Playing for Keeps/Body Check (Rules of the Game) (4 page)

Jenna looked around her. All eyes were focused on her and Nick, apparently waiting to see what came next.
 
She took the arm that wasn’t secured in a sling, and led him to an alcove outside the kitchen. Prying eyes and ears would not be involved in this conversation.

Jenna was nervous, excited and frightened all at once. She turned and faced him. "I thought you were in California?"

"Is that all you have to say to me, Red?"

He was standing too close, looking too gorgeous, and waiting for answers, it seemed. Jenna crossed her arms over her chest and took deep breaths.
 
I should have expected this day would come,
she thought. But this was not the time, nor the place.

"Yes, Nico, right now that's all I have to say.
 
Look, this is my place of business. So, if you'd like to stay and have dinner on the house, please be my guest, but I'm not discussing our personal life here."

He stood with his legs apart, about to say something, but he stood silent for a moment, meeting her eyes, smile gone. Then he nodded.

"Yes, you're right, sorry. It's great to see you, and I do want to talk to you alone, soon. And I'd love dinner." He looked around the room. "This place is gorgeous, Red. Congratulations."

Jenna allowed herself to relax. "Thanks, Nico. It's good to see you too."

 
Suddenly, the air around her grew still. His smile vanished when he leaned into her again.

"This is not a friendly social visit, Red. I'll be home for a while, and we will talk. I want and need answers, and I'm not going back to California till we hash this out. It's been twelve fucking long years since you sent me away, not allowing me to help you. You sent me packing, divorced me with no explanation other than to say you were letting me go and…"

Jenna shook her head. "Keep your voice down!" she ordered, then admonished herself for being so harsh. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this now. Please sit down and enjoy dinner. If you'd like to talk, we'll talk, but not tonight, and certainly not here."

He nodded, his eyes still focused on hers. "Fine, but I will get the answers I want."
 
 
 
 

Jenna didn’t want to talk to him. Hell, his kiss was still present on her mouth. She could still taste him, smell him, that seed of familiarity growing quickly in her heart.

This was not a good idea, but she was not going to make a scene in her establishment. She'd make him a meal, and then hopefully, he'd leave and go back to California where he belonged.

The past has to stay in the past where it belongs.

"Fine, let me show you to a table," she said, slipping back into café owner mode. "Try the veal, it cuts like butter."

He smiled but didn’t budge. "I will. Hey, Red, it
is
really great to see you, really."

She exhaled a breath and nodded, managed a quivering smile. "By the way, congratulations on the World Series win. How long will you be staying in New York?"

He frowned and lean in closer to her. "Well, that depends."

"Depends on what?" she questioned.

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. "On a lot of things."

Now what the hell did that mean?
 
Instinctively, she closed her hand, capturing his kiss, attempting to regain her equilibrium from the power of his kisses.

Watching Nick being ushered to a table, Jenna backed away and then turned and rushed into the kitchen, wondering why he was here.
 
What did he want? Didn’t he have a bevy of gorgeous models and actresses back in California?

If his kiss was any indication of his stay here in New York, she was in serious trouble.

***

Although reluctant, Nick sat after being noticeably shooed away by Jenna, but her lips betrayed her. His former wife wasn’t all that thrilled to see him here. But she was going to have to get used to it. He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere until he got the answers he wanted from her.

And when she told him those answers, he'd finally receive the closure he craved, have surgery and rehab, then go back to California, and get ready for spring training.

In the meantime, his mouth watered as the fragrant aroma of the café seduced his taste buds. By the time their meal was served, he found himself ravenous. Jenna had done herself proud. The veal was superb, the linguine with clam sauce al dente, just the way he liked it, and the espresso and pastries were fresh and a wonderful way to top off the sumptuous mouth watering dinner.

His eyes, however, never strayed far from the kitchen, where Jenna had gone after he'd been shown a table, and never reappeared.

Sipping his espresso and closing his eyes to the dark, strong brew, a young girl of about six or seven, with long blond braids shyly approached his table and requested his autograph.

Nick dabbed his mouth with his napkin, centered his attention on his young fan, whose adorable face was liberally sprinkled with freckles, and smiled.

"Hi sweetheart, what's your name?"

She managed a wide, toothless smile. "Haley."

Nick smiled back, then took the small sheet of pink paper the little girl handed him. "Well Haley, are you a baseball fan?"

The little girl nodded. "I play little league on the Brooklyn Blue Jays," she answered proudly.

Nick scrawled his name across the paper then handed it back to the child. "Cool, what position do you play?"

"I play short stop."

"Wow," Nick nodded, clearly impressed. "The toughest position in baseball."

The little girl stepped closer to Nick and retrieved the signed paper, her shyness slowly fading away with the onset of his easygoing way and friendly smile.
 
"Yeah, it's pretty tough sometimes, but pitching is hard too. I'm sorry you hurt your shoulder, Mr. Dante," she told him as a young woman, obviously Haley's mother, approached them.

"Ok sweetheart, you’ve taken up enough of Mr. Dante's time. He's here to have his dinner, not talk baseball." She looked at Nick. "Hope she hasn’t disturbed you."

Nick shook both their hands. "It was a pleasure to meet you both. And Haley, don’t ever apologize for loving the game. I never do. Good luck."

Nick waved the waiter over and instructed that he'd take care of the bill for Haley and her mom. He loved to meet his young fans, and hoped that someday, he'd have his own kids that would enjoy the game as much as he had.

CHAPTER SIX

Seething with a myriad of emotions with anger and sadness topping the list, Jenna entered the house that night, followed closely by Grace.

"Of all the arrogant, conceited, ugh, men." She flung her Gucci heels across the room, hitting a plant stand with a thud, then turned to meet Grace's questioning gaze.

"He's crazy, Gracie, pozzo," Jenna pointed to her head. "He comes to New York out of the blue, into MY café, eats MY food, drinks MY wine, and all of a sudden its reunion time. Twelve goddamned years and he thinks he can just…"

She let out another disgusted snort, pushed angry fingers through her hair and as Grace looked on, tried in vain to stop threatening tears. "I need a glass of wine." She stomped in to the kitchen.

"I was there, remember?" Grace answered, suppressing a giggle. "He always did know how to push your buttons."

Jenna paused and took a breath. "Don’t be flip, Gracie." She poured herself a generous helping of Chianti, then took a very unladylike gulp. "Anyway, you were too young to remember, so stop siding with him."

Grace sat across from her sister, touching her hand in an attempt to calm her. "Tell me what he did that was so awful."

Jenna put the glass down on the table and fiddled with the napkin. “He was with that nice John Matera. You know, that man who stared at you all night. I guess they're friends or something."

"Yes, John is a nice man, and Nicky's agent and lawyer. Anyway, what did Nicky do to piss you off?"

"How did you know that?"

Grace blushed. "Um, he saw me at the bar, and bought me a glass of wine and we talked." She shrugged and a wan smile lit up her pretty face. Jenna nodded and eyebrows raised in revelation.

"Ah, love at first sight, hmm?"

Grace shook her head. "No, he's just a nice man. Don't change the subject, Jen. If Nicky had kissed me like that, I wouldn’t be angry, I'd be following him home."

Jenna frowned. "Don't be a smart ass."
 
Then she took a breath.

"Gracie, he cornered me in my office and kissed me again, after that kiss in the dining room."

"Well, we’ll just have to hunt him down and beat the crap out of him, won’t we?"

As if Grace had not spoken, Jenna continued. "He wants to talk, Gracie, after all these years, he wants to take a stroll down Memory Lane."

Grace slid Jenna's glass away and took her hand. "Seriously, Jen, why don’t you tell him the truth. He's going to find out anyway. Then maybe you can finally find closure and maybe find love with someone else. Because you've never gotten over Nicky and you know it."

Jenna shook her head, and tears threatened again. "I can't, Gracie; it's been too long."

Despite her tears, Gracie's voice was calm and soothing, and Jenna loved the sound of her sister's tone. It had always settled Jenna when times were tough.

"How are you and he ever going to go on with your lives until you settle things between you?
 
And if you're over him, like you claim, why are you so angry with the fact that he showed up at the café, or that he kissed you? Either tell him the truth and get on with it, or you're going to be carrying this burden for the rest of your life. Don’t you think he has the right to know?"

Jenna sat staring at her baby sister. This woman had grown strong over the years. Jenna had been driving the car that fateful day that changed many lives. And only with extensive therapy had she learned to live with the grief and tragedy she'd caused.
 
The guilt was always there. Nick was aware that only two lives were lost that day. He had no idea that a tiny life was lost as well.
 
And Jenna had never told him.

Gracie interrupted Jenna's thoughts."Tell him you had a nervous breakdown after the accident, Jen. Tell him about the baby. If what you say is true, and you don’t care about him anyway, then revealing everything won't matter, will it?"

Jenna inhaled, then let out a sigh, but held in the tears.

"Gracie, when he kissed me, I wanted to hold on and never let go. I wanted to climb inside him and stay forever.
 
I wanted to tell him I still loved him, that I never stopped loving him. But it was a lifetime ago. He'll hate me forever if I tell him I lost our baby and my sanity for a time. A hundred years worth of therapy will never convince me otherwise. I won't survive that."

Grace wrapped her loving arms around Jenna. "You can survive anything," Grace whispered. "You are my hero. It's because of you that I'm alive. You were there every moment of every day for me while I recovered. You gave up everything for me, and I love you for it. But it's time to put it all to rest, Jen. Think about it, then talk to him. I don't care where he's been or how rich he is. He's still the same Nicky that adored you and I think the both of you can find that again. Think about it, and while you're at it, remember what I told you. The accident was NOT your fault. That guy was drunk and rammed into us. Never forget that, ok?"

Jenna hugged her baby sister, loving her now more than ever. Breaking the hold, Jenna wiped a tear that had escaped, managed a tiny smile, then kissed Gracie on the cheek. "You're a good sister even when you're being a pain in the ass," she joked.
 
"I know you're right, and I'll think about what you said. I think this calls for some gooey, sugary ice cream. What do we have?"

Grace wiggled her eyebrows, left the room, then came back with two spoons and a half gallon of Death by Chocolate.

Sinking into the sofa cushions, Jenna recalled the feel of his demanding mouth on hers, coupled with his closeness and his scent that had awakened something primitive inside her.

Could it be possible that twelve years had passed and she still felt that tension, that attraction between them.
No don’t think about it
, she urged. Pushing aside the memories of his kiss, his handsome face and those dark eyes, she decided to tease her oh so wise and loving sibling. "So, tell me more about this John Matera."

***

Angry as hell, Nick emerged from the orthopedic doctor's office that Dr. Ramin had recommended, to discover that surgery was imperative.

Ignoring the roaring pain in his shoulder he slid into his car, slammed the door closed and cursed out loud. Things were not exactly going as he expected since he returned home to New York.