“No,” Joe said, holding the door shut each time Maury tried to open it. “I’m not giving you the car. You’re going home right now in this cab, and we’ll follow you in The Stogie.”
Maury frowned furiously, then reached into the seat behind him. “If you won’t take the cab, at least take your bags—”
“Our bags?”
Maury stopped to turn to Meg. “Yeah. I packed some things you might need—”
“You went into my apartment?” His getting Joe’s stuff, she could understand since he was staying with Maury. But her stuff? “How’d you get inside?”
“That ain’t important right now, Meggie.”
“It’s not?” She wasn’t sure she liked this unexpected breaking-and-entering side of Maury Seeger. “Then, what is?”
“Where you’re going is.”
Joe took it from there. “And where do you think it is we’re going?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want you to tell me, but don’t leave the Bay area, okay? Just find a place to stay for the night. You got the money I gave you earlier, Joey?”
Beside Joe on the sidewalk, Meg could feel the tension thrumming through his body.
“Yeah, that was quite the fistful of hundreds you pressed on me. There’s no Mafia or anyone else, is there? You planned this whole thing, right down to the money I’d need during the chase.”
Maury vehemently shook his head no. “You’re wrong. I had no idea, I swear. This all came down after you two left earlier. I gave you that money out of the goodness of my heart and nothing else. Come on, Joey, this is me—your old Uncle Maury. I would never purposely get you or Meggie into this. How can you think that? I love you both like you’re my own children.”
“Oh, how sweet,” Meg crooned, her heart moved by Maury’s sentiment. “I love you, too, Maur—”
Honking, blaring car horns cut her off. The traffic light had turned green again.
“Son-of-a-bitchin’ drivers,” Maury fumed. “Look, I got to go. You get where you’re going to stay for the night—”
“Forget that. I’m going to sleep in my bed at your place tonight, Uncle Maury—”
“No, you’re not, Joey, you hear me? Get someplace safe and call me on my cell phone.”
“Joe,” Meg said softly, putting a hand on his arm, “just agree. Don’t upset him.”
Joe met her gaze and exhaled sharply. “All right, Uncle Maury, all right. What else?”
“Don’t call the house, ’cause I got caller ID on that line. It could give you away if the wise guys get inside my place and start searching around. You two kids stay together at all times, the both of you. And remember your old Uncle Maury loves you.”
“We love you, too.” Joe backed away from the cab, drawing Meg with him. “Where are you going to be?” he called to his uncle.
“At my apartment!”
“Oh, that reminds me, Maury,” Meg said. “We fed Larry, Moe and Curly, like you asked us to in your note.”
“Good girl, Meggie.” With that, Maury soundly hit the back of the front seat, turning his ire on the cabbie. “Hey, you up there, what are you—asleep? You can’t hear all that honking? Let’s go!”
Apparently, the driver was awake, because the taxi shot forward, nearly hitting a car that whipped into its lane ahead of it. The cab lurched to a sudden stop and just as suddenly made another shot forward that carried Maury’s exuberant cursing back to Meg and Joe. Within seconds, the vehicle disappeared over a short bridge that arched over the Hillsborough River, leaving relative quiet in its wake.
Standing there on the sidewalk, Joe shook his head. “I am so sorry, Meg. Looks like Uncle Maury’s up to his old tricks.”
“You still think so, Joe? He acted like he knew what he was talking about.”
“That’s how he sucks you in. He’s being consistent and his story is following a logical course. Can’t fault him there.” Looking troubled, Joe shook his head. “I cannot believe I had him and let him get away. I should have pulled him out of that cab and taken him with us.”
“I don’t think he would have let you, Joe. Besides, he said he’s going home, which is where you would have taken him.”
“True. Man, I don’t know what the hell to tell my parents when I get home.”
“About what?”
“Uncle Maury’s status. My mom wants him to come live with her and Dad in Denver. She worries about him being alone and getting too old to take care of himself.”
Meg smiled. “That’s nice of your mom—but Denver, really? Talk about culture shock. Maury loves Florida.”
“I know.” Joe smiled warmly at her. “I’m beginning to see why, too.”
Suddenly shy, Meg lowered her gaze to the sidewalk and stared at her painted toenails. When Joe didn’t say anything further, she looked up to find him watching her.
“Meg?”
“What?”
Joe placed a steadying hand on her arm. “I just realized—and you’re not going to believe this—Uncle Maury forgot to give us our bags.”
JOE DIDN’T RELAX until they’d made it safely to the new chain hotel Meg had directed him to on the fringe of Ybor City. However, now that they were checked in to their clean and tidy room and had called Uncle Maury, who seemed calmer, things weren’t going so well. At least, that was Joe’s assessment of the current argument between him and his unhappy roommate.
Meg stood at the end of the massive, inviting king-size bed and faced Joe, her arms defiantly crossed. “I’m not sleeping in that bed with you—or in the nude either—Joe Rossi, so you can just forget that.”
“Forget what? I didn’t plan this.” Propped against a stack of pillows, Joe was stretched out on the bed, his hands behind his head, his ankles crossed. “You’re the one who said we should come here. And I did ask you to come inside with me to the check-in desk—”
“But Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Without luggage or wedding rings? At one in the morning? Do you know how that looks?”
“I have a pretty fair idea, since I was the one doing it. But why all the objections now, Meg? I came outside and told you, before we ever came up here, that all they had was one room with a king-size bed.”
Her angry expression bled to one of hesitancy as she looked everywhere but at him. “I know. It just looks so…real now. When we were downstairs, it didn’t seem that big a deal.”
Acutely conscious that they were alone in a hotel room on a balmy night with palm trees swaying seductively right outside the window, Joe thought he understood. “It would have helped if Uncle Maury had at least given us our bags, wouldn’t it?”
“A little.” The vexation returned to her features. “And how did he get in my apartment, do you suppose?”
Joe shrugged. “You got me. I can’t take the blame or the credit for anything he does, Meg. The man had almost sixty years to get weird before I was even born.”
Abruptly, she turned away from him and started to pick at a thread on the bedspread. “Speaking of weird, what are we doing here if you don’t believe him and think this is just a big game?”
“Well, for one thing, you told me not to upset him and to go along with him. For another, no matter what the truth is, it’s late and we’re both tired. There’s no sense beating our heads against my uncle’s eccentricity this late at night. And, even if he is telling the truth about the Mafia being after him, there’s nothing we can do about it tonight but stay hidden. That meant someplace like this—or your place. And you wouldn’t hear of that, when I suggested we—”
“I can’t do that. I don’t—”
“I know. You don’t ask men inside on a first date—although this isn’t a date, as you keep telling me. And there’s also the chance that Carl the jerk, who still needs his ass kicked, could drop by and make a big scene tomorrow. You don’t need that…Did I forget anything?”
Meg raised her chin a proud notch. “No. But you could have dropped me off at home—Maury would never know—and then gone somewhere by yourself.”
“True
. I can still do that if you want me to.” Joe remained absolutely still, his gaze boring into hers.
She shook her head. “No, it’s too late now. We’re already here.”
Joe lost a battle with a grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. “Yes, we are. But maybe I ought to tell you that I still have enough of a doubt about my old uncle’s story to worry that it might be true. In that case, I didn’t want to take a chance and leave you alone tonight.”
Meg’s eyes rounded with surprise. “Oh. I…hadn’t thought about that. That’s really nice of you. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. But let me say something else straight out so we can get past all this and get some sleep. Just because you’re going to be in the same bed with me, and that’s going to make me completely wild, doesn’t mean I’m going to jump you or demand sex. I’m not that kind of guy. Your reputation is safe with me, Meg.”
She raised an eyebrow as she demurely crossed her legs. “I know it is because you’re going to sleep in that chair, Mr. I-Have-a-Linda.”
Now, why’d she have to bring up Linda? Did she really think he needed a reminder of his girlfriend’s existence? “Okay, no, I’m not. The only chair in here is the hard-backed one that goes with the desk. And I don’t need any reminders of Linda because I’m not the one who keeps worrying about sex. You are.” And that was when it struck him—and had him chuckling. “Wait a minute. It’s not that you don’t trust me, is it? You don’t trust yourself in that bed with me. Admit it.”
Meg jumped up off the bed, her face bright red. “You could not be more wrong, you conceited—”
“Like hell! I’m right, aren’t I?” Joe jackknifed to a sitting position and laughed out loud, not feeling the least bit guilty for teasing her…but more than a little guilty about having completely forgotten about Linda until Meg had mentioned her.
Meg pursed her lips angrily. “You so are not right. I do not believe your ego, Joe Rossi.” She looked down at her clothes. “The only issue in question right now is what I’m going to wear to bed.”
“Wear your clothes.”
“And walk around tomorrow all wrinkled?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Besides, this happens to be my favorite T-shirt and I don’t want to stretch it out.” She thrust out her hand. “Take off your shirt.”
Joe thought her tone held a note of forced bravado. He suspected it wasn’t every day that she demanded a man remove an article of clothing. Unable to resist, he grinned. “You’re sending mixed signals here, Meg.”
“Only in your head,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I just want to sleep in it, you big goof. Unless you mean to.”
“No. You can have it.” Suddenly, the image of her in his shirt…and nothing else, filled his mind. Oh, this being alone in a hotel room with her was not getting any easier. “Hey, this won’t be the first time you’ve seen me without my shirt, will it?”
“You’re not supposed to bring that up. You said it was in the vault.” She put that tough-girl look on her face again and waggled her fingers at him impatiently. “Now, come on, take it off and give it to me.”
“Hey, I think you’re reading my lines.”
Meg narrowed her eyes even further, but said nothing.
Grinning, Joe rose to his knees to undo his belt and the button at the waist of his pants. Not once looking away from her, he tugged his knit shirt out of his slacks and pulled it over his head. With air-conditioned air whooshing out of the vent and chilling his bare skin, Joe tossed his garment to her.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She snagged it in midair, her gaze lingering on his bare chest before she turned away and rushed toward the tiny bathroom.
Joe resumed his reclined position on the bed and watched her go, admiring the sway of her shiny dark hair around her shoulders and the wiggle of her cute little behind as she hurried away. Just as she reached the bathroom door, Joe called out to her.
“Hey, Meg.”
She turned around. “What?”
“We have another problem. I’m not wearing any underwear.”
She stared at him, and her face turned red again. Joe waited patiently.
Finally, Meg blurted out, “Well, you’re not going to wear mine, so you can forget that.”
MEG HAD BEEN in the hotel room’s minuscule bathroom long enough to conclude that all her high-and-mighty railing about Carl’s cheating on her and how she’d never do that because she had too much integrity had just come back around to bite her on the butt. Not that she’d be cheating on anyone if she and Joe…well, if she and Joe. But he would be. He had a damn Linda. What did that mean, anyway? He’d never really said. Did he love her? Were they in a firmly committed relationship? Exclusively dating? Were they engaged? Was Linda just dreaming? Could intense and wishful thinking on Meg’s part cause Linda to grow a huge wart on the end of her nose? If it could, she already had one.
Oh, stop it, Meg. You’re despicable. Or maybe she was just human. Come on, this was a hotel room and they were two healthy young adults who were vastly attracted to each other. So what the heck else was supposed to happen here, if not sex?
Yeah. Thus bolstered, Meg started for the closed bathroom door, made it all the way over to it this time, but suddenly did a U-turn back to the tub, where she again confronted the solid barrier that was the closed door. Opening it was an act she’d already put off for as long as she could while stripping out of her clothes, folding them neatly, putting on Joe’s shirt, trying not to breathe in the man’s irresistibly masculine scent—a losing proposition—washing her face, running her fingers through her hair and fussing about not having her brush in here with her.
Then she’d rinsed her mouth with the hotel’s complimentary mouthwash. She had also found soap and shampoo. And a shower cap. And a tiny shoe sponge. She hadn’t used any of those items, but she had passed some minutes going through the minuscule basket of amenities next to the pygmy coffeemaker. Cowardly stall tactics.
Blame her lusting thoughts of Joe. Sure, she’d been flirty and forward when she hadn’t any clue she’d ever see him again, or that she’d be thrust into a situation that encouraged acting on her desires. But now, being in an actual hotel room with him was a whole other thing. It was like the sex was expected because the situation and the setting demanded it.
That totally wasn’t romantic. And then there were her rules. No sex on the first date—sometimes not until the fifth or sixth date, and sometimes never. She just wasn’t casual. She gave her heart easily, but not her body. And just in time to test that theory along came this guy, Joe Rossi, who made her libido scream, Screw the rules! We want the man!
Well, too bad. Joe had said he wasn’t going to do anything and her reputation was safe. How freakin’ noble of him. Why couldn’t he make the first move like guys were supposed to do and take this decision out of her hands? What was wrong with him? Okay, not a damn thing. He was everything she wanted—and that put her in a tough spot, didn’t it? Her choices were to step outside this room and see what happened from there—or curl up on the bathroom counter and sleep in here.
She eyed the hard, short countertop. I don’t think so. So, with her folded clothes over her arm and her heart in her throat, Meg marched to the bathroom door and opened it. The first thing she saw, straight ahead, was a closet, which stopped her in her tracks. Because Joe’s slacks hung on a hanger. His shoes, with his socks stuffed in them, were on the floor under his pants. Well, the man was no slob, she’d give him that. He was, however, now nude.
Oh, God. Meg squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath for a calming ten seconds. When she exhaled and opened her eyes, she realized something else: The room’s lights were dimmed. Oh, the man was very subtly sending out a signal, despite his “your reputation’s safe with me” speech. He was waiting for her. Most likely she’d find him sitting up in bed, propped against pillows, only the sheet covering him from the waist down. And the look in his eyes would say, Here I am, if you want me.
She
wanted him, damn it. It was that simple. Surely, Meg reasoned, if she and Joe felt this strongly, this quickly, he’d break it off with Linda as soon as possible. Of course, Carl hadn’t with her. Not that Joe was Carl. He wasn’t, but—
Ohmigod—Carl! Meg’s breath caught in her throat. He asked me to marry him. I’m supposed to talk to him tomorrow. What must Joe be thinking about that? To him, I probably seem more committed to someone else than he is.
All right, that settled it. This situation was just too complicated and—decision made—there wasn’t going to be any sex. There. That was easy, especially since she’d known the man only a matter of hours, even though it felt like three lifetimes already. But none of that mattered. She’d tell him they both needed to be free of entanglements, no matter how tenuous, before they explored this whatever it was between them.
But as she thought of the smoldering man in her bed waiting for her, Meg wondered if she could maybe rush along the tying up of loose ends—right now, tonight—by working in a quick call to Carl to tell him to drop dead. And then she could get Joe to do the same thing with Linda. Because she had a feeling that her rules were about to snap like dried twigs.
“Okay, here we go” was Meg’s whispered encouragement to herself.
Her cheeks aflame with desire, her heart pounding, she resolutely rounded the corner and entered the bedroom area. Certain she could feel those hot, hot eyes of his boring into her person, making her feel naked, which she very nearly was, Meg’s actions became stiff, belying her attempt at nonchalance as she padded over to the desk chair, laid her small pile of folded clothes on top of it and put her sandals under the chair.
All her tasks were now done. There was nothing left to do but go to bed. Go to Joe Rossi in her bed. Meg straightened up, subtly squaring her shoulders. She was going to do this, and damn the consequences. She’d wanted this man from the first moment she’d seen him in that fitting room two evenings ago. Everything inside her just exploded when she was around him. She’d never had such a strong reaction to a man.
She deserved some good, clean fun. Meg shook her head the tiniest bit. No, good clean fun was a ride on a Ferris wheel. This was…a ride on a bucking stallion, with any luck. Oh God, Meg, do it now! She zipped around, prepared to throw her head back and offer herself up on the altar of—
Blind Date Page 7
