Triple Threat (12 page)

“Oh, Nils. Stop scowling.” Elena Nelson gave Nick a smile that seemed to spread throughout her tiny frame. At least someone was happy to have him there. “Nick is our guest. I’m sure he and Holly were just talking shop.”

“Uh, yeah.” Holly pasted a polite smile on her face and went back to preparing her guacamole. “Talking shop.”

“You two must have lots to discuss.” Noelle took a seat at the table and shot Nick a grin that was both reassuring and apologetic at the same time. “Since you get to keep working together.”

“Where’s Cade?” Holly’s attempt to change the subject was about as subtle as a kick to the groin.

“Next door getting Mr. Bauermann.” Gabe went to stick a finger in the guacamole and Holly slapped it away.

“They’ll be here any minute.” Elena made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now out, all of you, or I’ll never get dinner on the table.”

* * *

H
OLLY HAD SAT
through many a Nelson Sunday supper. The fatty food. The constant questions. The mostly good-natured ribbing. She thought she’d seen—and survived—it all.

She was wrong. Nothing could have prepared her for the humiliation of having her worst moments replayed for Nick Damone.

“Remember when Holly tried to rescue that poor squirrel with the broken leg?”

“The one she kept in a box under her bed?”

“Yeah, until it chewed its way out. Stupid rodent terrorized us for three days before Dad caught it.”

“How about her unforgettable performance as Muff Potter in the Stockton Elementary School’s production of
Tom Sawyer?
”

“You mean when the seat of her pants split open in front of the entire student body? Who could forget that?”

“The sight of her Strawberry Shortcake underwear scarred those kids for life.”

“See what you missed, Nick, not moving here until high school?”

She was going to kill them. One by one. Slowly and painfully.

“Stop embarrassing your sister.” Holly’s mother spooned a heaping serving of pasta onto her husband’s plate. “You too, Cade.”

Sufficiently chastised, the Three Amigos ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sound in the cavernous farmhouse kitchen the clanking of forks and knives.

It was too good to last.

“So, Holly.” Noelle, twirling a single strand of spaghetti around her fork, was the first to start in on her again. Did she ever eat? “Seeing anyone special?”

Holly almost choked on one of her mother’s super-secret-recipe meatballs. Her eyes flicked to Nick, sitting next to her, naturally, huge and hot and devastatingly handsome. He was no help at all, acting all strong and silent as he dug into his plate of pasta and braciole. She had half a mind to grab the fire extinguisher from the hall closet and hose him down. Then again, maybe it’d be better to turn it on herself and cool off her own raging hormones.

“That’s a good question.” When he finally spoke it was low enough that only she could hear. She hoped. “One I’d sure like to know the answer to.”

What the heck was he playing at? Her parents were eyeing them suspiciously. Her sister looked like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary. Gabe and Cade, her self-appointed protectors, sat tightly coiled, ready to pounce on Nick if he laid so much as a finger on her. Only Mr. Bauermann, trying to stab an especially elusive meatball with his fork, seemed completely oblivious to the sexual energy in the room.

She had to give them some sort of response, if only to keep the boys from messing up Nick’s pretty face. “I wish. But you know what it’s like getting a show off the ground. No time for anything else. Certainly not a relationship.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Noelle countered. “Every production has its share of showmances. It’s inevitable. People thrown together in close quarters for hours on end.” She pinned her gaze on Nick from across the table. “Right, Nick?”

“I guess,” he agreed with a shrug. “But that’s not my style. Usually.”

“What about you, Noe? Are you still dating that... Erp!” Holly jerked with a squeal as Nick’s warm fingers slid up her thigh and under her skirt, his movements hidden by the long tablecloth. What on earth had possessed her to dress for dinner anyway?

“You all right?” her brother asked. “Cade’s a firefighter. I’m pretty sure he knows the Heimlich maneuver.”

“Sure do.”

“Hiccups,” she said through gritted teeth, glancing sideways at Nick. The good-for-nothing jerk had the nerve to sit there smiling at her family with an innocent expression worthy of a choirboy, all the while creeping his fingers higher and higher until he was almost touching the hem of her undies. She said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d gone with one of the new thongs her sister had made her buy on their recent pre-Nick shopping spree instead of her traditional granny panties, then gave herself a mental slap across the face. What difference did her choice of underwear make? Nick Damone was not getting in her pants again. No way, no how.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered through clenched teeth, pressing her knees together and putting a hand over his, stopping its upward trajectory.

He turned his choirboy charm on her. “Me? Not a thing. I’m the picture of virtue.”

Only if virtue looks like sex on a stick.
She pressed her legs tighter and tried her hardest to focus on what her sister was saying from across the table instead of the heat generated by Nick’s hand under it.

“You know who I’d like to have a showmance with? Ryan Gosling.” Noelle sucked a strand of spaghetti into her mouth, eyeing Nick over her fork. “Can you introduce me to him?”

“How about Jennifer Lawrence?” Gabe chimed in. “Do you know her?”

“Basta
.
”
Elena shushed them with a flick of her wrist. “What did I warn you? No pestering Niccolò about his famous friends. We’re going to have a nice, normal Sunday dinner.”

Gabe snorted. “Since when have our Sunday dinners been nice and normal? Right, Holls?”

“I...uh...”

She was saved from getting dragged into that battle by a shrill, persistent beeping.

“That’s me.” Cade stood, unclipping his pager from his belt and checking the screen. “Sorry. Got to call in. Can I use your phone? It’s more reliable than my cell out here.”

“Of course. Why don’t you use the one in Dad’s office. It’ll be quieter there.” Holly waved off her mother, who had started to rise, and jumped up, pushing her chair back.

“Uh, it’s okay,” Cade said, moving to the door. “I know where it is. Thanks.” His footsteps echoed down the hall.

“So eager to get away from me?” The hand that had been on Holly’s leg reached for his wine glass. So why was her thigh still tingling?

“It’s your own fault,” she hissed. “For not following our agreement.”

“What agreement?” He sipped his merlot.

“You know,” she whispered, sneaking furtive glances at her family, thankfully otherwise engaged in capellini and conversation. “No... You know.”

“Oh. Forgot. Sorry.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You’re not gonna believe this.” Cade stormed back into the room, grabbing a couple of rolls from a basket on the table and stuffing them in his pockets.

“Believe what?” Noelle asked, smacking Cade’s hand as he reached for another roll.

“The fire marshal wants me to meet him at the Rep ASAP.”

Holly’s stomach plummeted. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, too, and everyone—including Mr. Bauermann—stopped eating. Without the clatter of silverware the kitchen was eerily silent.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Please don’t tell me it burned down, too.”

“Not yet. And not ever, if we can help it.”

Nick threw down his napkin and frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We just got word from the NYFD. The fire that destroyed the Deville was arson.”

11

A
RSON.
S
HIT.

“They’re sure?” Nick rubbed a hand across his jaw, the short, crisp hairs of his beard scratching his palm.

Cade nodded. “Positive. There were traces of gasoline on the floor. And they dug out what was left of the starter.”

“Starter?” Holly slumped back into her chair. One look at her ashen face made Nick want to wrap her in his arms, the watchful eyes of her family be damned.

“The arsonist wedged a lit cigarette with a rubber band wrapped around the end into a matchbook,” Cade explained. “By the time the matches ignited and started the fire, he was probably miles away.”

“Okay. So the fire was set. What does that have to do with the Rep?” This from logical, lawyerly Gabe. The guy had always been the voice of reason, even in high school. He was practically cross-examining Cade now. Thank God, because Nick’s brain was fuzzy and tired.

“The NYFD said something about other suspicious accidents during preproduction.”

“Oh, my God.” Holly gripped the edge of the table. “The food poisoning. And the power outage.”

Nick groaned, remembering his conversation with Marisa at Pearl. “And the bomb threat that grounded Marisa’s flight in Canada.”

The show was cursed. That’s what everyone kept saying. He wasn’t a superstitious person, so he hadn’t gone along with that crap. But why hadn’t he suspected foul play? There were too many incidents for it to be a coincidence.

He knew why. Because the delays had worked in his favor. More time with Holly.

And more danger. Idiot.

“Food poisoning? Bomb threats?” Holly’s mother pushed away her half-full plate. “Why haven’t we heard about this?”

“Maybe we should take this outside,” Nick suggested, seeing the pinched looks on her parents’ faces.

Cade shook his head. “No time. I’ve got to run. Fire marshal’s waiting.”

Holly rose and picked up her plate, crossing to the sink. “I’m coming with you.”

“No can do. An arson investigation team’s on its way up from New York. No one’s going near the Rep or the company housing until we give the all-clear.”

“How long’s that going to take?” Nick asked.

“Not sure. A few days, at least.”

“A few days?” Holly’s plate clattered into the sink.

“Maybe a week. There’s a lot of ground to cover. The theater itself. All the rooms for the cast and crew.”

“A week?” Nick could hear the panic in her voice. “But the rest of the company’s supposed to be here tomorrow.” He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Losing a day or two of rehearsal would suck, but they’d make up for lost time. A whole week would be a disaster. Anything more than that and folks would start to jump ship, finding work with other shows.

Although that wouldn’t be such a bad thing where Malcolm was concerned....

“Tell them to stay put. Everything’s on hold while we sweep the place. We’ll work as fast as we can.” Evading Noelle’s ever-ready hand, Cade grabbed another roll.

“I’ll let you know as soon as we’ve got a more definite time frame,” he called over his shoulder, sprinting out of the room.

Nick drew his brows together, wrinkling his forehead. “Where does that leave us?”

“You can always head back to the city,” Gabe suggested. “Or hang out up here with your family.”

Like that was going to happen.

“I’ll stay here, if it’s okay with you guys.” Holly looked from one parent to the other. “I can work on the script changes the producers asked for. And I’m sure Dad won’t mind a little help with the nursery, right?”

Nils gave what Nick interpreted as an affirmative grunt.

Then again, maybe hanging out in Stockton wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. He could play bodyguard, keep an eye on Holly and make sure nothing happened to her. And maybe while he was at it, convince her to give him a second chance.

“And I’ll bet Ethan can have the PR people get started on some promotional stuff,” she continued, biting her lip and drumming her fingers on her thigh. Sexy little schemer. “You know, TV appearances, radio interviews, speaking engagements. Play up the hometown-girl-makes-good angle. If I’m going to be in town, I might as well do something useful.”

Yes!

Just like when he was on the gridiron in high school, Nick saw an opening and went for it. “I’d be happy to stay and help with that. The Aaronsons chose New Haven because we both grew up here, right? But I can’t bunk with my parents.”

He had to come up with an excuse. Fast. Holly might suspect his relationship with his family was less than ideal, but he wasn’t about to admit that in front of the rest of the Brady Bunch. His personal life was just that—personal. “They’re, uh, having some work done on the house.”

He was at the fifty-yard line....

“What about the Charter Oak Inn?” Gabe suggested. The bed-and-breakfast was the only game in Stockton when it came to lodging.

Noelle shook her head. “No room.”

The forty...

“Seriously?” Holly scowled at her sister.

“The whole place is booked all week for some wedding.”

The thirty...

“Sorry, Nick,” Holly said. Only, she didn’t sound all that sorry. Didn’t look sorry, either. More like relieved. “But there’re plenty of hotels in New Haven. I’m sure Ted and Judith will put you up in one of them.”

“Don’t be silly,” her mother cut in. “Why would he stay in a cold, impersonal hotel room when he can stay with us. We have plenty of room. And three home-cooked meals a day. You can’t get that in any hotel.”

The twenty...

“I’ll be good.” At what, Nick didn’t say, although several possibilities sprang to mind. All of which involved making her come. Multiple times. “Promise. You’ll hardly know I’m here.”

Unless, of course, he was giving her those orgasms, in which case she’d be screaming his name. “Besides, didn’t you say your dad could use an extra hand around here?”

Nils grunted again, which Nick took as another yes.

The ten...

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize that would entail getting your hands dirty, right?”

“Hey, I wasn’t always a movie star. I’ve done my share of manual labor.”

The five...

Emotions passed across Holly’s face in quick succession: anger, fear, something that looked suspiciously like arousal and, finally, resignation. Nick reminded himself to tell her not to play poker—unless it was a private game of strip poker with him.