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Chapter Forty Three – July 2

“Happy Birthday, to you. Happy Birthday, to you. Happy Birthday, dear O-liv-ia. Happy Birthday, to you!”

I was truly corrupting a Backstreet Boy. It was yet another morning when Nick was up early. I rubbed my eyes; I hadn’t heard him get out of bed.

“Ta-da!” he said proudly. He was balancing a tray awkwardly.

“Did you make me breakfast?” I asked, sitting up. He nodded.

“Yes, I did.” He placed the tray on my lap. “I went with a yellow theme.”

I saw scrambled eggs, pineapple juice, and toast with lots of yellow butter. In the corner of the tray a yellow rose sat in a clear vase.

“It smells amazing,” I said. “Where’s yours?”

Nick smiled sheepishly. “I ate it.”

I laughed, taking a bite of toast.

“How does it feel to be twenty-seven?”

I paused thoughtfully.

“Very good,” I said. “Last year I never would have thought I would wake up on my twenty-seventh birthday in Nick Carter’s bed.”

His eyes sparkled as he sat beside me. I continued to munch on my color coordinated breakfast. After I finished, I set the tray gently on the nightstand.

“Ready for your birthday spanking?” Nick asked sweetly.

My eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

He dived under the sheet I was still wrapped in. I squealed as he flipped me over and began to playful smack my backside.

“Fifteen, sixteen,” he counted.

I gasped for breath; my fingers dug into the pillow.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two.”

“NICK!”

“Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven.”

His hand was replaced by lips on my lower back. I flipped back around.

“You don’t play fair,” I complained.

“You didn’t complain about that last night,” he retorted. I didn’t have a comeback.

He sat back up, yanking the sheet from me.

“Get up and get dressed.”

“Why?” I said, stretching out languorously.

“Because,” Nick said smiling. “I’m taking my birthday girl to LA.”

“Seriously?” I said. He laughed.

“Yes! Get dressed!”

Scrambling up, I headed to the bathroom. Bitsy, a piece of egg stuck to her ear, bounced after me.

-------------------------------

“I cannot believe I’m standing on the Walk of Fame,” I said later that afternoon. I was standing on Lucille Ball’s star.

“I would kill to be that star right now,” Nick said, looking down at my bare legs. Due to the warm temperatures, I had opted for a spaghetti strap sundress. It flowed gently around my knees. I smacked his shoulder.

“This is Lucille Ball!” I hissed, pointing down.

“You’re the one standing on her!” Nick countered.

He took my hand and we walked along. I stopped often, pointing out this name and that.

At one point I looked over to see Nick looking at me strangely.

“What?” I asked haughtily.

“It’s just,” he tilted his head. “You’re like a breath of fresh air. You actually make me excited to be here. I’ve taken a lot of things for granted lately.”

I beamed. “That’s what happens when you hang with an L.A. virgin.”

Nick laughed.

After we finished with the Walk of Fame, Nick took me to Rodeo Drive.

“Rodeo Drive, baby,” I said, thinking of the movie Pretty Woman.

We walked through Armani, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, and Ralph Lauren. I couldn’t help but stay on the lookout for stars, even though the most important celebrity was the one standing right next to me. Every so often Nick would pick out a shirt or purse, giving me a questioning look. Knowing the way his mind worked, I shook my head. Along with the Rodeo Drive location came swank prices.

As we headed farther down, we ended up in Two Rodeo, which is essentially the outdoor mall portion that tourists flock to see. Nick stopped outside Tiffany’s. The doorway was trimmed in black; the name was etched in gold above.

“Come in with me,” he said.

“Nick, this is Tiffany’s,” I explained as if he didn’t already know it.

“Yes?”

I didn’t know what else to say. Instead I let him lead me inside. The inside was absolutely opulent; I would have felt way underdressed but the sight of a few tourists in awful floral shirts kept me from being too self conscious.

I stayed close to Nick’s side; he slowly perused the cases. There were so many diamonds that I thought I’d be blinded by the combination of light and prisms.

“May I help you?” a saleswoman asked, walking up to Nick. Nick straightened and turned in her direction.

“Yes,” he said. I looked at him in surprise. “I’m Nick Carter, I called earlier…”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Carter. Follow me.”

I gave Nick a questioning look. With a little shrug he took my hand, following the lady to a far corner of the room.

“Sit,” Nick said, pointing to a plush chair. I lowered myself down slowly, my eyes still on him.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Nick didn’t respond. The saleswoman came back, handing him an already prepared blue bag.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Anytime, Mr. Carter,” she said addressing him. She turned to look at me. “You’re a very lucky lady,” she said before approaching her next customer.

My eyes widened. “Nick?”

“Don’t panic, I just got you a little something,” Nick explained as he knelt beside me, handing me the bag.

“Why? You got me Bitsy!” I said, perhaps a little too loudly. I saw a couple of heads turn my way. Lowering my voice, I practically hissed. “Nick this is Tiffany’s. Nothing’s little in here!”

“Just open it,” Nick said, pushing at the bag.

With a nervous sigh, I reached in, pulling out the signature blue box with white satin ribbon. Slowly, I untied the ribbon, letting it drop across my lap. Nick was still kneeling in front of me, his hand on my knee. I looked at him again.

“I’m horrible at surprises,” Nick said. “Just open it.”

Making every motion minute, I lifted the lid. Nestled in light blue satin was a gorgeous double heart tag pendant. The larger heart had the words Love You repeated over and over again. The smaller heart was inscribed with Let Me Count the Ways.

“Do you like it?” Nick asked. I looked at him again.

“Nick, this is beautiful,” I said. I lifted the chain, letting the pendants shine in the light. He took it from me gently.

“Lift your hair,” he said. Pulling my hair away from my neck, I let him fasten it around my neck.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.

He leaned over me, giving me an upside down kiss.

“I feel better knowing you’ll have my love wrapped around your neck when you have to leave,” he said, his lips brushing mine as he talked. I touched his face, pulling him in for another kiss.

After a few more minutes of PDA, we walked back out into the sunshine. I touched the pendants gently as we walked, my mind reeling. For the rest of the day, Nick continued the role of tour guide, showing me Sunset Strip and Beverly Hills. We dined at a little out of the way Italian restaurant. It was like a scene out of Lady and the Tramp. We shared a big plate of spaghetti and meatballs. The noodles were the longest I had ever seen; more than once our forks twirled the same strand. By the end of the dinner I was loaded up on spaghetti sauce and red wine; my head and heart felt light.

“You got me tipsy,” I complained as he walked me back out to the car.

“That’s okay,” Nick said. “I’m sober.”

The edges of my vision were slightly fuzzy, but in a good way. As Nick slid into the driver’s seat, I rested a hand on his leg.

“You’re going to take advantage of me,” I murmured, sliding my hand up to his thigh. He sucked in a breath.

“I think that might be the other way around,” Nick said as I caressed him. I giggled; it was something I never did. The wine was working fast.

“How fast can you drive home?”

Nick kicked the car into gear. My hands continued to play.

“I want you,” I said huskily. His foot hit the accelerator.

Luckily for him, he didn’t meet any cops along the way; he made it back to his condo in record time. After getting warmed up in the car, we tripped inside, laughing. I ran to the kitchen; a can of whipped cream was stashed at the very back. I held it up to him, grinning.

“Time for my birthday dessert.”