The Real Deal Page 9

  “Awkward,” she murmured to herself, and stared at Nick, waiting for him to respond. Just because they’d spent the day together, what made Tony think Nick would want to be saddled with her for the holiday? Truthfully, she didn’t know how she felt about going to a stranger’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. There was bound to be a lot of family there, and she wouldn’t know a soul. She’d never been very good at a social gathering where there were a lot of people she didn’t know. In fact, the thought unsettled her.

  Damn it, she wished Nick would say something. He just kept watching her. Was he afraid he’d hurt her feelings because he didn’t want to commit to Thursday?

  “Thanks, Tony,” she said finally. “You’re very kind to invite a stranger into your home like that, but I’m really looking forward to my sugarfest.”

  “Gina and her mother both make killer desserts,” Tony said, his gaze back in the rearview mirror, briefly studying Nick before he returned his attention to the road. “If you change your mind,” he added, sounding less enthusiastic, as if he’d seen something in Nick’s face that told him to back off.

  Now she felt even more awkward. Dare she look at Nick?

  Slowly, she turned her head. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he was still watching her. It took all of her nerve to turn the rest of the way and meet his gaze.

  His fingers dug more firmly into her thigh, and then he slid his hand up higher, so high that if she were naked, he would’ve hit the jackpot. Or perhaps the jackpot would’ve been hers. Once she could breathe again.

  He ran the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, and mouthed the words, “I want to make love to you.”

  NICK’S HARD-ON WAS GONNA be the death of him. His fly was so tight, no amount of shifting helped. He’d started getting hard ten minutes ago when he’d first put his hand on Emily’s thigh and her muscles tensed beneath his palm. Immediately his brain went soft. All he could think about were other more intriguing muscles that would tighten and clench as he entered her.

  He didn’t know what the hell was going on. His mind hadn’t been this frequently derailed by sex since he was a teenager. Early in his career, when he’d stepped up from the minors to the majors, hordes of beautiful women had thrown themselves at him, but at the young age of twenty, how many men would’ve resisted the attention or the many room keys slipped into their hands after a game. For more years than he wanted to remember, he’d been like a damn kid in a candy store.

  At thirty-two, he’d mellowed, become more selective. Although one of the sleazier tabloids often liked to paint a picture that said otherwise. Nowadays, he ate dinner alone more than he did with a date, and he’d even had one relationship with a Swedish model that had lasted for well over a year. He and Kara might have even hit the two-year mark if not for their brutal travel schedules. Between baseball season and her fashion shoots abroad, they sometimes didn’t see each other for a couple of months. Hell, that was probably why they’d gotten on so well. Nice woman, but too high maintenance for the long haul.

  Not a problem with Emily. Obviously she’d already proven herself to be anything but a diva. She was brave and curious, and he doubted she’d give a damn about the latest insane clothing fad. God, what a pleasure.

  “Stop it,” she whispered, moistening her lips, her gaze darting from him to the back of Tony’s head.

  “Stop what?”

  “Staring at me like that.” She nibbled at her lower lip. “And saying stuff.”

  “What did I—?”

  Her eyes widened on him.

  “Oh, right, that. Too bad. Just being honest.”

  She laughed softly. “Sure, that’s why you didn’t know what I was talking about at first.”

  “You want me to prove it?”

  Her head reared back and her gaze narrowed on him.

  He took her hand, tugged at her brief resistance and then cupped her palm over his bulging fly.

  Emily gasped, and then wrenched back as if he’d held her hand to a blazing fire.

  “I told you I could prove it.” He grimaced and shifted again, but found no relief.

  A laugh burst from her lips, and then she covered her mouth. “Good grief.” She glanced at Tony, then looked back at Nick’s fly. “Do you have some kind of uncontrollable condition I should be concerned about?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you should examine me.” He brushed the back of his fingers against the juncture of her thighs.

  She jerked her head toward Tony, her gaze staying on Nick’s face, eyes wide and imploring.

  Damn. Maybe he had said that too loud. And maybe they needed to skip Coney Island and go straight to his place before he made a total ass of himself. Yep. Coney Island could damn well wait. And if she still wanted to walk, she could do laps around his apartment. “Hey, Tony—”

  The car stopped, but they weren’t in traffic. Nick blinked, startled to see the entrance to the beach in front of them. How had they gotten here so fast?

  Tony twisted around in his seat. “You want to call me when you’re ready, or should I wait?”

  He was about to tell him that he’d changed his mind, when he saw Emily’s hand lift the door handle. Obviously it was too late. Nick had already made an ass out of himself.

  9

  THIS TIME OF YEAR, there were no lifeguards on duty at the mostly deserted beach. In the distance, a man walked in the sand, holding a metal detector out in front of him. A few people strolled the boardwalk near the snack shops, and a couple of kids stood at the fence with longing on their faces as they ogled the rides that had been shut down for the winter. The morning blue sky was now clouded over, and the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since noon.

  Certainly no need for sunglasses, but Nick put them on, along with the borrowed cap, and then pulled up the collar of his leather jacket. He glanced over at Emily walking alongside him. She’d tugged down her sleeves so that they covered most of her hands.

  “You cold?” he asked.

  “A little, but I still want to walk.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure.” He wanted to slide an arm around her shoulders and pull her close, keep her warm, but he had a feeling he’d turned her off with his childish shenanigans. Why else would she be willing to walk in such chilly weather? She had only to say the word and they could’ve been back at her hotel or his place, sitting in front of a toasty fire.

  They continued in silence for a few minutes, and she kept her face averted, her gaze focused on the ocean. A solitary fishing boat had anchored offshore, and soaring gulls occasionally swooped down in search of a meal, but other than that, there was nothing to see but small whitecaps rolling in to shore.

  “That was nice of you to insist Tony go home,” she said, finally.

  “He’s a good guy. He deserves the time off. I’m glad for once he didn’t argue about me taking a cab home.”

  “You’re surprised?” Emily sighed. “He was probably sick of us acting like a couple of horny teenagers in the backseat.”

  Damn, he knew that was the problem. “About that— I’m really sorry. I swear, I’m not like that.”

  “Well, what did I expect? I mean, really. I buy that stupid book, a huge box of condoms, all that sexy lingerie… I let a strange man into my room…” She shook her head and kept her face averted. “I know you think I’m easy, but I’m not.”

  “What? No, no.” He adamantly shook his head. “I never once thought that about you.”

  “How could you not?”

  He touched her arm, and she stopped, reluctantly turning to meet his eyes. “I’ve been with a lot of women. I know the difference.” He stroked her cheek. Her skin was cold. “There is nothing wrong with sexy lingerie, or being smart and prepared with condoms. And I’m kind of curious about that book myself.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched. “How many women?”

  He suddenly realized how that sounded and groaned. “Too many, probably, but I’
m claiming the arrogance and stupidity of youth as my defense. You’re cold,” he said, and started to shrug out of his jacket, but she stopped him.

  “This will work,” she said, all dimples, and lifted his arm around her shoulders. Then she slid her arm around his waist and snuggled close.

  He hugged her against him, startled at the tenderness that washed over him. The unfamiliar feeling was downright scary. Man, was he getting soft, or what? Had to be the holiday spirit crap.

  “You realize this is crazy,” he said, when he felt her shiver.

  “What is?”

  “Walking on the beach in this weather.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Um, vetoed by my common sense, apparently.”

  She laughed. “If you want to wimp out and go home, be my guest, but I promised myself this was going to be a week of firsts, and I’m sticking to my guns.”

  He snorted. “A wimp?”

  “That’s what I said.” She lifted her chin and closed her eyes when a chill breeze stung their cheeks.

  His thoughts backtracked. “What’s first about this?”

  “The ocean.” She opened her eyes and smiled. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Never?” he repeated, amazed, and at the same time aware that millions of people had never seen an ocean.

  “Nope. It smells and feels different than I expected.”

  “This sucks. Your first time shouldn’t be the Atlantic in November, not this far north.”

  “It’s not as if I haven’t seen pictures of clear blue-green water, and someday I’d love to see it. Trust me, this is still quite impressive.” She squinted at the horizon and then tilted her head back to watch a seagull fly overhead.

  “We should go to Florida. Or better yet, St. Thomas. Or the Caymans. You’d like Grand Cayman.”

  She stared at him as if he were speaking a language she didn’t understand.

  “We could go tomorrow,” he said, the sheer craziness of the offer stunning him. Not that he wouldn’t want to go with her, but he wasn’t an impulsive person. Especially where women were concerned. Shrugging, he added, “Just for the day, if you want. Or whatever.”

  A small smile lifted her lips, as if she knew he’d regretted the whim. “I think I’ll concentrate on New York this trip.”

  It wasn’t that he regretted it, he didn’t understand what had gotten into him. “Just a thought,” he said, like it was no big deal.

  “I know what I want to do.” She drew away, bent down and removed one black leather shoe.

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  She pulled off her gray-and-black striped sock. “I want to walk barefoot in the sand.”

  He watched her rid herself of the other shoe, knowing it was useless to point out that her feet were going to freeze.

  She tucked her socks into one of the shoes, shivered and laughed. “It feels weird,” she said, staring down at her bare feet.

  He noticed that her toenails were unpolished, but pretty. “Better give me the address and phone number of your next of kin.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt anyone has died from walking barefoot in wet sand. Even in November.”

  Wet sand. Great. “No, but if you end up in a padded room, someone in your family should know.” Resigned, he followed her toward the water. Still wearing his expensive Italian loafers. No way he was taking off those.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, her brown eyes bright and sparkling. “Isn’t this great?”

  Florida was sounding better by the minute. “Great,” he said flatly.

  Grinning, she turned back to the water, got to the edge and rolled up her jeans. He hoped she didn’t get it in her head to wade in too far, but then figured the frigidness of the water would stop her from getting too carried away.

  He stopped short of sinking into the wet sand and watched her gingerly touch her toes to the incoming tide.

  “Brrr,” she said with a short laugh, and quickly stepped backward. “I wonder what the temperature is.”

  “Friggin’ cold.”

  “Is that in Fahrenheit?” She turned to face him, her eyes flashing with pleasure.

  “That’s any which way you look at it.”

  “I have to agree.” A wave swept in behind her, catching her by surprise, and she squealed. “Darn, it got my jeans,” she said, hurrying toward him.

  He smiled. “Was it worth it?”

  “Absolutely.” She stared past him toward the amusement park. “This place is huge. I can’t imagine how packed it is in the summertime. Have you ridden the roller coaster?”

  “I’ve never been here before.”

  Her gaze flew to him. “Seriously?”

  “Summer is baseball season, sweetheart. I don’t have much time for anything else.”

  “I suppose not.” She bit her lower lip. “I hope I get to see you play sometime.”

  He stared at her, the reminder that she lived thousands of miles away and he might not see her after this week striking him speechless for a moment.

  “You think I’m fishing for an invitation or something, but I’m not.” She hurried past him in the direction of the boardwalk.

  He caught up to her in a few strides. “Where the hell are you going?”

  “Getting off this sand. My feet are freezing, and I can’t stand all this stuff stuck between my toes. Yuck.”

  “Wait.” He choked down another laugh, caught her around the waist and swept her up into his arms. “You can’t put your shoes and socks on until your feet dry.”

  She let out a soft gasp, her warm breath tickling his cheek. “You can’t carry me.”

  “They have another name for this in Indiana?” He shifted her weight so that he could carry her more comfortably.

  With a start, she circled her arms around his neck as if she feared he was going to drop her.

  The unexpected movement threatened Nick’s balance and he briefly staggered. “You’re choking the life out of me.”

  “Sorry.” She relaxed, and dropped one of her shoes. “Oops.”

  “Okay, hold on.” He repositioned her body, and slowly lowered both of them toward the ground so she could reach the shoe.

  She clearly misunderstood the maneuver and tried to stand. Unprepared for the shift in weight, Nick lost his footing. They both went down.

  Nick landed on his ass.

  With a yelp, Emily fell onto his lap, spraying them both with sand when she kicked at the ground, looking for support.

  She crawled off him, and got to her knees. After swatting the sand off her chin, she used the back of her wrist to wipe her mouth. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, you?”

  “You broke my fall.” She scrambled to her feet and offered him a hand, trying to smother a laugh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He saw a couple walking briskly toward them, probably assuming he and Emily needed help. Nick quickly rose. They were still a good distance away and he waved to let them know he and Emily were all right. Then he scooped up her shoe and hurried her toward the boardwalk in the opposite direction.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, shaking out the hem of her sweater.

  “I don’t know about you but I’ve got sand everywhere.” No exaggeration. The coarse grains peppered his hair, chafed the skin under his shirt collar, and damn if some hadn’t snuck inside his jeans.

  “Everywhere about sums it up. There has to be a restroom nearby.”

  “Nothing short of a shower is going to help me.”

  “I think you’re right,” Emily said slowly.

  “That’s why we’re hoofing it to West 8th Street, hailing a cab and going straight to my place. Any objections?”

  She smiled. “Not a one.”

  WITH HER FEET CRAMMED back into her loafers, remnants of sand wedged between her toes and a splinter spearing her heel, Emily tried not to limp as she walked through the spacious modern lobby of Nick’s building, aware that half a doz
en pairs of eyes followed her. Of course, Nick walked alongside her, but these people knew him. She was the one who stirred their curiosity. Whether it was because she looked like hell right now or because she didn’t fit his normal type, she didn’t know, but it made her terribly uncomfortable. She was reminded again that fame came at a high price.

  One of the uniformed doormen hurried ahead of them to press the elevator button. “Two boxes were delivered for you this morning, Mr. Corrigan. Would you like me to bring them up now or later?”

  “Later, Angelo. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing.” The man smiled at Emily, and then stepped back when the elevator doors slid open.

  As soon as they were safely inside, alone, the doors closed and she glanced down at her bedraggled appearance and sighed.

  Nick caught her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I hate that everyone saw me looking like this.” She tried to wiggle her toes and dislodge some of the sand, but that only caused more discomfort. “Is it okay to take off my shoes?”

  “Why are you worried about what you look like?” he asked, his eyes alarmed. “Were there paparazzi outside? I usually can spot them right away.”

  “Paparazzi? No, at least I don’t think so.” Of course he was tabloid fodder. She’d thought it was bad enough being a target of so many fans, but the paparazzi were jackels. “I just meant the people in the lobby.”

  “Ah.” He seemed to relax. “You look beautiful.” He slipped his arms around her and briefly kissed her lips. “Better than beautiful. Why do you think I told Angelo to bring the boxes up later,” he said with a mischievous grin.

  “Who knew you were this hard up?” she teased, but her pulse had quickened and the tingling had started at the base of her spine.

  The elevator doors soundlessly slid open, and he took her hand and led her down the short hall.

  Her heart was beating so fast she’d forgotten about the sand in her shoes or the splinter she’d picked up on the ancient boardwalk.

  “Let’s stay in the rest of the night and this way you won’t have to worry about being seen with me…given how hard up I am.” He pulled a key out of his pocket.