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The call disconnected and Nick stared at his phone. Freaky he was searching her and she called. Almost like he conjured her up somehow.
He called the doorman and told him he was expecting a guest, then he quickly showered and dressed. He checked his watch. He fuckin’ hated waiting and waiting for Cheryl hit all kinds of nerve-wracking red flags, especially when she sounded so fragile.
Nick paced, drank more coffee, not the best idea, but it was too damn early for bourbon. After what seemed like an eternity his door buzzed.
He’d rehearsed all the shit he wanted to say, including asking her about her child, but Cheryl’s somber expression squeezed his chest. He opened the door wider, she entered, and he motioned to the living room. He pointed to the couch and he sat in the opposite chair with the coffee table between them. A good deterrent when all he really wanted to do was drag her into his arms and make whatever bullshit had her wound up, disappear.
She sat for a long few minutes then cleared her throat. “I told Johnny I want a divorce.”
He hadn’t expected her to say that and it took him a few seconds to regroup.
“He didn’t take it well, but that’s not going to stop me.” A slight shakiness clouded the determination in her voice.
“Didn’t take it well?” Nick examined her face. “Did he touch you?”
“Not really.”
“The answer to the question should be yes or no.” Nick clenched his fists around the arm of the chair. “So tell me what the fuck not really means.”
“You getting excited isn’t going to help.”
“Answer me.” His demanding tone came through loud and clear.
Cheryl played with the hem of her shorts, then she crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you turn down the air, I’m freezing.”
Nick studied her for a long minute, then crossed the room and attacked the buttons on the wall thermostat. Obviously, she wasn’t going to tell him and there was nothing he could do about it.
Cheryl rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms. The air-conditioning systems in Vegas seemed way more powerful than in L.A. Or the result of an attack of nerves from avoiding Nick’s questions. She’d also decided on the drive over to tell him about Portia. Izzy was right. The child had a right to know her father, even if Cheryl feared he’d never forgive her for keeping the secret for the last ten years.
“I’ve done my research and getting a divorce in Vegas is pretty easy. You have to be a registered resident for six weekswhich I will be in another week. Then I can file. Johnny said he’d contest it, but I can still go ahead, it just takes longer.”
“Have you told your father?”
She’d avoided thinking about that, but it was a valid question especially since he set it up.
She shook her head. “But there is something else. Johnny suspects you and I were together the other night at your club and he’s threatened to make trouble for you and or the club.”
“Fuckin’ bastard!” The words erupted from Nick and when he slapped his hand on the glass table she jumped, and her face paled.
He moved next to her on the couch. “Sorry . . . I just?—”
“I know. It seems every time we’re together there’s something dragging us apart. We got so close to having something in New York and then it all fell apart and I’m afraid the same thing is going to happen now.”
“Way different. I’m not some punk kid anymore. This time I have power, money, and influential people in this town.”
She leaned into him wanting to believe his words, wanting to believe they could have the future stolen from them all those years ago.
He tilted her chin and covered her lips with his. The warmth and strength of his body settled her and made her believe all things were possible. He deepened the kiss then scooped her up and stood cradling her in his arms.
He broke away from her lips. “Nothing can stop us this time.”
14
The minute Nick entered the bedroom all he could think about was getting in Cheryl and getting in her deep. So deep she’d carry a part of him with her for days. The thought of her having sex with Johnny at least once soured his stomach but he pushed those thoughts away. Plenty of time for talk later, now was about making a connection—a lasting connection.
He laid her on the bed, and in three quick moves he pulled his shirt over his head, undid his pants and nabbed a rubber out of his bedside table. When he turned back to her she gazed up at him but her expression was hard to read.
He crawled up the bed and smoothed his palms up her legs as he went. When he reached her waistband he undid the snap and zipper of her jean shorts. She wiggled out of them and his dick jumped against his half open zipper. Nick threw them to the side then placed little kisses on her abs, nudging her t-shirt up as he went. He reached around, undid her bra, and pulled them both up and over her head.
