Rumor Has It (8 page)

She dropped her paintbrush and tried to straighten her hair, only succeeding in streaking ivory paint through the strands that had escaped her braid. Now that she had made a decision about an ongoing relationship with him, she felt skittish, as if Nick would somehow know by looking at her that she had decided to take the monumental step.

“Morning, Nick!” Maggie said, beaming a big smile at him as he came in. “What is that delicious aroma?”

“Hiya, Maggie.” He grinned, lifting an enormous roasting pan. “I brought lunch. Lasagna. Are you people hungry or what?”

“Starved. Ravenous. Famished,” Maggie answered. She abandoned her post to lift the lid on
lunch. Nick chuckled at her heartfelt groan as she stared longingly at the dish he'd prepared.

“Nick, you didn't have to cook for all these people!” Katie exclaimed. There were easily a dozen people working in the house and several more outside.

“All these people? This would have been a slow day in my mother's kitchen.”

“You're from a large family, Nick?” Maggie asked.

“Huge. You practically had to have reservations for a place at the table. It was great.”

Katie ignored the little twinge of warning she felt. So he had enjoyed growing up in a large family. What did that have to do with the two of them? Nothing, she firmly told herself.

“John Harris said everyone was devoting their best talents to this job,” Nick said, setting his roaster down on a table that was a sheet of plywood over two sawhorses. He lifted the lid off the pan. Immediately three people poked their heads into the room through various doors, their noses twitching. Nick gave what Katie thought was an adorable shrug and said, “Me, I can cook a little bit.”

His was an understatement Katie realized a few minutes later after sampling his cooking. Nick's lasagna was far removed from what Katie was used to buying frozen. Everything in it was absolutely fresh and perfectly prepared. The tomato sauce was bursting with sweet flavor. The variety of herbs and spices were a delight to the taste buds. The cheese had that special bite that told Katie it was freshly grated. The combination of ingredients had resulted in a masterpiece.

“This is heaven,” Katie said with a sigh. She and Nick sat side by side under a magnolia tree in the front yard, eating their lunch from paper plates. In addition to the lasagna he'd brought loaves of warm garlic bread. Everyone had chipped in for soda and beer, and Mavis Davies had provided two pans of her special chocolate- chip brownies for dessert. “I'm going to write to the people who package those diet dinners and tell them they've got a nerve calling the stuff they make lasagna,” Katie said.

Nick frowned at her. “You buy frozen stuff? To eat?”

“I'm no cook. If it doesn't come with microwave instructions on the box, I can't make it.”

He shuddered and muttered something in Italian that sounded like a prayer. His warm brown eyes found Katie's and he said earnestly, “Cooking should be a joy, just as eating should be a joy.”

“Well,” she said, scooping up another forkful of lasagna. “I can promise you, if I cook it, it won't be a joy to eat.”

“Didn't your mother teach you to cook?”

“My mother left when I was ten,” she said almost matter- of- factly. “My father cooked, my brother cooked. I was too busy with other things.”

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn't know.”

“Of course you didn't,” she said as she attacked her dessert.

There was a finality in her tone that suggested the topic was closed. Nick wouldn't let go quite that easily. He wanted to know who Katie was. Bitting into his own rich square of chocolate dessert, he made a mental note to get the recipe from Mavis. “That must have been rough on you, growing up without a mother.”

Katie's shoulders lifted in a stiff shrug. “She wasn't a very good mother. The thing I remember
most about her was that she hated the farm and did everything she could to make her feelings known to everyone.”

She didn't say anything about the feelings of confusion that had haunted her after her mother's desertion. She had vowed then that someday she would have children of her own, and she would be the best mother in the world. But she didn't mention it to Nick. She didn't tell him it was just one of her dreams as a young girl that had been shattered and left in pieces on a jump course in upstate New York.

“You should have told me about this project, Katie,” he said, reproaching her gently to bring her thoughts back to the present. He hadn't enjoyed the haunted look that had crept into her pewter- colored eyes or the sensation that she had pulled away from him for a moment, drawn into herself.

“I thought you had your hands full working on your own place,” she said. “I didn't want you to feel obligated to work here too.”

“It's a community project. I want to be part of the community.”

She could see how eager Nick was to be a part
of the small town, to get involved and make friends. He would have felt hurt if no one had asked him to join in. She reached up with her napkin to wipe a speck of chocolate off his chin. “I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking.”

“Yeah, well, just don't let it happen again.” He gave her a warning look that had her giggling, then he grinned his endearingly crooked grin and winked at her.

Katie said, “You're here now, and we'll work you till you drop, but I can guarantee you a dozen devoted customers when you finally open the restaurant. This lunch was great. Thanks for bringing it.”

“My pleasure. I'll do what I can to help this afternoon, but I have to knock off around four. I have to go to D.C. tonight.”

Katie tried to look casual while she wondered if she'd missed the boat. “Oh? Got a hot date?”

“No,” Nick said with a chuckle. She was so cute when she tried to act casual about something she was dying to know, like a cat trying to appear aloof when someone was trailing a string of yarn in front of it. “It's business. I'm gonna help out
this friend a couple nights a week to make the money I need for my remodeling.”

He set his plate aside and slipped his arm around Katie. She looked so young in her paint-spattered jeans and T-shirt, with no makeup and her hair mussed, he half expected her father to come out on the front step and chase him away. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, murmuring in a husky voice, “I'm not interested in going dancing with anyone but you, kitten.”

If that was true, it was going to be a while before Nick got to go dancing again, Katie thought ruefully. She pushed her own disabilities from her mind to concentrate on getting to know Nick better. “You've been trained as a dancer, worked as a dancer, and you still want to go out dancing. You must really love it.”

“I do. Dance is the ultimate combination of art and athleticism. It's beautiful, powerful, entertaining,” he said, trying to concentrate on Katie instead of the butterflies in his stomach. This seemed like the ideal time to tell her. He was going to leave in a few hours to meet with Jack Clark to finalize the details of the return of the Highwayman.
He took a deep breath and plunged in. “I love it. I've danced on Broadway, off Broadway, as a lead, in the chorus line, as a stripper.”

Katie shot him an amused look and burst out laughing.

“Really,” Nick said, trying to laugh along. “For two years.”

“ Uh- huh, right.” Katie shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. Nick was self- conscious about putting his reading glasses on in front of people. Dancing around in his birthday suit was simply out of the question. A stripper. How absurd. One thing she really liked about Nick was his ability to make her laugh.

Mavis Davies stuck her head out the door of the house. “Katie, Richard is out back with that countertop. Are we ready for it?”

“Yes. I'll be right in, Mavis.” She started for the house, then glanced back at Nick. “Are you ready to get to work, Gypsy Rose Leone?”

She clearly didn't believe him. Nick cast his gaze heavenward as Katie walked away. “I tried,” he whispered, scolding himself inwardly for being too much of a coward to try harder. Katie was
busy, he rationalized. This really wasn't the best time to tell her.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of being an erotic dancer. He was proud of putting together a tasteful, artistic, entertaining routine. He saw nothing objectionable about the performance he gave as the Highwayman. The problem was explaining it and making Katie understand. He didn't look at it as taking his clothes off for a living. Nick thought of it as providing fun, escapist entertainment, but knew there were a lot of people who wouldn't agree with his point of view. He had known his share of proper ladies who had considered him some sort of second- class citizen once they'd found out what he did for a living. He had to hope Katie wasn't one of them, he thought as he picked up their plates and followed her to the house.

Not only did Nick gain prospective customers by showing up, he gained friends as well. After what Katie had told him about the rumors going around, he was a little nervous at first that he might not be accepted, but everyone was friendly
and glad to have an extra hand. While they enjoyed speculating about the new guy in town, they didn't seem to take the rumors seriously. The general mood was one of fun. And they were happy to be contributing to something that was for the good of the community.

There were at least ten other people working around the house. Nick learned one thing about all of them—they liked and respected Katie and clearly thought of her as their leader even though she was younger than most of them. He felt proud when he looked at the lady who had become so important to him in such a short amount of time.

With her hands on her hips Katie looked at the dining- room wall, which was much taller than she was, and said, “We need more ladders.”

“I know,” John Harris said. “Bob Hughes had to take his two ladders home. His wife told him he had to paint the garage this weekend or she was going to burn the thing down.”

Nick put his paint roller down and wiped his hands on his worn jeans. “You don't need another ladder, Katie,” he said with teasing lights in his dark brown eyes. “What you need is longer legs.”

“Very amusing, Nick.” She made a face at him
as he dropped down to his knees in front of her. “What is this? Your Toulouse- Lautrec impersonation?”

“Sit on my shoulders.”

“You've got to be kidding.” The mere thought of sitting on those broad shoulders had her tingling in places she'd forgotten she had. Her heart rate picked up a beat.

“No. Climb on. Weren't you a cheerleader in high school?”

“No.”

“Well, I was. Climb on.” He motioned impatiently for her to follow his instructions. “What are you? Chicken?”

“You said the magic words, Nick,” Darrell Baylor said, laughing at Katie's suddenly determined expression. “Nobody ever dared Katie Quaid and got away with it.”

Against her better judgment Katie eased herself onto Nick's shoulders, her roller clutched in her right hand. The fingers of her left hand threaded into his thick black hair as he rose carefully, his muscles bunching and straining beneath her. “If you drop me, Leone, you're going to have a bald spot.”

“I wouldn't dream of dropping you, kitten.”

The endearment raised a few eyebrows among Katie's longtime friends and brought a blush to Katie's cheeks, though she had to admit she didn't mind Nick having a pet name for her. It struck her as odd, because she usually found pet names to be somehow demeaning or insulting. But coming from Nick it didn't sound that way at all. She felt closer to him, and that was definitely what she wanted.

She tried to concentrate on painting, but it was difficult while sitting on Nick's shoulders with Nick hanging on to her ankles. More than once he let one hand wander up to her knee to tickle her there or snuck his fingers under the hem of her jeans to tickle her calf. She retaliated by squirming around until he got a crick in his neck and had to set her down.

Working side by side with his new neighbors Nick told them about growing up working in the construction industry. As a teenager he had spent summers working for his father, a carpenter, and his uncle Guido, the bricklayer.

“My old man found out early on I was better at hitting my thumb with the hammer than hitting
the nail. Everyone was a lot happier when I took up cooking.”

“I know my wife will be glad,” Darrell said, wiping some paint from his hand on the leg of his overalls. “Zoe is wild for Italian food.”

“What am I wild for?” Zoe asked, coming into the room with her two children trailing behind her.

“His body,” Katie said teasingly. She ducked the rag Darrell tossed at her.

“Dream on, darlin’,” Zoe said dryly, rolling her large dark eyes as she sent her husband a loving smile.

Reese charged across the room to his father. “Let me paint, Daddy!”

Little Charisse, the younger of the two Baylor children, ran after her brother, tears brimming in her eyes when she realized Daddy could only hold one of them up to help paint the wall. Without the slightest hesitation, Nick scooped her up.

“Here you go, sweetheart. You can help me paint.”

Charisse eyed him warily over her shoulder, then accepted the roller with both hands and went
to work, evidently satisfied this stranger was okay because he was working next to her daddy.

“I don't know if that's wise, Nick,” Zoe said in a warning tone. Dressed for her shift at the hospital, she automatically stepped out of the range of splattering paint. “She'll get more paint on you than she will on the wall.”

“That's okay.” Nick grinned. He tickled the little girl with his free hand. “We're doing just great, aren't we, honey?”

Charisse shrieked in delight and smacked the paint- soaked roller against the wall, sending a shower of tiny blue specks into Nick's face. Only the children were painting as everyone else nearly doubled over laughing—everyone except Katie, who had become unusually quiet.

He was unquestionably good with children. But that didn't have anything to do with the two of them, Katie told herself. She managed a smile as she reached out and wiped a smudge of paint from Charisse's pudgy cheek.