Breaking All the Rules (12 page)

Her expression
finally relaxed, her lips slowly curving into a smile. “OK, Dellucci. Let’s
figure out what you can do.”

Chapter Five

Nina got home
late again that night, pulling into the parking lot outside her apartment
building just after nine.

She spotted the
figure sitting on her front stoop as soon as she stepped off the parking lot.
This time she had no trouble recognizing the silhouette, and she didn’t miss a
step. It was Bobby, his elbows balanced loosely on his elbows, a big paper bag
at his side.

The hell of it
was, her first reaction was happiness. Before she forced the feeling down, it
rushed through her, a lightness filling her chest as she saw him.

She chalked it
up to being weak after a very long day—and getting too little sleep that past
couple nights. Which was all his fault.

He didn’t move
as she approached, that easy smile that had her stomach quivering already in
place. She stopped a few feet in front of him. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I told
you I wasn’t giving up?”

“Yes, I got that
message from your roses.”

He grinned. “Did
you like them?”

“Not as much I
enjoyed giving them away. You should have saved your money.”

“No, I
shouldn’t. Not as long as you enjoyed something about them.”

Nina folded her
arms over her chest. “It’s late, Bobby, and as I’m sure you can see, I’m tired.
If you’re not here for sex, then what are you doing here?”

Bobby picked up
the bag and propped it on his knees. “I figured if I couldn’t get you out to a
restaurant, I’d bring the food to you. You didn’t seem excited about Mexican,
so I brought Chinese.”

She hadn’t eaten
anything since the sandwich she’d managed to scarf down for lunch. Her stomach
had already been churning angrily in her belly. Now it started to rumble harder,
as though on the verge of bursting from her body and going at the food on its
own.

“What exactly do
you have in there?”

One corner of
his mouth curved. “A little bit of everything. Eggrolls. Fried rice. Moo shu
pork. Cashew chicken.”

Nina almost reached
up to wipe away the drool she knew had to be streaming from the corners of her
mouth. He’d named every last one of her favorites. He couldn’t have chosen
better if he knew that. She tried to remember if they’d ever ordered Chinese,
which would explain how he’d know that. She was pretty sure they hadn’t. She
usually kept her fridge stocked when he came around.

“Where is it
from?”

“This place
called Chao’s. It’s not far from here. I’ve never been there before but I hear
it’s pretty great.”

Yes, it is
,
she thought, eyeing him with fresh suspicion. Chao’s was her favorite local
place. Was it really a coincidence, or—

Bobby spoke
again, interrupting her train of thought. “This might not have been my first
choice, but I hear takeout Chinese food is better than any served at an actual
restaurant.”

“Well, it’s
greasier at any rate.”

“Don’t knock it.
The grease holds most of the flavor,” he said. “What do you say? Are you going
to let me in?”

She stared at
the bag in his hand, torn. This was exactly what they shouldn’t be doing,
spending time together, having meals together. No good could come of it.

At the same
time, the amazing smells from that bag were just beginning to reach her
nostrils. She thought she felt her stomach throw itself against her belly in an
attempt to break free.

Hunger won out.

“I guess it
would be bad form to grab the bag and run inside without you,” she said.

“Definitely.”

She let out an
exaggerated sigh. “All right, you can come in. But this is not a date.”

“I didn’t say it
was,” he said, his tone completely guileless.

She snorted and
shot him a wry glare. “You think you’re so slick.”

“I didn’t say
that either,” he said magnanimously. Shoving to his feet, he grabbed the bag.
“Now let’s go inside before it gets cold.”

She moved past
him, getting another whiff from the bag in the process. It was almost enough to
push her nagging doubts far enough back in her mind that she could forget them.

Almost.

“DO YOU WANT the
last eggroll?” Bobby asked. He prodded the object in question toward her with
the tip of his chopstick.

On the other
side of the coffee table in her living room, Nina fell back against the couch
and pressed a hand to her overstuffed belly, positive the waistband on her
pants was about to pop. “No, thanks. It’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” He
tore off half with his teeth. “If you’re done you can go ahead and open your
fortune cookie.”

Just the thought
of ingesting anything else had her stomach rebelling. “No, really. I’m
stuffed.”

“You don’t have
to eat it, but don’t you want to know your fortune?”

“I make my own
fortune. I don’t need a cookie to tell me what it’ll be.”

“Spoilsport.” He
picked up one of the two sitting on the table and tossed it to her. With a
groan, Nina threw her hand up in time to catch it.

“Fine. If it’s
that important to you.” She broke the cookie open and pulled out the slip of
paper inside. “‘An opportunity that first seems undesirable should not be so
quickly dismissed.’” She rolled her eyes and tossed the paper aside. “Cute.
What’d you do? Have that specially made?”

He did a
passable job feigning surprise. “I swear I didn’t have anything to do with
that. The cookie knows what it’s talking about.”

“I’m sure. And
what does yours say?”

Chewing on the
last of the eggroll, he cracked open his cookie. “‘Your pursuit of new
experiences will lead to many blessings.’ Hey, what do you know?”

“I know a bunch
of crap when I hear it. Besides, whoever wrote those has a complete lack of
imagination and regurgitated the same thing with different words.”

“Not exactly. I
think we both got exactly the right fortune.”

She scowled at
him. “Here’s an idea. Rejection can be your new experience.”

“That doesn’t
seem like a blessing.”

“‘An opportunity
that first seems undesirable should not be so quickly dismissed,’” she
retorted, reading from her own fortune.

He rewarded her
with a bark of laughter. “You really know how to keep a guy on his toes.”

“I’m much more
interested in curling your toes.” She stretched languorously, feeling his eyes
on her as her shirt drew tight against her breasts and slipped upward to reveal
a bit of midriff. “How about a different kind of dessert?” She darted a glance
toward her bedroom.

He leaned back
against his chair and smiled smugly. “I told you, that’s not going to happen
until you agree to go out with me.”

Nina shrugged.
“Then you might as well go, because it looks like we’re done here.”

“I had another
idea. How about we talk? Get to know each other a little?”

“I’m not
interested in anything that involves you keeping your clothes on.”

He seemed to
consider the idea. “Maybe we could work something out.”

“What do you
have in mind?”

“How about I ask
you questions about yourself, and for every answer you give, I’ll take off
something I’m wearing.”

She couldn’t
keep the skepticism off her face. “You want to play Strip Twenty Questions?”

“Something like
that.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And you’re not
saying no.”

No, she wasn’t.
As leery as she was of opening up to him and making their relationship any more
intimate, the prospect of getting him naked was too good to dismiss. Once he
had his clothes off, she would have a lot more to work with, and it would be
harder for him to turn her down. She’d have the battle half won.

Still, she
couldn’t help but be wary of just what kind of personal questions he had in
mind.

“Wouldn’t you rather
just take your clothes off all at once and join me in the bedroom?” she
suggested.

“Nope.”

“The shower?”

“Already took
one today.”

“I have that
strawberry sauce I mentioned in the kitchen.”

“It’ll have to
wait. This is the offer,” Bobby said firmly. “You get something you want and I
get something I want.”

“I want a lot
more than just a great view.”

“And I wanted a
date. We’re both just going to have to be satisfied with what’s on the table.”

She eyed him,
trying to calculate how many pieces of clothing he was wearing. A short-sleeved
button-down shirt and a white T-shirt underneath. Jeans. Two socks. Two shoes.
Boxer shorts. If he was wearing a belt and tried to drag things out that far,
it would bring the grand total to nine items, and therefore nine questions. If
she stuck to short answers, she could have him naked in five minutes tops.

Then the only
question would be what she would do with him. The strawberry sauce might find
its way out of the kitchen after all.

“I take it from
that big smile on your face that the answer is yes.”

She knew she was
treading on dangerous ground here, but he had a way of making her throw caution
to the wind and throw herself heedlessly into the breach despite all common
sense. He always had. All he had to do was look at her, all he had to do was
give her that grin, and she was lost.

“Fine. I accept.
First question.” She tensed up waiting for it, bracing herself for whatever he
threw at her.

“What’s your
favorite color?”

She almost
sighed with relief. She’d expected something more personal than that. “It’s
green.” She extended her hand palm up and motioned with her fingers. “Now start
taking it off.”

He reached down
and popped off his left shoe, setting it on the floor beside him. “Mine’s blue,
by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I’m telling you
anyway.”

She waved off
the answer dismissively. “Next question.”

“Why San Diego?”

Nina frowned.
“What do you mean?”

“For someone
who’s not interested in guys who are in the military, San Diego seems like a
strange choice for a place to live.”

“There are other
things here besides the military.”

“There are also
a million other places to live on the planet. What brought you to San Diego?
Are you a diehard Chargers fan? Love to surf?”

It was exactly
the kind of personal question she’d been hoping to avoid. But in this case, it
might backfire on him, because it only helped her case.

She looked him
straight in the eye. “We lived here for a while when I was growing up,” Nina
admitted. “Not long. Maybe a year. I loved it. I saw a lot of the world growing
up, and this was the closest to heaven I’d been on earth. I never wanted to
leave.”

“But you did,”
he said softly.

“Yep. Uncle Sam
decided to send my father somewhere else, which meant we all had to go. I told
myself I’d be back, and I kept my word. The good thing about not really having
a hometown of your own is you get to pick your own, and I knew I wanted this to
be mine.”

He took off his
right shoe and placed it next to the other without any prodding from her. At
least he was playing fair. “Why did you become a baker?”

“Because two
left feet and a complete lack of rhythm brought my dream of being a dancer to
an end before it could begin.” She motioned again for him to take something
off.

He didn’t move. “Seriously.”

“I am serious.
When I was a kid, I used to dream of dancing on Broadway. I took dance classes
for a while, but after getting booted out of ballet, tap, jazz, and even square
dancing—talk about humiliating—I had to face the fact that dance was not my
destiny.”

“Ah, so that’s
why you didn’t want to dance the night we met. You can’t dance.”

Nina chuckled.
“I have enough moves to get by on a dance floor, especially if it’s just moving
together nice and slow. I just don’t have the kind of talent that anyone would
pay me for. And I didn’t want to dance that night because I figured there were
better things we could be doing together. I still do, by the way.”

“I know,” he
said wryly. “You’ve been pretty clear on that. So instead of dancing you picked
baking?”

Nina perked up.
“Is that another question?” She tried not to look too eager, hoping he wouldn’t
catch on to what an easy one it was.

He looked at her
for a long moment, the corners of his mouth twitching. “No. Because I already
know the answer is yes.” He dutifully tore off his left sock and draped it
across his shoes, then stopped and looked at her. “The question is, why
baking?”

“My father
always told me that whatever I decided to do in life, it should be something I
loved, something that made me happy.”

“He sounds like
a good guy.”

A twinge of
sadness hit hard deep in her chest. “He was.”

“I take it he’s
no longer alive then?” he asked gently.

Nina shot him a
look until he tugged off his other sock. “No. He died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. My
parents thought they’d have all the time in the world to spend together after
he retired. Instead, two months after he left the Navy, he died of a heart
attack. We didn’t have nearly enough time with him,” she said pointedly. “Me or
my mother.”

She watched
Bobby lower his eyes for a brief moment and knew the comment had hit home.

He finally
started to unbutton his shirt. “So what is it you love about baking? Out of all
the things in the world you could have picked, why that?”

Nina squinted at
him. “You make it sound like it’s unbelievable.”

Shrugging out of
his shirt, Bobby gave her a sheepish smile. “I have to admit, when I shipped
out after that first night, I thought a lot about the wild, unbelievably hot
woman I spent the night with. What you were like. What you did for a living.
Not once did I ever come up with ‘baker.’”