Kitabı oku: «The Real Deal», sayfa 2

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 traffic. 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.

“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.”

He frowned. “You’re staying at the Thornton. You’re either a tourist or here on business.”

“Tourist.”

“And you’re spending your time in a bookstore?”

She felt the heat rise from her chest to her face. “I was looking for guidebooks.”

“Ah.” He glanced at her packages. “Which one did you get?”

Her cheeks really flamed then as her mind scrambled for an acceptable answer. She couldn’t very well admit she’d picked up Erotic New York: The Best Sex in the City. Mostly out of curiosity, not that she cared to explain.

The ringing of her cell phone saved her. She fumbled with the bags on her lap, looking for the ridiculously tiny purse she’d bought specifically for her foray into the big, bad city. No bigger than an oversized postage stamp, it barely held her cell, room key and wallet, but she liked that she could strap it safely and snugly against her body. It had to be here. And she hated to miss the call in case it was her wayward guide.

“May I?” Nick lifted the larger bag off her lap and onto his.

“Thanks.” She found her purse and managed to answer before it went to voice mail.

“Hey.” It was Marnie. “So, are you having the best time?”

Emily smiled. “I only just got here yesterday.”

“Plenty of time to get laid.”

“Jeez, have you been talking to my sister?”

Marnie laughed. “How’s the hotel? Tell me everything.”

“Um, the Thornton is great. I’ll be eating nothing but mac and cheese for the next three months after I get the bill, but yeah, it’s terrific.” She slid Nick a glance. He was looking out his window, but it was impossible for him not to overhear.

“Oh, come on. You’ve got to be rolling in dough since you never spend a dime on yourself. You don’t buy clothes, and you don’t go anywhere.”

“If that’s what you called to tell me, I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait.” Marnie laughed. “What’s your itinerary? What does your guide have planned?”

“Uh, that didn’t pan out.”

“What?”

“He stood me up.” Emily had lowered her voice, but quickly realized that had only guaranteed Nick’s interest. He was trying not to be obvious but she could tell he was straining to hear. She cleared her throat. “I don’t need anyone to show me around, anyway. I picked up a couple of travel books this afternoon.”

“Ooh, tell me you took my advice and got Erotic New York.”

“Take some time off, Marnie. Enjoy the holidays. I have to go.”

“Wait.”

“Seriously, hanging up now.”

“You sound odd.” Marnie paused. “Are you with someone?” Emily took a heartbeat too long to respond. “Good God. You are. Why didn’t you say something.”

“Goodbye, Marnie.” Emily flipped her cell phone shut and then switched it to vibrate because her friend’s persistence was legendary. Although if she thought Emily were with a guy, maybe she’d lay off for a while.

Emily felt Nick watching her, and she furtively looked his way again. That’s when she saw that the tote bag sitting on his lap had torn. It wasn’t a big tear, but enough that her new lacy black panties were sticking out of the bottom corner.

“Thank you,” she said, and carefully retrieved the bag and stuffed it into another one.

“Small quarters,” he said, “so I couldn’t help but overhear. You’re looking for a guide?”

“I was, but it’s silly really. I mean, who doesn’t know what to see in New York, right?” She abruptly turned her face and stared out at the cheery Christmas displays twinkling from the store windows. Who would put up the tree? Not her mother. Emily always did that the day after Thanksgiving.

God, why had she overreacted with her sisters? She should be at home right now, thawing the turkey and baking pumpkin pies. She shook her head. Away for two days and already homesick.

“You okay?”

His voice startled her. She’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Fine.” She darted him a look and silently cleared her throat. “Just tired. I had a tough travel day yesterday with everything so crowded and intense.” She had to quit being a baby. She was going to have a terrific time.

Everyone was right. She was too much of a hermit and needed to step out of her comfortable life. The more she’d hidden out, surrounded by her books and computer, the less social she’d become. But this was her big chance. She was going to rock this city and have all kinds of wild stories to tell Marnie and her sisters.

She would. She absolutely would. Or else, lie her ass off.

3

DAMN, WAS SHE CRYING? With growing apprehension, Nick watched the reflection of her heart-shaped face in the window. She nibbled her lower lip and stared forlornly at the pedestrians crowding the sidewalk who were making better time than they were. Her chin quivered, or maybe that was the trick of the light coming through the rain-splattered glass. Was she upset about not having a guide? Or maybe she was just plain lonely.

He turned away and ordered himself to forget about her. She was a grown woman. If she wanted company she would have brought a friend. He focused on two young women in absurdly high heels, huddled under one umbrella and rushing to cross the street. He often liked being alone himself, so that was easy to understand. What he needed to do was mind his own business. Next time he was gonna use the car service. No more cabs for him. And definitely no sharing.

He tensed when he thought he heard her sniffle. Slowly he angled back toward her, regarding her from the corner of his eye. She wasn’t crying, but was messing with her phone. Her dark head bent forward, her cute, slightly upturned nose wrinkled in concentration and her fingers worked quickly. Probably texting someone to meet her. Didn’t matter to him. Not his business, he reminded himself.

“Do you know—?”

“What are you—?”

They both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry,” she murmured, tucking her phone into her purse. “Go ahead.”

“After you.”

She smiled wryly, flashing both dimples. She really was cute, with her wavy collar-length hair swinging as she moved her head. Her eyes looked like they might be brown, but the lighting wasn’t good enough for him to tell for sure. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

He chuckled. “Me, too.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and blinked at him, her head tilting slightly. “I know this sounds crazy, but you look familiar.”

The driver’s head bobbed suddenly, and Nick caught the man’s eye in the rearview mirror. Nick narrowed his gaze in warning. She didn’t know who he was, and he liked it that way.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but gasped when the cab swerved sharply to keep from rear-ending a bus. She clutched the back of the driver’s seat, and with the other hand, tried to stop the packages on her lap from sliding to the floor. “Please tell me we’re close to the Thornton,” she muttered.

A brown shopping bag ended up on the floor, and he reached to retrieve it, but she quickly snatched it up as if she thought he were going to steal the thing.

“Not too far,” he said, leaning back.

“Close enough that I can walk?”

“Only if you don’t mind hiking twenty blocks in the rain.”

“Twenty blocks?” Her alarmed gaze lowered to the ticking meter. “You don’t think that’s far?”

With the rain and heavy traffic, it had taken fifteen minutes to go only a few blocks, and they’d already racked up quite a hefty fare. Nick hadn’t given it a second thought, but then he wasn’t on a budget. Anyway, he planned on dropping her off first and paying the whole thing.

“I’m going as fast as I can, miss,” the driver said, and then angrily muttered something in Italian and purposely lurched the cab forward when a black Mercedes tried to squeeze in front of them. A couple of explicit hand gestures were exchanged between the two drivers and then all was calm again.

Crazy, but Nick kind of missed the horn honking. A few hotheads ignored the law to cut back on noise that had been instituted some years back and still leaned on their horns as if that would make the traffic go any faster, but overall, the city was a quieter place.

Nick noticed her death grip on the armrest and, to distract her, said, “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Emily.” She relaxed her hold and slid him a brief glance. “Emily Carter.”

“So, where are you from, Emily Carter?”

“Berber, Indiana.”

“Is that anywhere near Logansport?”

She lifted her eyebrows at him. “About fifty miles. I can’t believe you’ve heard of it.”

“I grew up across the border in Pilner, Illinois.”

“Really? So you’re a tourist, too.”

“No, I’ve lived here for about ten years now.”

“Big change.”

“Yep.” He nodded. “It took a while to get used to the faster pace.” He could feel the driver staring at him in the rearview mirror again, but he felt confident he’d made his point and the man would keep his mouth shut.

“You said your name is Nick, right?”

“I did.”

She squinted, studying him quizzically.

If she recognized him it was his own fault. He didn’t know why he was being all chatty. He tended to shy away from people unless he was cornered. As much as he appreciated the money and fame that playing pro ball afforded him, he missed his privacy. Missed the days when he could go to a restaurant and eat an entire meal without being interrupted for an autograph. Hard to believe he used to lap up the attention. But he’d been young and easily impressed when he’d first been drafted into the majors. The arrogance had come later.

The traffic started to move again, and she abruptly turned to look out her window. This time they made it through the intersection and didn’t stop moving for the next eight blocks. The rain had eased up some, and Emily craned her neck, appearing eager to miss nothing they passed. He supposed they should consider themselves lucky. At this time of year, it could just as easily have been snow and not rain that had fallen on the city. Of course, he wouldn’t mind some of the white stuff, at least not until it turned to gray sludge pushed aside and piled high at the curbs.

Almost as if she’d read his mind, she met his eyes, gave him a dazzling smile, and said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if this suddenly turned to snow? You know, those kind of big fat fluffy flakes that cling to your hair and eyelashes and trick you into swearing you smell fresh Christmas trees and hot apple cider?”

He smiled back. “And hauling out your sled even before there’s enough accumulation for a decent ride down the neighborhood slope.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, all dimples. And then she sighed. “I checked the forecast before I left. It’s supposed to snow on Thanksgiving day back home.”

“Don’t tell me you still have your sled.”

“I’ve always been kind of partial to inner tubes.”

“Oh, yeah, you could get some speed out of those suckers.”

She laughed. “I’ve suffered more than one broken bone to prove it.”

“Amazingly I didn’t break anything, but I have a few scars on my arms and legs, courtesy of snowboarding.”

“Would’ve been a shame to mess up that pretty face,” she said, and then touched the tips of her fingers to her mouth. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

“Hey.” Nick gave her a teasing frown, mostly to hide his surprise. Did she know about Manhattan’s Sexiest Man Alive list that had just come out? Had she been messing with him all along?

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She pressed her lips together, which did little to hide her anything-but-contrite smile. Then she straightened and moved her head into the light so that he could see that her eyes were a rich chocolate-brown. “Oh, good, I see the Thornton.”

A surge of disappointment came out of left field. He watched her hug her bags to her body while she fished out her purse and withdrew her wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving away the money she produced. “I’ve got it.”

“No, let’s be fair about this.” She peered at the numbers on the meter, and pulled out another bill.

“I was coming this way, anyway.” He closed his fist over her hand. “Please.”

Her startled eyes met his.

Her hand was small. She was kind of small, period, maybe five-five.

“No, that’s not fair,” she said, her eyes widening slightly. “We agreed to share the cab.”

“Emily.”

She blinked and tugged her hand away. “Well, thank you, Nick.”

He hadn’t realized the driver had pulled to the curb, that a uniformed doorman was approaching with an umbrella to assist Emily out of the cab.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said haltingly.

“Same here.” Damn, he hadn’t felt this awkward since he was in junior high. And for no reason at all. “Have a good vacation.”

“Thanks.” She opened the door. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Right. You, too.” He hesitated. “Need help with your bags?”

“No, I’m good. Stay dry.” She struggled a moment until she had a firm hold of each tote, and by then the doorman offered her his gloved hand.

Nick watched her climb out, his gaze taking in the snug fit of her jeans as they stretched across a nicely rounded backside. No designer label on the pocket or peeking coyly from the seam, just regular faded blue denim worn by most of the women around Berber, Indiana.

That’s what was wrong, he realized. Why he was feeling soft in the head. Nostalgia. Nothing complicated. Emily reminded him of home. And for the first time in years, he’d actually wanted to spend the holidays there. But it hadn’t worked out. No big deal. Maybe he’d reconsider and take a flight south tomorrow. He had open invitations from three of his teammates who lived in Florida. Or maybe it would be better to spend the time alone. On the beach. Forget the rain and snow for a week or two.

Forget that his best friend might never play ball again.

Nick closed his eyes and shoved a hand through his hair. They’d talked about contracts and trades and eventual retirement, him and Billy. But they’d never dared to bring up being sidelined too early. It was bad luck to talk about something like that, according to Billy. He was from the bayous of Louisiana and was a superstitious old boy. No matter how much he’d joked about his family’s odd beliefs, Nick knew Billy had his own hang-ups about Cajun folklore.

In the end, none of the superstitions had mattered. The fate of Billy’s career had come down to a slick curve in the Catskills and a drunk driver. Well-meaning fans had written cards and sent flowers, while the press murmured that matters could have been worse…at least Billy was alive and could still walk. But they didn’t understand. For a star outfielder in his prime, there were far greater fates than death.

“Hey, Nicky, which way? You going home?”

The cab driver had turned around in his seat and stared at Nick, as if he’d been trying to get his attention for a while.

“Yeah.” He nodded and slid a glance toward the flashy but elegant entrance. Emily had already disappeared inside. Funny, he hadn’t figured her for choosing a trendy boutique hotel like the Thornton. “Upper East Side.”

“You got it,” the driver said and continued to chatter about the Knights’ winning season.

Half listening, Nick slouched down and laid his head back. Maybe returning to his apartment so early wasn’t such a hot idea. Nothing to do but watch the tube. Though he could call the folks and wish them a safe trip. Tomorrow morning they’d be leaving for Vermont.

He snorted. Yeah, that call would take all of five minutes. Not true. He and his mother always had a good chat. But him and his father, they didn’t seem to have that much to say to each other these past few years. He supposed he could call Marla and take her out for a drink and then spend the night at her place. She’d pout for half an hour, let him know what she thought about him not calling her for two weeks, but she’d give in. She always did.

The cab came to an abrupt halt behind a silver Escalade. Nick threw up his arm to brace himself. On the floor near his feet shot out something pink. It looked like a book. Had Emily dropped it? Frowning, he picked it up and slanted the cover toward the illumination of a streetlight. Erotic New York: The Best Sex in the City.

Nick choked out a laugh. This couldn’t be Emily’s. It probably belonged to an earlier passenger. The sudden stop must have jarred it loose. Though she had said she’d been to the bookstore. He opened the book and leafed through the pages, his jaw dropping at some of the pictures. Whether the book belonged to her or not, this was too good to pass up.