Waiting For Nick: the classic story from the queen of romance that you won’t be able to put down

Ten minutes later, he was on the phone to the Waldorf and leaving the first of several messages for Miss Frederica Kimball.

It was late afternoon before Freddie returned to her suite, flushed with pleasure and laden with purchases. In her opinion, she’d spent the most satisfying of days, shopping, lunching with Rachel and Bess, then shopping some more. After dumping her bags in the parlor, she headed for the phone. At this time of day, she thought, she could catch some, if not all, of her family at home. The blinking message light caught her eye, but before she could lift the receiver, the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Damn it, Fred, where have you been all day?”

Her lips curved at the sound of Nick’s voice. “Hi there. Up and around, are you?”

“Real cute, Fred. I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day. I was about to call Alex and have him put out an APB.” He’d pictured her mugged, assaulted, kidnapped.

She balanced on one foot, toeing off her shoes. “Well, if you had, he’d have told you I spent part of the day having lunch with his wife. Is there a problem?”

“Problem? No, no, why would there be a problem?” Even through the phone, sarcasm dripped. “You wake me up at the crack of dawn—”

“After ten,” she corrected.

“And then you run off for hours,” he continued, ignoring her. “I seem to recall you yelling something about wanting me to call you.”

“Yes.” She braced herself, grateful he couldn’t see her, or the hope in her eyes. “Did you have a chance to look at the music I left for you?”

He opened his mouth, settled back again and played it cool. “I gave it a look.” He’d spent hours reading it, poring over it, playing it. “It’s not bad—especially the parts that are mine.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, her chin shot up. “It’s a lot better than not bad—especially the parts that I polished.” The gleam in her eyes was pure pride now. “How about the lyrics?”

They ranged from the poetic to the wickedly wry, and had impressed him more than he wanted to admit to either of them. “You’ve got a nice touch, Fred.”

“Oh, be still my heart.”

“They’re good, okay?” He released a long breath. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it, but—”

“Why don’t we talk about that? Are you free tonight?”

He contemplated the date he had lined up, thought of the music, and dismissed everything else. “There’s nothing I can’t get out of.”

Her brow lifted. Work, she wondered, or a woman? “Fine. I’ll buy you dinner. Come by the hotel about seven-thirty.”

“Look, why don’t we just—”

“We both have to eat, don’t we? Wear a suit, and we’ll make it an event. Seven-thirty.” With her bottom lip caught in her teeth, she hung up before he could argue.

Jittery, she lowered herself to perch on the arm of the chair. It was working, she assured herself, just as she’d planned. There was no reason to be nervous. Right, she thought, rolling her eyes, no reason at all.

She was about to begin the courtship and seduction of the man she’d loved nearly her entire life. And if it went wrong, she’d have a broken heart, suffer total humiliation and have all her hopes and dreams shattered.

No reason to panic.

To give herself a boost, she picked up the phone again and called West Virginia. The familiar voice that answered smoothed out all the rough edges and made her smile.

“Mama.”

At seven-thirty, Nick was pacing the lobby of the Waldorf. He was not happy to be there. He hated wearing a suit. He hated fancy restaurants and the pretentious service they fostered. If Freddie had given him half a chance, he would have insisted she come by the bar, where they could talk in peace.

It was true that since he’d found success on Broadway, he was occasionally called upon to socialize, even attend functions that required formal wear. But he didn’t have to like it. He still just wanted what he’d always wanted—to be able to write and play his music without hassles.

Nick outstared one of the uniformed bellmen, who obviously thought he was a suspicious character.

Damn right I am, Nick thought with some humor. Zack and Rachel and the rest of the Stanislaskis might have saved him from prison and the prospect of a lifetime on the shady side of the law, but there was still a core of the rebellious, lonely boy inside him.

His stepbrother, Zack, had bought him his first piano over a decade before, and Nick could still remember the total shock and wonder he’d felt that someone, anyone, had cared enough to understand and respond to his unspoken dreams. No, he’d never forgotten, and to his mind, he’d never fully paid back the debt he owed the brother who had stuck by him through the very worst of times.

And he’d changed, sure. He no longer looked for trouble. It was vital to him to do nothing to shame the family who had accepted him and welcomed him into their midst. But he was still Nick LeBeck, former petty thief, con artist and hustler, the kid who’d first met former public defender Rachel Stanislaski on the wrong side of prison bars.

Wearing a suit only put a thin layer between then and now.

He tugged on his tie, detesting it. He didn’t think back very often. There was no need. Something about Freddie was making him switch back and forth between past and present.

The first time he saw her, she’d been about thirteen, a little china doll. Cute, sweet, harmless. And he loved her. Of course he did. In a purely familial way. The fact that she’d grown into a woman didn’t change that. He was still six years older, her more experienced cousin.

But the woman who stepped out of the elevator didn’t look like anyone’s cousin.

What the hell had she done to herself? Nick jammed his hands in his pockets and scowled at her as she crossed the lobby in a short, snug little dress the color of just-ripened apricots. She’d clipped up her hair, and it showed entirely too much of slender neck and smooth shoulders. Glittery colored gems swung from her ears, and one tear-shaped sapphire nestled comfortably between the curve of her breasts.

The kind of female trick, Nick knew, that drew a man’s eyes to that tempting point and made his fingers itch.

Not that his did, he assured himself, and kept them safely in his pockets.

Her dimples flashed as she spotted him, and he concentrated on them, rather than on her legs as she walked to him.

“Hi. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” She rose on her toes to kiss him at the left corner of his mouth. “You look wonderful.”

“I don’t see why we had to get all dressed up to eat.”

“So I could wear the outfit I bought today.” She turned a saucy circle, laughing. “Like it?”

He was lucky his tongue wasn’t hanging out. “It’s fine. What there is of it. You’re going to get cold.”

To her credit, she didn’t snarl at the brotherly opinion of her appearance. “I don’t think so. The car’s waiting just outside.” She took his hand, linking fingers with him as they walked out of the lobby toward the sleek black limo at the curb.

“You got a limo? To go to dinner?”

“I felt like indulging myself.” With the ease of long practice, she flashed a smile at the driver before sliding smoothly into the car. “You’re my first date in New York.”

It was said casually, as if she expected to have many more dates, with many more men. Nick only grunted as he climbed in after her.

“I’ll never understand rich people.”

“You’re not exactly on poverty row these days, Nick,” she reminded him. “A Broadway hit going into its second year, a Tony nomination, another musical to be scored.”