Early to Bed Page 9

  "First I'm treating you to lunch," Tony said, steering her to the entrance where a vendor was stationed. "And I'm not taking no for an answer. You can't come to New York and not sample some of our finest street cuisine. What do you take?"

  "Hot dogs are not on my diet."

  Tony threw back his head and laughed. "They're not on anybody's diet. They're probably lethal. Certainly, a mortal sin. That's why they're so good."

  When she still hesitated, he said, "C'mon. You wouldn't eat the breakfast I fixed you, and you're going to need your strength for that report. Just one hot dog. We'll split it."

  The vendor had already stuffed one into a roll and was poised to reach for condiments.

  "If we pile enough stuff on it, we're bound to hit at least a few of the recommended food groups," he said.

  A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I'm beginning to understand for the first time how that snake in the Garden of Eden wore down Eve."

  "I'll take that as a compliment. What do you want on it?"

  "Mustard, onions and chili."

  He grabbed her and kissed her hard on the mouth. "I think I love you. Tell me you play basketball and I'll buy a ring and propose."

  "I think you're crazy," she said.

  "Could be." Because he wanted very much to kiss her again, he dug his hand into his sweats and busied himself exchanging bills for the loaded hot dog. Then he nudged her back through the park entrance. "I've never met anyone who liked exactly what I like on my hot dog." "It's a fluke. And you can forget about the ring. I don't play basketball."

  "Bummer." The first few benches he spotted were taken. The sun that had finally made its appearance had lured Manhattanites in all shapes and sizes out of their apartments. A nanny pushed a stroller toward them while its occupant protested loudly. A dog-sitter passed them with three beagles and a miniature poodle in tow.

  Spotting a large rock, he urged her onto the grass and headed toward it. "There's a big game Sunday. The Murphys vs. the Romanos. Family pride is at stake, and we're short a player because Sam's wife is seven months pregnant."

  "I can't—"

  "You won't have to do anything but run up and down the court," he said as he gestured her down on the rock. "But we need a full team to intimidate the Murphys."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Don't you ever take no for an answer?"

  He grinned as he held the hot dog within an inch of her lips. "Not if I can help it. Try a bite."

  She did, then closed her eyes to savor the mix of flavors. Watching the pleasure move across her face, he wanted to kiss her again.

  "It's a good thing we're sharing," she said. "Otherwise, I'd have to eat grapefruit and tofu for a week."

  "Grapefruit and tofu?" He shuddered. "That's awful."

  She laughed, then took another bite when he offered it.

  "I'm going to have to fix you a real meal."

  She licked mustard off her thumb. "I thought Lucy was the cook."

  "She's the most talented, but all the Romanos cook," he explained around a mouthful. "My brothers and I spent our formative years in the kitchen of Henry's Place. My father ran the hotel, but my mother ruled in the restaurant. We were her slaves. She even recruited my father at times. If we didn't do food prep or cook, we had to do the dishes."

  "I spent a lot of time in the kitchen when I was growing up, too. Every time I made a mistake at the dinner table, my stepmother would banish me there."

  "A mistake?" Tony asked.

  "Spilled my milk or used the wrong fork. Pamela was always a stickler for proper etiquette."

  "She must be a jerk, too."

  Lily shrugged. "I'm learning to handle it."

  Tony could see that she was. And she wasn't used to having anyone help her or even watch out for her. Tony found it hard to imagine what his own life might have been like without the solid support he'd always had from his family. He was about to tell her that she shouldn't have to handle everything on her own when a cell phone rang. Hers.

  She dug it out of the pouch around her waist. "Sorry. It's probably my father." She took a second to brace herself. "Hello?"

  "We've had a family meeting," Pamela said.

  A family meeting. How like Pamela to phrase it that way. They'd had a family meeting that she hadn't been invited to.

  "Your father and I will be in New York later today. You're not to do anything until then."

  Lily felt her stomach sink, but she kept her voice steady. "That's not the agreement my father made with me an hour ago."

  "Are you questioning my word?" Pamela asked.

  Lily could hear surprise and anger in her tone and felt a little better. It wasn't easy to ruffle Pamela's control. "I'm merely asking to talk to my father."

  "He's on another line."

  "Put him on this one."

  "Fine."

  Lily counted three beats of silence and then her father said, "Lily, I don't have time for this. Jerry, Pamela, and I are in agreement, and Pamela and I will arrive in New York late tonight."

  "I told you that I can handle this job. And we agreed—"

  "There are certain things that Pamela has made me aware of. A lot is riding on this deal. Jerry informs me that Giles Fortescue is on the scene."

  "What does Giles have to do with this?"

  "You know you can't be trusted to think rationally around him. Expect Pamela and me in the morning. We'll handle everything from that point on."

  "Dad, wait. I—" She broke off when she realized that he'd ended the call. For a second, she was tempted to throw the phone. Instead, she jammed it back into the pouch she'd taken it from.

  "Does he always cut you off like that?" Tony asked.

  "Yes." Because she couldn't sit still a moment longer, she rose and began to pace. "He never listens. He still thinks of me as the child I used to be—clumsy and incompetent." She found a pebble along the side of the path and gave it a kick. "This job. He promised it would be mine. It was my one chance to prove to him—and to Jerry and Pamela too—that I can be an asset to the company. Now, he's coming to handle it himself."

  She didn't even know that he'd followed her until his hands gripped her shoulders and turned her. "The only McNeil I'm doing any business with is you."

  "Oh." The anger that had bubbled up in her when her father had disconnected the call drained away, and taking its place was a warmth, sweet and solid. It occurred to her that she was losing ground fast with this man. Business and pleasure, it was all blurring together into one. Watching him now, seeing the understanding in his eyes, she could almost feel the earth shifting under her feet. In another moment, she would be tumbling into...love?

  No. She'd tumbled into what she'd thought was love before, and it had been a disaster. What she felt for Tony was desire, and desire wasn't love. A smart woman didn't confuse the two.

  A cell phone rang. His, she realized, as he dropped his hands from her shoulders and fished it out of his sweatpants. Saved by the bell. But she needed more than a bell. She needed a miracle. She'd come here to prove to her father that she could be an asset to McNeil Enterprises. To do that, she was supposed to deliver Henry's Place on a platter. It was bad enough that she was sleeping with Tony Romano. She could not, would not, fall in love with him. No way. It was not going to happen.

  But as Tony talked on the phone, she couldn't prevent herself from sensing that old black cloud above her head again.

  "You said you wanted to know if Vera and I noticed anything suspicious."

  As he listened to Alistair's voice in his ear, Tony wanted to curse. In the moment that it had taken him to fish out his phone, all of the worry and fear had returned to Lily's eyes. "What have you got?"

  "A tall blond chap, midthirties, I'd say—and handsome if you fancy the Viking type as Vera does. He's been asking the staff a lot of questions, and he's pumping Vera now."

  "Do you have a name?" Tony asked. He thought he might have one. The description fit the man who'd kissed Lily's hand in the lobby. Gile
s Fortescue.

  "Negative on that. But Vera is looking into the crystal for him. She'll have it before she's done with him. Over and out."

  The moment he put away the phone, Lily said, "I have to get back to the hotel."

  He took one look at the determined set to her chin and said, "Okay. But why don't you tell me about your ideas for Henry's Place while we walk?"

  "Because I don't have my notes typed up yet. And that's what I should be doing rather than sitting here in the park eating forbidden food."

  When she moved onto the path, he fell into step beside her. "You can get back into one of your sexy business suits and make a formal presentation later. Just give me a little preview of what you're thinking. I swear I won't hold you to it if you want to make changes later."

  She ran a hand through her hair. "Why do you want me to do this? I'm not fully prepared."

  He began to tick his reasons off on his fingers. "Because I'm curious. Because it's a lovely day and I don't get out of the hotel as much as I'd like to, and if I distract you by asking you to talk business, I'm hoping that it will take us longer to walk back. Because if we talk business, I can write off the three bucks I spent on that hot dog."

  She smiled then, and he saw some of the tension and worry ease.

  "Last but not least, because I'll keep badgering you until you give in," he added.

  "I think you're the most persistent man I've ever met," she said.

  "Why fight it then?"

  "My father would never approve. He trains all his executives to use handouts with charts and graphs."

  "You can tell him I'm a very difficult client. I find it next to impossible to take no for an answer."

  Turning, she narrowed her eyes and met his. "All right. But I don't want any complaints that you're bored when you have to sit through charts and graphs."

  "Scout's honor."

  She snorted. "Please. Don't expect me to believe that you were ever a Boy Scout."

  But she didn't object when he took her hand as they left the park and joined the pedestrians walking down the Avenue of the Americas.

  "If Henry's Place was yours, what changes would you make?" he asked.

  "This won't be in any particular order. My experiences in Europe, specifically in France and Italy, taught me that there's a growing market for small hotels that operate like guest houses, offering personal service with great attention to detail. That's what I'd like to turn Henry's Place into. I'll begin with the biggest changes and work down to the smaller ones. First, I'd turn your father's penthouse into a restaurant, offering intimate dining with a view. Hotel guests would be given priority seating, but I would also open it to the public. Second, I have plans for the lobby."

  As she continued to talk, Tony watched her warm to her theme. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she knew her business. What surprised him was that she clearly loved it—another indication that she wasn't the shark she wanted to be. When she started describing how she would turn the upper lobby into a destination for high tea complete with a string quartet, he could picture it in his mind.

  "Then you would want to turn the main restaurant of the hotel into something with a distinct character," she said, "something a cut above the run-of-the-mill coffee shop. I'm thinking a French bistro or a pub."

  "How about Italian food?" he asked. "Not the usual spaghetti and meatballs and pizza—but something a little more authentic and upscale? I've wanted to try something like that for years. Lucy would be in heaven if I let her create the menu."

  "Sounds good. And then I have an endless list of little but important services."

  "Such as?" Tony asked as he drew her around the corner onto Sixtieth.

  She began to tap them off on her fingers. "Concierge services should be expanded to include a personal shopper. You should have an arrangement with a good health club so that you can provide passes for hotel guests. You should prepare a brochure with a map that illustrates different runs or walks that guests may take through the park."

  "You are really very good at this," he said when she paused to take a breath. They'd stopped for a light, so he could see the flush that came to her cheeks that his words caused, the small flustered movement that she made with her free hand. Both reminded him that she wasn't used to hearing compliments. He was going to change that. "What's it going to cost me?" "What?" She glanced up at him then. "Bottom line—what would be the cost of making all the improvements you're talking about?" "Well, I'd need to figure that out." "How about a ballpark figure?" Her eyes narrowed. "No. I can't pick a number out of the air for you. I have to calculate it—run some projections—all of which I could be doing right now back at the hotel. Besides, you'll need a five-year plan. That way you could start with one project and phase the others in."

  "Come on, give me a hint." She shook her head and turned her vibrant green eyes on him. "But let me get to my laptop and I'll put together the specifics."

  The light changed. Pedestrians streamed past them. Tony was barely aware of the movement, he wasn't even sure that he could separate what Lily was saying into words anymore. He'd told her before that she was beautiful when she was smiling. He figured that on a scale of one to ten, she was only halfway there right now. Still, she was stopping his breath and wiping his mind as clean as a slate. It struck him then, right on the corner of a crowded Manhattan street, that he might be in danger of falling in love with Lily McNeil. His Goldilocks might be the one.

  Ignoring the warning bells that were going off in the back of his mind, he reached out to trace a finger down her cheek "You know, you're beautiful when you—"

  He broke off when he saw the expression in her eyes change to fear. She wasn't looking at him—but past his left shoulder. He started to turn when she threw herself at him, hard, knocking him backwards. He wrapped his arms around her while he tried to regain his balance and failed. As they pitched backward, landing hard on the sidewalk, he heard the crack of noise. Even then, he might not have recognized it as a shot, if he hadn't heard the bullet ping off metal.

  Someone screamed, but the sound was nearly drowned out by the squeal of tires and the roar of an engine.

  Tony tightened his arms around Lily when she tried to raise her head. "Don't move," he ordered.

  "He tried to shoot you," she said against his chest. She was trembling now. "I saw the car. I saw the gun. I can't...I can't breathe." He eased his hold on her. But she was still gasping for air. "He...tried...to shoot... you."

  He sat up then and shifted her so that she was sitting on his lap. "He didn't. Take deep breaths... There, that's it." She was as white as a sheet, but she did just what he told her. "Good job."

  "You two all right?"

  Tony stiffened as he glanced up to see that a small crowd had gathered around them. But he focused on the man who'd spoken. "Who are you?"

  "I work for Sam," he said as he squatted down and offered Tony the ID he'd already pulled out of his pocket. "I was across the street from the hotel, and I got a partial plate. It was a dark blue sedan, four doors."

  Lily drew in a deep breath. "I got a good look at the shooter."

  "Sam was right," the man said. "You've got some real trouble here."

  ______7______

  Lily wouldn't have believed that so many people could fit into the living room of the penthouse suite. Within twenty minutes of the time that she and Tony had arrived back at Henry's Place, the entire Romano family had gathered. In the overstuffed chair near the fireplace, Sam was working quietly on his laptop, while Tony leaned over his shoulder, a cell phone pressed to his ear. From what she'd been able to gather, Tony was trying to reach his cousin Nick to fill him in on what was happening. Behind Tony, his patience on a short leash, Drew paced back and forth, also talking into his cell phone.

  Lily envied Drew the freedom. She would have been more comfortable pacing. Instead, she was trapped on the couch—with Grace to her left and Sam's very pregnant wife, A.J., on her right. Alistair, sketching on a pad, face
d her across the narrow coffee table. Dame Vera sat at the end of the table, sipping sherry, engrossed in her crystal ball. The room itself was not large, but the three Romano men had clearly separated themselves from the women. Lily was almost sure it was because Sam and Drew didn't trust her. How could she blame them?

  On the other hand, the women in the family were treating her like a hero because Tony had told everyone that she'd saved his life. She was even less comfortable with that.

  Gina and Lucy had taken over the small kitchen and were dispensing food as quickly as it arrived on the dumbwaiter. Trays laden with the remains of crackers, meats, cheeses and fruit now lay scattered on tables throughout the room. Her own plate, which Tony had urged on her, lay untouched on the coffee table. She couldn't eat, not while the image of that gun pointed at Tony still lingered at the edges of her mind.

  But the stress of drive-by shootings seemed to fuel the appetites in the Romano family. Lily didn't think she'd ever seen so much food disappear so quickly. She wasn't used to huge informal family meals where everyone talked and argued at once. Her own limited experience had been confined to sitting at a formal dining table with her father, her stepmother and stepbrother. She'd only been allowed to talk when she was specifically spoken to, and sooner or later, she'd never failed to breach at least one rule of etiquette. Then Pamela would banish her to the kitchen where the cook would try to cheer her up with ice cream or warm apple pie. Comfort food had turned her into a chubby, unhappy teenager.

  Lily closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Her past no longer had to be her future. She could have whatever she wanted.

  Except for Tony Romano. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He wasn't looking at her. Since they'd arrived at the hotel, they'd had only a few moments alone together. Tony had used that to make sure she was all right. He hadn't seemed to be able to take her word for that. He'd run his hands over her, briefly, impersonally, and then he'd insisted on washing and bandaging the scrape on her elbow. By that time the Romanos had gathered, and chaos ensued.

  She was fine. He was the one who'd almost been shot. Just as the image of that moment threatened to fill her mind again, Tony glanced up and met her eyes. For just a second she saw a mix of fury and frustration, so ripe that she could all but feel the heat of it across the room. Then as suddenly as if he'd turned a switch, those emotions were masked and he smiled at her. The warmth of that smile, lethal dimples and all, flowed through her, pushing away the fear.