The Real Deal. Debbi Rawlins

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