horrible, after a while. These were strangers, all of whom stood too close, got too personal, wanted too much. Emily had never wanted his kind of fame. It wasn’t in her. Now that she was witnessing the side effects up close and personal, she was convinced that even unintentional notoriety would be a nightmare. If she ever won the lottery, she’d have to change her name and disappear. Good thing she didn’t go in for that kind of stuff.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  She’d almost forgotten about the driver until he stood in front of her, his black cap in his hand. “Oh, gosh, Tony, right?”

  He nodded. “Did Mr. Corrigan say when he thought you two would be ready to leave?”

  “I’m sorry, he didn’t.” She slid a helpless glance at Nick, who was laughing and joking with a boy of about ten, and seemingly oblivious to both her and Tony. “Guess he figures he hasn’t made his point yet,” she muttered crossly.

  “No problem. I thought I’d see if I had time to grab something to eat.”

  Oops. He had to have heard that. Her sheepish gaze went back to the older man, who was smiling at Nick and the kids.

  “Please, do get something. Looks as if it’ll be a while before he gets through that line.”

  Tony chuckled. “I think half of Harlem got the word that he was here.”

  Alarmed, she saw a large group of kids run from a side street toward the restaurant. “How is he ever going to break away without looking like a jerk?”

  “He’ll give one of us the signal—” He eyed her speculatively for a second. “Me, probably, because I know the ropes, and I’ll go tell him in front of everyone that he’s late and has time for only two more autographs.”

  She gasped softly, skimming the eager faces down the line. “But the rest of the kids will be disappointed.”

  “Someone is always bound to be disappointed, miss.”

  “I’m Emily,” she said, turning back to him. “After you get something to eat, please come sit with me.”

  “Right.” He walked briskly toward the order window. He wouldn’t be long. No one was ordering food. Everyone wanted a piece of Nick, instead. She continued to watch, admiring the way he tirelessly chatted a few minutes with each child, yet privately hoping she’d notice that signal Tony mentioned. She was a wee bit jealous, she realized. She wanted his attention, too.

  Less than three minutes later, Tony returned with a salad and a juice and sat down opposite her.

  “I didn’t see anything that looked like a signal,” she offered.

  Tony just smiled and unwrapped his fork.

  “Are you supposed to just wait around for him indefinitely?”

  “Mr. Corrigan has paid me for the entire day. If he wants me to wait, I wait. If he wants me to leave, I argue with him.”

  Emily blinked, then laughed softly at the gleam of mischief in the man’s eyes. “You’ve known him a long time, I take it?”

  “About nine years.” He carefully drizzled a light stream of dressing over his salad.

  His apparent health consciousness didn’t surprise her, she thought dryly as she nibbled another greasy French fry. Almost as tall as Nick, with broad shoulders and a trim waist, he was a nice-looking man and appeared to be in excellent shape. She doubted he was more than about forty, but he already had touches of silver at his temples. Made her wonder about Nick’s age. She’d guess close to thirty.

  “And you? Have you known him long?” he asked before spearing a chunk of lettuce with his fork.

  She glanced at her watch. “I’d say about seventeen hours.”

  “Ah.” Tony hid a smile while he concentrated on chewing.

  “I met him when we shared a cab last night, but I’m not a groupie, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Annoyance flickered in his dark eyes, but he said, “That thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Frankly, I assumed he might have known you from his hometown.”

  She groaned. “Yeah, I might as well write Midwest farm girl across my forehead. Not that there’s anything wrong with farm girls, or for that matter, that I’ve ever set foot on a farm in my life.”

  Tony laughed and winked at her. “Since he met you,
I just might forgive him for taking a cab last night.”

  “What’s wrong with cabs? Too common a means of transportation for his highness?”

  Tony clearly didn’t appreciate her remark. He set down his fork, his brows dipping low as he held her gaze. “You know, most players won’t sign autographs anymore. A few will only sign for kids. And those guys aren’t half as popular as Nicky.”

  “I was only teasing,” she explained lamely. “I went with him for a drink last night. He was very gracious to everyone.”

  The man nodded, picked up his fork. “He paid me to take the week off.”

  “But you’re here.”

  “Nicky called Joe, the dispatcher, and told him he needed a driver after all, but not to tell me. Joe and I go way back. He figured I’d want to know that Nicky stayed in town.”

  “But if you’re his regular driver, and he’d already paid you—”

  “He’d rather pay double so that I could spend time with my family for the week.” Tony dabbed at his mouth with the paper napkin, the whole time keeping his eyes on Nick. “That’s the kind of guy Nicky is.”

  “Hmm, you make him sound like a saint,” she murmured, her gaze straying back to Nick. He’d just signed a baseball cap and playfully jammed it on a boy’s head. The youngster immediately pulled it off and reverently straightened the crown while he stared in awe at Nick’s name on the bill.

  “Nah, he’s no saint.” Tony laughed, the lines fanning the corners of his eyes, making him all the more attractive because it showed he was a man who laughed and smiled often. “That’s for sure.”

  She wanted to ask about the side of Nick that disqualified him for sainthood, but she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere. On the upside, she suspected it might be fun finding out later. “How come you call him Mr. Corrigan to his face?”

  His smile broadened. “Just bustin’ his chops. When I met him he was still young and cocky and full of himself.” Tony’s face got serious, and he crumpled his napkin. “There it is. That’s my signal. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

  Emily swung to face Nick, but all she saw was him doing the same thing he’d been doing for over an hour.