“Catch you later.” He strolled out, leaving Rachel wondering if it would help to beat her head against the wall.

Nick was feeling great. He had the whole day ahead of him, money in his pocket, and a gorgeous woman planted in his heart. He had to grin when he thought about the way he’d flustered her. He hadn’t realized it could be so satisfying to make a woman nervous.

And imagine a knockout like Rachel worrying about her age. Shaking his head, he jogged down to the subway. Maybe he’d thought she was a couple of years younger, but it didn’t matter one way or the other. Everything about her was dead-on perfect.

He wondered how Zack would react when he saw Nick LeBeck strut into the bar one night with Rachel on his arm. He didn’t imagine Zack would think of him as a kid when everybody saw he’d bagged a babe like Rachel Stanislaski.

Wrong, he told himself as he hopped on a car that would take him to Times Square. That was no way to talk about a classy lady. What they’d have was a relationship. As the subway car rattled and squeaked, he occupied himself by daydreaming about what they’d do together.

There would be dinners and long walks, quiet talks. They’d go listen to music, and dance. Now and again they’d have a lazy evening snuggled up in front of the television.

Nick considered it a sign of his commitment that he hadn’t put sex at the top of the list.

On top of the world, he came out into the bustle and blare of Times Square and decided to use some of his loose change for a little pinball.

The arcade was noisy, and there was a loud rock backbeat blasting over the metallic sounds of beeps and buzzes. Though he’d missed the freedom of being able to breeze into an arcade any time he chose, he had to admit it felt good to be able to spend money he’d earned.

No sneaking around, no vague sense of guilt. Maybe he didn’t have the gang to hang around with, but he didn’t feel nearly as lonely as he’d thought he would.

It wasn’t something he’d admit out loud, but he was getting a kick out of working in the kitchen with Rio. The big cook had plenty of stories, many of them about Zack. When he listened to them, Nick almost felt as though he’d been part of it.

Of course, he hadn’t, Nick reminded himself, using expert body English to play out the ball. There was no possible way he could explain how miserable he’d been when Zack shipped out. Then he’d had no one again. His mother had tried, he supposed, but she’d always been more shadow than substance in his life.