He was visibly shaken. He obviously knew what shining star had joined our table. I wondered if he might curtsy. Or vomit. Across the restaurant, peeking around the corner of the hallway to the kitchen, a group of workers had clustered together, staring.
And was that a crowd gathering on the sidewalk outside?
“Ladies, uh, sir, can I get you anything?”
Nico looked at me. “What’re you drinkin’?”
“Margarita. Rocks.”
“Patron Silver?”
Yes, it was now official. This was my dream man. I nodded.
Nico ordered another for me and asked the girls what they wanted.
“Nothing for us, thanks. We have to get going, anyway. You know, work in the morning. Regular people stuff.”
Grace sent him a pointed look, but it wasn’t as frosty as before. That fishbowl comment might have made her begin to thaw toward him. Grace was very sensitive about the burdens people carried. Probably because she carried so many herself.
Nico ordered a whiskey for himself and sent the waiter away, which was when I noticed the restaurant manager herding a cluster of squealing teenage girls away from the front door. I began to feel distinctly uncomfortable with all the attention we were getting.
He was getting.
Yet he sat there as if no one else existed but the four of us. It was like a super power, the way he could ignore how people stared at him. One busty blond waitress had made four salivating passes by our table already, and we weren’t even in her section. But he never even glanced in her direction.
He was, however, regularly stealing glances at me. God, those eyes were blue.
“If you go now, you’ll miss all the good stuff. Kat and I were just about to have an interestin’ discussion. A debate, I think you called it?”
He slid me a heavy-lidded look. A smile quirked his lips.
“Oh? About what?” Grace perked up.
Damn those sharp ears of hers. She could tell he was up to something.
“Well, she’s already said she’s not gonna sleep with me.”
Chloe’s eyes looked as if they might pop out of her head. Grace merely pursed her lips, unimpressed. She was a much harder nut to crack.
“And she’s also said she’s not gonna date me. So that only leaves us at friends.” His smile now gone, he looked back and forth between Grace and Chloe. “And I don’t wanna be just friends.”
Hand’s down, most bizarre moment of my life. As hiding seemed like a reasonable response to the situation, I dropped my face into my hands.
“There doesn’t seem to be a need for a debate if she’s already told you what she wants.”
As always, Grace’s logic was impeccable.
Bitch.
“That’s just it. She hasn’t told me what she wants, she’s told me what she doesn’t want. So I think since you’re her two best friends . . . ” When Nico paused, I peeked at him through my fingers. “They are your two best friends, right?”
I nodded. He turned back to them.
“So since you’re her two best friends, and she’s not tellin’ me what she wants, I think we should all figure this out together.” His voice lowered. “Because I wanna get to know her. Because I think she’s beautiful, interestin’, and sexy as fuck, and that laugh of hers knocks me on my ass. And I think she wants me, too, only she’s afraid.”
He paused to draw a breath. “So. Tell me what I need to do to make her mine.”
Chloe’s gasp was soft and thrilled. Grace actually looked like she was impressed by his honesty.
The man was an evil genius.
“Being single would help, for starters.”
Though my ovaries had just exploded from hearing Nico Nyx say “make her mine,” I had the presence of mind to stick up for him.
“He told me he is, Grace. And I believe him.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “That doesn’t change the fact that he has a bad reputation. With women, I mean.”
“Yep.” Nico nodded at her. “And half the shit the press writes about me isn’t true.”
“Which means the other half is.”
He nodded again. “Never been a choirboy, that’s for sure.”
I could tell Grace liked that he didn’t try to make excuses.
“Frankly, that’s the problem, Nico. It’s not only the women. It’s everything together. Your entire lifestyle. You have no credibility. The way to earn someone’s trust is to be trustworthy. And that takes time. You can’t expect Kat to believe you’re not going to hurt her just because you told her so the first day you met. You have to prove it to her. And since we’re being honest here, I don’t think you can.”
“I can’t if she doesn’t give me a chance. That’s all I’m askin’ for: a chance.”
Chloe watched this back and forth in wordless fascination. My face was getting very hot. From the corner of my eye, I saw a camera flash though the front window, and my heart sank.
Paparazzi. They followed Nico like sharks.
“Why should she risk it? What’s in it for her except public humiliation when she sees a picture of you with some other woman on the cover of a magazine? I mean, of course, it’s a nice dream. The glamorous rock star boyfriend, what woman hasn’t fantasized about that? But it’s not reality. Not the reality Kat needs, anyway.”
This conversation had spun off from the merely strange into the twilight zone. “You guys. You realize I’m sitting right here, right?”
Chloe shushed me.
Nico took his hand from the back of my chair and ran it through his hair. The loss of the warmth of his touch left me aching.
“Okay. I hear you. And I get where you’re comin’ from. But you should consider the possibility that what Kat needs might not be what you think she needs.”
With a glance over his shoulder, he stood. He’d noticed the paparazzi, too. He’d probably developed a sixth sense for them by now.
“Ladies. Been a real pleasure. But it looks like the fishbowl just got a little smaller. Time for me to go.”
He looked down at me. He bent and kissed me softly on the mouth. Somewhere outside, another flash went off. Then another. With his lips on mine, I was too far gone to care.
“Think about it,” he said quietly, holding my gaze. Then he turned and strode away.
He’d never even gotten his drink.
So I thought about it. For the next week straight, I thought about it. When I still hadn’t come to a conclusion, I thought about it for another week after that.
I thought so much about it, I wore out the batteries in my vibrator.
I didn’t contact him. Though I looked at his number in my cell about fifty times a day, I didn’t call. Even Grace was impressed by my restraint.
“Though it’s probably only making him want you more. A man like him can’t be used to waiting. Or is that what you’re counting on?”
We were talking on the phone as I pushed a Swiffer over the hardwood in my living room on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Dust bunnies were multiplying in every corner with the speed of . . . well, bunnies.
“Give me a break, Grace. You know I have zero game. I just haven’t called because I have no idea what I’m going to say.”
“Well, you could always talk about that lovely picture of the four of us in Star magazine.”
She was still pissed about the grainy, long-distance shot some paparazzo had snapped of Nico leaning down to kiss me in the restaurant while Chloe and Grace sat at the table, looking on. The headline had screamed, “Nico Nyx and His Harem!”
My face wasn’t recognizable, but Chloe’s and Grace’s were. The article theorized Nico had such sexual stamina he had to have at least three women at a time to satisfy him. Grace had gotten a fair bit of grief from her clients over it.
And Chloe had spent days trying to convince her douche-nozzle boyfriend, Miles, that she wasn’t part of Nico’s harem. Miles had insisted they go on another “break” while he thought about it. Ass.
“S
peaking of which, did you read the story about Avery going to rehab?”
For “exhaustion” the article said. Ha.
“Yes, I did. And ninety days seems like a pretty long time to catch up on your sleep.”
My phone chirped, announcing the arrival of a new text. I decided I’d check after I hung up with Grace. “Are we still on for dinner Saturday?”
“It’s your birthday, knucklehead, of course we’re still on! You only turn twenty-six once!”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I thought I’d be an actual adult by now.”
“You’re an adult.” She paused. “Ish.”
“Hey!” It was one thing if I said it. It was another thing if she agreed with me.
“Although you do have a mortgage, so, technically, you’re an adult. What can I bring?”
We were going to do our annual pajama party at my house, complete with feather boas, champagne, ice cream, and chick flicks. I’d already picked out the movie: The Notebook. Because nothing says “we’re having a good time” like ugly crying with your single, drunken girlfriends on a Saturday night.
Plus, Ryan Gosling. Hello!
“That seven-layer dip thing you made last July fourth. I don’t want any real food, just snacks, appetizers, and desserts.”
“And alcohol.”
“That goes without saying. Seven-ish?”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
We hung up. I checked who my text was from. When I saw, I might have cursed a little. Or a lot. And started pacing.
Are you still thinking?
Boy, was I. But how to answer? I chewed my lip and continued pacing around the living room, the Swiffer abandoned in the middle of the floor. Another text came through.
Because I’m still thinking about you. I can’t stop.
I flopped onto the couch.
Okay, it was time to shit or get off the pot. I blew out a hard breath, mentally went over my pro-and-con list one final time, and decided.
Ditto.
I admit: it was possibly cowardly. And definitely lame. And I swear I wasn’t trying to be all cool and unaffected. I had the trembling hands and sweaty armpits to prove it.
My phone rang. I looked at the number and tried to maintain some level of sanity. I clicked Answer and held it to my ear.
“You’re doin’ that loud breathin’ thing again, Kat. You tryin’ to have phone sex with me?”
“You didn’t give me a chance to say ‘hello.’” My voice had gone strangely breathy, exactly like I was trying to have phone sex with him. I took a few deep breaths, holding the mouthpiece away from my nose.
“Oh. Sorry. Go ahead.”
I heard the smirk in Nico’s voice. He was enjoying my discomfort. Damn him.
“Um. Hello?”
“Hey, Kat. Guess who?”
I cleared my throat and pretended to think. “Let’s see. Bob?”
“No.” Pause. “Who’s Bob?”
Was he jealous? He sounded a little jealous. Was that weird, or thrilling?
“Bob’s the guy at the corner store who calls me when he gets in a new shipment of Patron.”
“Is he hot?”
Yes, Nico was definitely jealous. I felt a bit smug. “So hot. If you’re into eighty-year-old men with six teeth and questionable hygiene.”
“Hmm. Well, you never know. A lot of women like older men. Especially older men who supply them with tequila.”
“True. Although I do have my standards. I require my men to have at least eight teeth. Ten is preferable, but a girl can’t be too picky.”
He laughed. It was soft, intimate, and utterly pleased. I smiled, loving the sound of it.
“Lucky for me I’ve got all my teeth, then. I think that should score me some bonus points.”
I pictured his mega-watt, ultra-white smile. Yes, it did score him a few bonus points. But I didn’t want him getting too cocky. “Eh, you’re okay. I’m very loyal to Bob, though. He knows exactly what I need.”
Nico’s voice lost all its laughter and lightness. It turned dark, serious, toe-curlingly sexy. “I know what you need.”
And there went my heartbeat, surging to breakneck speed. Since we were at a safe distance, I thought a little light flirtation couldn’t get me into too much trouble. I pretended innocence, just to see what he’d say. “Oh? And what’s that?”
“Gimme your address and I’ll come over and show you.”
That’s not what I thought he would say.
“What—now?” Frantic, I looked around the living room. The place was a mess. I wasn’t much of a housekeeper, cleaning only when the dust became choking. I couldn’t have Nico come over!
“Yes. Now. Made me wait two fuckin’ weeks, Kat. I wanna see you. Now.”
“Um. Maybe we should meet somewhere a little more . . . public.”
“You afraid to be alone with me?”
“Well . . . yes.”
He made a low, masculine noise in his throat. “Good. You should be. ’Cause I’ve spent the last fourteen days with a dick so hard it hurts. Gimme your address, Kat.”
Whoa. Okay, this was all happening a little too fast, two-week interval notwithstanding. I couldn’t just invite the man over with the expectation that we were going to have sex the minute he walked in the door.
Right?
“Here’s the thing, Nico—”
“Don’t overthink it, Kat. You wanna see me or not?”
My pulse was all over the place. I sat up, then regretted that move as the room began to wobble. “I do.”
“What’s the address?”
“I wasn’t done talking.”
He cursed. I ignored it. “I do want to see you, but I just want to lay a few ground rules before we start this whole . . . whatever this whole thing is.”
I waited for him to respond. He sounded like he was listening hard, and he didn’t answer, so I plunged ahead. “I don’t want to just . . . um . . . ”
“You got a three-date rule, sweetheart?”
I was relieved that he sounded amused. Thank God he had a sense of humor.
“Because I can respect that. But you should realize that when you see me today, it’ll be the third date. So the next time you see me, all bets are off.” His voice dropped. “And I wanna see you again tomorrow.”
“We haven’t even had one date yet!”
“The shoot, then the restaurant. That’s two.”
His idea of what comprised a date was seriously impaired.
“Those don’t count as dates! We were working on the shoot, and you were only at the restaurant for like five seconds. If I see you today, that will be our first date.”
I didn’t mention that he’d gotten the details of the three-date rule wrong. It was sex on the third date, not after. I was trying to buy myself as much time as possible, because he was moving at the speed of a rocket.
“Okay. I’ll give you the shoot. But the restaurant should count. Being with someone at a restaurant is textbook definition of a date. No matter how long it lasted.”
I could not believe we were actually having this conversation. I sighed.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Now give me the fuckin’ address, Kat, before I wear a hole in the damn rug.”
He was pacing?
“What part of town are you coming from? Because I need, like, a half hour to get cleaned up.”
Nico’s response was a growl. I gave him the address.
“You’re in luck. I’m comin’ from the Hollywood Hills. It’ll take me at least forty-five minutes to get to Venice in traffic.” He paused. “Or I could take the bike. That’ll get me there in thirty.”
Was he screwing with me right now?
“You still there, Kat?”
“I’m still here.”
“I’m gonna be there in thirty minutes. You gonna be ready for me?”
Oh, the dark promise in that tone. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down. I already knew I was going to fall. The only qu
estion now was, how far?
And how hard?
And would the fall break me?
“I’ll be ready,” I whispered.
Nico’s voice was almost a purr. “Darlin’, that’s exactly what I’ve been waitin’ to hear.”
Before I could say another word, Nico hung up.
Thirty minutes passed at the speed of light.
I did my best to straighten up. I threw the dirty dishes in the sink into the dishwasher. I threw the dirty clothes on my bedroom floor into the laundry basket in my closet. The vacuum cleaner made its first appearance in six months. The entire time¸ I was frantically checking the clock.
I needed to brush my teeth. I needed to change my clothes.
I needed to take a Xanax.
When I heard the knock at the door almost exactly half an hour later, I was ready. Though not composed. I had no illusions about being “cool” for this. I just hoped Nico didn’t notice how badly my hands shook.
I opened the door. He stood there, brawny and unshaven, just as beautiful as I remembered him. From one hand dangled a motorcycle helmet. Parked behind him at the curb was a fat, shiny Harley, which fit. He didn’t seem like a sport bike kind of guy.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You gonna invite me in?”
Visions of that moment when the unsuspecting homeowner invites Dracula inside filled my head. I brushed them aside, trying to maintain some semblance that I was a normal human being, and not the quivering mass of Jell-O I felt like.
“Of course. Sorry. Come in.”
I stood aside to let him pass. He set the helmet on the table by the door, turned back to me, and before I could even get the door shut, took me in his arms.
He kissed me. Hard.
It was a take-no-prisoners kind of kiss. Or maybe it was a staking-a-claim kind of kiss. Either way, it knocked me off my feet.
When it was over, I opened my eyes to find him staring intently down into my face. “That was the longest two weeks of my fuckin’ life. Don’t pull that shit on me again.”
The man had no filter. I couldn’t help it: I cracked a huge grin. “It’s nice to see you, too, Nico.”
“Yeah?” He grinned back at me, and suddenly all the butterflies that had been having seizures in my stomach settled. It was good to see him. I liked having him in my house. “I mean, you don’t compare to Bob, but I suppose you’ll do.”
Sweet as Sin Page 6
