Rumor Has It (5 page)

… Things that might never matter. Katie stood in front of the cheval glass in her bedroom and wondered bleakly how it could
not
matter. She was attracted to Nick. He was attracted to her. How could it not matter that the lower half of her body resembled a railroad map? Scars crisscrossed her abdomen in ugly silvery- pink lines—a thick, jagged one angled across her right thigh. Her knee wore a scalpel's crescent on each side. Her lower back bore similar marks.

No man had ever seen those scars. She was certain no man would ever want to. If she allowed her attraction to Nick to grow, and things took their natural course, what was she supposed to say to him when he first stared at this macabre
artwork? By the way, Nick, I'm missing a few parts?

As she had lain in a hospital bed recovering, Katie had methodically replanned her life. There would be no career in show jumping because, after seventeen years of training, she could never ride again. There would be no husband because no man was going to find her desirable. There would be no children of her own. She would rebuild her life around her friends and her career as a decorator.

So far her plan had unfolded rather well. Oh, she knew there were men in town who called her an ice princess because she didn't let them get too close. And she knew she sometimes appeared aloof because she didn't cuddle and coo over other people's children. But she was dealing with her limitations as best she could, playing the hand she'd been dealt, as her brother Ry was fond of saying. She was respected in her field, proud of the business she and Maggie had built. She loved her work, had a busy life and a circle of good, close friends.

That had been enough—until she'd met Nick Leone.

She forced herself to concentrate on getting dressed. The camisole and tap pants she slid on were a silky rose pink. Her mauve linen skirt was gathered delicately at the waist. The spring-weight cotton sweater she pulled over her head repeated the shades of pink and mauve. Like everything that surrounded her Katie's clothing was feminine.

As she eased a comb through her waist- length dark hair, she studied the reflection of her surroundings in the mirror. Her house was a four-room cottage. Shades of peach ran throughout, accented with cream and touches of green. Every thing in her home had been very carefully chosen, from the dainty white wicker headboard of her bed to her collection of heart- shaped porcelain boxes. Katie surrounded herself with feminine things to try to fill the hole her hysterectomy had torn in her own sense of femininity. Most of the time, it helped.

A thundering bark sent her to her front door. Nick stood at the gate of her small yard, wearing stylishly pleated khaki trousers and a white shirt with a band collar. He cradled a long loaf of bread
in one arm and with wary brown eyes regarded Katie's Irish wolfhound.

“What's wrong, Nick?” she asked, coming forward to take hold of the enormous dog's collar. “Don't they have dogs in New Jersey?”

“Dog? That's a dog?” he questioned. “I swear I lost a bundle at Aqueduct on a horse that looked just like that.”

Katie laughed, scratching the dog's head. “He's just an overgrown puppy.”

“He's bigger than you are,” Nick pointed out, coming through the gate of the picket fence. The happily panting wolfhound slurped his tongue along Nick's arm as he fondled the animal's ears. The dog's shoulder was at Katie's waist, and he looked as though he weighed a hundred and twenty pounds. Nick was certain Katie didn't weigh a hundred pounds dripping wet.

It pleased her how comfortable he seemed with her pet now. A farm girl at heart, Katie still measured a person's character by how they behaved around animals. She never quite trusted anyone who didn't like her dog. “His name's Watch. My brother gave him to me to keep an eye on me when I moved to town.”

“I'll bet he serves his purpose.” Nick formed a clear mental picture of an overprotective big brother sending this behemoth to keep scoundrels away from his baby sister. To the dog he said, “I'll bring you a bone next time, pal. The bread you've got your eye on is for the lady.”

“First a bouquet of pasta, now a loaf of bread. You romantic devil,” Katie teased, surprised at how lighthearted she felt now that Nick was there. He was a nice man, fun to be with. Maggie was right, there was no point worrying about complications at this point in their relationship. “You really are a chef at heart, Nick.”

“Tonight I'm a chef who's tired of his own cooking. Let's go sample the local fare, Miss Quaid.”

Nick was amazed at how little attention he paid to his dish of crabmeat and salty Virginia ham. There weren't many things that could distract his senses from a good meal. Katie Quaid did, though, with the way she tilted her head when she talked, the subtle quicksilver changes in her large gray eyes, her very proper posture and
manners, the way she smiled and greeted friends who passed their table.

Her general manner was confident and straightforward, and Nick was sure that was how most people thought of her. Yet he sometimes sensed a hesitancy in her, as if she were afraid of someone finding a hole in her armor. As much a connoisseur of people as he was of fine food, Nick would have bet his last dime—if he hadn't already sunk it into his restaurant—that there was a lot more to Katie than met the eye.

They talked about their respective school backgrounds, Katie's college days at William and Mary, and how she had spent her spare time working in the restored colonial capital of Williamsburg. Nick told her about learning to cook from his mother and aunts and uncles. They touched on all the safe first- date topics.

“What's it like to be an interior designer?” he asked, cutting his fork through a piece of chocolate pecan pie. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Most of the time I love it,” Katie answered, eyeing his dessert longingly. “The retail outlet for wallpaper and draperies keeps us busy, and as consultants we spend a lot of time going through
houses with our clients to get an understanding of what they want done.

“I'm afraid I don't always have the required patience. Once in a while the people can be hard to work with—the lady who's determined to keep a moth- eaten moose head and funeral- parlor drapes in her new den, that kind of thing.”

“I have a feeling your partner would be good at dealing with tough customers. Aren't you having any of this pie? It's delicious,” he said, dipping his fork into the chocolate- sprinkled whipped cream that topped the triangle of scrumptious calorie-laden pie.

“I can't,” Katie said on a sigh. Dessert was a rare treat because she couldn't work it off in rigorous exercise as she once would have.

Nick's eyes twinkled. He forked up another piece of pie and leaned across the small table to offer it to Katie. “One bite,” he murmured seductively, easing the fork toward her mouth. “I promise it won't ruin that adorable little figure.”

Temptation wasn't to be resisted when it was so mouth wateringly near. She took the treat into her mouth as Nick's dark gaze held hers. Sud denly, eating off her date's fork seemed as if it
were the most intimate thing she'd ever done. She almost groaned at the heady sensation and at the rich flavor of the pie, then blushed when she realized several other diners were watching them.

Nick chuckled, but his expression suddenly went stony as the wailing of an alarm followed by sirens sounded in front of the restaurant.

Katie stared at him as he bolted from his chair, tossed some money on the table to cover the check, and dashed out the door. Out the front window she could see a group of teenage boys and older men milling around Nick's Trans Am with their hands to their ears and stunned expressions on their faces. A police car pulled up, and Peter Ramsey got out looking grim and official. Katie cautiously made her way outside, as confused as everyone else.

“I didn't mean to touch it!” one boy yelled above the din.

“It's okay, really!” Nick shouted as he fished for his keys and looked embarrassed. “It's just the alarm. I've been meaning to get it disconnected.”

“Fella's got an alarm on his car,” one old- timer said to another. The expressions on their faces clearly said they'd never heard of such a thing.

“Where'd you say he was from?”

“New York.” Each raised his brows as if that said it all.

“That's a mighty unholy racket,” Officer Ramsey commented as Nick reached into the car and turned the alarm off.

“I'm really sorry,” Nick said, blushing as he glanced askance at the crowd that had gathered on the street.

Katie came to stand beside Nick.

“Evening, Katie.” Ramsey's blue eyes lingered on her a moment. His frown deepened as he gave Nick a hard look. “We haven't had a car theft in Briarwood in nearly twenty years. You might keep that in mind.”

“I will.” Nick nodded as the policeman walked away. He rubbed a hand over his face and peeked through his fingers at Katie. Her fist pressed to her lips, she was trying valiantly not to laugh. The crowd was wandering away. “I can't believe
I
feel like an idiot because someone set off my car alarm. That's why I had the thing installed!”

“Nick, this is a small town,” Katie said as she did allow herself to laugh. She shook her head, going around to the passenger's side of the car.
Nick slid into the driver's seat and unlocked her door. She eased herself down to the low bucket seat. “Most everyone here leaves their keys in the ignition and the windows rolled down.”

“Ha! If you did that in New York, your car would be gone before you could put change in the meter.”

He didn't drive her straight home. Instead he cruised the streets, pointing out to Katie reasons why he had moved to Briarwood, as if he needed to reassure himself after the embarrassing incident. The spring- evening sky was still light. Peo ple were working in their yards, tending their budding flower gardens.

“I think this place is great. Smell those trees and flowers,” he said, breathing deep the sweet scents of boxwood shrubs and flowering dogwood trees and a thousand other rich green scents. “Incredible. It's like living in a greenhouse. And look at how many old homes and buildings have been preserved. Everyone seems so proud of the history here. It's fantastic.”

Nick was so enthusiastic about everything. Katie couldn't help but be touched by his exu berant love for his new home. It won him a
little more of her heart, because she loved Briarwood too.

“The location of the town is perfect,” he said. “It's just far enough away from D.C. to be a small town instead of a suburb. And five thousand people seemed a large enough population to support another restaurant. Especially since there's also a healthy tourist trade. The fact that the college is nearby is a plus too.”

He turned the car into the parking lot at the edge of Donner Park, just outside the main gates of Briarwood College. With most of the students on spring break the area was deserted as the day faded into night.

Katie shifted uncomfortably as her back began to ache. She'd spent too much time in the low car for one day. “Would you like to see the statue of the unknown Confederate war dead? He looks just like Charlton Heston,” she said, hoping they could get out and stretch for a minute.

“I don't think so,” Nick said softly. He watched her eyes, silvery in the half- light, widen slightly at his refusal. He leaned toward her, his hand reaching out so he could thread his fingers through her
dark chestnut hair. “What I really want to do is kiss you, Katie.”

Immediately there was pressure against his hand as she tried to lean her head away from him. He held firm.

“I don't think so, Nick,” she said in a clear, strong voice. From long practice she appeared outwardly calm and controlled. Inside was a different story. As near as he was, she imagined she could feel the magnetic pull of his body on hers. She could feel her control slipping, and all he had done was state his intention. If just hearing him say the words would make her feel this way, what would playing them out do to her? The possibilities were frightening to someone who had taken such great pains to avoid emotional entanglement.

“Why not? What are you afraid of, Katie?” he asked, hoping he was pushing the right button to crack her veneer of control.

She raised her chin a stubborn fraction of an inch. “Nothing.”

“Then kiss me,” he said, drawing her toward him. “I dare you.”

Rats, Katie thought. How had he known the
one thing to say? She knew herself well enough to know she wouldn't back down, even if she didn't feel ready.

She took a deep breath, telling herself all she had to do was keep her wits about her. She could kiss him and remain impassive. She could kiss him without losing her head. Slowly she leaned toward him, eyes wide open, and settled her lips against his. Everything she had told herself went up in smoke.

Nick's dark gaze locked on hers and clearly told her he wasn't going to let her have the upper hand. Hot and sweet, his mouth took hers, expertly stealing what power she'd thought she held. As he pulled her closer she felt engulfed, not only by the man, but by a wave of passion and need she had long held at bay. Nick unleashed it, and it took them both under.

He was as stunned as she when he lifted his mouth from hers to catch his breath. His blood was racing in his veins at a speed that made him dizzy. This had to be what it felt like to free- fall out of an airplane, he thought. His voice was a hoarse rumble as he looked down at Katie and said shakily, “I dare you to do that again.”

Katie was beyond the logic that would have told her to back him off with an icy stare. She felt as if she had stepped off the edge of sanity and was falling through a warm, soft cloud of pure sensation. She met Nick halfway, something inside her eager to feel the sweet, frightening rush of adrenaline and desire again. It pounded in her chest, in her head, in her ears—pounded and pounded.

“Aren't you two a little old for parking?” a sarcastic voice drawled through Nick's open window.

Nick and Katie bolted apart, their eyes riveting on the face of Peter Ramsey. Neither had heard his squad car pull up. Neither had heard him knock on the door of the Trans Am.

“Park closes at nine,” he said, tapping a finger to his wristwatch.