The Real Deal Page 8

  Tony picked up his tray of remains. “You might want to get a head start to the car so you don’t get mobbed.”

  He didn’t look at her, just kept his gaze on Nick as he disposed of his trash, and then walked purposefully toward the group of kids surrounding Nick and clamoring for his attention.

  Tony was good. Clearly, he’d performed the rescue operation more than a few times. She’d barely had time to throw away her own wrappers and napkins and get to the car before he hustled Nick around the hood. The kids were disappointed, as expected, but some of them were angry, and Tony had a few choice words that quickly settled them down as Nick climbed in beside her. She was sort of curious as to what he’d said to them but was afraid to ask.

  “You win,” she said, when Nick looked at her with a faint smile. “Message received loud and clear.”

  “What?” he said, all innocent.

  The car moved, slowly, crawling practically, because too many children still surrounded them. A police officer pulled his patrol car up alongside them, and Tony rolled down his window and explained what was happening to the officer. The man nodded, pumped his siren a couple of times, and the kids scattered enough for the Town Car to pull in to traffic.

  “Nick?” She took his hand. “I really am sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. “It’s always a bit tense when we’re making our getaway. But Tony’s the best.” He tapped the back of Tony’s headrest. “Thanks, bro.”

  “No sweat.”

  Nick sank back against the gray leather seat and sighed, his hand still wrapped around hers. “I’m starved.”

  “Poor baby. You had nothing but a milk shake.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He lifted a brow at her. “I saw you scarfing down those fries.”

  “I was nibbling daintily,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. “Not scarfing.”

  He choked out a laugh. “Did you save me any?”

  “They would’ve been cold. Anyway, they were too salty. You wouldn’t have liked them.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m guessing you’re a disgustingly healthy eater.”

  “Not off-season.” He tugged at her hand. “Come here.”

  She felt a sudden sense of apprehension that was ridiculous. “What?”

  “Slide closer.”

  “Why?” She did as he asked but only a few inches.

  “I’m not gonna bite.”

  “I don’t know, you said you were starved.”

  “I am.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and she shivered. “I want to see how salty those fries were.”

  She widened her eyes, her lips parting when his intent dawned on her. He licked across her lower lip, then slipped his tongue inside. Her first instinct was to resist, but she helplessly let him have his way for a few seconds before jerking her head back.

  “Nick.”

  He made a smacking sound with his lips. “Not too salty.”

  Her gaze flew to the back of Tony’s head. He didn’t move a muscle.

  Nick grinned and banded his arms around her, dipping his head to lick the side of her mouth.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Come on. When was the last time you made out in the backseat of a car?”

  She gasped, her gaze again going to Tony.

  “Tony doesn’t care. You won’t look, will you, buddy?”

  “Nope.” There was a smile in his voice but he dutifully kept his eyes on the road.

  “Stop it,” Emily ordered. “I totally mean it.”

  “Really?” Nick loosened his arms and drew back to look earnestly at her.

  “Yes,” she said without a trace of conviction.

  “Okay.” He straightened, removed his arm from around her shoulders and folded his hands in his lap.

  After traveling two silent blocks, she sighed, missing his closeness. Okay, so maybe she’d been a bit hasty. But she still wasn’t crazy about the idea of acting like a couple of horny teenagers with Tony having full knowledge of what was going on.

  “It is broad daylight,” she said quietly.

  Nick sounded as if he’d been trying to hold back a laugh and cut loose. Even Tony’s shoulders shook in silent laughter.

  “Go ahead, have your fun.” She lifted her chin and turned to gaze out her window. “Where are we going, anyway?” she asked, cranky as hell, and not caring that was exactly how she sounded.

  He took her hand again and, smiling, gave the back a quick kiss. “I have an idea where we can go have lunch and hopefully not be bothered too much. After that we’ll go anywhere you want.”

  Bothered too much? She didn’t know how he did it day after day. “Don’t you ever go out wearing some sort of disguise? Like a beard and baseball hat?”

  “A baseball hat? Seriously?”

  “Oh, right. A turban would be better.”

  “That’s a thought.” He gave her a bland look. “A really bad one.”

  She gave in to a smile, and started to get fluttery when his gaze darkened and lowered to her mouth.

  “I love your dimples,” he whispered, and kissed one cheek and then the other.

  “I don’t. They make me look twelve,” she muttered.

  “So young and innocent,” he said against her skin so only she could hear. “You’re not innocent, though, are you, Emily?” He nuzzled the side of her neck, trailed kisses to her neckline.

  “Is that your fantasy?” she asked in a bare whisper, closing her eyes.

  “No, ma’am. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “Good. Now shut up and kiss me.”

  He chuckled, the sound low and throaty, and it sent a fleet of goose bumps down her spine. Or maybe it was the possessive way he forced her mouth open and pushed his tongue against hers that had her quivering with anticipation. She clutched his muscled thigh, and he cupped her right breast through her sweater. Her nipples were already hard and achy when he pinched them lightly, and she wanted his hot mouth on them so badly she could almost imagine his tongue rolling over the tight buds.

  Not here, though. She was too self-conscious with Tony in the car. She didn’t doubt he’d keep his eyes on the road and ignore anything that happened in the backseat, but this wasn’t her.

  Nick seemed to sense her reluctance. He released her nipple and eased up on the kiss. Although he didn’t stop kissing her, he downgraded to a G-rated version, while slowly lowering his hand.

  Finally, he broke the kiss altogether and drew back to look at her. “Later,” he said, and with a half smile added, “when it’s not broad daylight.”

  8

  NICK LOVED CHINATOWN. It wasn’t just the food, which sat way at the top of his list of favorites, but because he experienced more freedom here than in any other part of the city. Shop owners were usually too busy selling their wares and the restaurant people were busy cooking or hanging up roasted ducks and chickens in deli windows and the tourists seemed to direct their energy toward gawking and commenting on the unique odors to notice him.

  A pair of sunglasses and an old Greek fisherman’s hat, courtesy of Tony, seemed to be all he needed to snatch some peace and anonymity for a couple of hours.

  He glanced at Emily walking beside him, and followed her fascinated gaze to a shop window where one of the infamous ducks hung beside a slab of unnaturally red ribs.

  “You interested?” he asked, expecting her to balk.

  “What is it?”

  “Char siu ribs. The marinade makes it that color. It’s good, but on the sweet side.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had it before. I’m sure I’d remember.”

  He smiled. “What about dim sum? Ever have that?”

  “Only read about it. It always sounded exotic and wonderful.”

  “So you’re game?”

  She grinned. “Sure.”

  He liked that she was adventurous, much more so than he’d been when he first arrived in the city. On their way t
o the restaurant, they stopped several times so she could check out the various trinkets for sale and the herbs used as alternative medicine, and good God, but the woman was not afraid to ask questions. She had dozens of them. He finally had to promise her that they’d come back the same way because, while she’d eaten all those fries, he was really that hungry.

  After they sat at the table and he’d ordered noodles and soup to go with their dim sum selections, he called Tony to let him know they would be longer than expected.

  “Where is he?” Emily asked, her fascinated gaze following the carts stacked with bamboo baskets of dim sum being pushed around the restaurant.

  “I asked him to come with us, but he wanted to get some of his Christmas shopping done instead.”

  She winced, her cheeks turning pink as her eyes returned to his face. “With the way we acted in the backseat, did you really expect him to come?” She quickly looked away. “Unless he’s used to that sort of thing.”

  He stared at her, unsure if he were amused or annoyed. “What sort of thing?”

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re fishing.”

  She blinked, glared indignantly, and then started laughing. “You’re right. I guess I was. Sorry.”

  He smiled. “Since you were honest, I’ll take the bait. No, that is not something I normally do, and no, he didn’t see anything. I wouldn’t have embarrassed you that way. As far as lunch, Tony isn’t keen on anything that isn’t either health food or pasta.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Besides, his wife is an amazing cook. I’ve never had better red sauce or meatballs than Gina’s, and I’m talking even better than four-star Italian restaurants.”

  “You’ve been to their house?”

  “Lots of times. In fact, he invited me for Thanksgiving but I told him I was going home for the holiday.” He sighed. “Which now he knows I’m not. Guess I owe him an explanation.”

  She tilted her head to the side, a sign there’d be a whole lot of questions coming. “Why aren’t you going home?”

  “No one’s there. The whole family decided to go on a ski trip this year.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “But…why didn’t— You could’ve gone with them.” She paused. “Right?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I could’ve, but I’d have preferred to hang out at the house, eat a lot of leftovers and watch some football. It doesn’t matter.”

  Nick looked around, wishing the damn food would come. A waitress had stopped at the next table with her cart. Mostly Chinese people ate here, which told them the food was authentic, but just his luck, their neighbors looked as if they were tourists and were trying unsuccessfully to communicate with the Chinese-speaking waitress. Didn’t they get that all they had to do was point at what they wanted? That was the beauty of cart service, for God’s sake.

  “Do you usually go home for the holidays?” Emily asked.

  “No,” he admitted slowly. “That’s the thing. I can’t fault them for planning the trip. They weren’t expecting me. What about you? Why come here alone for Thanksgiving?”

  She thoughtfully pursed her lips, and then said, “I have the opposite problem. My mom and sisters assumed I’d stay home. Do all the shopping and cooking and…” She frowned. “And cleaning up, too, come to think of it.”

  “Because you always do.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So you felt taken for granted.”

  “I guess.” She sighed. “The tragedy is that I like doing all that stuff. Not the cleaning-up part. But I like to cook and experiment with recipes, set an elaborate table and—” She cringed, briefly closing her eyes, before looking at him with a hangdog expression. “All that really boring crap that I wish I hadn’t just admitted to.”

  He laughed. “Why?”

  “I saw those pictures in the magazine, remember?”

  “So? You think my life is spent lounging around pools and going to fancy clubs and drinking champagne with supermodels?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Okay, maybe off-season I live it up a little, but come spring, I’m busting my ass at training camp, spending off-hours in the gym and watching every calorie and gram of fat that goes into my mouth.”

  “Really?”

  “No.” He grinned when she made a mean face. “That’s about seventy-five percent true. Ah, finally.” He focused on the cart that arrived at their table, aware that Emily was torn between glaring at him and checking out the food that was being revealed as the waitress lifted the lids off the bamboo baskets.

  He asked for the three things he knew how to pronounce in Chinese, and then pointed to two other items. He assumed Emily would leave the ordering to him since she was unfamiliar with the dishes, but she surprised him by doing her own pointing. Good for her.

  After the food had been transferred to their table, he said, “There are other carts coming with more choices. You’ll have to try the custard tarts.”

  “There’s more food? Seriously?” She eyed the spread in disbelief, and then leaned far back into her seat as if in self-defense when another waitress appeared with their soup and noodles. “This is crazy,” she murmured.

  A minute later, another cart showed up and they ordered more food, each of them quiet while they sampled the various dumplings. He thought she’d have to ask what everything was before she’d put it in her mouth, but she just went for it. Made him wonder if she was that daring in bed.

  That was it. Once his mind went to sex, he couldn’t let go.

  Abruptly he remembered the little pink book. Not something he associated with her, but she had bought it, all right. And if he had his way, tonight they’d be using it—cover to cover.

  “I NEED A WALK,” Emily announced as soon as they were safely seated in the backseat of the Town Car. Her stomach felt as though it would explode at any minute. They’d taken two hours to eat, and she’d tried just about everything that had been put in front of her. “Seriously. I do.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a second. You eat like a line-backer.”

  “Not always. But I was curious, and anyway, when will I ever get to eat dim sum again?”

  “Tomorrow, if you want.”

  She put a hand to her stomach and groaned teasingly. She really wasn’t feeling that badly, but she had to do something to hide the stupid girlie reaction she’d had to his words. Just because he’d mentioned tomorrow didn’t mean he was asking her out. He simply stated that she was free to come back to Chinatown and eat again.

  Nick removed the hat and combed his fingers through his short hair. “You hear that, Tony?”

  He cocked his head but kept his eyes on the road. “What’s that?”

  “Emily never had dim sum before, but she loved it. She’s ready to go back for more tomorrow.” He winked at her and casually put a hand on her thigh.

  Tony chuckled. “You two want to tell me where we’re headed?”

  Nick stroked the top of her thigh. “You still want to walk?”

  So not fair. She tensed the muscles beneath his palm. How was she supposed to think about anything but them going back to her room? “Well, I don’t want you to get mobbed.”

  “How about Coney Island?” Tony suggested.

  “It’s closed,” they both said at the same time, staring into each other’s eyes. Emily figured she knew another way to burn off calories, and she was pretty sure Nick was thinking the same thing.

  “Not the beach or the boardwalk, only the amusement park, which means there won’t be many people there.” After a moment’s silence, Tony added, “Or the path along the Hudson. You’ll see a few joggers but that’s it. I wouldn’t suggest Central Park, though, it’ll be too crowded.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, looking at Nick. “What do you think?”

  “Up to you.” He leaned close, and with a smile tugging at his mouth, whispered, “It’s still broad daylight.”

  She gave him an evil glare. “I’d like to see Con
ey Island.”

  One eyebrow went up in challenge. “Coney Island it is. Did you get that, Tony?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Corrigan.”

  Nick muttered a mild curse. “You’re ticked off at me because I told you I wouldn’t be here for Thanksgiving. I didn’t lie. At the time I thought I was leaving.”

  Tony grunted, drove them through a congested intersection and then asked, “Are you staying in town, after all?”

  “I don’t know.” Nick slouched down and let his head fall back against the headrest so that his eyes were level with hers. “What are you doing for the holiday?”

  Emily’s heart thumped. She hadn’t dared allow herself to think what might happen past tonight. What if it were a disaster? He’d gone out with so many gorgeous women and compared to…

  She gave herself a mental shake. She’d never been the type of woman who compared herself to others, and had always easily shaken off her sisters’ judgmental remarks. No way was she going to start picking herself apart because she didn’t make her living posing in front of a camera. Not even for a man as stunning as Nick.

  He waited expectantly, and it took her a few seconds to remember he was expecting an answer. “Nothing monumental. I’d planned on finding a hotel that’s serving a brunch, go straight to the desserts and cram all the most sinfully rich pastries I can get on my plate.”

  Nick frowned as if he thought she were kidding.

  She shrugged. “You asked.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I am.”

  “Thanksgiving without turkey? That’s almost un-American. It might even be against the law.”

  Emily laughed. “Is that right? Does that mean you’re cooking one?”

  Nick used the tip of his finger to trace an idle pattern on her thigh. “You got me there.”

  She shifted, amazed at how such an innocuous touch could drive her crazy, send her thoughts straight to the horizontal tango. But when she looked into Nick’s eyes, it was perfectly clear that he knew exactly what he was doing. That sneaky finger was not behaving idly or innocently at all.

  “You’re still invited to our house, Nick.” Tony’s dark eyes briefly appeared in the rearview mirror. “You, too, Emily. Gina always makes a ton of food.”