The Wicked Bad (Crimson Romance) (15 page)

“What is it, Julie? Did he say something? Please, talk to me!”

Julie exhaled shakily. “I usually don’t go to pieces like this, really I don’t. But it’s been so long since I’ve been in the company of a man. It brought it all back. High school dances, blind dates, the teasing and the hurtful remarks. All I could see was my former fat self sitting on the sidelines, watching others having fun, watching them laugh behind their hands. The most popular boy would ask me for a dance because he lost a bet and had to dance with the fat girl.” She cleared her throat to control her emotions. “That’s what it felt like. He looked at me and talked to me because he had to. I was that fat, sad girl again. Maybe I always will be deep inside.”

Veronica hugged her friend close. “Oh Julie, I never should’ve suggested it. He affected you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did. He tried to talk to me while you guys were gone. He touched my cheek. Oh wow, his touch felt wonderful, but Lorcan couldn’t wait to get away from me. Then I made those stupid comments. I felt sixteen all over again.”

“Come on, I have a dozen peanut butter cookies with our names on them plus a bottle of white wine. Let’s go drown our sorrows.”

“Oh no, Ronnie, you too?”

Veronica put her arm through Julie’s and headed toward the parking lot.

“Yes, me too.”

• • •

Nick sat, stunned. What in hell just happened? At least she was coming over to dinner. The evening just plunged into a deep freeze and he had no idea why.

Lorcan leaned toward him “You mind explaining what just happened here, mate?”

Nick shook his head. “I’ve no damned idea. What happened with you and Julie?”

“I wish I knew. Guess I offended her in some way. She acted like I was not worth the shite you would scrape off your shoe. Too bad, I kind of liked her.” Lorcan stood and waved to a waiter. “More drinks, mate. We both could use them.”

Nick unlocked the door of his bar around noon Sunday. He and Lorcan stayed awhile at the White Owl the previous night, had a few beers, then left. A few women stopped by the table, tried to buy them drinks and engage them in flirtatious conversation, but neither Nick nor Lorcan had been in the mood. Both of them could have gone home with the pick of the litter quite easily. Though Lorcan didn’t brag, Nick had the feeling Lorcan indulged in female company as eagerly as he did. Lorcan kind of liked Julie? Didn’t seem his type, not that he really knew what Lorcan’s type was.

Nick shook his head. He didn’t like the way she treated Lorcan, what did he say?
‘Like shite on the bottom of a shoe.’
Guess Nick felt a little protective of his new and only friend. Nick glanced up, a black Crown Victoria pulled into the parking lot and a tall man with tousled blond hair climbed out of the car. Cop. He radiated the aura. The way he stood, the way he walked and the Crown Vic were a dead giveaway. Nick squinted. Not just any cop, Tyler Barnes, Ronnie’s brother. Nick curled his lip, probably come to threaten him or warn him away from Ronnie.

An older man walked into the bar and took a seat on a nearby stool. Nick headed straight for the Bunn coffee machine, poured a mug, and placed it in front of the man with a spoon, napkin, and two creamers.

“Same Frank? Whisky shot as well?”

“Yes, Nick. Thank you,” the soft-spoken man replied.

Tyler walked through the door and right up to the bar.

“I’m Veronica Barnes’s brother. I want a word.”

Nick’s mouth quirked, talked like a cop, too. Nick motioned to a table.

“I’ll join you in a minute.”

Nick reached for a double shot glass and nimbly poured two fingers of whisky, sliding the glass toward Frank without spilling a drop. Reaching for two white coffee mugs from under the counter, he poured, and carried them to the table.

“Cream? Sugar?” Nick asked.

“No, just black.”

Nick sat opposite him. He remembered Tyler from school. The golden god had been popular, head of the student union and on the football team. He had girls trailing behind him, other guys, too. Funny he ended up being a cop. Nick thought he heard he got a scholarship to some Ivy League school, guess he didn’t go.

“So, is this the big scene where you warn me off your sister? A few subtle threats? Lean on me and my small bar? Yeah, this is a real hotbed of criminal activity.” Nick swept his arm around. “And there is a real criminal type there, Frank Coffey. Do you remember him, Barnes? He taught chemistry at Rockland High.”

Tyler’s gaze turned toward the cheerless looking man at the bar, hunched over his coffee and whisky chaser. “Yeah, I had Mr. Coffey. What is he, a barfly now?”

Nick took a sip of the coffee. “He comes in every Sunday after visiting his wife’s grave. He’s no barfly, just a lonely old man who misses his wife. No other family to speak of, he comes in here for coffee, a few drinks, and conversation. He’s led quite an interesting life. Did you know he served in Vietnam? Decorated, two Purple Hearts, a Bronze Star, and the Legion of Merit. He carries shrapnel in his leg to this day.”

“I’d no idea — he told you all this?”

Nick shrugged. “I’m a bartender. I hear a lot of stories. I listen. I don’t judge. I keep their glass filled.”

“The hallmarks of a good bartender.”

“I’d like to think so. Are you here to impart some hard-luck story, some tragic love affair, or is it to warn me off your sister?”

Tyler shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Not to warn exactly. Maybe find out your intentions.”

Nick laughed. “Intentions? What is this, the Fifties?”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t funny. I love my sister. I don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t want her to be another scalp hanging on your belt.”

Nick sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. He tried to hide his anger as he studied Barnes. The temptation to land a fist in that cop face of his — appealed.
Scalp. On his belt.
Nick remained silent. Seething inwardly, he tried to regain control of his emotions.

“You’ve a reputation, Crocetti,” Tyler continued. “Even back in high school, I heard you did all the girls in 12B. And you’ve been busy ever since, racked up quite an impressive count. I don’t want my sister tossed in the recycle bin with the rest of the women.”

Nick snorted. “All the girls in 12B? Jesus, I didn’t have sex with any girls in 12B. I don’t know how that rumor got started.”

Tyler took a sip of coffee. “I also heard about Miss McGregor. You were the envy of every guy in the senior class. The hot, young teacher? Was that just gossip too?”

“I thought you were here to talk about your sister, not a half-assed high school rumor,” Nick snapped.

“I’m just establishing your well-earned reputation here.”

“Okay then, it was true about Darla McGregor. I was of legal age. I thought I was in love. She tossed me to the curb. I was crushed as only an eighteen-year-old would be with an intense, first love. Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Nick said.

“What are your feelings for my sister, then?”

“I don’t know and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you. It’s none of your damned business.”

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, his demeanor and voice softened.

“Look, Ronnie’s been through a lot the last couple of years, starting with our father’s death. She took it pretty hard. Then the short marriage to William Titus … ”

“Ronnie told me about it. I know she was hurt,” Nick interrupted.

“I don’t think even she realizes how deep the hurt runs. I’m glad she moved back home, I’ve really missed her. This bakery is a real gamble. I hope to hell it works out for her. But if you just plan on having some quick affair with her and moving on, I’d rather you broke it off with her now before it goes any deeper. That’s all I’m saying. Don’t. Fucking. Hurt. Her.”

Nick listened to the passionately spoken words. Tyler’s concern for Ronnie reverberated in his tone of voice. As annoyed as he felt by Tyler’s interference in something Nick himself did not even have a handle on, he could understand it.

“We’ve only been seeing each other a couple of weeks. I’ve no idea where this is going, let alone how I feel. I promise you, I won’t hurt her. That is the last thing I want to do. I’ve been honest with your sister so I’ll be honest with you. I’ll let her down gently should it come to that. I’m not going into detail about what is going on between Ronnie and me. It’s private.”

Tyler nodded. “Fair enough. You’re right. It’s really none of my business. Just chalk it up to a concerned brother who loves his sister. She also my friend and always has been since we were kids.”

Nick stood. “Barnes, bring your coffee over to the bar. Let’s keep Frank company. I’ll bet he remembers you. If you’ve got time, I think he’d appreciate you saying hello and listening to a story or two of his while you finish your coffee.”

“All right. Sure, why not?”

• • •

Veronica struggled all day whether to go to Nick’s or call him and cancel, but ultimately, she decided to go. Driving toward Nick’s, her mind raced.

Sleep did not come easy last night, all she could picture was Nick having wild sex with that blonde skank who shoved her phone number in his sweaty hand, the number he stuck in his jeans pocket. What right did she have to seethe all night? He said he wasn’t committed but would try. Just how hard was he willing to try? Bottom line, she didn’t want to share him — with anyone. And that realization had her awake and looking wide-eyed at the stucco ceiling at three in the morning. Only seeing each other a couple of weeks and already she staked a claim?
Big mistake.

Midnight confessions be damned, she was starting to have feelings for Nick Crocetti. Deep feelings. She knew if she continued to see him they’d grow deeper. That night in his bed and in his arms was beyond anything she had ever experienced before. She wanted more. She wanted him.

While his virile, masculine body and beyond earthly lovemaking skills appealed, something about Nick touched her deeply. In a place no other man ever reached before, not even William Titus. She could love him. Easily. Maybe she was part way there already.

Veronica turned onto Prince William Street toward the dock area. Play it cool, stay for supper, then leave. Right. Sounds like a plan. She wouldn’t wind up in his bed this night. She moaned aloud thinking of Nick slamming into her, his head thrown back roaring his release, the cords in his neck straining, the vein on his forehead prominent and pulsating. The guttural, animal growls as he pounded into her. He was not quiet and neither was she. Veronica loved it.

Hell, if he so much as kissed her with those sensual lips she would go to his bed willingly, do whatever he wanted for as long as he wanted. He was a sexual pied piper.

She pulled in around back and parked behind the bar so she could use Nick’s private entrance
. Stay cool. Polite … but cool. In control.

Smoothing her skirt, she stepped out of her car. Nevertheless, she took great pains in her appearance today. The outfit consisted of a tight, sexy black skirt and a dressy, gold cotton shirt. She even bought a black garter belt and hose with matching bra and thong as Nick seemed to like that. She felt incredibly feminine and sexy. High heel black pumps completed the look. She wondered now if she should’ve worn her sweats and Orioles T-shirt, this outfit could be sending the wrong message.
Take me against the wall and ravish me.
Is that what she wanted here? The look didn’t exactly fit her trying to stay cool and detached. She rang the bell.

Heavy footsteps descended the stairs from the above apartment. Her heart fluttered in anticipation. Nick opened the door. A butcher’s block apron was tied loosely around his hips and he wiped his hands on a dish towel. His face appeared flushed from presiding over a hot stove. He wore a tight, sleeveless T-shirt tucked into a pair of black khakis.

“Come in.” He looked her up and down. “Damn,” he whistled huskily. “You look fantastic.”

He sprinted up the stairs ahead of her. Oh my, she had only ever seen him in leather pants or jeans, but the khakis hugged his muscular, taut ass like a second skin.

“I have to get back to my potato skins!” he yelled as he disappeared around the corner.

She slowly followed him up the narrow stairs. Stilettos hindered her going any faster. Laying her purse by the front door, she walked into his small kitchen. The odor of fresh green onions and cooked bacon inundated her senses.

“Nick! Potato skins? Aren’t they a lot of work?”

Veronica glanced at the cookie sheet with the little potato boats on them. Clustered in each one was finely chopped green onion, little bits of cut up cooked bacon, and shredded cheese. She
adored
potato skins, how did he know? She only had them a few times a year, they were sinfully fattening, a heart attack on a plate.

“Yeah, but it’s worth it. I baked the potatoes last night.”

He came home from the pub — and baked potatoes? He didn’t call the blonde bimbo? She almost wanted to blubber with relief.

“I went to that all-night market over on Sydney Street and bought the ingredients. Put the potatoes in to bake last night while I watched a movie. That’s the key, let them cool overnight.” Nick reached for a small glass measuring cup and began to drizzle the skins. “This is another little touch of mine. A little bacon grease over the top, just a little, soaks right into the potato.”

Veronica couldn’t believe it. While she tossed and turned and fumed all night thinking Nick was having hot, untamed sex with the slut, he’d been home watching a movie and baking potatoes. Her plan of staying cool and detached just flew straight out the window. She wanted to throw herself in his arms and sob uncontrollably into that muscled chest. He was adorable.
Stunning, gorgeous, magnificent man.

Nick chattered away, she never heard him talk so much. This must be the surprise he talked about, the potato skins.

“Can you get the white wine out of the fridge? And the sour cream, too. I made sure I bought the real deal, none of that low fat, fat free, watery stuff. I got the thickest, tangiest sour cream I could find.” He stood up straight suddenly and turned to look at her. “You do like potato skins, I hope.”