Blood is more than twice as thick as water.
Which is why we’re more than doubly pissed when a relative lets us down.
Nick climbed the wooden steps to the temporary job trailer at Light house Harbor. Work was due to start next week, but there was no chance in hell his men would be off the Bayview job in time. He’d set up a meeting with the own er’s project manager, hoping to finagle a few days’ grace. His hand was on the doorknob when his cell rang.
He checked the number and cursed. Joe D’Amico, calling from Bayview.
“Santangelo here.”
“Nicolo,” Nick’s job super said. “Got a problem.”
Nick sighed. “Joe. What is it this time?”
“You know them fancy cabinets? For behind the bar in the club house?”
“Yeah. They’re supposed to be delivered today. Don’t tell me they didn’t come.”
“Oh, they came, all right. But the flunkies who took them outta the truck dropped one off the tailgate.”
Christ.
“How bad is it?”
“It’s a busted mess. Can’t fix it. Need another one.”
Shit.
Another delay. That job was bleeding dollars. “I’ll call the millwork shop right away,” he told Joe, but he knew he didn’t have the time to make the call before his meeting.
He punched the speed dial for Johnny’s number. Maybe his brother could be useful for once.
Voice mail answered. “Yo, dawg, can’t talk now. You know what to do at the beep.”
Hell.
Nick called his office. “Doris, is Johnny there?”
“Why, no, Nick, he’s not. He won’t be in until two. He needed a new set of head shots.”
Nick fought the urge to punch something. “He’s getting his picture taken? Right now?”
“That’s right, Nick. It’s for his second
Franklinville Hospital
audition. They called him back. Isn’t it exciting?”
“A riot,” Nick said. “It’s a freaking riot.”
Please, somebody shoot me.
It was the only coherent thought Tori could muster. Her period had hit her like a freight train doing two hundred miles per hour, downhill. She sloshed down a double dose of the painkillers Dr. Janssen had prescribed, curled into a ball on her futon, and tried to sleep. It was no use. It felt as though someone were taking a butcher knife to her gut.
Since she’d lost the baby, each month was worse than the one before. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried a yoga breathing thing. It was supposed to release her pain to the universe. It didn’t do squat.
She hated this. Hated feeling helpless. Hated that she was alone with all this pain.
And then…she wasn’t alone.
Nick was there, his weight compressing the futon, his hand warm and sure on her forehead. He brushed the hair from her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“It’s five thirty. I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I let myself in. What’s wrong, baby? Are you sick? You don’t feel like you have a fever.”
The concern in his voice caused a tear to run down her cheek. “No, it’s…” She trailed off, embarrassed. She’d been practically naked with the man, but that didn’t mean she knew him well enough to discuss her
period
.
Another wave of pain spasmed her midsection. She clutched her belly and swallowed a groan.
“What?” Nick’s brow furrowed. “Is it your stomach? Food poisoning, maybe? You want me to call your doctor?”
“No. I’ll be fine. It’s not…food poisoning. I get this all the time.”
“Jesus. How often?”
She grimaced. “Once a month, like clockwork.”
Understanding dawned. “You’ve got your period.”
God.
She wanted to die.
Die.
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. “Go away. Leave me alone. Take the night off.”
But he didn’t. What he did was settle down on her futon, his back propped up against the wall, and gathered her into his arms. He held her there, his hand rubbing circles on her back. She buried her face in his shirt. It smelled like fabric softener.
“Is it always like this?” he asked.
“Not usually quite this bad.”
“Did you take something?”
“Yes.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. I just have to wait it out.” She lifted her head only high enough to meet his gaze. “But I don’t think I can deal with all the hammering tonight. You might as well go home.”
“Like hell I will.” He eased her onto her side on the futon and started kneading the tight muscles in her lower back. “Does this help?”
It did. More than she wanted to admit. The pain receded a bit. Was it the pills? Or Nick? Probably a combination of the two.
After a while he got up and left the room. She heard him rattling around in the kitchen. When he returned, she rolled onto her back and looked at him.
“Here.” He handed her a bundle of kitchen towels. They were damp and warm, and bundled in plastic wrap. “I heated them in the microwave. Not pretty, I know, but it’s the best heat pack I could come up with on short notice.”
“I…don’t understand.”
“Damp heat’s good for cramps.” He pressed the towels against her belly and held them there. “It helps the muscles relax.”
“How do you know that?”
“My ex had a rough time with her period, too. Nothing like this, though. Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“And? ”
She told me to have a baby.
“She said I needed surgery.”
“Jesus. When are you going to have it done?”
“Never. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She bit her lip. She didn’t want to go into it, but the concern in Nick’s eyes made her want to explain. “My mother spent a lot of time in hospitals, because of her drug habit. I hate them. I can’t even walk in the door of a hospital without getting all light-headed and woozy. I could never go in for surgery.”
“But if the alternative is being like this…”
Her stomach muscles, which had begun to relax, cramped again. “Please,” she whispered, sweat breaking out on her forehead. “Can we not talk about this now?”
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Sure. Anything you want.”
They didn’t talk much after that. Nick just held her, surrounding her with his warmth. When a spasm came, he massaged her it until it faded. He didn’t touch her intimately, or even kiss her on the lips. He did kiss the top of her head again, though, and for some reason, that made her want to cry.
Eventually her ragged breathing began to match the steady rise and fall of his chest. Her body relaxed—if not completely, at least enough to make her drowsy. The pain faded to a dull ache.
She must have fallen asleep, because she didn’t remember him leaving. But when she woke up the next morning, he was gone.
Teenagers will tell complete strangers things they wouldn’t dream of telling their own family.
Tori was more than a little embarrassed when Nick showed up for work the next day.
“I’m sorry I was such a pain last night,” she said. “You really didn’t have to stay with me.”
“It was no trouble.” His dark eyes studied her. “You still look a little pale. How’re you feeling?”
“I’m okay. The first day is the worst. By the end of the week I’ll be back to normal.”
“Did you call your doctor?”
She hadn’t, and she didn’t want to talk about it, so she changed the subject.
“I had some shelving delivered today, but when I ordered it, I didn’t realize I’d have to put it together. Do you think you could help me?”
“Sure.”
They spent the next few hours assembling the shelves together. That had to be the very last activity that should have made Tori think of sex, but every time Nick drove a screw into a hole, she felt an answering twinge low in her belly that had nothing to do with last night’s pain. Once they got the shelving put together, Nick set up her secondhand cash register on the glass-fronted counter she’d bought at a bankruptcy sale.
It felt so right working alongside Nick. Every once in a while his arm would brush hers, or he’d lay a hand on her shoulder. Or she’d touch his arm to get his attention. It was as if they were lovers, even though their spat on the beach had ruined what might have been their first time. But he didn’t make a move on her, didn’t pull her into his arms for a kiss. Was it because it was her time of the month? Or because he’d seen her curled up on her bed, looking like a reject from a horror movie?
Finally, he retreated to the attic to work on the fire barrier, the last item on the building inspector’s list. After that came the final city inspection, and Destiny’s Gate could open for business. And there would be nothing left to keep Nick here.
Except Tori.
She wondered if that would be enough.
Leigh stopped by on Sunday afternoon. “Your ad’s done,” she said.
“Already? ”
“Yeah. It has to be in by tomorrow morning for the next issue.” She slid a color print from a manila envelope.
Tori blinked down at the image of a silver portal floating on fluffy pink clouds. The words
Destiny’s Gate
arched across the top of the page. At the bottom was a description of the shop, the hours of operation, and her grand-opening date. A map inset showed the location.
“I love it,” she said.
Leigh grinned. “Great. I’ll just need a check for the paper.” She told Tori the amount. “You can pay my fee later.”
Tori went to find her checkbook. It took her a few minutes to locate it under the stack of parenting magazines Chelsea had loaned her. When she returned to the shop, she found Leigh gazing at the divination merchandise, which was unpacked and spread all over the floor. Cards, runes, crystals, mirrors, astrological charts—you name it. If it told the future, it was there.
“Do you really know how to use this stuff?” Leigh asked.
“I know the basics on most of them, but the tarot is my favorite.” Then, because Leigh looked so intrigued, Tori added, “Would you like me to do a reading for you?”
Leigh’s eyes widened. “You mean like tell my fortune?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know…it seems kind of creepy, you know? What if something bad’s about to happen? I’m not sure I’d want to know.”
“It’s not like that,” Tori said, picking up a deck. “The cards won’t tell you that at, say, seven o’clock tomorrow morning lightning will strike. What you do is ask a question and the cards provide guidance. Here, shuffle the deck and I’ll show you.”
Leigh took the cards and mixed them up a bit. “Now what?”
“Do you have a question? Something that’s bothering you?”
She sighed. “Jason.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“How’d you know that?”
“Lucky guess,” Tori said, smiling. “Women almost always have a man on their mind.” Herself included. “What do you want to ask about Jason?”
“If he loves me, I guess.”
“Has he told you he does?”
“Yeah, but…”
Tori studied the girl. “Why don’t you believe him?”
Another shrug.
She took the cards and fanned them facedown on the counter. “Okay. We’ll start simple. Just choose one.”
Leigh touched several cards before deciding. Finally, she flipped one over.
“The Lovers,” Tori said. “That’s very positive.”
Leigh didn’t look convinced. She set the card with the others, then touched a small box of body jewelry. She fingered a crystal belly-button stud.
“I got my belly button pierced last month.” Leigh said, glancing at Tori, then looking away just as quickly. “My dad just about had a heart attack.”
Tori chuckled. “So he’s the old-fashioned type?”
“The worst. Overprotective, too. And he hates my boyfriend.”
“I’m sure he just wants what’s best for you.”
“I guess.” She glanced up from under her eyelashes. “But I don’t see Dad all that much. He works late every night. When he does come home, all he does is get in my face.”
“Have you talked to your mother about it?”
Leigh shrugged and turned her attention to a box of books without answering. She selected a volume on astrology, flipped through it, then put it back.
“You know,” she said. “I was thinking…”
An odd sense of déjà vu flashed through Tori. There was something familiar about Leigh, but for the life of her, she couldn’t put a finger on what it was.
“I’m out of school for the summer and I need a job. But I don’t have a car, so I need something I can walk to. Are you hiring?”
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well, you’ll need help, right? I mean, what if you have to go out or something? You can’t just close up shop.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Will you hire me, then? Please say yes.”
Tori smiled at her hopeful expression. “I couldn’t pay you much.”
“Minimum wage is fine.”
It was a stretch, at least until money started coming in, but Leigh was right—it would be hard for one woman to run a shop completely on her own.
“All right. Consider yourself hired. But I’m warning you, I don’t know the first thing about having an employee. There have to be tax papers or something to fill out.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Leigh said, and again that weird sense of déjà vu hazed through Tori’s senses. “I worked for my dad a couple of summers. I know just what forms you need. I’ll download them off the Internet and bring them my first day.”
“When can you start?”
“When will your renovations be done?”
“Wednesday,” Tori said.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
Nick stared at the utter chaos that was Tori’s shop.
She’d been busy today. Open boxes and packing peanuts littered the floor, interspersed with some of the world’s most bizarre merchandise. Oils, incense, bowls, and cauldrons. Statues of dragons and fairies. Jewelry featuring stars, moons, and spirals. A jeweled, blunt-bladed dagger. Books and CDs—but probably nothing he’d ever want to read or listen to. Bright gauzy dresses were piled on the floor like heaps of wildflowers.
And then there were the attitude T-shirts.
Worship me like the goddess I am. Surrender, Dorothy. Don’t mess with PMS.
He grinned. Tori was a trip. One he was definitely enjoying. He’d never met anyone quite like her. She was tough and funny and sassy, but there was a softness about her, too. A shadow of vulnerability that appeared in her sea green eyes, a remnant, he guessed, from her rotten childhood. When he saw that sadness there, all he wanted to do was soothe it away. He wanted to make sure no one ever hurt her again.
Christ.
He hadn’t felt this way since Cindy, and that was a long time ago. Was it about time for him to feel something again? Not exactly love, at least not yet, but something that might grow into it if he nurtured the feeling? Maybe Nonna was right. Maybe he was the kind of guy who needed to share his life with someone. He wasn’t talking marriage, not this early in the game, but maybe in a year or two, if things worked out…
He imagined taking Tori home to dinner. Introducing her to everyone. They’d be surprised, to say the least. Tori wasn’t his usual type. But then again, Nick didn’t bring his usual type home.
He was falling, no doubt about it. Was it real? Or just an intense case of lust? Maybe he’d stick around long enough to find out. There’d be no rush this time, not like eighteen years ago, when Cindy had exploded the pregnancy bomb and shattered Nick’s carefully laid career plans. No, this time he’d do things right. Take things slow.
Very slow.
He picked his way between the shelves he and Tori had assembled. Man, it had been tough getting that job done without jumping her bones. But he’d kept his head down and his hands busy, because he knew she had her heart set on opening before the first official day of summer.
He could hear her now, rustling around in one of the bedrooms, humming some New Age thing that didn’t really lend itself to singing along. He was about to call out to her, let her know he’d arrived, when he nearly tripped over a stack of books she’d left on the floor.
The one on top was called
Fingerpainting on Mars
.
Bemused, he picked it up. He couldn’t believe some of the crap she was into. The one underneath wasn’t much better.
Ghosts from Coast to Coast
. Right.
Abacomancy Made Easy
came next. He opened that one.
What the hell?
Now, this had to be a joke. No one could possibly be wacky enough to believe you could read the future in random dust patterns.
One last book. He picked it up and nearly choked.
Sacred Sex: The Path to Spiritual Ecstasy.
Okay, now.
Finally, something New Age he could get into. The title curled in gold across the crimson leather cover, where a sepia drawing showed a nude man and woman engaged in a sex act. All the interesting spots on their bodies were artfully blurred. A ghostly image of the Taj Mahal floated behind them.
The subtitle under the illustration read:
Secrets of the Kama Sutra and Other Ancient Texts.
Curiosity raging, Nick cradled the spine in one hand and flipped the book open. The drawing on the flyleaf was so graphic it made the one on the cover look like it had been lifted from a church bulletin. The artwork, he noted, was very good. His eye appreciated the delicacy of the inked lines, even as another body part stirred in response to the subject matter.
He sent a glance toward the bedroom and turned the page.
Another drawing, more explicit than the last. These new lovers were standing, the woman’s legs wrapped around the man’s hips. As if the visual weren’t graphic enough, a paragraph at the bottom gave a name to the position—Suspended Congress—and some “how to” instructions.
Not necessary, as far as Nick was concerned. He needed no advice at all on how to “suspend” Tori.
The object of his flaming fantasies chose that exact instant to glide into the front room. She was all retro sixties today, decked out in a tie-dyed T-shirt and cutoff jeans shorts. A tantalizing slice of midriff showed off a green crystal belly-button stud.
And no bra today, either. He supposed that was a sixties thing, too.
Jesus.
“Oh!” she said, stopping short when she saw him. “You’re early. I didn’t hear you come in.” She glanced at the book. “What are you read—Oh!”
Her cheeks went blotchy.
He lifted the book and gave her a slow smile.
Oh, God.
Nick had found her Kama Sutra.
Tori’s lips parted on a quick intake of breath. Her breasts tightened and suddenly the cotton of her tee felt rough on her nipples.
“Um…that’s not supposed to be out here. I mean, it’s not for sale.”
Amusement—and something a lot hotter—flashed in his eyes. “You mean it’s part of your private library? I think I’m glad to hear that.”
Her face was blazing. “You know, the Kama Sutra is a sacred text. It’s not a porn magazine.”
“If you say so. Though I can’t see it going over big in church on Sunday morning.” He made a show of turning a page and bending his head over the next illustration. He gave a low whistle. “But I could certainly get into
this
on a Saturday night.”
“Very funny.” She held out her hand. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now give me that.”
He looked up in mock outrage. “Excuse me? No way. I’m not done reading it yet.”
“You are not reading it.”
“Sure I am.” His gaze dropped back to the page. “ ‘The Rising Position.’ ” He turned the book around so she could see. “Ever try that one?”
“None of your business.” She made a grab for the book.
He held it just out of her reach, lips twitching. “Oh, so you
have
tried it.” His voice lowered. “Guess what? So have I.”
“Hmph.” But she couldn’t stop her own smile.
He laughed and turned the page. “Now here’s something called the Yawning Position. The woman has to be freaking double-jointed for that one….” On the next page, “ ‘The Lotus.’ Hmmm. Can’t say I’ve tried it.” He flashed her a grin. “Yet.”
A laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Making plans, are we?”
His gaze turned hot. “Maybe. But there are so many possibilities, it’s damn hard to decide where to start. ‘Splitting of a Bamboo…Fixing of a Nail…’ Now, those look tough. They might take some practice, but I think we can manage them. You’re pretty flexible, aren’t you? You do that yoga stuff, right?”
She was laughing outright now.
“Hey, look! Here’s the Congress of a Cow and Bull. That’s one of my favorite positions.” He winked. “But I always thought it was called doggy style.”
Tori laughed and made another grab for the book. “You are so—”
“Whoa, careful! This is a sacred book! You wouldn’t want to rip it.”
He flipped to the next page, and his brows shot up. “Hello! Now, this one…You know, I’m not even sure this is physically possible.” He turned the illustration toward Tori. “What d’you think?”
“I think you’re crude and irreverent,” she said when she managed to stop laughing.