He pulled her to him, arching up to meet her as they started to find a rhythm. He reached one hand up, tangling his fingers in her hair as he deepened their kiss. He had completely forgotten about the hotel room, the bird, and the maid outside until he heard the door open.
“Stay put,” she whispered in his ear, then he was alone on the bed, her sudden absence almost physically painful.
“Oh!” he heard a woman say as the door closed shut. “I’m sorr… Is that a bird?”
“Yeah,” Dana said, a giggle in her voice as she slid casually into a strong city accent. “It’s mine. Some guys have a thing for birds. What are you gonna do, right?”
“Right. Sure.”
Nick could feel the maid’s eyes on him. Probably, on all of him. Some of which had become noticeably more noticeable as of late.
Gonna get you for this, Diz, he thought, but stayed still, as ordered.
“We don’t… there are no birds allowed,” the maid stammered.
“S’okay, sweetie,” Dana said. “We’ll be done in about fifteen minutes, and when I go, the bird goes. But I’m kinda running on the clock. Would you put the Do Not Disturb sign up for us, please?”
There was a moment of silence, then shuffling feet, then the sound of the door closing. Nick heard someone, he could only presume it was Dana, moving around the room.
“Can I get up now?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. He pulled the pillow off the top of his head and caught the slightest glimpse of Dana’s electric blue bra as she pulled her turtleneck sweater back over her head. Her jeans were already on, leaving his curiosity about her underwear as unsatisfied as the rest of him. Nick hopped off the bed, turning his back to Dana as he arranged himself and zipped up.
“This is fun!” she said. Her face was bright and flushed, with no sign of any concern over what had happened between them just moments before. Maybe it had all been an act for her, just some quick thinking to divert the hotel staff. Nick, however, was still having trouble catching his breath.
“Don’t thank me or anything,” Dana said.
“For what?” Nick growled as he grabbed his shirt off the bed, knowing his irritation resulted more from not being able to finish what they’d started than anything else.
“For saving us, you big dope.”
She walked toward him to grab her jacket off the floor. Nick stopped buttoning his shirt to watch her.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “You were good.”
“I really thought on my feet, didn’t I?” she said, walking back toward the bird and kneeling in front of it. “And I think little Horshack here kinda likes me.”
She held out her hand to it. Horshack squawked, but it was admittedly a lesser squawk than the first. Dana shrugged and backed off.
“Well. Okay. Maybe not.”
Dana got up, threw on her jacket, and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. Nick watched her as she moved lightly back across the room. She laid the towel down at the bottom of the box, then lifted the bird up and put it in. The bird flapped, but allowed her to maneuver it. She stood up and grinned at Nick.
“I’m good at this,” she said, “aren’t I?”
“A natural,” he said flatly. He pulled on his jacket and headed toward the door. “Get the box.”
She picked it up, a bright smile on her face, and followed him out. He could hear her unmistakable giggle behind him as they made their way down the hall, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it.
“Care to share your amusement with the rest of the class, Ms. Wiley?” he asked.
“I was just wondering,” she said, filling her face with mock innocence as he tossed a look back at her, “why your shirt’s untucked, Nick.”
He allowed only a menacing chuckle in response.
“And you’re walking kind of funny,” she continued.
He held the door to the stairwell open for her. “You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
She tossed him a grin as she passed by him. “Sure you don’t want to take a quick shower before we go?”
“No, thanks,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure the cold water works,” she added.
“Don’t think you won’t pay for this, Diz,” he said, “because you will.”
She giggled again. He closed the door and followed her as she bounded down the steps, the bird giving the occasional mild squawk of annoyance as they moved.
***
Babs lay back on the tremendous king-size bed in the Bellefleurs’ guest room and stared into the canopy overhead. She’d been locked in there all afternoon with nothing but horrible daytime television to keep her company. She’d already scoured the place looking for things she might use to pick the lock, but there was nothing. The bathroom was stocked with the finest amenities—including an avocado facial that she’d done an hour earlier to fight the boredom—but not so much as a bobby pin anywhere. They’d taken her purse and jacket, so those resources were gone.
She huffed out a breath and sat up, flicking on the television. Ellen Degeneres was interviewing a chimpanzee. Well. It beat Jerry Springer by a mile.
There was a knock at the door. Babs hit mute on the television.
“Come in,” she said. She heard the key move in the lock, then Vivian entered, carrying a large silver tray.
“Hey, Babsie,” she said. “How ya doing?”
Babs stared at her. “I’m being held captive by two of the most irritating people in New York, which is saying quite a bit. How are you?”
Vivian settled the tray on the bed and sat down across from Babs, crossing her feet in front of her. “Oh, come on. Cheer up. You know it’s nothing personal. Here. I brought you your favorite stuff.” She pulled up the silver cover over the platter. “Cheeseburgers. Fries.”
She walked to the door and picked up two large drink cups from the hallway. “Chocolate milk shakes.”
Babs stared at Vivian. “You brought me McDonald’s?”
Vivian grabbed a burger and started unwrapping. “What? You love McDonald’s.”
“Not the point,” Babs said. “I don’t like being cooped up in here.”
“It’s just until tomorrow,” Vivian said. “And I thought we could make it a girls’ night.” She grinned and pulled a DVD out from under the platter. “I rented Moulin Rouge.”
Babs stared at her. Vivian put her burger down and sighed.
“Look, this whole situation is less than ideal. I know. But we should just make the best of it. And—oh!—I’ll double the fee. Two hundred thousand, just as soon as Gary and I get the money.”
Babs crossed her arms over her stomach, hoping to mask the grumbling it was making in response to the smell of food. She was still too angry to respond to Vivian’s attempts to buy back her friendship—and, obviously, her loyalty. She knew it was only so that Babs wouldn’t go to the police after they returned her.
If they returned her. Crazy as they were, Babs couldn’t take anything for granted. But Vivian’s paper-thin overtures were getting on her nerves, and all she wanted to do was smack the woman into next Tuesday.
But that wouldn’t get her out of this room. Using Vivian’s desperation against her, however, might. Babs uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, picking a fry off the tray and biting a bit off the end.
“Moulin Rouge, huh?” she said.
Vivian grinned. “Yeah. You wanna watch it?”
Babs shrugged. “Why not? What else am I going to do?”
Vivian patted her on the knee. “That’s my girl. Make the best of it, right?”
Babs chewed. “Right.”
She watched as Vivian made her way to the armoire and put the movie in the DVD player. Babs grabbed another fry and chewed thoughtfully as she watched Vivian bounce around like a teenage girl.
“Hey,” Babs said after a moment, “why don’t we really make it a girls’ night? We can do manicures. And we can do each other’s hair.”
Vivian bounded back to the bed and
sat down next to Babs. “Oh, great! I’m so happy you’re going to enjoy staying with us.”
Babs lowered the wattage on her smile. “I’m not staying with you, Vivian. I’m your hostage, and don’t think I’ve forgotten it.”
The light in Vivian’s eyes dimmed just a bit. Good. Babs’s good feelings had to remain just out of Vivian’s reach if the manipulations were going to work properly.
Babs leaned over and quickly patted Vivian’s knee. “But I recognize that I can sit here and be miserable, or I can make the best of a bad situation.” She reached over and grabbed her milk shake, taking a sip before adding, “There’s this one hairstyle I’ve been dying to try. Do you have any bobby pins?”
Thirteen
Nick and Dana returned to Babs’s penthouse from the hotel to find that someone had delivered bird food and a cage; Babs must have set it up that morning, sometime before she got kidnapped. Nick got the bird settled on the terrace, which was no small feat. The second he opened the box, it hopped out and bit his hand. It was another ten minutes of chasing the damn thing around the terrace before Nick was able to capture it in the hotel towel and battle it into the cage. In the process, he discovered that the bird’s smell got even nastier when it was pissed off.
Good to know. He guessed.
When he came back in, he found Dana sitting on the couch, staring at his cell phone, which she’d set out on the coffee table. Her eyes fluttered as she stared, and she looked exhausted.
“They’re probably not gonna call,” he said.
“They might.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“No.”
“Well,” he said, “I’m gonna go take a shower and throw these clothes in the wash.”
“Yeah, you stink.”
“Thanks a lot.”
She grinned up at him. “That’s one foul bird.”
“Okay. Enough.”
“Get it? Foul bird? Fowl bird? Come on. This is my best material.”
“Get some sleep,” he said over his shoulder as he headed to the laundry room. Since the hotel, something had shifted between them. Dana had seemed more comfortable, and they’d joked and laughed through most of the cab ride back to Babs’s place.
It had been like old times.
It had been nice.
When he came out of the shower he found Dana passed out on the couch, her head leaning against the arm at an angle that was sure to hurt later. He tried to wake her up, but when it became obvious to him that she was down for the count, he gently lifted her and carried her into the guest bedroom. He took her shoes off and folded the quilt up and over her, then sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep until the dryer buzzed.
Then he sat on the couch and stayed there for what must have been hours, because when he lifted out of his thoughts and became conscious of his surroundings again, it was dark out. Staring up at the vague city shadows playing on the ceiling, he focused on what he had to do next.
He had to tell her. Everything. It was time. Since they’d left the hotel he’d known that he was fooling himself thinking he could just leave and let it all go. The kiss that morning and the near sex in the hotel could be chalked up to overwhelming physical chemistry, but it was the easy comfort they’d slipped into afterward that had made his heart ache for her. Sure, he wanted to find out if she was wearing electric blue underwear, but more than that, he wanted to wake up to her bad jokes every morning for the rest of his life.
He realized his chances were slim, but without coming clean to Dana about everything, he didn’t have a prayer of keeping her. At least this way, if he ended up still going to California, he would know it was because Dana wouldn’t have him and not because he never tried.
That might not be much, but it was something.
***
Dana opened her eyes and focused on the blazing red numerals on the bedside clock. 10:23. Wow. She tried to put the day together, to distinguish what had been a dream and what had been real. It all seemed like a dream. Kissing Nick. Babs being kidnapped. The faux-fight in the dingy bar. The bald bird guy. The incredibly sexy interlude in the hotel, followed by a cab ride and the hottest up-against-the-wall sex of her life.
She blinked. Wait. She remembered the cab ride, then sitting on the couch staring at Nick’s cell phone, but that was it. She must have fallen asleep on the couch, and Nick must have carried her into the bed in the guest room.
The hot wall sex was the only part that hadn’t been real. She should have known, now that she thought about it, since the wall had been in her house back at the winery, but still.
“Oh, God,” she thought, and put her hand to her forehead. What if she’d been having that dream while Nick was carrying her into the room? What if she’d done something or said something or worse—what if she’d…?
She gasped and shot up in bed, the thought horrifying her as her face flamed.
“You okay?”
She looked up to see Nick silhouetted in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing his black T-shirt and jeans, and even with his back to the light she could tell by his voice he was smiling.
“Yeah,” Dana said, moving her legs over the side of the bed. “Thanks for putting me in bed.”
“You would have been in a world of hurt if I’d let you stay on the couch.”
She nodded, looked up at him. “Did anyone call?”
Nick shook his head. “No. We probably won’t be hearing anything until tomorrow morning.”
“So, now we just… wait?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty much.”
She couldn’t see much of his face in the dark, but if he was feeling anything near what she was feeling, it was probably best to move it out of the bedroom. They’d managed, ever since the hotel, to get the friendly tone back in their relationship; but that was an easy boat to rock, and she needed something solid under her feet at the moment.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” she said, standing up and padding past him into the living room, “but I’m starving.”
The hall light was the only one on in the whole place, leaving the penthouse washed in mostly the dull glow from the city outside.
“What’s with the vampire ambience?” Dana asked as she headed to the kitchen. Nick followed her.
“Nothing, really,” he said. “I’ve just been sitting. Thinking.”
Dana pulled open the refrigerator door. “Thinking? About what?”
He cleared his throat. “Stuff.”
“Well, at least it’s nothing too vague.” Dana inspected the contents of the fridge. Two containers of leftover Chinese takeout, some coffee creamer, and half a cannoli. She smiled and grabbed for the takeout. “There never has been a woman in my family who could cook worth a damn.”
“No, there never has.”
She glanced up to see Nick watching her, unsmiling. God. So serious. As soon as the food was in the microwave, they were definitely going to have to lighten things up. Starting with the lights.
“So,” she said, holding out the two plastic take-out bowls, “Mongolian Beef or Szechuan Chicken?”
“I never slept with Melanie.”
Dana stared up at him, her mind taking a moment to translate what he’d said. Had he just said he never slept with Melanie?
“So… the Mongolian Beef then?” she said weakly.
He kept his eyes on her, and in the glow from the still-open refrigerator, she could see the tension in his face. He took in a deep breath.
“I had actually planned that to come out a little smoother.”
“I should hope to God so,” Dana said, “because as far as jarring statements go, I’m still feeling that one buzzing in my teeth.”
He met her eyes, and he looked nervous, which was definitely not like Nick. “She got to the house that night about five minutes before you did. I’d been drinking. She undressed and threw herself at me, then you walked in and I threw her out but I was too drunk to drive out after you so I passed
out on the floor and left the next morning.”
Dana blinked. “Are you babbling? Isn’t babbling my thing? Am I still dreaming?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t even know Melanie had told you we’d slept together until later and I didn’t tell you the truth because I wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting and by the time I got over myself it was too late.” Dana felt the left side of her body going cold, then she realized she was still standing in the half-open refrigerator. She put the Chinese food on the counter and shut the door.
“Gee. Get a load of that. I haven’t eaten a bite, and I’m suddenly not hungry anymore.”
“I know I should have told you…”
“You know, this could be a great diet. Every time I want to eat, you tell me about Melanie undressing for you. I’ll be totally hot by bikini season.”
He kept his eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be, you big ass,” she said, not able to control the volume or stability of her voice. “I realize it’s weird for me to be angrier about you not sleeping with Melanie than I was about you sleeping with her, because sleeping with her should be worse but…”
Nick’s eyebrows twitched toward each other. “So… you’re saying you’re mad, then?”
“Yes, I’m mad!” she said. “I’m furious! I just don’t know if I have the right to be, which is making me a little hysterical on top of it.”
Nick ran his hand over his hair. “You have every right—”
“Don’t do that!” she said. “Don’t be all contrite and noble and ‘I don’t blame you’ about it. It just makes my raving hysteria look worse, which makes me angrier, which then feeds the hysteria… Do you see how we’re in a vicious cycle here?”
He finally met her eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
Maybe Baby Page 10
