Love Story (5 page)

He
did
want to buy her a drink. No, he didn’t. No way. But damn, she was enticing even when she was dressed like Britney Spears.

“Never mind,” she preempted
him. “It’s taking you too long to decide. I wait for no man.” Turning, she stepped off the curb.

Just as a cab came speeding by. Nick leapt for her, dragged her back to the curb, but he lost his footing and they tumbled onto the sidewalk. His head hit the cement.

He would have yelled at her for being careless, but she was shaking hard. So he simple clung to her.

Her ankle throbbed from the way it’d twisted when Nick dragged her back to avoid the speeding taxi. Cabs were dangerous in the city, but she’d never seen one almost run somebody down. Her heart was still beating fast from the experience.

“You okay?” Nick asked the question from where he sat in her living room, leaning against the back cushions of the couch with
his arm propped up to hold ice on his head. His eyes were dulled by pain now.

“Me? You’re the one who got hurt. My ankle’s nothing.” It too was encased in ice now.

“I’d say you were reckless out there, but you still seem upset.”

“I am. I didn’t think I was reckless. But I
was
distracted by you and should have been more careful.”

A grin. “Who are you, and what did you do with Lizzie?”

“She’s gone for the night. When I think of what could have happened…”

“Are you scared of dying, Elizabeita?”

“What? Me?” She shook her head. “Not at all. But I…my mother…my siblings, they wouldn’t be able to cope if something happened to me.”

People might find that statement contradictory to her behavior because she took unnecessary risks all the time, where she could get hurt.
But it was either that or go crazy with worry.

“Of course it would be tragic for them if they lost you.” Sadness flitted across his face. His wife had died, he’d said. “But people manage if they have to.”

“My family knows that. Unfortunately.”

“Meaning?”

“We’ve had a lot of tragedy. A lot. I’m not sure they could handle any more loss.”

“I’m sorry, then. You didn’t want to discuss
them the last time we were together. Want to talk about it now?”

“It’s too sad.” Her mood perked up. “But you can tell me about yours.”

He didn’t want to reveal too much, but he had a horrific headache that the painkiller was beginning to affect, making his brain fuzzy. “My dad’s dead.”

“Mine, too.”

“Both him and my mother were professors at NYU.”

“How cool. Why didn’t you
go to college there?”

“The army, remember?”

“Does she still teach?” “No, she retired five years ago.”

“Do you see her much?”

“We live with her.”

“We?” Elizabeita’s heart sank. “You said you lost your wife. Do you have a woman in your life?”

“No, no woman. I moved into her house after my wife died.”

“How horrible. My twin sisters’ husbands were both killed in the same
car accident together, and they moved in with my mother.”

“That’s an awful story.” He winced when he readjusted the ice. “Is that what you referred to earlier, about them?”

“Yes and more.” She studied him. “You’re still in pain. Maybe you should have a doctor examine your head. There was no break in the skin, but you could have a concussion.”

“No ERs. Truthfully, the light’s bothering
me. And my arm’s going numb. I need to switch positions.”

Rising, Elizabeita turned off all but one light in the corner, then stood over him. “Sit up.” When he did, she took the ice pack and told him to stretch out. He must be in pain if he didn’t object to her bossing him around. She put a pillow under his head and fixed the pack so he was more comfortable. Then she sat back down with his
legs next to her. The couch was long and wide and accommodated both of them. She leaned into the cushions. “Who was the
us
you referred to, Nick?”

His eyes were glassy. “I have a daughter.”

“You do?

His lids drooped. In seconds, he was asleep.

From the other end, Elizabeita watched him. He seemed bigger tonight. Even more male. She’d been fighting how attractive she found him since
they’d met only nine days ago. But tonight her pull toward him was even stronger. She was vulnerable from the near miss, and he’d saved her. Maybe that was why he seemed so rugged, so sexy. The light blue shirt stretched across his muscular chest and his jeans gloved him. Reaching up, she took a blanket from the back of the couch and put it over him and her. Then she slid down on her own pillow
and closed her eyes.

Nick awoke with a start and sat up. His head hurt like a son of a bitch. Where was he? Something shifted at the end of the couch, and he reached for his gun—which wasn’t at his back. Then he remembered. He was with Elizabeita—and he’d nearly cracked his skull saving her life.

His watch told him it was 1:00 a.m. He had to call his mother. They’d made
an agreement if he wasn’t coming home at night, he’d text, and when she got up in the morning, she’d know he wasn’t lying dead on a street somewhere. Gingerly, he eased himself up and felt dizzy.

Going out to the kitchen, he texted,
I’m safe. Won’t be home tonight
. He was in no state to navigate outside on the street. He got a new ice pack, then went back to the living room, sat down at the
end of the couch and put the bag on his head. And admitted he didn’t want to leave anyway.

Boy, was this a mistake.

He stared over at her, this young woman who was a contradiction wrapped up in a paradox. She was flippant, sassy and sarcastic when she did her Lizzie thing. Though it drove him nuts, somewhere inside him, he chuckled every time he saw her like that. He used to be lighthearted,
too, at her age, when he thought he and Angie had the world by the tail.

Then there was the Elizabeita at work. It shocked him that he found himself gravitating toward that woman, too. She was smart, incisive and sophisticated. He and Angie hadn’t frequented art museums, but Nick had liked learning about the philosophy of modern art from Elizabeita. Then there was the generous side. She made
a point of spending time with an old man who came to the Met every week. And she volunteered at Baden Street to help a group of underprivileged kids. Even though he couldn’t believe she could get them interested in art, he knew troubled teens loved adult attention of any kind.

When he realized he was enumerating her good traits, he rose from the couch. No way was he going to do this. She was
fourteen years younger than him, and light-years away from his experience. He made his way to the back of the condo, stopping at the first room he came to. After he used the john and took some ibuprofen, he climbed on top of the bed and lay down. Immediately, her perfume filled his head. Hell, he’d picked
her
room. But he was tired again. His eyes were already closing.

Nick awoke hours later.
Dawn was breaking, and tiny bits of light were making their way through the slatted blinds. He also knew the time of day because he had a hard-on, and that happened only in the morning. But this particular one was caused by the female form spooning him from the back.

He remembered his earlier thoughts about her. Nope, he’d stick to his guns if it killed him. This wasn’t going to happen. And
yet, he stayed where he was, seduced by the luxurious feel of sleeping with a woman, her body all warm and flushed against his. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this.

She sensed him wake up. She’d been lying here, knowing she’d intruded on his personal space (though he’d slept in
her
bed). She’d awakened alone on the couch, found him here and crawled on top of the mattress,
too. Sometime during the night, she’d sought him out. She’d been awake for a while, enjoying the hard body she’d cuddled into, the soft sound of his breathing, the planes and angles of him. Paradoxically, she felt safe and exhilarated by the sensation of being close to this man. Unbeknownst to any of her sisters, who shared their personal lives, which included discussing men, there’d been only
a few male paramours in her twenty-six years.

Besides the physical attraction, she’d come to like this rather ornery man. His inappropriate humor in situations mirrored her own wit. And then tonight, she’d found out he was dedicated to his family, one she hadn’t even known he had. A daughter. Huh!

Add that to the fact that Lizzie was a young, healthy woman, and sex was on her mind. Especially
now. So she didn’t suppress her arousal. “You’re awake,” she said finally, moving in even closer.

“More than I’d like, right about now.” The wry self-deprecation in his voice made her smile. Made her lower her hand to his hard shaft.

“
I
like it.”

He stayed her hand and turned over. His beard was scruffy, his eyes sleepy, and he looked so damn sexy any hesitation she had evaporated
like mist on a lake. “Be careful what you’re doing, sweetheart. You shouldn’t wake a sleeping tiger.”

She giggled. “The sleeping tiger is already awake.”

“Because of you, damn it.”

Smiling at him, she said simply, “I know what I’ve done. I know my own mind, Nick. What can a little recreational sex hurt?”

“You said you don’t shit where you eat.”

She laughed out loud. “A little
less crudely, but normally yes. I’d make an exception today.”

“This is so not a good idea.” He said the words as he leaned in and kissed her.

She savored the contact, the hard brush of his lips across hers, and knew intuitively he’d be a great lover. But she drew back. “I stand by the tenant that no means no, male or female. It’s on you, big guy. Because I’m not saying no.”

He took
in a breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m waiting.”

“As you can feel”—he bumped his middle with hers—“I want to.”

“Then make love to me, Nick. There won’t be any recriminations.”

He smoothed down her streaked-with-blue hair back. “Are you sure?”

“I am. But it has to be with your conscious consent.”

“Consider this consent.” His arms banded around her and he pulled her close.
“You have curves everywhere. They hide under those suits.”

“They’re not hiding now. I put on my pajamas before I climbed into bed with you at two a.m.”

His hands slid to the hem of the satiny top and slipped it over her head. “Dear God in heaven, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

He’d taken off everything but his jeans, so she went for the snap at his waist, then his zipper. He lifted
up so she could push them and his briefs off. Then she went to remove her own bottoms. “No, no, let me.”

Easing up on his knees, he sat back, grasped the pants of her pajamas, drew them down. And sucked in a breath. “You are so lovely. Do you know that?”

Did she? Reaching up, she cradled his scratchy jaw with her hand. “Never as much as I do now.”

He put his palm at the juncture of
her thighs. And pressed. And moved in circular motions.

Elizabeita stopped thinking.

“Close your eyes.”

“No, I want to see you.”

“I said close them.” His voice was commanding. “That’s it, sweetheart. Now, feel me.”

He began at her jaw, brushed his fingers back and forth over her collarbone, then closed his hand over a breast. She bucked up.

“Relax.”

“You gotta be kidding me. I’m anything but relaxed.”

“Shh. Try to stay still.”

She obeyed, which surprised him

So he took his time. He kissed or licked or touched every curve and indentation of her. Though it was killing him, he forced his body to prolong this moment.

Elizabeita was swimming in a sea of sensation. His callused hands were everywhere, exciting her,
making her whimper, call out his name. But still, he only touched her.

Finally, she said, “My turn.” He eased back and she sat up. “Lay down.”

“What, no, I’m ready…”

“Tough. Lay down.”

“This just might kill me, honey.”

“Fair’s fair. You tortured me.”

With a chuckle, he fell to his back, spread-eagle. “Do your worst, then.”

She was all over him, spurred on by the scent
of his aroused body, by the sweat that beaded his brow. Taut muscles rose up to meet her touch, and she reveled in the pure masculinity of him.

“That feel good?” she asked when her hand went to his groin.

“Not quite enough. Stop playing around there and do some serious business.”

Again she laughed.

And did some serious business.

After a long, long time, Nick
poised over her. She was flushed because of him, and he was ready to explode because of her. He prayed he’d last. “Look at me, Lizzie. Watch me when we do this.”

Her eyes locked with his. He slid inside her, easily, because she was so wet. Her tight muscles clamped around him. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Reciting the multiplication tables in his head wasn’t going
to work. Biting the inside of his jaw wasn’t, either. So he linked his hands with hers and said, “Then hang on, baby.”

He thrust, and her hips surged up. He came, quick and hard. He shouted out and she was saying something over and over, but he couldn’t decipher what it was. His body took over, and the end came violently for them both.

“What are you thinking about?” Nick’s
voice was lower, morning rusty.

She turned from the window she’d been staring through. He wore his jeans, with a clean T-shirt Magdalena’s husband had left here. “About what we did this morning.” She gave him a sexy smile. “You’re pretty damn good with a woman, Caseman.”

Crossing to her, he grasped her neck and kissed her soundly. “You weren’t so bad yourself. Man, where did you learn
those moves?”

“I don’t know. They came naturally.” And never with anyone else.

The toast popped up. “There’s our breakfast. Are you sure I can’t make you something else?”

“No, thanks. I have an appointment outside work.”