“Repeat that,” Pam ordered.
“I won’t be here for Thanksgiving.” Just saying the words scared the living daylights out at her, but too bad. She’d had it.
“You’re kidding.” Denise frowned. “Where else would you be?”
Emily hesitated, her heart thudding. “New York.”
“Seriously,” Denise said in a suspicious voice. “New York. You never go anywhere, and you’re suddenly going someplace like New York?”
“I thought it would be fun to do my shopping there this year.” Emily gritted her teeth at the amused way Pam and her mother were staring at her. They thought she was bluffing. Oh, God, there’d be no backing out now.
“And when were you going to tell us you had other plans for Thanksgiving?” Pam asked with that hint of reproach her older sister had mastered over the years.
“As soon as you guys bothered to ask.”
Pam made a sound of exasperation. “But you always… This is because of the UPS guy, isn’t it? Really, Emily, you so need to get laid.”
“Come on, girls.” Their mother pinned them with a warning look she hadn’t used since they were in high school.
Emily huffed out a laugh. Not that she’d ever admit it in this lifetime, but her sister was right. Getting laid was exactly what Emily needed. And New York sounded like the perfect place to do it.
THE FLIGHT HAD BEEN BUMPY, the layover in Detroit endless and now dark threatening clouds hovered over LaGuardia airport as Emily stood at the curb waiting for a shuttle to take her to the overpriced Manhattan hotel that she had impulsively allowed Marnie to book. At least her bag had made it. Two other women standing at baggage claim next to her found out that their luggage had gone to Florida by mistake.
Although, even if she and her bag had parted ways, the loss would’ve been minimal. She’d purposely packed light. No baggy sweats, no fuzzy pink slippers or holey T-shirts, only one pair of jeans, two blouses and enough underwear to get her to the nearest Victoria’s Secret. She knew herself too well. If she didn’t force herself to shop for new clothes, she would stoop to wearing the same comfy rags she always wore.
Instead, she’d searched online for stores before she’d left home and had an entire shopping itinerary planned for tomorrow, her first full day in the city. The second thing she was going to do was find a guide. Not for the entire week of her stay, but just for a few days. The recommendations she’d gotten from Marnie sounded pretty cool but really expensive.
Meanwhile, she just hoped she’d meet a guy sometime during her trip that she liked well enough to dust off a condom. And that she’d be brave enough to go through with it.
The idea of a vacation fling was mostly scary but also exhilarating. Maybe here, where it was…nothing like home, she’d find a whole new side to herself. After all, she had a whole glorious week ahead of her, as she’d reminded herself on the plane ride often enough. Because if she hadn’t continually given herself pep talks, fear and uncertainty would have made her wish she’d never opened her mouth that fateful day in the den.
The trepidation she’d been experiencing was totally irrational, a fact she admitted. Not even thirty and she’d become a creature of habit, afraid to step out of her comfort zone, afraid to take the smallest chance or make the most minimal change in her life.
No, that wasn’t quite true. Fear was the simple answer. The pathetic truth was, the idea to broaden her horizons never entered her complacent mind. For the past five years she’d been insidiously content to be a hermit. Crazy really, because she was curious by nature. She loved learning new things. That’s why she adored her job as a freelance copy editor.
She noticed a shuttle approaching, and to make sure she boarded the right van, she checked the name that the woman at the information booth had scribbled down for her.
This trip would be good for her. Just what she needed to push herself out into the world. Instead of slaving over a hot stove all Thanksgiving morning while her family was out cavorting, she’d find a sinfully decadent brunch in a fancy hotel. Maybe she’d go all out. Not even have turkey and all the trimmings, but a big old plate of rich, gooey desserts instead.
For once in her life, no adventure would be too intimidating or too exotic. Each day she’d tackle something unthinkable. Hire a drop-dead gorgeous guide to show her around the town. Eat at a five-star restaurant by herself. Nope, she wouldn’t be afraid to try anything, she decided with conviction, clutching her carry-on with a clammy palm.
At least, that was the plan.
2
“HEY, NICKY, OVER HERE! Wait. Come on, sign this cap for my nephew, will ya?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nick Corrigan saw the dark-haired man waving the blue baseball cap. He’d come out of the shadows, just to the left of the door, as if he’d been waiting outside of the apartment building for Nick to leave.
“Get lost, pal. I’m not telling you again,” the bulky doorman growled and positioned himself in between Nick and the insistent fan.
“It’s okay, Leo. I’ll sign his hat.”
The older man shook his graying head, his gaze sweeping up and down the street. “You know what happens after you stop to sign one, Nicky. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork.”
“I know.” He reached around to take the cap, and sure enough, nearly a block away, a pair of kids—about twelve or thirteen years old—scampered across the street, weaving around speeding taxis in their haste to waylay him.
“Make it out to Toby.” The guy gave Leo a smug look as he handed Nick a black felt pen. “Man, he’s not gonna believe this. My nephew, he’ll be ten on Saturday. You’re his idol.”
Nick smiled wryly. “Tell him he needs a better role model than a jock who has a good arm.”
“Hell, you’re my idol, too. You still dating that model from Germany?”
“You know better than to ask a personal question,” Leo interjected, glaring at the other man. The doorman took the cap from Nick and shoved it back at the fan.
“Thanks, Nicky.” The man sauntered away while reading the inscription to his nephew.
Huffing and puffing, the kids who’d charged down from 68th Street stopped just short of running them over. “Hey, Nicky, would you sign our shirts, too?” the tall lanky redheaded boy asked, his breathing labored, his mouth spread in a broad grin.
“I shouldn’t sign anything.” He pinned them with a warning look. “What were you doing darting into traffic like that?”
The shorter, stouter boy’s eyes widened. “We didn’t want to miss you.”
“Use the crosswalk next time,” Nick muttered, and scrawled his name across the back of each of their shirts.
“Cool. Thanks.” Both boys craned their necks over their shoulders to check out his barely legible signature.
“Your car’s waiting,” Leo reminded him. “Better get in before someone else spots you.”
Nick nodded and quickly moved toward the black Lincoln Town Car, where the driver stood holding open the back door.
Leo followed him, waited until he got in and then leaned over. “Looks like rain. You want to take an umbrella?”
“No, thanks. I’m just going to go grab something to eat. I won’t be out late.”
“You expecting anyone I should let in?” the doorman asked quietly.
“Not tonight.”
Leo slowly nodded, his face creased with concern. “Okay. I’ll be off duty when you get back so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll bring you coffee and a bagel after my run.”
The older man scowled as he straightened, and patted his round belly. “Better skip the bagel. The wife says I gotta lose this by Christmas.”
Nick grinned. “I should leave out the cream and sugar from your coffee then.”
“Don’t get crazy on me.” Leo noticed a couple exiting the apartment building and with a wave hurried back to his station.
Nick leaned his head back against the leather headrest as the driver eased into traf
fic. Up ahead, near the intersection, he saw the two boys whose shirts he’d autographed dash across the street, several yards short of the crosswalk. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. Man, he had to be getting old lecturing kids about pedestrian safety. What was that about?
The holidays were coming up. That was the problem. He hated this time of year. Part of it for him was the end of the season letdown. Baseball was over until next spring. And although he spent the winter months trying to keep in shape and was able to do a bit of traveling, the downtime always made him restless. Made him think too much. This year was even worse since Billy’s accident a month ago.
Nick stared out the window at the steady drizzle that was beginning to turn into a nightmare for commuters. Why hadn’t he ordered in? It was crazy to go out for dinner in weather like this, especially when he wasn’t even that hungry. Couldn’t he stand his own company for one lousy evening? At least when he was by himself he didn’t have to suffer questions regarding his plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
His teammates and their wives, the media, waiters at restaurants he frequented, even complete strangers, they all wanted to know what he would be doing. Who cared where or if he’d eat a slab of turkey on Thursday?
Ironically, the only people who hadn’t asked were his family. They’d assumed he wouldn’t be going home because he rarely did. He’d had the passing thought of surprising them and showing up on his parents’ doorstep Thanksgiving morning. But then he found out from his sister that they were all headed for the Vermont ski slopes to catch the early snow. All the more ironic, he’d given the whole clan the vacation as a gift last Christmas.
He knew he could tag along. They’d be happy to have him join them, but spending three days in a resort with them along with a bunch of strangers wasn’t what he had in mind. Bad enough he had so little privacy. Hell, maybe he should go to Louisiana and spend the time with Billy and his wife.
He shook his head at the depressing thought. They needed their privacy, too. He couldn’t imagine what the poor guy was going through right now. Though Nick had spent hours with him in the hospital, and Billy’s spirits hadn’t been too bad, by now the shock had to have worn off. Reality would be eating a hole in his gut, as weeks of rehab and his uncertain future lay before him. Hell, Nick was pretty shaken himself, and he wasn’t the one with the mangled arm and leg.
Was he being selfish? Did Billy need privacy, or did he need a friend about now? Damn, Nick was a coward. Seeing Billy laid up had reminded him of his own vulnerability. Of how in a matter of minutes his charmed life could disappear. And then what would he have to fall back on? He hadn’t finished college. All he knew was baseball.
The car stopped, and Nick peered out to see what was holding up traffic, startled to find that they’d already pulled up in front of Orso. The popular restaurant already had a line out the door.
“Should I wait, Mr. Corrigan? Or do you want me to come back in a couple of hours?” the driver asked, meeting Nick’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“No use waiting around.” He dug in his pocket. “Go on home.”
The man blinked. “So you’ll call me when you’re ready?”
“Nope. Take the rest of the night off.”
“But, sir—” He turned around, obviously alarmed. “The service said you needed me for the entire evening.” His eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Nick shook his head. The man was new. Tony normally drove Nick but he’d taken the week off. “Nothing personal. I like taking cabs sometimes. You’ll get paid for the whole night.”
He jumped out with an umbrella when he heard Nick lift the handle. “I wish you’d reconsider,” the driver said while holding the door open and the umbrella aloft. “With this rain, it might be tough to get a cab.”
Nick smiled and tucked a fifty in the guy’s breast pocket. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”
There was always a cab for Nick Corrigan. Or anything else the pride of the Knight’s wanted.
At least for now.
“OH, THIS IS JUST PERFECT,” Emily muttered, tilting her face up to the blackened sky. She’d been in New York for one night and, until now, she’d been lucky.
Raindrops hit her cheeks. Quickly she bowed her head and backed up until she was sheltered by the overhang of the crowded restaurant. She didn’t care if her jeans and sweatshirt got wet, or even her hair. Her only concern was the shopping bags full of silk lingerie, obscenely expensive sweaters and an indecently short dress she was trying to juggle.
If she got them wet, she couldn’t chicken out and take them back tomorrow. Of course the lingerie was a done deal but she wouldn’t return any of those things, anyway. How long had it been since she’d treated herself to anything but granny pants? She felt positively decadent. Now if she could only keep everything dry. It wouldn’t be easy. She’d been waiting for a cab for ten minutes, along with everyone else on West 46th, and the storm had only just started.
A taxi rounded the corner, and she stuck out her arm, tote bags and all, but the cab stopped for someone else half a block away. If only she hadn’t spent so much time at the bookstore she would’ve beaten the rain and been safely back at her hotel by now. Served her right, really. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t go near a library, computer or bookstore while she was here. But feeling sorry for herself when the guide she’d hired had stood her up, she’d broken down and popped into the first bookstore she spotted.
She peeked into the large tote bag holding her new dress and the two books she’d purchased. No doubt she’d turned three shades of red while standing in line at the register. She’d almost hidden the one paperback in with her new lingerie until she could pay for it and have the books wrapped, but common sense prevailed. Embarrassment was easier to get over than getting arrested for shoplifting.
Another taxi sped through the intersection. She stepped into the rain to wave the cab down, and the car miraculously stopped in front of her. But before she could get to the back door, two men rushed past her. The one holding an umbrella over the taller man’s head edged her aside and grabbed the door handle.
Emily automatically stepped back, but no. Not this time. “Hey, that’s my cab.”
They both looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. The one with the umbrella wore a name tag. He shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but I called for this cab.”
“Right.” She used the back of her wrist to shove the damp hair away from her face, blinking hard at the drop of rain that caught on her lashes.
“It’s okay, James,” the taller, dark-haired man said, “let her have it. I can wait.”
“But it’s gonna take another—”
“Really, it’s okay.” He opened the back door and turned to Emily. “Sorry about the confusion,” he said, regarding her with sincere hazel eyes and gesturing for her to slide in. “Please.”
She hesitated, her pulse quickening as she took in the perfectly shaped mouth and the strong angular jaw. He seemed vaguely familiar, except she didn’t know anyone here in Manhattan.
“Better hurry. Your packages are getting wet.”
She glanced down. Although she’d been partially protected by the umbrella, her soggy bags hadn’t. All she needed was for them to rip and spill their contents in the middle of the sidewalk. “Look, we can share the cab if you want,” she said, shoving the sacks into the backseat and out of the rain.
He looked surprised, thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
The guy named James seemed even more taken aback. “You sure, Nicky?”
He pressed a bill into the man’s palm. “If I don’t see you before then, have a good Thanksgiving.”
Knowing the umbrella was about to disappear, Emily quickly scrambled in beside her packages. They took up a third of the bench seat, so when the stranger slid in next to her, she found her thigh pressed firmly against his. The innocuous contact sent a shiver up her spine.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
&
nbsp; “The Thornton hotel for me.” Emily lifted a couple of the totes onto her lap and slid over toward the far door, leaving a few inches between her and the good-looking stranger.
“And you, buddy?” The driver pulled into traffic, directly in front of another taxi.
Emily jumped, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for impact and the crunch of metal to explode in her ears. Seconds later they were moving along with the flow of cars, and she cautiously opened her eyes. To her horror, she saw her hand clutching her seatmate’s thigh.
“Oh, my God.” She promptly drew back, but not before noticing the rock-hard muscle beneath her palm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
He chuckled. “Not in the least. I’m Nick, by the way.”
“Mister, I need to know which way to turn at the intersection.” The driver glanced at Nick in the rearview mirror. “Where you headed…? Damn, you’re—”
“Um, I really wish you’d watch the road.” Emily tensed as brake lights lit up in front of them. This time she fisted one of the bags on her lap, silently vowing that she’d stick to walking while she was here.
“Let’s drop the lady off first, and then we’ll worry about me.”
“I don’t mind stopping for you,” Emily offered. “I’m in no hurry.”
“This is New York. Everybody’s in a hurry.”
Emily sighed. “Not me.”
“What? No hot date tonight?”
She smiled wryly. “A warm bath maybe.”
He smiled, too, and then turned his head to gaze out the window. He was clean shaven, and his dark wavy hair was cut short. His sports jacket fit his broad shoulders so perfectly it might have been tailored for him. No matter, it was cashmere and expensive. Made her wonder what he did for a living. A stockbroker, maybe? Or a lawyer? No, not a lawyer. Whatever he did, he kept himself in awesome shape.
She wanted to keep checking him out, enchanted with the attractive groove in his cheek when he smiled. But he turned back to look at her, and since it was too late to pretend she wasn’t staring, she said, “I should’ve stayed snug in that bookstore until the rain passed.”
The Real Deal Page 2
