The Real Deal. Debbi Rawlins

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СКАЧАТЬ her mouth that fateful day in the den.

      The trepidation she’d been experiencing was totally irrational, a fact she admitted. Not even thirty and she’d become a creature of habit, afraid to step out of her comfort zone, afraid to take the smallest chance or make the most minimal change in her life.

      No, that wasn’t quite true. Fear was the simple answer. The pathetic truth was, the idea to broaden her horizons never entered her complacent mind. For the past five years she’d been insidiously content to be a hermit. Crazy really, because she was curious by nature. She loved learning new things. That’s why she adored her job as a freelance copy editor.

      She noticed a shuttle approaching, and to make sure she boarded the right van, she checked the name that the woman at the information booth had scribbled down for her.

      This trip would be good for her. Just what she needed to push herself out into the world. Instead of slaving over a hot stove all Thanksgiving morning while her family was out cavorting, she’d find a sinfully decadent brunch in a fancy hotel. Maybe she’d go all out. Not even have turkey and all the trimmings, but a big old plate of rich, gooey desserts instead.

      For once in her life, no adventure would be too intimidating or too exotic. Each day she’d tackle something unthinkable. Hire a drop-dead gorgeous guide to show her around the town. Eat at a five-star restaurant by herself. Nope, she wouldn’t be afraid to try anything, she decided with conviction, clutching her carry-on with a clammy palm.

      At least, that was the plan.

      2

      “HEY, NICKY, OVER HERE! Wait. Come on, sign this cap for my nephew, will ya?”

      Out of the corner of his eye, Nick Corrigan saw the dark-haired man waving the blue baseball cap. He’d come out of the shadows, just to the left of the door, as if he’d been waiting outside of the apartment building for Nick to leave.

      “Get lost, pal. I’m not telling you again,” the bulky doorman growled and positioned himself in between Nick and the insistent fan.

      “It’s okay, Leo. I’ll sign his hat.”

      The older man shook his graying head, his gaze sweeping up and down the street. “You know what happens after you stop to sign one, Nicky. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork.”

      “I know.” He reached around to take the cap, and sure enough, nearly a block away, a pair of kids—about twelve or thirteen years old—scampered across the street, weaving around speeding taxis in their haste to waylay him.

      “Make it out to Toby.” The guy gave Leo a smug look as he handed Nick a black felt pen. “Man, he’s not gonna believe this. My nephew, he’ll be ten on Saturday. You’re his idol.”

      Nick smiled wryly. “Tell him he needs a better role model than a jock who has a good arm.”

      “Hell, you’re my idol, too. You still dating that model from Germany?”

      “You know better than to ask a personal question,” Leo interjected, glaring at the other man. The doorman took the cap from Nick and shoved it back at the fan.

      “Thanks, Nicky.” The man sauntered away while reading the inscription to his nephew.

      Huffing and puffing, the kids who’d charged down from 68th Street stopped just short of running them over. “Hey, Nicky, would you sign our shirts, too?” the tall lanky redheaded boy asked, his breathing labored, his mouth spread in a broad grin.

      “I shouldn’t sign anything.” He pinned them with a warning look. “What were you doing darting into traffic like that?”

      The shorter, stouter boy’s eyes widened. “We didn’t want to miss you.”

      “Use the crosswalk next time,” Nick muttered, and scrawled his name across the back of each of their shirts.

      “Cool. Thanks.” Both boys craned their necks over their shoulders to check out his barely legible signature.

      “Your car’s waiting,” Leo reminded him. “Better get in before someone else spots you.”

      Nick nodded and quickly moved toward the black Lincoln Town Car, where the driver stood holding open the back door.

      Leo followed him, waited until he got in and then leaned over. “Looks like rain. You want to take an umbrella?”

      “No, thanks. I’m just going to go grab something to eat. I won’t be out late.”

      “You expecting anyone I should let in?” the doorman asked quietly.

      “Not tonight.”

      Leo slowly nodded, his face creased with concern. “Okay. I’ll be off duty when you get back so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

      “I’ll bring you coffee and a bagel after my run.”

      The older man scowled as he straightened, and patted his round belly. “Better skip the bagel. The wife says I gotta lose this by Christmas.”

      Nick grinned. “I should leave out the cream and sugar from your coffee then.”

      “Don’t get crazy on me.” Leo noticed a couple exiting the apartment building and with a wave hurried back to his station.

      Nick leaned his head back against the leather headrest as the driver eased into traffic. Up ahead, near the intersection, he saw the two boys whose shirts he’d autographed dash across the street, several yards short of the crosswalk. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. Man, he had to be getting old lecturing kids about pedestrian safety. What was that about?

      The holidays were coming up. That was the problem. He hated this time of year. Part of it for him was the end of the season letdown. Baseball was over until next spring. And although he spent the winter months trying to keep in shape and was able to do a bit of traveling, the downtime always made him restless. Made him think too much. This year was even worse since Billy’s accident a month ago.

      Nick stared out the window at the steady drizzle that was beginning to turn into a nightmare for commuters. Why hadn’t he ordered in? It was crazy to go out for dinner in weather like this, especially when he wasn’t even that hungry. Couldn’t he stand his own company for one lousy evening? At least when he was by himself he didn’t have to suffer questions regarding his plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

      His teammates and their wives, the media, waiters at restaurants he frequented, even complete strangers, they all wanted to know what he would be doing. Who cared where or if he’d eat a slab of turkey on Thursday?

      Ironically, the only people who hadn’t asked were his family. They’d assumed he wouldn’t be going home because he rarely did. He’d had the passing thought of surprising them and showing up on his parents’ doorstep Thanksgiving morning. But then he found out from his sister that they were all headed for the Vermont ski slopes to catch the early snow. All the more ironic, he’d given the whole clan the vacation as a gift last Christmas.

      He knew he could tag along. They’d be happy to have him join them, but spending three days in a resort with them along with a bunch of strangers wasn’t what he had in mind. Bad enough he had so little СКАЧАТЬ