One Way Out (Silhouette Intimate Moments No. 1211) (Silhouette Intimate Moments, 1211) Page 4

  The minute she stepped into Joey’s penthouse, Rhea could hear Nicci’s screams. Frantic, she hurried through the amber-lit foyer and into the living room, barely noticing its lavishness.

  “He’s in the bathroom at the end of the hall.” Lucky pointed to a hall that disappeared around a dramatic S-shaped wall. “Joey was going to give him a bath before he put him to bed.”

  “A bath? Oh, no!” Rhea hurried down the hall, led by Nicci’s screams. She thrust open the bathroom door, then stopped dead at the sight of Joey standing in the middle of a square red bathtub. He was fully clothed in an expensive white shirt and gray suit pants, his jaw was set, and he was trying to restrain their hysterical, naked son.

  “Nicci, stop before you get hurt!”

  The seriousness in her tone brought Joey’s and Nicci’s heads around. Her son immediately stopped thrashing, then thrust out his arms. “Mama! No baff, Mama. No … baff.”

  Rhea stepped forward, surprised when Joey thrust Nicci at her. She eagerly took him, and Nicci twined his arms around her neck. His little body was trembling, and she cradled him while she searched for a towel to wrap around him.

  Facing Joey, she said, “There was an accident on the beach at Santa Palazzo. It happened about a year ago. Nicci was pulled under by the ocean’s current. Since then, he’s been terrified of water.”

  “How the hell did that happen? Weren’t you watching him? What kind of mother—”

  “Don’t say it, Joey. I was holding onto his hand. He was only under water for a few seconds.”

  “But long enough to make him afraid of a damn bathtub for the rest of his life?”

  “Don’t swear,” she said softly, careful not to chastise Joey too strongly in front of his son. “Not unless you want him using that word in school in a few years.”

  Rhea kissed Nicci’s silky black head, then turned and assessed the bathroom. Spying the large sink in the middle of a ten-foot vanity, she pulled the stop, then ran warm water into it.

  “Nicci, honey, let go of Mama’s neck. That’s a good boy.” She winked at him as his dark eyes met hers. Then she kissed his nose. “Shall we play?”

  When he nodded, she eased him from her and placed him on the vanity. Making sure the towel was beneath him, she checked the temperature of the water, then added a little more warm before sliding his bare feet in. “Doesn’t that feel good, Nicci? Wiggle your toes.”

  He did more than wiggle his toes. He kicked out both feet and sent water up the front of Rhea’s blue sweater and down the front of her jeans. The second kick lifted the water to the mirror and onto the white tiled floor.

  Instead of reprimanding her son, she said, “Joey, a washcloth, please.”

  Rhea heard him step out of the tub, heard him swear again, a little more softly this time and in Italian. From somewhere behind her, a thick white washcloth sailed over her shoulder and plopped into the water. Then the door closed, and she was left alone with her son.

  A half hour later, Rhea tucked the teddy bear next to Nicci in his bed and kissed his cheek. “If you need Mama, just call out. I’ll hear you. I promise.”

  She turned around and found Joey standing in the doorway. He’d changed into a pair of dry pants—jeans that showed off his lean hips and long legs. A steel-gray V-neck sweater covered his broad shoulders and revealed a hint of black hair on his chest.

  He’d shaved, but it didn’t soften his set jaw. He was angry with her, possibly even more so now than he had been that morning.

  When he backed up, she walked out and started down the hall. Trailing her, he said, “Not too smart making promises you can’t keep, Rhea. Tomorrow Niccolo will have a nanny, and all of his needs will be met by a professional.”

  Rhea spun around. “Are you so sure she’ll be able to meet all of his needs, Joey? If she had been here tonight, she would have attempted to bathe Nicci, just like you did.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point is that no matter how good your nanny is, she won’t be able to replace me. Nicci’s afraid of water, and you can tell that to your professional, after you’ve frightened your son half to death. But do you know what to tell her about his allergies, or are you planning on jumping feet-first into that unknown territory, too?”

  “Allergies? What kind of allergies? You said he was healthy.”

  “He is healthy. Just allergic to carrots.”

  “Carrots? What else?”

  Rhea hesitated, then said, “I should let you find out the hard way, Joey. But at whose expense? It wouldn’t be yours or your professional’s, it would be at Nicci’s expense. Still, a nanny won’t know that he likes peas better than squash. Or that thunderstorms make him wake up crying. Or that he gets constipated if he doesn’t drink enough juice. But I know those things, Joey. I know them because I’ve been with our son every minute since he was born.” On a roll, she jabbed herself in the chest. “Me! The only professional he needs! His mother!”

  He reached out and covered her mouth with his hand. “We’re not going to fight in the hall where he can hear us,” he whispered hotly.

  Rhea opened her mouth and bit down hard on the side of his hand, so frustrated and angry that she reacted before she thought.

  “Maledizione!”

  The minute she let go, she warned him off with her extended arm. “I’m the one who should be caring for our son. But have it your way … daddy. Father knows best, right?”

  She turned then, and quickly headed for the door. She didn’t want to go, but he was going to send her back to her cell “with a view,” anyway. At least this way, she wouldn’t have to be led away like a criminal on her way back to lockup.

  She’d almost reached the door when he caught her in the foyer and turned her around. Backing her against the wall, he easily pinned her there. He leaned in and snapped, “Damn you, Rhea… Damn your hide.”

  “And damn your hide right back, Joey. Now let go! Or I’ll—”

  “Or you’ll what?”

  Instead of telling him, Rhea hoisted her knee.

  As she clipped him in the crotch, Joey swore, then wedged his knee between her legs and gave her his weight. “You should have told me you were pregnant, damn you.”

  “You should have told me you were engaged to Sophia D’Lano.”

  “I’m Niccolo’s father.”

  “I’m his mother.”

  The room fell silent as he stared her down. A full minute lapsed before he said, “Then, the answer is simple, isn’t it?”

  His voice was no longer full of anger, but of resignation.

  “Nothing is simple when it comes to you, Joey. Not one damn thing.”

  He raised his hand and brushed a finger over the scar on her lower lip. “Say it? Say you’ll do whatever you have to, for the sake of our son. I want to hear you say it.”

  If she refused him this time, she might never see Nicci again. Never hold him, or hear his sweet voice call her “Mama.” Life wouldn’t be worth living without her son, and she was sure Joey had figured that out. He knew he had her boxed into a corner. A very tight corner.

  Her chin quivered, but Rhea kept it up, anyway. “Okay, Joey,” she whispered. “I get to care for Nicci, and—”

  “I get whatever I want.”

  There was more silence. Rhea’s chin continued to tremble, and Joey’s eyes bored into her as if he was waiting for her to change her mind. But she wasn’t going to, and when another minute passed, he dropped his hand and stepped back.

  “There’s an empty bedroom across the hall from Niccolo’s room. You can move your things in there. Tomorrow morning, meet me in the sunroom at seven sharp. I’ll tell the cook she has the morning off. Two eggs, three strips of bacon, juice and coffee, Rhea. Questions?”

  She shook her head.

  He turned and swung the door open. “Gates, Ms. Williams is moving again. Get somebody downstairs to pack her things.”

  “And where will she be moving to, sir?”

  Rhea heard several graphic word
s, all of them in Italian. Then, “Where do you think, Gates?”

  “Sir?”

  More Italian. “Get her suitcases up here within the hour, Gates. Capiche?”

  * * *

  Joey headed for the Stardust Bar on the tenth floor of Masado Towers, intent on getting drunk. The idea behind the Open Twenty-Four Hours sign out front was to give the night owls a place to light—all night long, if need be.

  With half-moon shaped booths in midnight-blue leather and a million neon stars scattered on a black ceiling, the atmosphere echoed the eclectic food and drinks, especially the latter, with names like Midnight Sun, Pink Cloud and the famous Moonshot.

  As Joey stepped inside, he saw Lucky and Jackson seated at a corner table. Flagging a waitress, he ordered a double scotch, then slid into the booth.

  “Who’s watching Niccolo?”

  Joey scowled at his brother. “You know damn well who’s up there with him. Why in the hell did you stick your nose in my business? I was handling things.”

  “You were handling things, all right.” Lucky turned to Jackson. “You should have seen it, Jacky. Joey was in the bathtub with his shoes on, juggling my screaming nephew like he was a slippery eel. Mio fratello can make a hundred grand a day pushing buttons on his computer, but when it comes to—”

  “Shut up, Lucky.”

  When Jackson chuckled, Joey nailed his best friend with an ugly look. “I don’t want to hear what you’re thinking. Save it until I’m in a better mood.”

  Jackson schooled his grin. “I wasn’t going to say anything, Joe.”

  “Like hell you weren’t.”

  “Well, maybe I was going to make one small comment. An observation.”

  “Just one?”

  “Yeah, one. I was going to say, I’m glad it’s you and not me. Becoming an overnight father, I mean.” Jackson glanced at Lucky. “Did you get pictures? Nicci’s first bath with Daddy? We could put them on Ma’s conversation wall at Caponelli’s.”

  Joey swore, then reached for the glass of scotch before the waitress could set it down. After he’d inhaled it, he said, “Let’s get drunk.”

  “Drunk?” Lucky grinned. “Hell, yes. Let’s. It always makes me feel better.”

  Jackson elbowed Lucky. “Joey doesn’t need to get drunk. Neither do you.”

  “Yes, I do,” Joey argued. “I just moved Rhea into the penthouse.”

  Joey ignored Jackson‘s shocked look and reached for his drink. When he realized it was empty, he looked at Lucky, who appeared more surprised than Jackson. “Get me another bottle, Lucky. No, get two.”

  After Lucky gestured toward the waitress and held up two fingers, he said, “Things are never black and white. This morning you wanted revenge. Obviously, after getting a good look at Rhea, you’ve decided on something a little more uplifting.” His rugged mouth curved into a wry grin. “Hell, I can’t blame you for that. Those photos didn’t do her justice. Must have been a poor job of develop—”

  “Shut up, Lucky.” Joey rubbed the back of his neck, the day’s events giving him a helluva headache. “He’s afraid of water,” he said absently.

  “Who’s afraid of water?” Jackson asked.

  “Niccolo. That’s what started this whole mess tonight. There was some kind of accident at Santa Palazzo.” Joey shoved a fifty-dollar bill at the waitress when she brought the two bottles of scotch. “Niccolo was on the beach with Rhea and somehow he was dragged under water.” He looked over at Jackson. His friend’s grin was gone, and so was the mischief in his green eyes. “You’re sure Stud Williams is on his way to prison, right?”

  Jackson nodded. “He confessed yesterday.”

  “At least that’s one problem solved. I don’t need to worry about him with Rhea back in town.”

  “Sunni’s relieved, too,” Jackson offered.

  Sunni Blais was Jackson‘s soon-to-be wife. He’d been assigned to protect her a few weeks ago. It had been a scary couple of weeks, but in the midst of the craziness, Stud Williams had been charged with murder and Jackson and Sunni had managed to fall in love.

  Lucky said, “Letting Rhea stay with Niccolo should make her happy.”

  “Should I care if Rhea’s happy?” Joey didn’t mean for the question to be answered. “It’s Niccolo’s comfort level I’m concerned with. But right now, all he cares about is his teddy bear and his mama. You should have seen him when he laid eyes on Rhea. He just about flew out of my arms to get to her.”

  “He was just scared, Joe,” Jackson reasoned.

  “He was scared, all right. And I didn’t know what the hell to do or say to calm him down.”

  “That’s not your fault,” Lucky argued.

  Joey knew his brother and Jackson were trying to make him feel better, but it didn’t ease his stinging pride. “I thought I had it all figured out this morning. The nanny was going to start tomorrow, Rhea was in a room three floors down—and then all hell broke loose.”

  “So maybe you shouldn’t have moved her in,” Lucky considered. “If you want Niccolo to start relying on you, then—”

  “Rhea pointed out that I don’t know a damn thing when it comes to Niccolo’s needs. And she’s right. I don’t have a clue.”

  “He’s a kid, Joe, not a high-tech robot,” Jackson pointed out. “How complicated can he be?”

  Lucky motioned to Jackson. “We can help out.”

  “So now you two are experts on how much juice my son needs to prevent constipation?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Joey stole a cigarette from Lucky’s pack on the table and lit it. Taking a long drag, he reached for his glass of scotch. “You hear anything from Frank?”

  “No. He’s still in Florida. They’ve got hurricane winds beating the coast. My guess is he’ll be knocking on your door sometime tomorrow if he can get his plane off the ground.”

  Jackson let out a low whistle.

  Joey thought it was in anticipation of his confrontation with his father, but as he followed his friend’s gaze to the bar entrance, he saw whom the whistle was meant for.

  “Dammit.” Joey eyed Sophia D’Lano in royal-blue glitz, noting that the dress advertised her curves like a lit-up billboard for Viagra. “What else can go wrong tonight?”

  The minute he’d spoken the words, she spied him and waved, then started over.

  Lucky asked, “How do you want to play this? You plan on telling her you’re a daddy, or do we keep Niccolo and Rhea a secret for the time being? The latest rumor is that she’s determined to get you to the altar before New Year’s.”

  Joey ground out the cigarette. “We don’t tell her a damn thing. Not until I talk to Frank.”

  “What are you doing here, Joey?” Sophia arrived batting her long lashes and smiling like she’d just had her teeth cleaned. “Your secretary told me you were out of town.”

  “I was.” Joey stood, leaned forward and kissed Sophia’s flawless cheek.

  She glanced at Lucky and Jackson, then at the empty seat. “It looks like there’s room for one more.” She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at Joey. Turning slightly, she made sure her breasts brushed his arm. “I haven’t seen you in days. Let’s catch up.”

  Joey stepped aside and allowed Chicago‘s mafia princess to slide into the booth, then sat down beside her. Since their breakup, Sophia had been inching her way back into his life. But for the past three months, she’d been pushing harder than ever. He admitted that she was beautiful, with rich caramel eyes and sooty black hair that fell past her shoulders, but he’d never envisioned himself marrying her.

  “So was it business or pleasure?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your trip?” Sophia licked her lips. “Your secretary didn’t say. You’re not hiding some big dark secret, are you?”

  Jackson choked on his beer, while Lucky almost bit in half the cigarette he was lighting. But Sophia didn’t notice. She was too busy situating herself closer to Joey so he could look down the front of her dress.<
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  The waitress came and took Sophia’s drink order. Two Moonshots later, she was snuggled close to Joey, purring in his ear. Thirty minutes later, Jackson excused himself, claiming he had to go home and rescue Sunni from Mac—Mac being Jackson’s once K-9 partner who was now retired and spent most of his time on the sofa watching Westminster and dreaming about a long-legged greyhound with an attitude.

  Ten minutes after that, Lucky’s exaggerated yawn warned Joey that his brother was next in line to desert him. He’d just as soon not be left alone with Sophia. She would likely invite herself upstairs. She’d done it before.

  His son’s familiar cry warned Joey that he didn’t need to worry about that happening. He jerked his attention to the Stardust’s lit-up entrance, and there they were, Rhea and Niccolo.

  He watched as Rhea scanned the crowd, while his son continued to demonstrate how healthy his lungs were. When Rhea spied him, she started forward, weaving her slender hips through the crowd.

  Disaster was only seconds away, and still he sat there while the noose tightened about his neck, stupidly ogling the swell of Rhea’s breasts crammed into another high-necked sweater, this one white and damn near iridescent from the black lights shining down from the ceiling.

  She came to a halt beside his table, her gaze going first to Sophia, then to Lucky, then finally to him. Over the top of Niccolo’s continued crying, she stated, “Your son wants you. He says you promised him a dragon story.”

  She waited a moment, and when Joey didn’t say anything, she continued. “I don’t know that story. He tells me he doesn’t want any of the others I usually tell him. He’s informed me that ‘The Three Blind Mice’ … suck. Yesterday that word wasn’t in his vocabulary.” She offered Lucky an accusing look, then nailed Joey with one hotter than an open blaze chasing gunpowder. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep … Daddy. Or can you?”

  Sophia had come out of her Moonshot fog the minute Rhea had used the word daddy. She shoved herself upright and squared her shoulders. Joey watched her out of the corner of his eye as she sized up Rhea, then Niccolo. A second later, he heard her gasp. Recognition had obviously dawned, colliding with Sophia’s perfect picture of her future as Mrs. Joey Masado.