The Real Deal

by Debbi Rawlins

  “I didn’t.”

  They came to an intersection and had to wait for the light to change before they could cross. She leaned away to look at him. “You mean, you just played ball and you were passed without having to go to classes?”

  “No,” he said more curtly than he’d intended, though he shouldn’t have been insulted. The practice was hardly unheard of, but he had more integrity than to cheat.

  “Sorry, that was a knee-jerk assumption. I didn’t mean anything by it….”

  He shrugged. “No offense taken. I shouldn’t have been so touchy. The fact is, a scout came knocking at my door and offered me more money than I’d ever seen in my life and it was my decision to say screw school. I’d lived for baseball from the time I was in Little League. It didn’t take much persuasion. I left in the middle of the first semester.”

  “Ah, now that’s a piece of trivia that I didn’t know.”

  The walk signal flashed, and he guided them into the crosswalk. “It’s not something I broadcast.”

  “Oh, like it would matter so much to your fans.” She tightened her hold. “Look over there.” She pointed to a Christmas display in a department store window. “Let’s stop.”

  Smiling at the excitement in her voice, he watched the train circle the decorated tree, then reappear in the next window and head toward a sign that said North Pole. His smile faded as his thoughts went back to what Emily had said. She was right, his fans wouldn’t care that he hadn’t finished his degree. In fact, they wouldn’t care a thing about him, except as a statistic, the moment he left the game. Which was fine. It was the way of sports. But it left him wondering, as he had been since Billy’s accident, who, exactly, he would be once he was through with baseball.

  Emily made a delighted sound, and he brought his attention back to her. She looked like a happy kid, about to tear open her presents.

  “You get off on the holidays, don’t you?”

  “I do. I love decorating and cooking and yes, I totally admit it…I plan on going to the mall, sitting on Santa’s knee and asking for a new e-reader.”

  “Lucky Santa.” They stopped in front of the window display and he kissed her temple, deeply inhaling the almond scent in her hair. Far more interested in getting her naked than watching a toy train, he was glad they were less than two blocks from his apartment. “What’s an e-reader?”

  She chuckled and leaned against him, gazing happily at the miniature village and twinkling lights. “It would be fun to decorate a window like this.”

  Apparently, she thought he was teasing about the e-reader, and he decided to keep his ignorance a secret. “There was an article in the Times one year about how some of the stores and parade sponsors begin planning for the next year right after—”

  Abruptly she straightened, and regarded him with wide shocked eyes. “The Macy’s parade—it’s tomorrow.”

  “Yep, it’s always on Thanksgiving.” His playful sarcasm was met with swift retribution. A family of five crowded in next to them to check out the window, and he tugged up his collar and averted his face when one of the preteen boys frowned thoughtfully at him. “Let’s move on, huh?” he said, nudging Emily.

  She caught on and quickly moved in step beside him as they continued down the sidewalk. “I can’t believe I forgot about the Macy’s parade. Have you ever been?”

  “About eight years ago I rented a penthouse suite along the route. We had a perfect view.”

  “Are you serious? Part of the fun is being in the thick of the crowd and listening to everyone ooh and aah when the floats come by.”

  “You say that now when you aren’t being mangled by excited kids.”

  Emily turned to look at him and shook her head. “It has to be difficult.”

  “I can’t complain,” he said. “The fans are what matter.”

  “I guess I just never expected to be in New York when it was actually happening. No big deal.”

  “Hey, listen. If you want to go, then we’ll go.”

  “That’s sweet, really, but no, I don’t need to go to a parade to have a good time with you. Besides, it’s a moot point, anyway.”

  They were a block away from his apartment. Down the tree-lined street, he could see Sam, the evening doorman, stepping out to the curb to hail a cab for one of the tenants.

  Nick pulled her out of the flow of pedestrian traffic and under the shadow of a boutique’s striped awning. “No, really. If you have your heart set on seeing that parade, we don’t have to go to Vermont.”

  Her brows drew together in an uncertain frown. “When was the last time you saw your family?”

  “That’s not the point. This is about you getting to see everything you want to in New York. This is your big splurge, right?”

  “If that were true, then you could go to Vermont, and I could go to the parade,” she said with a small shrug.

  The unpleasantness of that possibility hit him squarely in the jaw. From the beginning, he’d imagined them going together to see his family. Crazy, yeah, but it felt right. He laughed at himself, remembering how he’d worried earlier about her getting the wrong idea about meeting his family. The thing was, he really wanted her to come along.

  “You’re quiet,” she said. “What did I say wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t want to be a selfish jerk—I’ve hijacked your whole vacation, and now I’m taking you out of the city altogether.”

  She put her chilly fingers on his cheek. “Silly me. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m having the best vacation ever. Nothing this city has to offer could make it more perfect.”

  He kissed her. Had to. It had been a pretty damn perfect few days for him, too.

  She let him slip an arm around her shoulders and urge her toward his apartment building. After walking half a block in silence, she said, “For the record, I’ve got the parade set on my DVR. I can watch it when I get home.”

  He didn’t want to think about her leaving. Not yet. There was something about Emily, something that tugged at his heart. She was smart, funny, prickly as hell and he wanted to get to know her better. The long ride to Vermont would give them an opportunity to talk, really talk. He wondered if he’d be brave enough to tell her about Billy. About his own fears. He’d see tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to be in his bed, and nothing could be sweeter.

  He pulled her in for another kiss.

  At the same time a camera flashed in his face.

  13

  EMILY YANKED BACK, blinking and looking around. “What was that?”

  “You gonna give us her name, Nicky? Show some holiday spirit. Don’t make me have to dig.”

  Nick’s lips stretched into a grim line. “Come on, guys.” He put up his hand, as if he were fending off the two men. “Not tonight, all right?”

  “Sorry, Nicky, but I’ve been waiting out here for several hours,” said the tall, thinner, bearded guy with the elaborate camera. “I gotta get something.”

  “Look, you have to admit, I’m usually pretty cooperative,” Nick said, his voice unyielding, and then he added more emphatically, “Not tonight.”

  “Well…” The shorter one wearing the leather jacket and bulky red scarf eyed Emily more closely. He had a small camera, which he pointed at her. “That only makes us even more curious.”

  Nick could feel her body tense. He hugged her closer, and she used his jacket to bury her face. Concerned, Nick jabbed a finger at the man’s chest. “You take any more pictures, or print the one you took, and you won’t get shit from me anymore. Understand?” He kept walking toward his apartment building, urging her along.

  The silence was brief but maddening as the men clearly were deciding which course to take. Emily couldn’t wait to get inside. It was bad enough when all those people swarmed on Nick, but to have the attention on herself was terrifying. It wasn’t just that she hated her picture being taken, it was their ruthlessness. As if they had no qualms about intruding, about taking whatever they wanted. She felt as if she’d been at
tacked.

  “Must be serious, Nicky,” one of the men taunted. His voice came from a relative distance behind them, and she was relieved that they weren’t being followed.

  A minute later they arrived at his building, the attentive uniformed doorman already holding the door open for them. As they stepped inside, another flash went off, but only their backs had been photographed.

  Nick cursed anyway, then apologized. “Those guys can be real idiots.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Corrigan,” the doorman said quietly. “I didn’t see the paparazzo until it was too late or I would’ve called your cell phone and warned you.”

  “Not your fault, Sam.” Nick clapped the man’s shoulder. “Not your job, either. But thanks.”

  The man gave him a nod, and then slid a furtive glance at Emily as he held the elevator door for them. He remained polite, in so far as he tried his best not to appear obvious, but he was undoubtedly as curious about her as the two men who’d been waiting outside.

  After the elevator doors closed, Emily let out a pent-up sigh. “That was interesting,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s not always so bad though. Mostly around playoff and World Series time, then if the tabloids find me with a date—” He cut his words short, his horrified gaze briefly touching on her face before he closed his eyes and mouthed something to himself. “Emily—”

  “Hey, don’t.” She squeezed his arm. “Come on. I’m not stupid.”

  “That, you certainly are not.” Reluctantly he opened his eyes. “It just came out. I obviously wasn’t thinking.”

  “Stop it. You don’t owe me an explanation. You’ve dated beautiful women. So what? I know it. Everyone knows it. Why shouldn’t you? You can have your pick. And if you don’t think people wouldn’t be curious about why you’re with someone like me, then you’re nuts. I know you heard those people back at the restaurant.”

  He stared at her, his jaw tightening, and looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but facing her. “They’re morons who don’t know what they’re talking about, or when to keep their mouths shut.”

  She shrugged dismissively, far more upset about the photographers than about Nick’s glamorous life. At least she wasn’t unrealistic about herself. She knew she was no great beauty. “People have certain expectations about you. I know you get that. If we’re honest, we do it ourselves. I had a different expectation about you.”

  He blinked. “Yeah? Like what?”

  She gave him a teasing smile, and just in time, the doors slid open and she stepped out.

  “Hey, I’d really like to hear this.” He moved in behind her, his large hand intimately rubbing her fanny.

  “Ah, so it’s going to be like that.” She scooted the rest of the way to his door, just barely keeping ahead enough to break contact. “Like what?”

  “You’re going to seduce the answer out of me.”

  He stuck his hand underneath her sweater and cupped her breast through her bra. “How’s it working?”

  She darted a look behind him, just in case, even though she knew they were alone. “Where are your keys?”

  He nuzzled her neck, his throaty chuckle vibrating against her skin as he stroked a finger under the lace cup and touched her nipple.

  Flattening her palms against his door, leaning her cheek next to the cool metal, she braced herself when he worked a hand inside her jeans. Behind her, his erection pushed against her bottom. This was insane, too risky…definitely not her. In spite of herself, her eyes drifted closed, and she whimpered when his long lean fingers reached into the cleft between her thighs.

  “Seriously, Nick,” she said breathlessly, her voice not her own. “What if…” He bucked against her ass, and her knees went soft. “Somebody comes…”

  He groaned, not sounding much like himself, either. But he quickly straightened, his warm moist breath retreating from the side of her neck, his hand more reluctantly withdrawing from inside her jeans.

  Swiftly he produced his keys, jammed them into the lock and pushed the door open.

  “It’s okay,” she said, stepping over the threshold first and turning to him. “I checked and no one was—”

  He picked her up, forced her legs around his waist and kissed her so hard and deep she couldn’t breathe. She looped her arms around his neck and hung on as he kicked the door shut behind him, then walked them down the hall toward his bedroom. At the bed, he laid her down and tenderly stroked the tangled hair away from her face. That’s where the gentleness ended.

  For an instant he looked like some wild man, his eyes blazing and hungry, the veins on his neck bulging from his attempt at control. With trembling hands, he yanked off his belt and then unsnapped his jeans. He stopped to strip off her sweater, ignoring the bra and going for her jeans. Shedding them quickly, he nearly ripped her panties in his haste to pull them off.

  If she’d felt the slightest sting from those thoughtless words at the restaurant, if she’d for one second wished she could have been more beautiful, any insecurity evaporated as if it had never existed. The longing that darkened his eyes, his entire body straining for release, wiped away everything.

  “I need you, Emily,” he said huskily before lowering himself. “Right now.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured more to herself. Because she’d forgotten her name.

  THE TURNPIKE TRAFFIC WASN’T nearly as bad as she’d feared, but it was still slow going. Not that Emily minded. She really didn’t understand her comfort with Nick. It had been like that since she’d found out he wasn’t a hustler. The memory made her smile.

  “What’s that about?”

  They’d been quiet for a while now, no music, no chatting, just watching the cars, which of course made her think of the Simon & Garfunkel song. “I love that I thought you were a hustler.”

  He blinked at her before turning back to the road. “I’m glad you’re amused.”

  “Come on. It’s a great story. I bet your family will love it.”

  “You’re not,” he said, clearly alarmed.

  “No, I’m not,” she said. “That one’s just for us.”

  “I hope there are more than just one.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, stretching her legs in the massive and very comfortable SUV. “Lots and lots.”

  He looked at her again, gently. “Tell me about your life,” he said. “What are your days like?”

  “Boring,” she said. “Well, not to me, but to anyone else, they would be. I’ve almost always got my nose in a manuscript or a book or I’m doing research on the internet.”

  “You’re a…?”

  “Copy editor. I work for different publishers, some fiction, some nonfiction. I go over drafts of manuscripts after the writers turn them in. I do a lot of fact checking, correcting grammar, making sure there aren’t continuity errors, things like that.” She turned more toward him. “I’m also a line editor, which is slightly different, because then I can make comments and suggestions. Search for the exact right word, make sure the rhythm of the narrative flows. That’s my favorite part. That and the research, but it’s nice when I can help make a good manuscript better.”

  “You love it.”

  She nodded. “I do. It’s my calling.”

  “What about writing something of your own?”

  “Nope. At least not at this stage of my life. I know it sounds corny, but I really am happy. My days fly by. Just ask my family. They’re always bugging me to get out more. I can go a full week, sometimes more, and never leave the house.”

  “It doesn’t make you stir-crazy?”

  “Nope. I’ve been content for a long time.” She looked at him, studying the incredible bone structure that made him so flat-out handsome. If she hadn’t gotten fed up with all her family’s expectations, she’d have missed this. Missed him. “This trip has been something of an awakening for me.”

  He took her hand in his, holding it comfortably on the big cushioned armrest between them
. “How so?”

  “It’s been good for me to get out of my routine. I’ve had such a great time. It’s as if I’ve gone to another world. And I get it. New York is another world. But there are lots of other worlds all around me, and while I love reading about them, it’s even better to experience things for myself.” She moved her thumb across the back of his hand. “I would have hated missing you.”

  “Same here,” he said.

  She shifted once more, not letting him go, but so that she could see as much of his face as possible. “I keep feeling as though there’s something bothering you.”

  “You mean aside from this traffic?”

  “Come on. It’s not that bad, and no. I don’t mean that at all. Nick, I can see it in your face. You’re very expressive, you know. When you’re relaxed. I’m sure you’re an iceman on the mound, but for a while now, I’ve seen…sadness?”

  He shook his head, and she thought he was going to dismiss her, but then he took a deep breath. Smiled, a bit ruefully if she wasn’t mistaken.

  “Have I told you about my friend Billy?”

  “You mentioned him.”

  “He and I came up to the majors at the same time. We’re the same age, we were both scared spitless and we became friends. Good friends. We were both talented, both of us destined, at least according to some, to do great things. Turn baseball on its ear.”

  She didn’t move. Didn’t dare. She could see this was hard for him and that he needed someone to listen.

  “He got in a car wreck just before the Series. Got busted up pretty bad. He was in the hospital for a long time, and now he’s in rehab, but they don’t hold out a lot of hope for him coming back to the game.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Nick nodded, then changed lanes. He didn’t speak again as they passed several exits. When he did, his voice was softer.

  “I haven’t been a good friend to him. He deserves better.”

  She opened her mouth to deny his words, then realized he was speaking the truth as he felt it.

  “I should have been with him, encouraging him. He’s my closest friend, damn it, and all I can think of is myself.”