Page 3 of Nick's Baby

He took a good long look at Kelsey O'Sullivan, realizing he had misjudged her. There was more to the lady than met the eye, much more.

"Yes, she is," he agreed slowly, his eyes never leaving Kelsey's. He took the chair again, relaxing despite the odd circumstances. "It was her birthday."

He shouldn't be talking about birthdays. He should be out of here. He couldn't phantom why he felt so comfortable with a business executive in starched linen suits and coke bottle glasses.

"And did you arrange for all the family to be there?"

"Not much arranging in the Leonetti family. Everyone knows Mama's birthday and they are there, or else."

"Or else they'll have Nick Leonetti to deal with?"

"Something like that." He wondered where this was leading. Dammit, he was attracted to her. He didn't want to be attracted. He could think of a million reasons not to be. So why her? He didn't have time for a woman in his life. He had other worries. He needed to concentrate on getting his family out of Hell's Kitchen and into a nice comfy home in Queens.

"Tell me about your mother, your . . . family."

"Y—you wanna know about my family?"

She nodded.

"What do you wanna know? I mean, they're just family. Like anybody else's. My mother is a God-fearing Italian woman who loves her children more than her life. My sister Tina is sixteen. She's turning into quite a young lady, which happens to scare the hell outta me. And Tony, well, what can I say? I guess we tend to spoil him a little. He's the baby of the family."

Nick watched Kelsey's face. No ridicule there. Instead, she was quiet, pensive, glancing occasionally out the window as he spoke. Her expression reminded him of a child looking inside a department store window at Christmas and longing for the toys. He recognized something in her face, something he'd seen many times before, from neighbors, friends, even relatives. He saw loneliness—a sudden envy.

"It sounds like a lovely family." She cleared her throat, straightened her jacket and blinked hard. God the woman was close to tears. And all he had done was talk about his family. She might appear a hardened business woman, but Nick suspected a hidden tenderness lurked beneath her surface. "I like you, Nick." Her voice sounded soft, like a whisper.

He liked her too, and he had absolutely no idea why. They had nothing in common. He ate hot dogs with 'kraut on top, she probably had caviar and imported wines. He was poor, she was rich. It'd never work, even if he wanted it to.

"I don't normally form opinions so quickly about strangers," she explained her face strained. "But I'm very glad we met, even if it was through a—a screw-up."

Nick didn't say a word.

"The note was meant for an old friend. But I'm not the least upset."

"You aren't?"

"No. Because I am a despera

te woman."

Oh God, here it comes. She wants me to kill somebody! He knew he should have walked out. He couldn't kill anybody; he wasn't the type. Sure, he'd seen the "Godfather". Sure, he was even Italian, but that was as far as it went. Just because he lived in the infamous "Hell's Kitchen" didn't give her the right to jump to conclusions.

He could take care of himself, in any given situation. His thorough knowledge of Karate saved him more than once, but kill—no, not this Leonetti! She had the wrong guy. He had the wrong job. He was out of here!

Yet instead of leaving, like he knew he should be doing, he heard himself saying, "Go on." He wanted to yank his own tongue out, but he had no control over his mouth any longer.

Her eyes locked with his, darkening with intensity. "It's really very simple."

Why did he not quite believe that? "What's that?" Nick prompted totally curious.

She was doing it again, looking him straight in the eyes and daring him to leave. She actually glanced at the door, as though she might be waiting for him to do just that. But Nick Leonetti was no quitter and she'd soon learn that.

"The job you applied for…the reason you're here…what I need—"

Now he was nervous. Why didn't she just spit it out? The longer she waited the more tense Nick became. The way she hedged, he was sure he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. Obviously no one else had.

"There's just no delicate way of putting this. No way to sound nice. I don't want you getting a wrong impression, nor jumping to conclusions but I need your . . ."

Her voice grew low, like a whisper and even then Nick wasn't sure he had heard right. He sat very still. It became very quiet. Very, very quiet. "My—what?"

---