Rumor Has It (3 page)

“I'm turning the place into a restaurant,” Nick said as he returned with two demitasse cups. He put one cup down in front of Katie and took the seat kitty- corner from her, setting his own cup down so he could gesture with his hands. “A nice place. Nothing elegant but really nice. Good Italian food. I've been thinking along the lines of antique furnishings. What do you think?”

As a sinking feeling of inevitability tugged at her, Katie worked the corners of her mouth up into a polite smile. “That sounds lovely.” She decided
to forgo subtlety in the hopes of finding a quick fix to her dilemma. “What does your wife think?”

Nick laughed out loud. It was a rather obvious question from someone who was trying hard to appear disinterested in him. “I'm not married. I realize I have a lot of work to do in here before I get to the decorating, but it's never too soon to start planning, right?”

“Of course,” she said, her gaze scanning the empty room, more to keep from staring at him than anything else.

The store had been a fancy dress shop in Briarwood's early days. Katie could have recited the history of the place as if she were a tour guide. She knew every building in town of any historical significance. This one was a three- story brick building of Federal design that dated to 1803. It had stood empty for nearly two years. To have a chance to decorate it made her mouth water. But to work on it would mean having to work with Nick Leone, and that was a bad idea.

She glanced at him as he sipped his espresso. The tiny china cup looked distinctly out of place
in his large hand. He seemed more the stoneware-mug type, she thought. It also seemed a tad unusual for him to offer her espresso. Wouldn't most men have had a cooler of beer in the back that they could dig into when the hot, dirty business of cleaning got to them?

The question reminded Katie of what she had come for in the first place. She had to make an effort to find out something about Nick before she returned to the store, or Maggie would never give her a moment's peace.

“Have you run a restaurant before, Mr. Leone?” “I've worked at my share. What do you suggest for a color scheme?” he asked. It was all he could do to pay any attention at all to the conversation, sensing an undercurrent of sexual tension between them while watching her sit there as prim and proper as any Southern belle he'd ever seen in the movies.

“I don't know. What's your favorite color?” She was trying to avoid his eyes, he decided as he purposely waited for her to look at him. He drew his lower lip between his teeth, as was his habit when he was concentrating. “Mmm. Dark green. At least, I think it's dark green.” He made a
face. “I'm just a little bit color-blind. See why I need your help?”

Katie's heart skipped so hard she lost her breath. Nick Leone's face was devastatingly masculine— all hard planes and angles tinted by the blue shadow of his beard. His nose was bold, high-bridged, not quite straight. His jaw was solid and square. Every time she started to feel the tiniest bit comfortable with his very masculine good looks, he gave her a crooked grin or made a boyish face. Her world had flipped upside down when he'd bitten his lip.

She took a long, deep breath to steady herself, inhaling the musty, dusty smell of the building, the aroma of espresso, and the faint tinge of sweat and man. “Have you decided what structural changes you're going to make?”

“I want to stick to the original floor plan as much as possible, but the upstairs will have to be opened up more. The first and second floors will both be set up with tables. The third floor and attic will be my apartment. I found some great junk up in the attic. Some of it might work as decorations or something. Come have a look.”

She started to protest, but he seemed sincerely
enthusiastic, and her own curiosity about the artifacts was overwhelming. Her need to know overruled the budding pain in her lower back that warned her against scaling three flights of stairs.

Nick talked nonstop on their way up, pointing out bad steps and the original fireplace he already had uncovered in the second- floor parlor. Katie found his zeal contagious. Her decorator's eye could easily picture the finished rooms—stylish yet understated. She felt a definite sense of disappointment when she reminded herself Maggie would be doing the job.

“Isn't this floor great?” Nick said as they climbed the final stair to the gloomy attic. Katie had to admire his imagination. She barely could see the pine planking for the layers of dust and grime. “I'm thinking of installing skylights on the north side, or maybe dormers. Course, the restaurant comes first. I'm thinking out loud here— don't mind me. Here's the stuff I mentioned.”

She could understand now how the antiques had been overlooked all this time. The attic was crammed with boxes and trunks, piles of old magazines, and racks of old clothes. Most of the junk was worthless. Obviously no one had mustered
the fortitude necessary to clean out the mess in search of any potential treasures. Until Nick Leone had, she thought, as he rooted through a pile looking for more.

She was beginning to form the impression that Nick was a whirlwind of activity. He'd been in the building a matter of hours but had done more for it than anyone had in years. Since she'd come in, his body had either been moving or poised to move. He never seemed completely still.

“Where are you from, Mr. Leone?” she asked as she examined a display case of men's shirt collars from the turn of the century.

“Jersey. Call me Nick. You been here long?”

“All my life. What made you choose Briarwood?”

“I drove through here once a year or so ago and fell in love with the place. I'd always wanted to start a restaurant in a small town, so when I got the money together, I called a real estate agent, and here I am.”

He made it sound as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Keeping an eye out for mice, Katie raised the lid on an old hatbox, uncovering a wonderful black bowler. “Why would you come
to a small town in Virginia to start an Italian restaurant?”

“How many other Italian restaurants have you got here?” he asked, lifting a gaudy gold- fringed drape off a pile of old button- hook shoes.

“Good point.”

“If I started a restaurant back home, it would have to be similar to everybody else's Italian restaurant. I'd have people all over me—’Nicky, why aren't you using my aunt Marie's cacciatore recipe? Nicky, why don’ you have red- checked tablecloths? Your mama's taste isn't good enough for you, or what?’ “ Katie laughed as he thickened his accent for the impersonations. “ ‘Nicky, why don’ you hire my nephew Joey? He's a little slow, but he's a good worker.’ “ He made a comic face and raised his hands to his throat, pretending to choke himself.

For a moment he stood back and watched Katie laugh at his antics. Lord, she was lovely, he thought. Her face positively lit up when she laughed. When her laughter faded away, he cleared his throat and went on with his explanation. “Here I can do things my own way.”

“No red- checked tablecloths,” she said with a
sweet smile, wondering if he was such a soft touch that he would have given in to all those ridiculous requests. He didn't look like anyone's patsy. Or anyone's secret agent, she added, mentally shaking her head at Maggie's wild imagination.

Nick combed his hair back with his fingers and shrugged. “So what do you think of all this garbage?”

Hands on her hips, Katie sighed as she looked over what he'd found so far. “Most of this is from Aldeen's. It was a men's shop in this building from 1865 to 1917. A haberdashery.”

Nick smiled at the way she drawled the long word. He could get used to her smooth, sweet voice. It appealed to him, especially because it was lower pitched than anyone would have guessed by looking at her.

His smile was growing on her much too quickly, Katie tried to warn herself. That wouldn't do at all. It was one thing to like him. Feeling her stomach flutter at the sight of his mouth hitching up on one side was altogether something else.

“Is it any good?” he asked, moving toward her. He wondered what the very proper Miss Quaid would think if he kissed her.

“Oh, yes,” she said, watching him advance in her direction. “This could all work very nicely to create a unique atmosphere. Of course,” she added, picking up a top hat and blowing the dust off in his face, effectively making him back away, “it would have to be cleaned first.”

As Nick coughed Katie turned and started for the steps, determined to end her little visit with Mr. Leone before she could become any more attracted to him. Nick caught her from behind, his hands closing on her shoulders. She tensed beneath his touch, her whole body exploding with an awareness she didn't welcome but couldn't deny. Looking over her shoulder at him, she arched a brow in warning.

“Let me go first,” he said. “I don't trust these stairs. I wouldn't want you to fall.”

Not sure whether she was relieved or annoyed at his reason for touching her, she watched him descend ahead of her. This was a no- win situation. Her back had begun to ache in earnest. If she had gone down ahead of him, he would have seen how awkwardly the pain forced her to negotiate the steps. Following behind she had no way of controlling the pace of their descent. Gritting her
teeth she started down behind him, determined to keep up.

“Are you interested in the job?” Nick asked.

“I'll have to discuss it with my partner and see if we can work you into our schedule. Are you certain you want to hire us? You haven't seen any of our work.”

“Are you any good?”

“Yes. We're very good,” she said, pride in her work ringing in her voice. She and Maggie had a wall full of awards and commendations to back up the statement.

Nick liked her confidence. “I'll take your word for it.”

Reaching the landing above the last flight of stairs, he turned to smile at her just as Katie stepped wrong. Blinding pain shot through her. Her right leg buckled, and she lurched forward— right into Nick's arms.

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she said through clenched teeth, blinking back tears. She was furious with herself for her weakness, and she tried in vain to push away from the rock- solid wall of his chest. “I just
twisted my ankle, that's all.” It was half of the truth.

“Damn these steps! I'm fixing them right away.” He swung Katie up in his arms, a little frightened at how light and fragile she seemed, and started down the last flight of steps.

“This really isn't necessary, Mr. Leone,” she said, protesting the way she felt in his arms more than the free ride to the ground floor.

Nick ignored her. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?”

“I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm fine. I just stepped wrong, that's all.”

“Do you want me to get you an ice pack? Some aspirin?”

“I want you to put me down.”

They had reached the bottom of the stairs, but Nick made no move to set Katie on her own two feet. His gaze had fastened on her mouth. It was wide and expressive, and he wanted very much to kiss it. Suddenly his breathing seemed labored, even though he was in good enough shape to run up and down the stairs all day without losing his breath.

“Mr. Leone.”

He glanced up at her eyes. They were the color of storm clouds and held just as much warning. Deciding not to push his luck he eased her down, noting with a frown that she backed away from him as soon as her feet hit the floor. He wouldn't have minded keeping his arms around her for a few more minutes.

“You're sure you're okay?”

“Yes,” Katie said, composing herself as she straightened her clothes and tried to ignore the erratic thumping of her heart. “Thank you for your concern. I'll be going now. Good- bye.”

She started for the door, willing herself to walk normally and quickly. In the doorway she met Peter Ramsey from the police department, and Lee Henry Bartell. Katie nodded to the men but didn't stop to make conversation.

“Katie,” both men said, nodding back. Ramsey's gaze followed her a second longer before he moved inside the building to take a look around.

Nick stepped into the doorway and watched Katie cross the street, noticing for the first time that her hair was held in a thick braid, the end of which twitched just above her waist as she walked.

“Pretty to look at, if that's all you want to do,” Lee Henry said in a conspiratorial tone. He kept one eye on Officer Ramsey, who was out of ear shot.

“You saying she's spoken for, or what?” Nick asked.

Bartell ran a hand over his thin frizz of salt-and- pepper hair and chuckled. “Miss Quaid speaks for herself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” When they had met two days ago, Nick had decided he didn't like Lee Henry. The guy was a little too eager to dig into other people's business.

“It means, friend, if you're looking for a decorator or an ice princess, Katie Quaid is the lady to see.”

“What'd you find out?” Maggie asked before Katie was even through the front door.

“Nothing.” Katie stalked past her and around the counter. Heaving a sigh she leaned back against the edge of her desk and tried to will herself past the need for a pain pill. She rubbed her
palms up and down her arms, trying to erase Nick's touch and the warm tingling it had evoked.

“Nothing?” The redhead propped her elbows on the counter and slid her square black sunglasses down her nose. “You were over there for an hour. Y'all must've found
something
to talk about.”

“He's converting the building into an Italian restaurant,” she said. If she concentrated on the business aspect of her meeting with Nick, then she could avoid mentioning the other things she'd found out—such as how gorgeous he was up close and how his crooked grin could affect her car-diopulmonary system. “He wants to hire us as design consultants.”

“Great!”

“Yeah. Have fun doing it,” she said with no enthusiasm. The throbbing in her back echoed in her temples.

Maggie skipped over the remark. “What'd you find out about him? What about that gunshot wound?”

“I don't know, Mary Margaret!” Katie answered sharply. “What was I supposed to say to
him? ‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Leone. Hey, how'd you get that gaping wound in your shoulder?’ “