Rumor Has It (17 page)

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling miserable. She trusted Nick, but she knew he didn't understand. He was the one who was being stubborn, not she.

“Good. Come upstairs with me.”

“But—”

He silenced her with a warning look and a finger on her lips. Pulling Katie along behind him, he strode through the nearly finished main dining room, which was crowded with a haphazard ar rangement of tables and chairs. They climbed the stairs, past the unfinished second floor, past his apartment, all the way up to the attic.

It looked very different from the first time Katie had seen it. It had been a dim, musty, cluttered place. Now gray light poured in through skylights on the north side of the peaked roof. The wood floor had been scrubbed and polished to a soft sheen. All the junk had been removed, leaving a long hollow space. Tucked back in one corner was a sophisticated stereo system. One wall was lined with mirrors. Along the wall opposite the mirrors sat a set of weights.

Nick abandoned Katie in the middle of the floor. While he put a tape on to play, she stood staring glumly at the Palladian window. Rain poured down so hard she could see nothing beyond the glass. Silver and opaque, it was like a sheet of mercury flowing over the panes. She felt alone, but then Nick was standing in front of her, gazing down at her with dark eyes silently begging for her trust.

He pointed to his ear. “Listen to the music,” he said quietly. He pointed to his eyes. “Watch my eyes.” He drew her hand to his heart. “Trust me.” He took her in his arms as the music began.

It was a slow song. Sad. Sweet. Soft. And yet the sound wound around them, shutting out everything else, wrapping them in a cocoon where only the two of them existed—the two of them, the music, and love. Slowly they moved around the floor. Nick guided her, turned her, held her, all the while asking for her to trust him, telling her with his body and his eyes that she could trust him to lead her, that he would never let her go, never let anything hurt her.

He was strength and power, but now the strength, the power, the speed, the agility were
leashed. It was his compromise for her. Hers was to relax in his arms, to follow him unquestioning.

They glided across the floor, around the empty room. In the mirrors along the wall Katie could see their reflection. They moved as one, two bodies in harmony. It was not unlike making love, she thought—a man's tempered strength, a woman's sweet, yielding trust. Certainly there was a fine line between the dance they were sharing and passion's dance.

Gradually, they crossed it.

As the music sang on, Nick deftly removed Katie's panties from under her skirt and lifted her against him. She was so tiny, so fragile, he thought, holding her close as he moved and turned. She made him feel strong, masculine, loved. He unzipped his pants with his right hand, holding Katie firmly with his left. He wanted to give her everything, to be everything for her.

He freed himself from his pants and she arched against him, her legs around his hips, her head thrown back as she took him into her warm, soft body. Her dark hair cascaded down behind her in a curtain of silk, swaying in time as they danced and loved. With one strong arm wrapped around
her, Nick brought his other hand around to free her breasts so he could kiss them and caress them and feast his eyes on their beauty in the pale silver light of the room. He moved into her. She moved over him. They clung and kissed and sighed as their dance ended and ecstasy claimed them both.

“We're supposed to be getting ready to interview prospective employees,” Katie said as she nuzzled into Nick's shoulder. They had moved from his studio in the attic to his bedroom and spent the rest of the morning making love, ignoring the work they had planned to do downstairs. “That is why I took the afternoon off.”

“Really?” he asked, stroking his hand down her back and over her bottom. “I thought you took the afternoon off so we could spend it in pursuit of carnal delights.”

Katie nipped at his collarbone. “Think again, Yankee. I'm here to make certain you don't hire any sexy waitresses.”

“How about sexy waiters?”

“They're okay,” she said, raising up on one elbow. She looked down at him with a mischievous
smile as she played with a black curl that tumbled across his forehead. “In fact, I was thinking you should hire some of the guys from Hepplewhite's.”

“Oh, really?” He lifted a dark brow in question.

“Sure. They could wait tables and do a floor show.”

“You'd like that, would you? You'd like being able to watch a bunch of great- looking guys take their clothes off every night.”

“Mmm, I think so,” she speculated, trying not to grin at the glower Nick wore. “I had a lot of fun at Hepplewhite's. Next time I think I'll try giving one of the guys a tip in his G-string.”

“Think again, Kathryn Quaid,” he said, gently rolling her beneath him, tangling them both in the sheet. “The only G-string I want you playing with is mine.”

Katie giggled as he attacked her throat with kisses. “Jealous?” she managed to ask.

“Insanely,” he said on a groan as he slid into her.

The interviews dragged on through the af ternoon with a seemingly endless number of qualified and not- so- qualified people applying for
positions. Nick found the whole process fascinating. He loved meeting people. No two were exactly alike. Still, after a couple of hours, his attention began to wander in Katie's direction—and hers began to wander his way.

She slipped her pumps off under the table and ran her foot up and down his calf while he tried to ask a pimply- faced teenager if he would be able to wash dishes on weekends. Between interviews, they discussed the people they'd seen, pretending to be businesslike while their gazes locked and heated. By the time the last prospective employee walked out the front door, they were on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

They rose slowly from their chairs, stretching, pretending indifference. Then Nick pulled Katie into his arms and kissed her, and all thoughts of indifference were vaporized. He kissed her as if he were starving and she was the only form of sustenance on earth. She gripped at his shoulders for support, the fabric of his shirt bunching in her fists. Her head swam as desire dragged her under.

How could it be possible to want him so badly when they'd spent the entire morning tending each other's physical needs, Katie wondered dimly. As
soon as she asked herself the question, she knew she didn't care what the answer was. The wild, insatiable hunger she felt was part of loving Nick. That was all she needed to know.

“How can I need you this much?” he asked, on the verge of desperation as he tore his mouth from hers. He only wanted her more as he looked down at her. Her prim summer dress was wrinkled from his hands on her shoulders; her soft, soft mouth was red and slick from his kiss. “Let's go upstairs.”

Katie filled her lungs with air, hoping to steady herself a little. “I have to go over to the store for a few minutes. I'll come right back.”

“Good,” Nick said, calmer with a few inches of space between them. “I'll cook us a nice dinner.”

“I'm going to get fat from all your nice dinners.”

“Not a chance, kitten.” He gave her a lazy, predatory smile. “We'll work it off later.”

Remarkably, she blushed as she turned and headed for the door.

Nick shook his head as he watched her go. Some times Katie was like a young girl—all blushes and giggles. More often she was a woman who
was very sure of herself and her abilities. Then sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, shadows came into her eyes, and she looked so alone, it frightened him.

He pulled his glasses off, dropped them on the table beside the stack of applications, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. They had overcome two big obstacles in their relationship—his career as a stripper and her scars. There was one more obstacle they needed to overcome, and it was a big one. Nick wanted Katie in his life on a permanent basis, but he wanted their future to include children. He already knew he was going to have a fight on his hands to convince Katie to compromise.

A sound from the front door drew Nick's attention, and he gladly traded the possibility of trouble for the prospect of having Katie all to himself for the evening.

“That didn't take long,” he said. The grin froze on his face as he turned and saw Rylan Quaid's figure looming in the doorway. “Ry. Good to see you. What brings you here?”

Ry shifted uncomfortably from one booted foot to the other. He clutched a battered blue
baseball cap in front of him and looked about as happy as a brown shoe in a room full of tuxedos. His dark brows were pulled low over his eyes in his characteristic scowl. “Katie tells me you're a pretty good dancer.”

It took an effort for Nick to push from his mind thoughts of the dancing he and Katie had done earlier. Hoping he didn't look too guilty, he tried to nod and shrug at the same time.

“Uh—do you reckon you could—uh—teach me to waltz?”

The impulse to burst into hysterical laughter was almost too much for him, but Nick held himself in rigid check. He could see what it had cost Ry to ask. The last thing he wanted to do was laugh at the man. To gain control, he glanced down at the job applications on the table, then he turned back to Ry, acting as if it were a question big, strapping men asked him every day. “Sure, no problem.”

Ry nodded. He sighed in resignation, rubbing the back of his thick, sunburned neck. “Well, hell, let's do it, then, and get it over with.”

Katie crossed the street with a bouncy step, smiling as if she deserved all the credit for Maggie's happiness. Ry finally had rounded up enough courage to ask her to the party. She couldn't wait to tell Nick.

He was nowhere to be found on the first floor of the restaurant. She leaned against the banister at the foot of the stairs, a slow smile spreading across her face as she heard the faint strains of music coming from above. It was a waltz—slow, sweet, wonderfully romantic. Nick had shown her she could dance with him. It sounded as if he was ready to give her another lesson.

Katie mounted the final steps to the attic, ready and willing to have Nick take her into his arms. But Nick's arms were already full—overflowing, in fact. She pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress her giggles at the sight of Nick waltzing around the room with Rylan.

Ry was scowling in concentration and shuffling his big, clumsy feet. Nick was trying to look encouraging, biting his lip every few steps when he couldn't quite escape a close encounter with size-thirteen cowboy boots.

“You're doing great,” he said as he let Ry attempt to lead.

“You think so?”

“Oh, sure. You're really light on your feet.” And heavy on mine, his grimace seemed to say. “Let's try the turn again. One, two, three. One, two, three.”

They stepped uncertainly through the turn just as the music ended. Polite applause drew their attention in Katie's direction.

“You make a lovely couple,” she said, straight-faced.

P
ERHAPS IN ITS
younger days the Drewes mansion had looked as it did now, Katie thought as Nick helped her from the car and strolled with her up the walk. Beautiful. Alive with activity. But somehow, she was sure it had never looked quite so happy, quite so proud. It had been rescued from ruin and lovingly tended by people who were dedicated to preserving its heritage. Two hundred years ago it had been one of the finest houses in Virginia. Finally it was again. Katie was filled with a warm glow of pride and satisfaction. She smiled up at Nick. “Can't you almost picture
the guests who would have come here when the house was new? Men in satin breeches and velvet coats. Women with their powdered hair piled high, their elegant gowns swirling over layers and layers of petticoats. Men such as Thomas Jefferson and George Washington.”

Nick laughed. “Don't tell me Washington slept here too.” Nearly every town he'd been to in Virginia boasted of at least one visit from the father of the country.

“He did indeed,” Katie answered, stopping on the path to face him. “And Madison and Monroe and Harrison. The Virginia gentry was a very close- knit community.”

Nick drew her into his arms and smiled down at her. “Do you realize your face positively glows when you talk about the past? You're such a romantic, Kathryn.”

As he would have predicted, she blushed and pretended to be annoyed by his remark. Heaven forbid anyone should think she was anything but the level- headed businesswoman. “Oh, pooh,” she scoffed, picking an imaginary piece of lint off the lapel of his tux. “I'm just a history buff, that's all.”

Nick chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Stubborn. Shall we go in? I can't wait to see all the men drooling over you in this dress,” he said just dryly enough to hint at jealousy. He wouldn't mind other men looking, so long as Katie stayed on his arm. He shot her a questioning glance. “Is it dark green?”

“No,” Katie said with a laugh, shaking her head. “It's dark red.”

“Gorgeous is what it is.”

She smoothed a hand over the fabric of her skirt, a self- satisfied smile tilting her lips. She had turned the stores around D.C. upside down looking for the dress. It was burgundy- colored silk. The style was the ultimate in simplicity—thin straps over the shoulders, a deep vee in back that ended a safe inch above the scars from her back surgery. The bodice was a second skin that arrowed down over her stomach. The skirt fell from soft gathers, two whisper- thin layers ending in long fingerlike petals that swirled around her calves. She wore her hair up in an intricate knot of braids, and she looked as much like a princess as any woman Nick had ever seen.