The Return of the Tycoon (2 page)

***

Twenty minutes later, she was on her bed at home in a pair of pajama bottoms and her favorite slippers. She washed off the little eye makeup she wore in the bathroom and headed toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. She’d just flipped on the television and switched it to the evening news when someone knocked on her front door. Julie froze. The knocks became harder and harder, sounding as though the unexpected guest intended to break the door off its hinges if she didn’t open. Julie gulped some wine for courage, set the glass down and inched toward the door. The doorknob rattled violently, the would-be intruder testing its strength. Julie panicked.

“Julie!” an unmistakable male voice boomed from the outside. She held her breath. Him again. “I know you’re in there. Open the door!” His deep baritone rattled the thin windows. Swallowing hard, Julie braced herself.

“What do you want, Nick?” Silence met her, and Julie began to wonder whether he’d changed his mind and left, when Nick finally answered.

“I want to talk to you.” He sounded as though he had gone to great lengths to calm himself. “Open the door. Please.” Julie hesitated. What was he doing at her apartment anyway? Sighing, she freed the deadbolt, cracking the door open.

“You stood me up!” Nick said
, his body taking up the entire threshold. Startled, Julie blanched, and then quickly pulled herself together.

“I never agreed to have dinner with you,” she sniffed, squaring her shoulders and eyeing him from head to toe. He looked especially good in jeans and a black leather jacket, his attire contrasting sharply with the business suit he’d been wearing earlier in the day. Nick’s arms were crossed over his chest, and that’s when she noticed a motorcycle helmet in his hand.

“All right, I can’t stay angry with you for standing me up. Go change your clothes,” he commanded, his eyes warning her not to thwart him this time. Julie didn’t appreciate being bossed around, even if he was her boss.

“You can’t stay angry with me? I’m not one of your vapid models, Nick,” she snapped, thrusting her chin out in defiance. “I don’t come and go at your beck and call.” Nick leaned forward so his face was no more than an inch or two from Julie’s face.

“If you don’t change your clothes,” he warned through clenched teeth. “I’ll take you out the way you’re dressed now.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” The moment she uttered the words, Julie knew she’d made a mistake. Not wasting a single second, Nick withdrew the helmet from under his arm and slapped it over Julie’s head, buckling it firmly under her chin. Grabbing her by the wrist, he yanked her out the door, picked her up, and carried her down the steps of her apartment building.

Julie didn’t know much about motorcycles, but this looked like the most awesome bike you could ride. She shivered in the night air, rubbing her shoulders through the thin material of her oversized T-shirt.

“Nick,” she whined, “I am
not
doing this with you. I’m not even dressed! And I didn’t take my apartment keys.”

“The door is shut, but I grabbed your keys off the dresser. Here,” he said and thrust them in her hand. “As for being dressed, well, I’ll just say… bad planning on your part,” he snorted, straddling the bike, his muscular thighs straining against his designer jeans. Julie reluctantly climbed on the back as Nick started the engine with a roar. He’d just lifted the kickstand, then paused a moment and stripped off the leather jacket before tossing it back to her.

“Put that on,” he told her, revving the engine. Julie chose to obey him this time by sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves, rolling the ends so her hands could stick out. No sooner had she settled herself than the bike lurched forward. Julie gasped, gripping Nick across the waist for stability. She couldn’t help noticing that he must have taken up weightlifting over the years as her hands slid over the chiseled muscles and fingers interlocked over his thin T-shirt.

“Nick,” she hollered as they raced toward the freeway at a breakneck pace. “Slow down! You’re not even wearing a helmet.” Nick didn’t answer, but merged into the far-left lane instead. Julie blanched when she saw the odometer read ninety-five miles an hour. She gripped Nick harder, molding her slight frame against his hard contours. As she buried her face in his back, a familiar wave of nostalgia flooded her senses. Nick still smelled like Nick.

She smiled at the thought. He smelled exactly like the sheets in her dorm room after he’d spent the night. The memory brought a pang of longing, and she gripped him tighter. Briefly, she felt his hand snake over hers. Afraid to loosen her grip to bat him away, she let his big fingers caress hers before he returned them to the handlebars. Julie swallowed the growing lump in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, the wind whipping against her face as they raced through the dark streets.

The bike slowed, and Julie opened her eyes as they stopped. Looking around, her mouth dropped open in surprise. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. Nick put the bike in park and lowered the kickstand before swinging his leg over and hopping off. He reached out to help her to the ground.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a bit hungry,” he grinned at her. She felt her heart do a somersault at the familiar boyish expression.

“Anywhere but here,” she said, willing herself not to look around at the neighborhood she once knew like the back of her hand.

“This is your favorite pizza place,” he insisted.

“This
was
my favorite pizza place. Not anymore.” Julie crossed her arms over her chest, causing the soft leather to bulge. Nick reached under her chin and deftly unclasped the buckle holding the helmet in place.

“Come on. You used to say it’s the best pepperoni in New York City.” He smiled down at her, slipping the helmet off her head. “Some things never change,
Jules
,” he added in a lower tone.

Chapter 3

Nicholas ushered Julie inside, the aroma of fresh dough and mozzarella making his mouth water. The smell affected his captive date as well, as she stopped fighting him for a moment. He led her to their old booth in the back. Sitting, Julie noticed the vinyl upholstery still hadn’t been repaired. Nick sank low, feeling the worn springs against his tailbone, the table hitting him in his chest.

“Remember how we used to…” Nicholas started.

“Nick, this is difficult. I don’t know whether I can do this,” she cut him off. “So many memories, but the overall feeling is not a good one. I think I need to go…”

“Julie,” he shifted his seat. “Look, just give me a chance here. I know we have things to talk about, but humor me; just play along here. I’m just a person you shared many things with. Can’t we just sit and talk for an evening as we used to?”

“I don’t know, Nick,” she said.

“Please,” he begged her. A minute that seemed like forever went by; she then nodded in resigned agreement.

“Now,” he continued, tapping the chest-high table with the bottom of his fist. “Tell me why, again, we always sit in this booth.”

“Because,” she said after a pause, “it’s the farthest from the door, so we have to stay longer.”

“That’s right,” he smiled, remembering Julie’s logic. It took longer to walk to the table and longer to walk back to the door, which meant they would have that much more time together. “How could I have forgotten? Do we need to look at the menu?”

“Nope. I know what I’m getting.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “And to drink? Are we really going to get what we used to get?” he teased.

“Oh, come on now, Nick,” she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “I have been such a good sport. You dragged me out here in the middle of the night—in my pajamas, no less. I think you can forgo the top-shelf bourbons and overpriced champagnes for just one night.”

Nicholas felt certain he could forgo both every night for the rest of his life if it meant he could be here again with Julie. He watched Julie, her hair tousled and unruly from the ride over. Nicholas had dated many beautiful women over the years, but Julie Miller in her pajamas and with no makeup trumped them all, or so it seemed to him. How could he have been so stupid in the past?

When the waiter arrived to take their drink order, Nicholas knew what he’d be getting.

“A pitcher of Rheingold,” Nicholas and Julie blurted in unison. Catching her eye, he felt happiness unlike anything he’d felt in years.

“Rice water?” he asked, when he could get himself under control. “I would think you’d be able to afford better on a nurse’s salary.”

She gave him a mock sad face. “I would, but I’m still paying off my student loans. Besides, when at Gerald’s Pizzeria, I think Rheingold is a requirement. New York’s finest for old time’s sake.” Yes, Rheingold had been all they could afford when they were students. Now, Nicholas could have bought the factory that made it, if he wanted to. But here he was, ordering the cheapest beer on the menu. Rheingold arrived promptly, and Nicholas poured a pint for them.

“For old time’s sake,” he toasted. Julie smiled and touched his upraised glass with hers.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she said, growing serious for a moment.

“Then, I will have to ply you with beer until you do.”

“That will take a lot of Rheingold.”

Nicholas raised his eyebrow. “I can afford that.”

“You’ll be on the floor before you can reach for your wallet,” Julie smirked, her glass hovering just below her lips. “I always drank you under the table.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he said. He watched her, hazel eyes dancing in the dim lamplight, tired lights of the cars passing in twilight outside. But his only wish was to reach across the table and pull her into a spontaneous kiss just as he used to. “You never could reach the bottom before me.”

“Yes, I could,” she insisted, sniffing indignantly. “You always lost.”

“On the count of three, then.”

“You’re on!” Julie’s free hand shot in the air as she counted off wordlessly on her fingers. She jumped the gun once she got to two, throwing back her beer, Nicholas scrambling to catch up. He tilted the glass to his lips, chugging as fast as he could to reach the bottom. A second later, he heard the ping of Julie’s empty glass as she slammed it against the tabletop. He still had about an inch left when he saw her grinning at him, bright pink lips moist, and a golden trickle of beer dribbling down her adorable chin. He was tempted to lick her lips clean.

“See,” she grinned, swallowing back a burp. “I told you I always win.” Nicholas threw back the rest of his drink before setting the empty glass next to hers.

“Only because you cheated,” he pointed out, pouring them a second round.

“I didn’t really cheat,” she insisted. “You snooze; you lose.”

“I demand a rematch.” He lifted his glass in the air. “This time, I will do the counting.” This time, their empty glasses hit the table in unison.

“You see,” Nicholas pointed out. “You can’t beat me when you don’t cheat.” The pizza arrived, and Julie reached for the biggest slice, folding it and scooping the extra cheese with her fingertips. She plopped the cheese ball in her mouth and shook her head.

“No, and I can still outdrink you.” Nicholas leaned back and watched her take a big bite of the pizza, her eyes rolling back with pleasure at the taste. God, when was the last time he saw a woman eat as if she enjoyed it? Julie didn’t complain about the menu. She didn’t ask to see nutrition facts or order some piddling salad to pick at. Nick was used to dates grilling the waiter to death to end up with only a glass of red wine and a pile of lettuce leaves with no dressing. He’d forgotten how much fun it could be just to go out with a woman who loved good food and enjoyed it without guilt. “I don’t see how a tie proves you can outdrink me.”

“Well,” Julie wiped her fingers on the napkin in her lap. “You see, you’re at least twice my size. Thus, you ought to be able to consume twice as much as I, twice as fast.”

Nicholas threw back his head in laughter. “You have it backward,” he pointed out. “And you’re the one with the science degree.”

Julie narrowed her eyes, the pizza halting midway to her mouth.

“Surface-to-area ratio,” he clarified. “The mouse has a higher metabolism than the elephant.”

Julie shook her head. “The only thing you’ve proved, Nick,” she said, “is that you’re better off sticking to business. A gram of mouse tissue has a higher metabolic rate than a gram of elephant tissue, but there’s a whole hell of lot more grams in an elephant. Therefore, over all, the elephant still has a much higher metabolism.” Julie looked so smug that Nicholas couldn’t help grinning at her despite himself. If anyone could correct him, it was Julie Miller. She was the only one allowed to cross him, and for reasons unknown to him, whenever she did gave him great pleasure.

“Well said, Miss Miller,” he told her, filling their glasses for a third time. Julie reached for hers only to stop with the glass raised midair.

“You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?” she asked, her brows knit in skepticism.

“Of course not,” he lied. She took a large swig before setting the glass down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You can try, Nick,” she said between mouthfuls of pizza, “but I’m still not going to sleep with you, no matter how much Rheingold I drink.”