you here.”
“I’m not a mind reader.” She shook his hand off her elbow and stepped away from him, making her raging hormones scream in protest. Not to mention her conscience. Giving Nick the cold shoulder went against every rule of politeness and common decency she’d had drummed into her since childhood. But it was a matter of self-preservation, pure and simple. “If this isn’t about the show, we have nothing to discuss.”
“Like hell we don’t.” He crossed his arms, looking yummy with his long denim-clad legs braced apart, his biceps straining at his shirt sleeves.
“What do you want from me, Nick?”
“I want to know what kind of game you’re playing.”
“Game?”
“First me. Now Justice.” Nick’s eyes were narrowed, his lips tight.
Holly gaped at him. He was jealous! Nick Damone was actually jealous. Over her. She covered her mouth and let out a giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just wondering about the pigs.”
“Pigs?” The tension around his eyes relaxed and his mouth curved into the tiniest hint of a smile.
The ones that must be flying over the Manhattan skyline. “Never mind.” She scraped her hands through her hair. He made her crazy. “Look, nothing’s going on between me and Malcolm. Or me and you, for that matter.”
“You sure about that?” His wicked chocolate eyes, almost black with need, lasciviously perused her from head to toe and back again.
“Yes,” she choked out through a heavy swallow, her heart racing.
“You can’t run forever, Holly.”
She sighed, knowing he was right. “I can sure as heck try.”
“You’re going to have to try a lot harder to shake me, sweetheart.” He pushed off the doorframe, chest muscles rippling under his tight T-shirt—darn it if her own chest didn’t rise to attention—and started toward her.
She took two steps back—straight into a table.
“See?” He inched one leg between hers and braced a hand on the tabletop. “No more running.”
“It certainly seems that way.” She took a deep breath meant to steady her. Instead it brought her closer to him, brushing her already aching nipples against his rock-hard pecs and making her shiver.
“So you’re ready to admit defeat?”
She raised herself up on tiptoe, her lips only inches from his. “I—”
The door flung open to reveal Wes, back from his errand, red-faced and wheezing.
“Nick, Holly! Come quick! You’re not gonna believe this!”
“What is it?” Holly silently thanked the powers that be for the interruption.
“The Deville’s on fire!”
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