LITMIR.BIZ

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building for Nick to leave.

      “Get lost, pal. I’m not telling you again,” the bulky doorman growled and positioned himself in between Nick and the insistent fan.

      “It’s okay, Leo. I’ll sign his hat.”

      The older man shook his graying head, his gaze sweeping up and down the street. “You know what happens after you stop to sign one, Nicky. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork.”

      “I know.” He reached around to take the cap, and sure enough, nearly a block away, a pair of kids—about twelve or thirteen years old—scampered across the street, weaving around speeding taxis in their haste to waylay him.

      “Make it out to Toby.” The guy gave Leo a smug look as he handed Nick a black felt pen. “Man, he’s not gonna believe this. My nephew, he’ll be ten on Saturday. You’re his idol.”

      Nick smiled wryly. “Tell him he needs a better role model than a jock who has a good arm.”

      “Hell, you’re my idol, too. You still dating that model from Germany?”

      “You know better than to ask a personal question,” Leo interjected, glaring at the other man. The doorman took the cap from Nick and shoved it back at the fan.

      “Thanks, Nicky.” The man sauntered away while reading the inscription to his nephew.

      Huffing and puffing, the kids who’d charged down from 68th Street stopped just short of running them over. “Hey, Nicky, would you sign our shirts, too?” the tall lanky redheaded boy asked, his breathing labored, his mouth spread in a broad grin.

      “I shouldn’t sign anything.” He pinned them with a warning look. “What were you doing darting into traffic like that?”

      The shorter, stouter boy’s eyes widened. “We didn’t want to miss you.”

      “Use the crosswalk next time,” Nick muttered, and scrawled his name across the back of each of their shirts.

      “Cool. Thanks.” Both boys craned their necks over their shoulders to check out his barely legible signature.

      “Your car’s waiting,” Leo reminded him. “Better get in before someone else spots you.”

      Nick nodded and quickly moved toward the black Lincoln Town Car, where the driver stood holding open the back door.

      Leo followed him, waited until he got in and then leaned over. “Looks like rain. You want to take an umbrella?”

      “No, thanks. I’m just going to go grab something to eat. I won’t be out late.”

      “You expecting anyone I should let in?” the doorman asked quietly.

      “Not tonight.”

      Leo slowly nodded, his face creased with concern. “Okay. I’ll be off duty when you get back so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

      “I’ll bring you coffee and a bagel after my run.”

      The older man scowled as he straightened, and patted his round belly. “Better skip the bagel. The wife says I gotta lose this by Christmas.”

      Nick grinned. “I should leave out the cream and sugar from your coffee then.”

      “Don’t get crazy on me.” Leo noticed a couple exiting the apartment building and with a wave hurried back to his station.

      Nick leaned his head back against the leather headrest as the driver eased into traffic. Up ahead, near the intersection, he saw the two boys whose shirts he’d autographed dash across the street, several yards short of the crosswalk. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. Man, he had to be getting old lecturing kids about pedestrian safety. What was that about?

      The holidays were coming up. That was the problem. He hated this time of year. Part of it for him was the end of the season letdown. Baseball was over until next spring. And although he spent the winter months trying to keep in shape and was able to do a bit of traveling, the downtime always made him restless. Made him think too much. This year was even worse since Billy’s accident a month ago.

      Nick stared out the window at the steady drizzle that was beginning to turn into a nightmare for commuters. Why hadn’t he ordered in? It was crazy to go out for dinner in weather like this, especially when he wasn’t even that hungry. Couldn’t he stand his own company for one lousy evening? At least when he was by himself he didn’t have to suffer questions regarding his plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

      His teammates and their wives, the media, waiters at restaurants he frequented, even complete strangers, they all wanted to know what he would be doing. Who cared where or if he’d eat a slab of turkey on Thursday?

      Ironically, the only people who hadn’t asked were his family. They’d assumed he wouldn’t be going home because he rarely did. He’d had the passing thought of surprising them and showing up on his parents’ doorstep Thanksgiving morning. But then he found out from his sister that they were all headed for the Vermont ski slopes to catch the early snow. All the more ironic, he’d given the whole clan the vacation as a gift last Christmas.

      He knew he could tag along. They’d be happy to have him join them, but spending three days in a resort with them along with a bunch of strangers wasn’t what he had in mind. Bad enough he had so little privacy. Hell, maybe he should go to Louisiana and spend the time with Billy and his wife.

      He shook his head at the depressing thought. They needed their privacy, too. He couldn’t imagine what the poor guy was going through right now. Though Nick had spent hours with him in the hospital, and Billy’s spirits hadn’t been too bad, by now the shock had to have worn off. Reality would be eating a hole in his gut, as weeks of rehab and his uncertain future lay before him. Hell, Nick was pretty shaken himself, and he wasn’t the one with the mangled arm and leg.

      Was he being selfish? Did Billy need privacy, or did he need a friend about now? Damn, Nick was a coward. Seeing Billy laid up had reminded him of his own vulnerability. Of how in a matter of minutes his charmed life could disappear. And then what would he have to fall back on? He hadn’t finished college. All he knew was baseball.

      The car stopped, and Nick peered out to see what was holding up traffic, startled to find that they’d already pulled up in front of Orso. The popular restaurant already had a line out the door.

      “Should I wait, Mr. Corrigan? Or do you want me to come back in a couple of hours?” the driver asked, meeting Nick’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

      “No use waiting around.” He dug in his pocket. “Go on home.”

      The man blinked. “So you’ll call me when you’re ready?”

      “Nope. Take the rest of the night off.”

      “But, sir—” He turned around, obviously alarmed. “The service said you needed me for the entire evening.” His eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

      Nick shook his head. The man was new. Tony normally drove Nick but he’d taken the week off. “Nothing personal. I like taking cabs sometimes. You’ll get paid for the whole night.”

      He jumped out with an umbrella when he heard Nick lift the handle. “I wish you’d reconsider,” the driver said while holding the door open and the umbrella aloft. “With this rain, it might be tough to get a cab.”

      Nick smiled and tucked a fifty in the guy’s breast pocket. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”

      There was always a cab for Nick Corrigan. Or anything else the pride of the Knight’s wanted.

      At least for now.

      “OH, THIS IS JUST PERFECT,” Emily muttered, tilting her face up to the blackened sky. She’d been in New York for one night and, until now, she’d been lucky.

      Raindrops hit her cheeks. Quickly she bowed her head and backed up until she was sheltered by the overhang of the crowded restaurant. She didn’t care

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