He smiled and nodded his satisfaction, maybe he wasn't ambitious, but he liked his life. Yes sire, he liked it a lot. He liked being important to his family and those kids. He liked coming here at night and tinkering till all hours of the night.
He smiled to himself, and then walked back to the car that seemed determined to undermine his success. He sent it a mock Karate chop.
"You're pretty good," Her voice tied Nick in knots. He didn't have to turn around to know Kelsey was standing in the garage doorway, watching. He felt himself tense, and grow warm, and wished he could control his vacillating reaction.
"Thanks."
What was she doing here? He picked up a screwdriver and dove back under a car. Maybe if he ignored her, she'd go away. After all, she was just a mirage, wasn't she? Maybe.
Silence stretched forever.
Realizing she wasn't leaving, Nick sighed heavily and slid out from under the car minutes later, to find her at his heels. She stood there in a shiny yellow raincoat, with water dripping off the edges, staring at him. "So what brings you slumming?"
"That's below you Nick, you're not an insulting person," she returned, the only evidence that he hit a nerve in her darkening eyes. Eyes a man could get lost in. Eyes he needed to forget.
"Sorry, I guess I'm tired." He stood up, stretched and headed for the other side of the garage where he had a small hot plate of coffee simmering. Besides, distance helped. "Want some?"
"Sure." She smiled and proceeded to take the raincoat off.
"You didn't answer my question," he stirred four teaspoons of sugar into her coffee, then turned around and gaped. She was wearing a spaghetti strapped sundress, of bright blue and yellow. It resembled a thin cloud, covering her.
"I'm not pregnant, Nick," she finally blurted out, her eyes never leaving him as he handed her the coffee.
He almost dropped the cup. It was the last kind of thing he expected to hear. His mouth flew open and he stood staring.
She took the cup from his hand.
She looked so different tonight than he had ever seen her, so fragile, so vulnerable, so sexy.
He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw working overtime at a grind. He needed a toothpick, or a cigarette. He'd never get over her bluntness. A lady that came to the point. His shoulders stiffened, as he slowly turned away, placing his coffee on the hood of another car. "I'm sorry. Is this my problem?"
Was that casual enough for her? He couldn't allow her to see how disturbed he was.
"You're short tempered, when you're tired."
"A little." He acknowledged giving her a sideways glance.
She moved closer, as though trying to find something in his face or expression that might put her at her ease. She took a sip of the coffee then sat it beside his cup.
"I spoke to the doctors about it. At the clinic. They reassured me that they could keep trying, it might take time. But, I'm afraid I don't want to subject myself to this forever. I thought if I found a virile man, my troubles would be short-lived."
Nick pretended interest in his car. What was she doing here, in the middle of the night talking about virility? Had she walked? Nah, too far and surely not in the rain. Had she driven that car of hers around here? Hadn't he warned her? She had no business being here.
"Where's your car?"
"At home."
His eyes narrowed on her as he whipped around to stare at her, "Then how did you get here?"
"I took the subway, and walked the rest of the way, why?"
He came closer, close enough to smell the expensive perfume she wore. "Took the subway? Since when do you ride subways? Are you crazy?"
Her smile didn't reach her lips. "You told me not to be driving my car around here. I took that as some kind of warning. And I thought riding a subway might be an experience. It was." Her eyes were filled with excitement. "There weren't many people out this time of night, and everyone seemed very friendly. At least I planned on the rain and came prepared." She glanced at the raincoat hanging on the edge of the hood.
He grabbed her upper arms and shook her a moment, then realizing what he was doing, backed off. Staring blatantly at her, he marveled at her cool. The less he touched the better. He wasn't cool, far from it. "You don't ride subways. You don't walk the streets around here, either. Anybody would know you weren't from around here. You've got a price tag written all over you." He glanced down at the small leather purse. "You may not realize it, but there are some that would knock you off just for the price of a bottle. Your purse cost more than their clothes."
She glanced down at the Coach on her arm and gently sat it on top of the hood of the '57 Chevy. She twirled around, her skirt flaring at the action. It was a wisp of a skirt, almost see through, and Nick's body was already responding in a familiar way. Not that he wanted it to, but he no longer had control. Not where Kelsey was concerned at least.
"I suppose it was careless of me, but I wanted to talk to you, and your mother said you'd be down here."
"My mother, again? What? You got some mutual attraction for each other?" Nick came closer. "You talked to my mother?"
"Yes, of course. Is that against the law? I like her."
"How did you find her?"
"That wasn't easy." She blinked hard and Nick noticed the thickness of her long lashes against her creamy cheeks, and the way each breath she took made her breast swell against her dress. "But it didn't take long to realize you moved. I'm so glad, Nick. At least one of us has what they want."
He gave her the once over, again.
"So, anyway, then I called information and got your phone number. Stop looking at me like that, it's not like it's unlisted." She turned away from him again.
A hand snaked out to pull her around to him, bringing her dangerously closer. "What do you want?"
"I want to-to get pregnant," she gasped as his other hand snaked through her hair. He wasn't hurting her. He'd never hurt her, or any other woman for that matter. Still, she had to realize that she was playing with fire.
Nick's eyes traveled downward, taking in the summer dress with renewed interest. The swell of her breast seemed to brim against her dress. It was the first time she'd worn anything distracting around him. He couldn't help but wonder if she was playing at a seduction. If she was, he wanted to enjoy every moment of it.
Still, if he were honest, it wasn't the dress, or the sudden realization that she was beautiful. Hell no, it was that damn voice that had gotten to him. And she hadn't a clue about that. How could she know that it sent a strange thrill through him every time she spoke in that kitten soft voice? It seemed to slither up his spine like a feather. He'd never acted that way over a voice before. It made no sense.
He let her go, almost with a shove. "That's not my problem, anymore. I did my part."
Still imploring him, she walked straight up to him again.
"It's your job to get me pregnant," she stated, her voice husky, her eyes dilating.
"My job? Excuse me." he nearly laughed in her face. He had to make her mad enough to leave, because if she didn't go soon, he wasn't going to be responsible. The decision was made, had been since the moment she walked in. His body could only take so much torture.
Every nerve tensed, and coiled into a tight ball. Never, had he wanted a woman so strongly in his entire life. His hands were shaking to keep from grabbing her and throwing her in the back seat of the Chevy. He wanted to relieve this tension, wanted to release himself of the misery she kept causing. Yet it was more than that, and he knew it. He had started feeling things about her, caring about her.
What was it about her that made him want her? Why did she, of all women, stand out in his mind as perfect, her beautiful flawless skin, her long, graceful legs, her wild, unruly hair that she hadn't bothered pinning back tonight. And those pouting pink lips constantly begging his attention. Still, he had started falling for her long before she discarded those linen suits, and black glasses. It wasn't the beautiful woman standing before him that he wan
ted, it was the entire package—body and soul. Perhaps if they made love just once, he'd rid himself of this hungering need for her. Perhaps it was some crazy kind of craving that once satiated, would go away. Sure, Leonetti. This woman intrigued him in every way, taunted him. He wanted her in the most basic way a man could want a woman, and yet he knew at this moment, that once would never be enough. She was like some kind of fever, once in the bloodstream, he was a goner.
His loins began to ache, cry out to him, his body tensed, his eyes wouldn't hold hers any longer, couldn't.
He lied to himself, a dozen times. What he wanted was all of Kelsey O'Sullivan, not just the flesh. He wanted her to open up and fly like an angel into his arms, to give everything of herself, risk everything on a chance at something real and binding between them. He wanted to see a real smile on those pink lips. He wanted to show her a life she'd obviously never realized. He wanted a commitment from her, like he already felt towards her. Feelings, yes, raw, unbound feelings, gut feelings.
"Look, you got what you wanted. You accomplished your goal, but I didn't. I still need your help. And I'm here to ask for it."
Bold. Just like that. Kelsey didn't get her way, so she was here to get it.
"Okay, so I'll go to the clinic again," he answered, turning away from the irresistible urge to move closer. That perfume was driving him nuts. Why did women have to wear perfume? To drive men crazy, he supposed. Everything about her drove him crazy. How many nights had he lain awake trying to exorcise the memory of her from his mind? Forget the kiss; forget the woman with the husky voice. Underneath all that sophistication was a girl who hadn't ate a hot dog, hadn't flown a kite, and hadn't watched a sunset. And secretly he wanted to do all those things with her. He wanted to see the expressions on her face when she enjoyed them.
"The doctors suggested I might try it the natural way."
Nick's eyes were on fire. He was on fire. Not only her voice, but now the very words she spoke. Damn! Why'd she have to say that? Why didn't she just go away, find herself a husband, and have all the kids she wanted? He wanted her so badly he was afraid his clothes had burned right off his body. He felt exposed. Why was she taunting him? Deliberately!
This was no way to have a child. A child should be conceived in love.
"The natural way?" His eyes got bigger, his body more taut, his mind exploding with possibilities. Her words drew pictures. Pictures he tried hard to blot away, and couldn't.
"Sex," she choked out the words.
"Sex," he repeated wincing from the word. That cut lower than anything she'd said. It almost quenched the fire inside him, almost—but not quite. It hurt. How could a word like that sound so—so dirty?
She stared, unaware that her lips were moistly parted in invitation. That was the problem; she seemed totally unaware of the fact that she provoked all those feelings in him.
"You want to have—sex?"
"I did pay you."
Suddenly his heart plummeted to the ground, even though his body was still afire. Snook! She doesn't want you; she wants what you can give her. He shook his head, threw down a rag he had wiped his hands on. "So, now I'm a stud service?"
"N-no, no Nick. But I paid you for your services. It's not working, this way. Would it be so revolting to make l—I mean, to have sex with me?"
"Revolting? Try degrading!"
"I paid you. If you don't—don't do something, I'll sue you." She threatened.
"Sue me?" He laughed harshly, because his needs were strangling him, because what he felt for her seemed like more than what she suggested—much more. Couldn't she see what she was doing to him? It had to be obvious to her and anyone else who might wander in.
"Yes, sue you."
"What could you get?" He moved to close the garage door as the rain began to come down harder, and roll down the concrete floor of the garage. "You've stolen my dignity. What more do you want? How far you gotta take me down?"
"My money back," she cried, her voice going softer, as he moved to stand just in front of her, a hair's breath away.
Her money back?
"I can't give you, your money back, Kelsey." He choked out the words, his eyes ripping her to shreds. Why had he gotten himself into this mess?
"Why not?"
"It's tied up, in the bank. But you'll get every cent of it back, with interest. That's a promise." He answered swiftly, his eyes scorching her.
"I can't wait. I need the money to find—someone else."
She said it so matter-of-factly, he had to blink. How could this goddess of a woman, be so heartless? Suddenly his eyes were ablaze; his hands snaked around her upper arms. He wanted to shake some sense into her, into himself.
"I didn't think even you would play so dirty. You a woman, who has money, needs money. Come on." he ground at her.
"Dirty? Is having sex with me dirty?" Her voice grew hard. She dared to come closer. "Why are you making this so difficult, Nick? You've had plenty of one night stands, according to your mother. Why should I be different? The only difference is, I want something out of it, too. But I've been honest about that from the start."
Now he was looking at her, and his expression changed to one of danger, and excitement. She had no idea that same question kept popping up in his mind. What was different?
She was right. There could be no lasting relationship with her, so why was she different? The question haunted him.
He nodded, "Yeah, one night stands." He glanced around him, then seeing his weapon; he dipped his hands into the grease can on the counter and came at her. He'd run her off once and for all. He'd scare her so bad she'd never show her face in here again.
With quiet deliberation, he came at her, once he backed her into the car, there was nowhere for her to go. Two fingers reached to dot her nose with the grease.
Her mouth opened with a gasp, but nothing escaped. Instead, she held her head higher, daring him.
"This isn't Park Avenue, Kelsey. The old Clinton DeWitt area is almost gone. Almost. Look around you, a long history is dying out there in the piles of rubble. The people are being forced out of their homes—in the name of progress. They're tearing it down, piece by piece. I'm sure you noticed—it's becoming an eye sore, a real embarrassment to the better standing communities, your communities."
His fingers barely grazed her nose, but the contact was lethal. He wanted her to smell it. Get dirty, baby, his mind screamed at her. Feel the dirt, and slime.
She stood rock still. She barely breathed.
"You better go home," he warned and turned away.
"Not until you reconsider or pay me back."
He turned back around, and moved towards her. His eyes lowered. Slowly, he reached out and dotted her neck with the grease. She still didn't move. God, but she was stubborn!
Dipping his hand in the grease once more, he deliberately smeared the grease across the hollow of her neck, and she took a deep breath. Her head fell back a little, and a tangle of lush curls danced over her shoulders. In a minute she was going to run out of the garage so fast he wouldn't know what hit her.
Her chest rose more slowly now, and he almost groaned with his need of her, still his intention to run her off had to work. It had to.
But still, she didn't move.
Then, with sharpened accuracy, his fingers dipped into the front of her dress, around the small curves and deep into the valley. This time he did touch, he couldn't help himself. His hands shook as they slowly drifted over her, the needs and the wills battling. His fingertips grazed the tip of her breast and it hardened into a nub. He swore beneath his breath and backed away, realizing there would be no way to stop what was about to happen.
She lifted her head, then threw it back, and bared herself to his will. No woman ever looked so provocative, Nick was sure of it. Here she stood, in his garage, asking to be taken. If he wanted to plaster grease all over her, she was willing, obviously.
His fingers shook again, betraying him.
"You've got grit, ba
be, and I've got needs," he began, his voice gravelly. He held her around the waist now, pulling her to him, her flesh soft and yielding beneath his fingertips. Slowly his clean hand reached up to stoke the smoothness of her cheek. She moved against his caress like a kitten lapping at his attention.
"Do you know how much I want you?" His voice was husky. And then like magic their lips met, slowly, almost tentatively. Soft and pliant in his arms, her lips parted in generous invitation. Nick couldn't wait to slip his tongue inside and taste her once more. Like chocolate, to be devoured slowly, not missing a morsel.
Without further provocation, his hips sank in against hers, leaving no doubt as to his arousal, moving in a slow rhythm to some primitive beat. Hips seduced hips.
Neither seemed able to get enough of the other, and when they came up for air, they were breathless, gasping, needing to grope each other for strength.
His eyes searched hers as his fingers undid the tiny buttons of her dress, one by one. Given the green light, Nick's breath became labored. She still didn't move, and the slant of her lips seduced him.
"God, lady, I'm not made of stone!" he cried only to see her head come down to meet his blazing gaze, her hair a glorious riot of colors against the dim light of the shop. Their eyes locked onto each other hungrily, and suddenly she threw back her head, and gathered him to her.
"Neither am I."
The bodice of her dress slid open like a gentle wave of a breeze and with a groan he glanced down at the silky teddy she was wearing beneath. It was too much, too unexpected, his whole body lit like a fuse.
One side of his brain shouted, "Goody-Two-Shoes don't wear sexy little teddies."
In one lithe movement he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the backseat of his Chevy. He laid her down on the seat gently, and stared into her misty eyes. Did he have the courage or the ability to give up what she offered him?
"Make love to me, Nick," she begged when he hesitated.
"Oh babe," he groaned wanting to hear those words over and over, and unable to stop the rush of adrenalin that came with the restlessness of his body.
This all felt so right to him. So just this one time he'd take her, and rid himself of desire.
Nick's Baby Page 11
