Triple Threat (13 page)

“Okay, you win. Stay here, if it’ll make you happy.”

Touchdown!

He leaned back in his chair and flashed her a grin worthy of the village idiot. “Oh, it’ll make me happy, all right. And Ted and Judith, too. The last thing they need is to fork out any more money than they have to.”

“You can have my old room,” Noelle offered.

“Or mine,” Gabe put in. “If you prefer debate trophies and sports equipment to toe shoes and New Kids on the Block posters.”

“Please,” Noelle scoffed. “I took those down ages ago. It’s N Sync now.”

“Thanks, man.” Nick turned to Holly’s parents. “You, too, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson.”

“Of course,
Niccolò.
” Elena stood and began to clear the table, shooting a scathing glance at Holly. “I’m sure I speak for
all
of us when I say we’re happy to have you here, for as long as necessary.”

* * *

T
HE LAST THING
Holly wanted to do was show their new guest to his temporary digs. But as her mother said, she spoke for
all
the Nelsons, and when she’d offered Holly’s services as tour guide there was no room for objection.

“Follow me.” Holly started up the stairs that led to the bedrooms. She knew what she’d find behind Gabe’s door. Her mother had kept each of the Nelson siblings’ rooms as virtual shrines, and his was no exception. Debate trophies displayed on a shelf above his desk, organized by height and evenly spaced. Patriots and Red Sox pennants hanging over the dresser. A baseball, bat and glove resting in one corner, giving the room a faint smell of leather that mixed with the lemon Pledge her mother sprayed like pixie dust over every surface.

Everything in its place. Including the enormous four-poster bed.

Even the word brought on a flood of erotic images. Nick’s head between her legs, his soft, dark hair tickling her thighs, his tongue teasing her into a mindless frenzy. His body covering hers, her soft curves melding with his hard edges. And his hands—oh, those hands—molding her breasts, sliding down her rib cage, gripping her hips...

She stopped and clutched the banister, determined to banish the memories—the desires—from her brain. She’d had her night with Nick. There wasn’t going to be another.

What kind of fool played around with a guy as hot—and smart and talented and rich and famous—as Nick, knowing they’d likely end up with third-degree emotional burns when he left?

Not newly self-protective Holly, who didn’t act on impulse and regret it forever.

Not newly launched, career-minded Holly, who needed to be taken seriously as a writer.

Not newly respectable daughter Holly, who wasn’t going to have sex in her brother’s room.

She’d just have to stay far, far away from that bed. Or any bed, for that matter, when Nick was around. And countertops. And bathtubs. To be safe, she should probably add couches, futons and oversize chairs to that list.

She was halfway up the staircase before she registered the lack of footsteps behind her. She swiveled her head to find Nick still standing at the foot of the stairs, looking like a
GQ
model with one hand in his pocket and the other on the strap of the duffel slung over his shoulder.

“Problem?”

“Just enjoying the view.” He rested one foot on the bottom step, scanning her body with his eyes. Was it her imagination or did they linger on her backside?

“Is this your idea of being good?” She wasn’t going to survive even a day of him, never mind a whole week. Silently, she prayed Cade and the fire marshal would make quick work of their investigation so she and Nick wouldn’t have to live under the same roof for long.

One corner of Nick’s mouth curled into a devilish grin. “From where I stand, things look very, very good.”

“You know what I mean. You said I wouldn’t even know you were here.”

He shrugged. “I lied.”

“Typical.” And exactly what she was afraid of with Nick. He might not lie intentionally, but he’d lie to himself that what they had was special enough to last for more than the run of the show. He must know better. His whole adult life had been a series of beautiful women who went as fast as they came, his fly-by-night relationships documented and catalogued by a dozen websites.

Not that she’d been searching him on Google. She didn’t need more than one source for her gossip, and now that she was home she could steal her mother’s
People
as soon as it arrived. It was going to be up to her to keep herself out of the tabloids. Just one shot of him kissing her, followed a few weeks later by one of him leaving her, would shatter her. Everyone in town would know she’d been played. She didn’t have Noelle’s poise or Gabe’s confidence, or even Ivy’s don’t-give-a-shit outlook on life. There’d be no shaking it off for her.

She’d have to become a hermit, just when her life was starting to get fun.

No way.

Her protective armor fully in place, she made her stand at the top of the stairs.

“Come on.” She took off down the hall. “Gabe’s room’s the third door on the left. You can put your stuff in there.”

“Hold up.” Nick shot up the staircase. “Your mom promised me an escort.”

“Are you always this difficult?”

“Only when I know I’m right.” He stepped closer, angling his head to study her through hooded eyes. A habit of his, she’d noticed. One that had her swooning into his neck for a drag of his cologne before she regained control.

“And what exactly are you right about?”

“You and me.” He moved even nearer.
Crap.
If her family saw them like this, she’d never hear the end of it.

With a sigh, she pushed open the door to Gabe’s room and ducked inside. Better to take her stand there, in private. If she humiliated herself it wouldn’t be witnessed by anyone but Nick. “Here it is. Home, sweet home. For the time being.”

Nick paused at the threshold and looked down the hall. “Where’s your room?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yeah. That’s why I asked.”

“Let’s just say it’s too close to my parents’ room for you to get any ideas.” Holly surveyed the room. Everything was exactly as she’d expected, from the trophies to the lemon Pledge.

“I’ve already got plenty of ideas, sweetheart.” Nick came in, depositing his bag on the bed. The room shrank by yards.

“Excuse me.” Gabe poked his head in the door and cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt your verbal foreplay...”

Holly dissolved into a fit of coughing, which Nick stemmed by reaching around and patting her on the back.

“...but I’m heading back to the city. I’m in the Special Victims Unit now, but I’ve got a buddy with Violent Crimes. I’ll see what I can find out about the fire from him.”

“Thanks.” Holly crossed to Gabe and gave him a quick hug. “I always knew having a big-shot district attorney for a baby brother would come in handy someday. I just thought it would be for stuff like fixing traffic tickets.”

“I hate to ask,” Gabe began, pulling back and studying Holly’s face intently, “but do you think...maybe...your ex is behind all this?”

“Clark?” she whispered. “But he’s...out of state.”

“He could be working with an accomplice. And he’s got a pretty strong motive for closing the show down.”

“Not to mention a criminal record,” Holly muttered low enough so that Nick, searching for something in his duffel, wouldn’t hear. She hoped.

“Don’t worry, Holls,” Gabe reassured her. “Whoever’s doing this, he’s targeting the show, not you. You’ll be safe here with Mom and Dad.”

“And me,” Nick added, abandoning his search and taking a step toward them. If she hadn’t been so freaked out about the whole arson thing, Holly would have laughed at the way he puffed out his chest, like an overeager adolescent trying to impress his best girl.

His girl.

Gabe gave her another fast squeeze before heading for the door. He stopped when he reached Nick and looked him straight in the eye, a serious expression on his face. “If she gets hurt, it’s on you, man.”

Nick nodded, meeting his gaze. “Not going to happen.”

“Hello?” Holly’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “Still here. And fully capable of taking care of myself.” Except for her heart.

“Try to stay out of trouble.”

With a wave of his hand, Gabe was gone, leaving Nick and Holly alone, within striking distance of that big, beautiful bed.

What was it Gabe had said? Stay out of trouble?

Some things, Holly thought, were easier said than done.

12

H
OLLY SWORE UNDER
her breath as she fumbled in her darkened bedroom for her muck boots. What had she been thinking when she volunteered for the morning shift at the nursery? No civilized human being should be required to rise before the sun.

Of course, her father was probably already dressed and in the greenhouse, watering the perennials. At sixty-six, he had more energy than most thirty-somethings.

Including Nick,
Holly thought, her outstretched hand finally coming into contact with the cool rubber of one of her boots. She felt around for the other, grabbed the pair and crept in her stocking feet out of the room and down the long, dark hall. Sure, Nick had offered to help. But she didn’t think he’d appreciate being dragged out of bed in the wee hours on his first full day in Stockton. Seeing his muscles bunch and flex as he mulched the gardens would have made it worth hauling her own sorry butt up at such an ungodly hour, though. If she followed the look-don’t-touch rule, she’d be fine, or so she told herself. Right before she considered what crimes she’d commit—theoretically—to see the man in shorts and work boots. Shirtless, with a thin sheen of sweat covering his chest and back.

A soft thump and the pitter-patter of furry feet told her Jasper had jumped off her bed and was fast catching up to her. His fluffy shadow approached, his purr vibrating through Holly’s toes. “Hey there, big fella,” she cooed. “Ready to catch some mice?”

With a haughty tilt of his white-tinged chin that seemed to say “as if,” the tabby snubbed her and glided past. Rearing up on his hind legs, he stretched his front paws toward the door handle of Gabe’s room. Nick lay sleeping in there, wearing who knew how much—or how little.

“Jasper, no,” she hissed, a corner of her brain dimly recalling Nick’s casual comment at dinner about his cat allergy. She should have warned him that Jasper was a regular feline Houdini, able to open doors. “Down.”

Neither “no” nor “down” had any effect on the cat. Holly dropped her boots and started after him, but before she could grab the little bugger he had pressed on the handle and thrown his considerable weight against the door, pushing it open. With his tail held high and an air of superiority befitting his Egyptian ancestors, he squeezed through, leaving Holly staring after him.

Damn, double damn and triple damn.

She had two choices. Keep going down the hall as if nothing had happened. Or rescue Nick from a trip to the E.R. for a shot of Benadryl.

“Stupid cat.” Her choice made, she inched the door open farther. She’d sneak in, grab the beast and sneak out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Light crept through the half-open curtains, and the faint smell of freshly mown grass drifted through the open window. And on the bed...

Holly’s breath hitched at the sight of Nick sprawled, one long leg hanging off the mattress. He wasn’t naked, thanks to a pair of formfitting boxer briefs—
drat
—but his muscled chest and legs were bare, the sheet bunched around his ankles, as if he’d been too spent after a bout of down-and-dirty, muss-the-covers action to bother pulling it up. He looked every inch the Hollywood bad boy the press made him out to be, even in sleep, with his light scruff, deep tan and sculpted-for-IMAX body. But at the same time, he appeared surprisingly vulnerable, his eyes closed, long dark lashes resting against his cheeks, his strong jaw relaxed, his breathing deep and even.

She’d seen plenty of him that night in his apartment, but in her rush to leave she’d never had the chance to study him undetected. Now, with him prostrate and unconscious, she could appreciate the perfect symmetry of his face, cheek over chin next to perfectly angled nose. The chiseled highs and lows of his pecs and abs. Corded forearms leading to thick wrists and strong, long-fingered hands. She itched to touch. Taste. Smell. Curl up next to him and bask in the heat radiating off his body.

He’s just a man,
she told herself, exhaling quietly in a futile effort to slow her racing heart. Flesh, blood and bone, like any other.

But oh, what a delectable combination of flesh, blood and bone.

She took a tentative step toward him before remembering what she was there for. Jasper. Where was that darned cat?

Holly scanned the room and found him coiled at the foot of the bed, ready to spring onto Nick’s outstretched legs. “C’mere, Jasper,” she pleaded softly. “Come on, boy. I saw some Manchego cheese in the refrigerator. Your favorite.” He might be lower on the evolutionary scale, but he sure had expensive taste in treats.

Unmoved by the bribe, the cat leaped with unexpected ease onto the bed, landing inches from Nick’s pillow. With a swish of his tail, the cat circled a few times before settling into the crook of Nick’s arm, his cocky orange head tucked under Nick’s chin and one paw extended across his sculpted rib cage.

Lucky cat.

Holly held her breath, waiting for Nick to stir. But the guy slept like a stone. She tiptoed to the bedside and reached for the cat, ignoring the devil on her shoulder telling her to oh so casually brush against Nick as she did. She had to get Jasper out of there before Nick’s allergies kicked in. She couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than him waking up sneezing and finding her gawking at him like one of his obsessed fangirls. Not exactly how she’d planned to start her day.

“That’s it, boy,” she crooned softly, getting close enough to graze his soft fur with her fingertips. “Just a little bit farther and we’ll go get some of that nice overpriced cheese....”

“Any farther and I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”