by Jo Leigh
One step at a time. That was her motto. Take it slow, don’t be rash. The only real mistakes she’d made in her life had all come out of impulsive decisions. Going out with Nick. Making love to Nick. Going to Rome to see Nick.
The front door buzzed and she got up quickly, wondering who could be here this late in the day. Federal Express usually came by earlier, and besides, she hadn’t called them. Perhaps a client?
She brushed some errant crumbs off her blouse and hurried to the reception area. When she turned the corner, her welcoming smile froze on her lips.
“Hello, cara.”
“Nick.” She couldn’t believe it. It must be some kind of trick. “What...?”
“I’ve come to talk to you, Jessica.”
She shook her head slowly. Then things started going badly. Really badly. She covered her mouth with her hands and dashed off to the rest room.
Nick blinked at Jessica’s sudden disappearance. He winced when he heard her in the rest room. Then he sighed. Perfect. “That went well,” he said, to no one in particular. “Better than I’d hoped for.”
Chapter Three
Jessica sat down on the chair in the rest room and tried to pull herself together. Her stomach had stopped rebelling, and she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth. She’d even pulled a brush through her hair. Now she had to go back out there and face him. Unless, of course, she just stayed in the bathroom for the rest of her life. Which, as each minute dragged on, was looking better and better.
What was he doing here? Did he honestly think she wanted to be a part of his worldwide harem? Maybe Italian women didn’t mind the whole group thing, but she wasn’t Italian.
Oh, God. She’d thrown up. So much for having some time to think about how to tell Nick she was pregnant. Dammit. She really wasn’t ready to deal with this. Not yet. She needed more time!
“Jessica?”
She froze. He was right outside the bathroom. Oh, Lord. No, no, not yet.
“Are you all right, cara?”
“Yes,” she said, but it came out in sort of a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a moment.”
“Can I bring you some water? An aspirin?”
“No, no. Just have a seat. I’ll be right out.” She waited to see if he’d press her, but he didn’t. Why couldn’t Jeff have been here? Or one of the other guys? Why hadn’t she gone home?
Jessica stood up and checked her makeup in the mirror. Her eyes frightened her—she looked absolutely panicked. Like a deer caught in headlights. No, more like a raccoon, with her mascara all smeared. She grabbed a tissue and started wiping the mess, willing herself to calm down.
Okay, the thing to do was to be rational. So she didn’t have time to make her lists of opening lines. She could improvise. A, she didn’t have to tell him about the pregnancy right this minute. If he asked her about feeling ill, she’d change the subject. B, she didn’t have to talk to him for a long time. She could say she had an appointment. C, she had every reason to boot him out of here without so much as a word. He was the one with the all-girl band in his bedroom, not her. D, she wasn’t going to die. People didn’t die from situations like this.
Her eye makeup looked halfway decent, although if she’d had the time, she would have reapplied it all. She’d have added some blush, too. She looked pale as a ghost. No lipstick, either. Oh, well, what difference did it make? She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Especially not Nick.
Her breathing had calmed, too. Good. Okay. She had her bearings again. She could do this. She really could.
Straightening her back, she turned to the door and opened it. Her heart thudded so hard in her chest she thought it might just pop right out, but she did it. She walked out. He stood up to face her, concern all over that beautiful Italian mug of his.
“Are you all right?” he said again.
She nodded. “What are you doing here, Nick?”
He moved toward her. She wanted to tell him to stop. The nearer he got to her, the clearer her face would become. And she didn’t trust her face right now. Normally, she had no problem masking her emotions. But not today. Not with him.
“I came to talk to you. I didn’t know you were feeling ill. I’m concerned. Perhaps we should go to the doctor? I have a car, I can drive you.”
“No need. I’m feeling fine now. What did you come to talk to me about?”
He stood just a few feet away from her, and that wasn’t fair at all. Not because he was getting a good look her way, but because she could see too much of him. His face killed her. It was just so perfect. She remembered looking into those eyes and believing what she saw there. Believing that he felt something. That the look of love, of tenderness, of need, was something unique, meant only for her. Ha. It was probably patented. He probably looked adoringly at his butcher when he got a nice hunk of sirloin.
“I didn’t want you to misunderstand what you saw in Rome.”
“That’s not the part I misunderstood. I was confused about the part here in Santa Monica. The part in Rome was crystal clear.”
“No, no. You see, that’s why I’m here. To explain.”
“You don’t need to. You don’t owe me anything. I goofed up. I thought we had something, and we didn’t. Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. It was my own fault. I never should have gone. And I certainly never should have barged into your bedroom like that.”
“I don’t want you to blame yourself. What you did was wonderful. Jessica, you climbed the balcony. I barely believed it, but you did. That was magnifico, cara. I only wish fate hadn’t played such a trick on us.”
“Nick, fate did me a favor. An expensive favor, but that’s the way it goes. I thought you were someone else. That’s all. No harm, no foul. So thanks for stopping by, but it’s late, and I need to go.”
He took another step toward her. She almost backed away, but she didn’t. She had to stand her ground now, or forever regret it. It wasn’t easy. He was too close. Something happened to her when he got this near. Her chest constricted, her knees got weak, and her resolve just sort of slipped away. He’d done that to her from the beginning. From that first moment.
“Please. Don’t let it end like this. Have dinner with me, Jessica. One dinner.” He smiled. “You know, between us, we flew around the world to see each other. That has to mean something. It would hurt me very much to leave now, without talking.”
She felt herself weaken. Like ice cracking chip by chip, her resolve faltered, then gave way. She nodded. It was only for one dinner. And he had traveled an awfully long way.
“Would you like to go home first? I can come pick you up later. Or we could go now. Whatever you want.”
“Yes, I’d like to go home first,” she said. “Wait, no. We might as well go now.”
He grinned as he closed the last bit of distance between them and put his palm on the small of her back. She jumped, unprepared for the touch, completely unprepared for the jolt that went through her. “No, I’ll go home,” she said, her voice as wobbly as her legs.
He looked at her, clearly confused. “You don’t feel well, do you? I’ll take you home. Make you some minestrone.”
She laughed, a short burst that surprised her as much as it did him. But the image of him making her the Italian equivalent of chicken soup struck her as absurd.
“You don’t think I know how to cook?”
“I can’t picture, it, no.”
He put his hand up to his heart, as if she’d wounded him mortally. For some reason, she found herself focused on his incredible shirt. Blue silk. Tailored exquisitely. The detail on the cuffs alone was a work of art.
“I’m wounded,” he said. “All proper Italian men cook. I can make a pasta that would change your religion.”
The idea of pasta, of thick tomato sauce, made her stomach lurch again, and for a horrible moment, she thought she was going to give him a repeat-and-up-close reenactment of her welcome. She stood still, willing it away, and, gratefully, it wor
ked. But dinner wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight.
“Actually,” she said, “I think I will go home. But alone. I’m not feeling well, you’re right. I think I just need to put myself to bed.”
He scowled at her. “You don’t look so good. I’ll take you.”
“I have my car here. I’m perfectly fine to drive—”
“No. You can get your car tomorrow. Now, you come with me.”
“Nick, I’m fine. I—”
He went to her desk and picked up her purse. “Is this all you need?”
“Yes, but—”
“Come, we go.” He came back to her, put his arm around her waist and walked her toward the door.
She sighed. She didn’t have it in her to argue. Not when it felt so comforting to have him to lean on. A small part of her was completely appalled that she was letting him take charge like this, after what he’d done, but the much bigger part felt weepy and needy and, frankly, too tired to be self-righteous.
She let him take her outside, but stopped him to fish her keys out of her purse and lock the door. For a quick second, she was lost in a sense of déjà vu. She’d locked this door a month ago, with Nick waiting by her side. But last time, she’d been almost giddy with expectations, and this time she was nauseous because she was expecting. A lot can change in a month.
Nick put his arm back around her waist and walked with her toward the parking lot. Being this close to him was nerve-racking, and she wanted to pull away. But she didn’t. If she pulled away, he’d know she was bothered by his nearness. He didn’t deserve to know that.
Of course, he had a Porsche. She tried to imagine him in a station wagon, with a baby seat in the back. It didn’t gel. If anyone had ever fit the description of jet-setter, it was Nick Carlucci.
He held the door open for her and she climbed in, wondering what the heck she was going to talk about on the drive home. And how quickly she could ask him to leave once she got there. It wasn’t as if she owed him anything. But...
She tried to think how Jeff would handle the situation. Of all her friends, he was the one who knew how to deal with messy relationships. Jeff was the one person she knew who could actually think of his fantastic rejoinders when he needed them. Not three hours later, like her. She’d actually written down several of his more memorable lines, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one right now.
Nick got in beside her and buckled up. She followed suit and stared straight ahead as he turned the key. Once they got on the road, she dared a glance at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly they were white. He, too, was looking straight ahead, and his jaw muscle flexed with tension.
That made her feel better. Somehow, she hadn’t expected Nick to be nervous. It was still a little unbelievable. She never thought of him as anything but suave and cool and sophisticated. Even during that dreadful soap opera moment in his bedroom, he’d been the picture of debonair. And now he was nervous? With her?
“You said you wanted to explain,” she said as they waited for the light to change on Wilshire. “Now seems as good a time as any.”
“Here? Now?”
Was that a hint of panic she heard? That shouldn’t make her happy, but it did. She’d never seriously considered the option of torturing Nick. But hey, she was flexible. “Yes. Right now. Or never.”
“But, dinner. You said...”
“Nick, it’s now or never.”
The panic that had been in his voice had traveled to his eyes. She’d never seen this side of him before. It was most interesting.
“Very well, but you’re not being fair.”
“Well, there isn’t a whole lot that’s fair in this world, so you should be used to it. Now, quit trying to change the subject and explain.”
He said something to himself, which she didn’t quite catch. It was undoubtedly Italian, and definitely one of the words not covered in her Italian-English dictionary. “All right,” he said, “I’ll explain.”
She waited. And waited. Finally, he said, “First, I want you to know that I meant it when I asked you to come back with me to Rome.”
He looked at her briefly, then at the road. “I wanted to show you my home. My city. I’m sorry you left so quickly. I would still like to show you my Rome, cara.”
“Go on.”
“I didn’t invite Gina or Libby. In some twist of fate, they both decided to come visit on a whim.”
“Some whim.”
He frowned. “That’s the right word, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes. It’s right next to folly in the thesaurus.”
“Bad timing, yes. Folly? No.”
“And what about your Italian friend?”
Nick shook his head. “She was no friend, Jessica. She’s my sister. Theresa.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“In her nightgown?”
“She’s living in the villa with me until she gets married. She came up to ask me about lunch.”
“I don’t know. She seemed awfully upset to be your sister.”
“You don’t know Theresa. She is often upset. More lately, it seems.”
“Any particular reason?”
“She believes it’s time for me to settle down.”
Jessica’s stomach constricted. She gripped the door handle, not daring to look at him. What would Theresa say when she found out Nick was going to be a father? She took a deep breath. “And how do you feel about that?”
Nick didn’t answer right away. He turned onto her street and drove all the way to her apartment building. He waited until she handed him her card key, then he drove them down into her parking garage. Before he gave her back the key, he turned off the motor. Then he looked at her. It was dark, but she could see him clearly enough. The panic was gone from his eyes. But she couldn’t read him.
“I’m not sure, Jessica. A part of me thinks she’s right. It is time for me to settle down. But how do I settle down when one week I’m in Rome, the next in New York? Or Paris? Or Brazil?”
Her breath left her slowly and her grip eased. She felt a little foolish for hoping. She wasn’t even sure what she was hoping for. That he wanted to settle down with her? He barely knew her. That he wanted to have children? That he loved her? That was the most ridiculous hope of all. “Of course,” she said. “Why settle down when the whole world is your playground?” She smiled. “It must all be like a giant buffet to you. A little Italian appetizer here, a little French there. Some American morsels to cleanse the palate.”
Nick opened his mouth, then shut it. He looked at his lap for a moment, then swung his gaze back to meet hers. “Yes,” he said, his voice soft. and almost shy. “It has been. But lately...”
“Yes?”
“Lately it hasn’t been so appealing.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But I think...I’ve thought about you a great deal, Jessica.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I wrote you many letters. Then threw them all away. I couldn’t find the words to explain.”
“What, Nick? It seems pretty simple to me. You asked me to come to Rome but didn’t expect me to actually show up. You asked Gina and Libby, and didn’t expect them to show up, either. But we did. And now you want us all to forget that and go on as if nothing happened. To not care that we’re just notches on your very large belt?”
“I didn’t invite anyone but you.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“Of course it does.”
“What? I’m supposed to be pleased that my notch is bigger? It doesn’t change the quantity, Nick.”
He leaned forward, but she held up her hand. “Look, I’m not here to sit in judgment of how you lead your life. That’s completely up to you. All I can do is make choices. And I choose not to be one of your ports in a storm. I’m not good at sharing. I never have been.”
“I see,” he said. “So my choice is you alone, or nothing?”
“That’s right. And I think we both know what your choice will be.” She undid her seat belt and opened her door. “Thanks for the ride home, Nick. Take care.” She shut the door, the sound loud and final in the small garage. She was tired, more tired than she could ever remember being in her whole life. It was an effort to move one foot after the other. She waited to hear the car engine come to life, but it didn’t. She got to the elevator and pushed the button, then turned.
Nick was standing by the car. He shut his door and walked toward her.
She should tell him to stop, to leave now, and be done with it. Of course, she’d have to contact him about the baby, but she’d rather wait to do that until he was a half a world away. Until she had time to think clearly, rationally, and not care so damn much that he found it so easy to tell her goodbye.
He approached her slowly, as if with each step he might turn on his heel. She willed the elevator doors to open, but they didn’t. Nick reached her first.
“I would like to come upstairs,” he said. “Please.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“I don’t mean you any harm.”
“Of course you don’t. But you’ll end up hurting me all the same.”
“It was never my intention. I care for you, Jessica.”
“And I care for you, Nick. But we want different things from life.”
“So that means we can’t be friends?”
“That’s right. I don’t want you for my friend, Nick. I have plenty of friends already. I wanted more. I wanted something you can’t give.”
The elevator arrived, and the doors opened behind her. Quickly, she turned and walked inside. After pushing the button for her floor, she watched Nick as the doors began to close.
“What if I want more, too?” he said. “What if I want you, alone?”
The doors came together with a dull click, and Nick was gone.
Chapter Four
Nick pounded once on the metal elevator doors, then shook his hand out as he cursed. Nothing had gone right. He should have figured as much when she greeted him by getting sick to her stomach.
