And Then He Kissed Me (3 page)

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Authors: Teresa Southwick

BOOK: And Then He Kissed Me
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“Okay, so you can memorize.” He pointed at her. “What's the important part of what you just quoted?”
She frowned. “Which part?”
“Clientele. Do you know your customer base?”
“The area is older. First-time home buyers are moving in. That means primarily young couples, some with children, some without. Most on a budget.”
“Right. How can you make them want to allocate some of their hard-earned, double-income dollars for a meal out?”
“Coupons, flyers, discounts. A special kids' night. Maybe an all-you-can-eat deal on traditionally slower nights.”
“All good ideas,” he said.
“But don't they deviate from the company vision—every restaurant is the same, right down to the menu?”
“That was my father's vision. Times have changed. We can, too. Especially if you factor in philosophy.”
“Let the managers manage?”
He nodded. His three brothers were also involved in the family business. Joe was CEO in charge of personnel and hiring. “If my brother's done his job, every restaurant has a dynamite manager, in which case all we have to do is stand back and let him or her do what he or she does best.”
“So if every location is made up of specific clientele, aspects of the operation could be altered accordingly?”
“Why not?” he asked. If every employee was like her, his job would be a snap. “Think about it, Abby.”
“I will.”
They grinned at each other for several moments. Nick hadn't felt this exhilarated in a long time and sensed that Abby felt it, too. Excitement flushed her cheeks and sparkled in her eyes. Her full lips turned up, revealing a rare, beautiful smile. He couldn't remember the last time talking business had been so much fun.
Then she blinked and her smile faltered. The serious, professional mask was replaced faster than you could say “fettuccine Alfredo.”
She glanced at her watch. “Wow, look at the time. You're going to be late.”
He suddenly had an idea. “Come to dinner with us.”
Startled, she put a hand to her chest. “Me?”
He looked around. “I don't see anyone else here. Of course, you.”
“I couldn't.”
“Sure you could. Madison likes you. You admitted you like her. Give me one good reason why you can't join us.”
“Okay. Car pool.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sarah and her friends got a ride to the movies with April Petersen's mom and I have to pick them up.”
He couldn't help wondering how many other things she'd missed because she'd become a mother at eighteen. He was helping her plan a milestone birthday for Sarah. Had anyone made hers special?
“What did you do when you turned twenty-one?”
She looked surprised, then shrugged. “I don't remember. I suppose the usual—school, took care of Sarah, and work.”
“That's against the law.”
“Huh?” she said.
“In my family there's a traditional rite of passage into adulthood that involves going somewhere your ID will be checked. An unforgettable experience.”
“That's really nice, but I don't see—”
He grinned. “Obviously I owe you a twenty-first birthday.”
Chapter Two
A
bby blinked away her shock. He felt responsible for her twenty-first birthday? She wanted to ask where that had come from.
Instead she said, “Aside from the obvious, that it's now two years after the fact, why would you think you
owe
me that?”
“When you hired on, you became part of the Marchetti family. I don't know where my head was back then.”
The dark look was back momentarily, as if he was remembering something unpleasant. He so rarely looked angry, she couldn't help noticing that it had happened twice in one day. What bad memory had brought that expression to his face? Whatever it was, she had the most absurd desire to make it better.
She pushed the thought away and said, “That's a no-brainer. Your head was where it always is.” She gave him a wry look. “Buried in business.”
“Maybe.” One corner of his mouth lifted, replacing
his tension with teasing. “The fact is, you became an adult and the occasion was not properly acknowledged.”
“It was a long time ago. I don't care—”
“I do,” he said in his
I'm-the-boss
voice that suffered no pithy comeback.
“It's very nice of you to be concerned, Nick. But it's over. Even if I wanted you to, there's no way you can get that back for me.”
Abby made a conscious effort to wear a blindfold when she looked back on her life. The past held mostly bad memories. But the future was full of possibilities, as soon as it was her turn.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist and stood up, grabbing his jacket as he did. “I don't have time to debate this right now. But you
will
have a birthday celebration.”
“If it involves pointy hats and spin the bottle, count me out.”
He laughed and opened the door. “Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.”
Abby stood in the doorway, watching until his broad back was swallowed up by the darkness. She figured there wasn't too much danger of kissing games for her. Like all the other guys in her past who had tried to plan something with her, Nick would find out she had responsibilities that pushed her own dreams aside.
But the thought of something wild and unpredictable was exciting—for the second and a half she allowed herself to fantasize. Then she filed the daydream under “footloose and fancy-free,” to be pulled out at a later, more convenient time.
Her turn would have to wait.
 
 
After dinner, Nick drove Madison home, then walked her to her front door. The building was in an exclusive area of town. This sophisticated high-security condo complex was exactly where a well-bred, up-andcoming female attorney should live.
Sometimes he forgot that Madison Wainright was in such a high-powered profession. She was petite, even smaller than Abby. The black knit dress she wore was a high-collared number that flared at mid-calf and hugged every curve in between. She chose clothes that she thought would make her look taller. From his vantage point she was woefully unsuccessful, since he was looking at the top of her red hair.
He preferred blue-eyed blondes. Although more important than the color of a woman's hair was her sense of humor. He recalled Abby's electronics-department comment about woofers and hooters. His mouth twitched again. She had said that on purpose. When she wasn't hiding behind her professional face, Abby was fun.
So was Madison. Usually. Although he had a feeling her sense of humor had taken the night off. It could be she was preoccupied with the case she was working on, but he suspected he'd done something besides pick her up late to put the wrinkle in her briefs.
At her front door, he stood one step below the porch while she put her key in the lock. The outside light spilled onto the step and sparkled in her green eyes as she glanced hopefully at him. “Would you like to come in for a nightcap?” she asked.
“I wish I could, but there's an early meeting tomorrow,” he answered.
“Okay. Thanks for dinner.” Her voice was brittle. She pushed the door open and started inside.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing. Good night, Nick.”
He moved beside her and put his hand on her arm. “Something's eating you. What is it?”
“We need to talk.”
A shudder slithered through him. He had a feeling he wasn't the only man on earth who had that reaction to those words. But he figured he had a better reason than most. The last time a woman had said that to him, his life had turned upside down.
He took a deep breath and said, “Okay, shoot.”
She hugged her black clutch purse to her chest. “You're going to dismiss everything I'm about to say, but it's time to say it. You don't have feelings for me, at least not the way I want you to. Although, when you picked me up tonight, I hoped things would be different.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were excited, practically humming with enthusiasm. I haven't seen you like that in weeks.”
“I'm always upbeat, Madison. And of course I care about you.”
“See? I knew you would dismiss me.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I'm not. I just don't understand where you're going with this.”
“We hadn't finished our dinner salads before the other Nick was back, the one I can't reach because he's buried in business.”
Funny, he thought. That's almost what Abby had said to him earlier. “You make me sound like a schizophrenic, Madison.”
“You are. At least now you are. When we first met, you were attentive. You courted me. It's what made me fall—” She pulled herself up to her full five feet,
one inch, a bit more with heels, and looked him in the eye. “Now you're like two people. The fun-loving Nick and the one who's only interested in profits over the last year. The latter is the guy I always see. I'm not sure I like him.”
“Next you'll accuse me of having an evil twin.”
“That's what it feels like.”
“You're exaggerating—”
“Am I? Think about it, Nick.”
He did, trying to remember, and came up empty. He put his hands on her waist and felt her stiffen. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
She shook her head. “It's all right. This probably wasn't the right time to bring it up.”
“I get the feeling you're holding something back.”
She smiled a little sadly. “You're very perceptive when you want to be. I've been wondering lately if we shouldn't take a break from each other.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I saw the look in your eyes earlier when you explained that Abby Ridgeway was the reason you were late.”
“That's right. Abby and I were talking business.”
“That's not the way it looks to me. I suspect you have feelings for her that have nothing to do with business.”
“Your imagination is working overtime,” he said, a little hotly.
“Really?” Her chin lifted. “When's the last time you kissed me as if you really meant it?”
That stopped him cold. He thought back and came up empty. Then he tried to pull her into his arms. “We can remedy that,” he suggested.
She stiffened again and refused to mold herself
against him. “If I have to remind you, it takes the magic out of the moment,” she said.
“I've been preoccupied—”
She shook her head. “Like I said, this is the wrong time. I'm pretty beat. And I have to be in court early.”
“All right.” He hesitated. “How about a long weekend soon? To talk this through?”
“I don't think so.”
Nick kissed her cheek. “I'll call you.”
“You don't have to. Good night,” she said. Moments later, she disappeared inside and he heard the dead bolt slide shut.
With his hands in his pockets, Nick slowly walked down the stairs to his car. The conversation with Madison had rattled his chain. Feelings for Abby? That was absurd. They were nothing more than friends.
He was perfectly content with Madison and things the way they were. She was an intelligent companion and did him proud when she accompanied him to business functions. But he
couldn't
remember the last time he'd
really
kissed her and to be honest, he hadn't missed it.
But Madison wanted more. She was a wonderful woman and deserved more. He'd come to a fork in the road. Or maybe it was more like facing the three doors on a game show.
Behind door number one was a question mark. Door number two was Madison. He liked and respected her. She was beautiful, brainy and would be an asset to any man. His parents admired her. More than once his mother had hinted that procrastination was dangerous. He grinned.
Hint
was the wrong word. Flo Marchetti had as much tact as a charging rhino. She'd come right
out and asked him if he was waiting for divine instruction from the burning bush.
He'd given her some spin about not being ready to settle down. If he and Madison were right together, nothing would be changed by waiting. At the time, he'd believed that. But he sensed that he and Ms. Wainright had just experienced a fish-or-cut-bait situation. He'd bet his new red Corvette that she wanted a family vehicle. She wanted the M-word. Marriage.
The only M-word he could give her was maybe. After his sister married his best friend and his niece was born, he'd started thinking. What would it be like to come home to a special woman? Children? To have all the hours at work mean something in terms of having a family of his own. He'd thought about asking Madison to marry him. But the thought always made him want to run far and fast in the opposite direction.
Then there was door number three—life as he knew it. He had a dynamite career. Building the family business along with his brothers was about as good as it got. Family. An image of Abby jumped into his mind. They were friends. Madison was dead wrong about there being anything romantic between him and Abby. Hadn't he told her just a few hours before that she was practically a relative? As in a little sister.
He'd tried to be there for her over the years. At first he'd called regularly and dropped in on her and Sarah to make sure they were okay. Abby always put on a brave front. She only came to him in crisis situations. Or to connect cable and hook up her stereo, he thought with a grin. He'd stepped into the big-brother role, to watch over her. But work commitments and Abby herself prevented him from keeping tabs on her as he felt he should. Sarah wasn't shy about calling, but Abby
was different. If not for the info her sister gave him, he wouldn't have a clue about how Abby spent her free time.
He teased her about not dating, but didn't really know what was holding her back. But that was a separate issue. Something else was bothering him now. He had told her tonight that she was practically a member of the family.
Some relative
he
was. Relatives didn't ignore a birthday as important as number twenty-one. He wondered if the world-famous greeting-card company had a sentiment for a situation like this.
He opened his car door and slipped behind the wheel. A greeting card wasn't good enough. A grand gesture was what he needed to wipe the slate clean. Then he would see about mending fences with Madison.
 
Abby heard the knock at her door. Annoyance trickled through her at the interruption. It was nine in the morning on her day off. She was up to her elbows in dust, wax and cleaning solutions. She had built up a head of steam and was prepared to scour the place from engine to caboose. But first she had to get rid of the door-to-door salesman.
She opened the door and said, “I'm not interested—”
Nick grinned down at her. “Hi. And how do you know you're not interested?”
“I thought you were selling something.”
“Not exactly. Are you going to invite me in?”
“The place is a mess.”
“Is it fatal?”
“Sarah and I have built up immunities.” She returned
his smile and opened the door wider. “Enter at your own risk.”
“Thanks.”
She rested her sweatpants-clad hip against the back of the love seat and folded her arms across her chest. “To what do I owe this visit? Is everything all right? Did the restaurant burn down? A fire in the kitchen? Mutiny in the ranks?”
His dark brows drew together. “Has anyone ever told you you're a glass-is-half-empty sort of person?”
“Yes. So before my imagination really gets revved up, you might want to tell me what you're doing here.”

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