An opening, she thought, and dived in. “Do you have a girl?”

His smile was very male and very attractive. “I’m more interested in women. Women with big brown eyes.”

“Nick—”

“You know, when I was walking over here, I started to think how getting busted turned out to be a pretty lucky break.” He lifted her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles before toying with her fingers. His eyes never left hers. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have needed such a great-looking lawyer.”

“Nick, I’m twenty-six.” It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, or how she’d meant to say it, but he only tilted his head.

“Yeah? So?”

“And I’m your court-appointed guardian.”

“Kind of an interesting situation.” His smile spread. “It’ll be over in about five weeks.”

“I’ll still be seven years older than you.”

“More like six,” he said easily. “But who’s counting?”

“I am.” Frustrated, she started to rise, then realized it would be best if she stayed in the position of authority behind the desk. “Nick, I like you, very much. And I meant what I said when I told you I wanted to be your friend.”

“You can’t let the age thing bother you, babe.” When he rose, she realized she’d miscalculated by staying behind the desk. When he came around to sit on the edge of it, she was trapped between him and the wall.

“Of course I can. I was in college when you were starting puberty.”

“Well, I’ve finished now.” He grinned and traced his finger down her cheek. And his eyes narrowed. “Is that a bruise?”

“I ran into something,” she said, and tried again. “The bottom line is, I’m too old for you.”

He frowned at the bruise another minute, then lifted his eyes to hers. “I don’t think so. Let me put it this way. Do you figure a woman shouldn’t get tangled up with a guy six years older than she is?”

“That’s entirely different.”

“Sexist,” he said clucking his tongue. “Here I figured you’d be all for equal rights.”

“Of course I am, but—” She broke off with a hiss of breath.

“Gotcha.”

“Regardless of age—” since that wasn’t working, she thought “—I’m your guardian, and it would be wrong, certainly unethical, for me to encourage or agree to anything beyond that. I care about what happens to you, and if I’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in anything more than friendship, I’m sorry.”

He considered. “I guess you take your work pretty seriously.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I can dig it. No pressure, right?”

Relief made her sigh. “Right.” She rose, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “You’re all right, Nick.”

“You too.” They both looked around when her phone began to shrill. “I’ll let you get back to serving justice,” he told her, then had her mouth dropping open as he brought her hand to his lips. “Five weeks isn’t so long to wait.”

“But—”

“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.

It had taken all her energy to put food on the table and clothes on his back. She’d had little of herself left over once that was done.

Then there had been Zack.

Nick could still remember the first time he’d seen his stepbrother. In the kitchen of the bar. Zack had been sitting at the counter, gobbling potato chips. He’d been tall and dark, with an easy grin and a casually generous manner. Once Nick had gotten up the courage to follow him around, Zack hadn’t tried to shake him off.

It was Zack who’d brought him into an arcade the first time, propped him up and shown him how to make the silver balls dance.

It was Zack who’d taken him to the Macy’s parade. Zack who had patiently taught him to tie his shoes. Zack who’d clobbered him when he chased a ball into traffic.