Rumor Has It (6 page)

Katie glared at him. “Peter Ramsey, if I hear one word about this around town tomorrow, you
won't
live to regret it.”

“Thank you for a very… unusual… eve ning, Nick,” she said with a touch of dry humor to go with her wry smile. In spite of her initial misgivings
she had to admit she was glad she'd let Nick talk her into a date. As if she'd had a choice, she thought. Katie imagined he could have talked donkeys into flying, with his adorable smile.

Nick grinned down at her in the yellow light from the brass coach lantern that hung beside her front door. He braced a hand against the door frame and rested the other on his hip. “I have to admit I've never come so close to getting arrested on a date before.”

Catching an odd note in his inflection, Katie asked cautiously, “And when you weren't on a date?”

His smile became secretive. He ran a finger down the short, straight slope of her nose. “Let's just say I know what the inside of a jail looks like.”

She didn't press for information but suddenly found herself wondering how he had broken his nose—it wasn't quite straight. He had told her he'd been a dancer, but he hadn't said when. Now he was telling her he'd been in jail.

Nick could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain. He wondered if she realized she had cocked a brow at him in that Scarlett O'Hara way
of hers, or was it such an ingrained habit, she did it automatically. He knew one thing for sure—he had her puzzled. But her puzzlement could work to his advantage, he decided. Katie could be as aloof as a cat; perhaps she could be as curious. They had made it through their first date. Maybe if they could make it through a few more, he would tell her the rest of the story.

“Good night, Katie,” he said, stepping back, shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his khaki trousers. “I'd kiss you again, but I think I've had all the excitement I can take for one night.”

With a wink he turned and left her standing on her front step wondering which rumor might be true. Who had she just spent the evening with?

“M
AYBE HE'S LIKE
Dr. Richard Kimble in
The Fugitive,”
Maggie mused, tapping her pencil against her pursed lips. She stared up at the ceiling and sighed. “A good man unjustly accused and on his way to his death until Fate moved its huge hand and whacked his train off the tracks.”

“Right,” Katie said with a teasing smile as she put the finishing touches to her sketch. She regarded her idea for the dining room of Nick's restaurant with a critical eye as she spoke. “That's just what I'd do if I were running from the law. I'd open a high- profile business like a restaurant.”

Maggie made a face at her. “I was just having fun imagining.”

Katie considered telling her friend what she knew about Nick's background but held back. Nick hadn't wanted to tell anyone about his dancing days in New York. She would respect his wishes and let Maggie go on having fun specu lating.

Finishing her coffee, Zoe stood up from the table and slung her tote bag over her shoulder. “Shirley Carson heard he used to be a security chief at a Pontiac plant in New York.”

“That makes an even dozen theories,” Katie said, adding more green shading to the drapes in her sketch.

“Is that including the one about him being the prodigal son of a wealthy industrialist?” Zoe asked, chuckling as she headed for the door.

“Thirteen,” Katie corrected herself.

Zoe laughed. “See y'all later. I'm off to work.”

“Bye, Zoe,” Maggie and Katie said together as their friend left.

“And what's your theory, Kathryn?” Maggie asked, standing and smoothing a hand down the
skirt of her emerald- green dress. “You've been out with him twice now.”

Katie fixed her gaze on her sketch. She'd had her second date with Nick—they'd gone to an adventure movie at the town theater—and he was still a mystery to her. He was a man with a mysterious past and a mysterious ability to make her forget her deficiencies as a woman. He was a man who made her want to be with him and want to run away all at once. The moth to the flame theory, she thought to herself, but she didn't share her thoughts with Maggie. She wasn't ready to yet. “I think he's a very nice man who's come here to live a quiet life.”

“Has he said anything about that gunshot wound?”

“No, and I'm not going to ask.” Katie gathered up her portfolio and headed for the door. She was the last person who would grill someone about an injury. She could remember too well how she had hated having people ask for all the gory details about her accident once she had finally been able to come home.

In the open doorway of Nick's building she nearly ran head- on into a balding fat man with a
bulbous nose and thick frowning forehead. He stood in Katie's way, staring at her as if he had no manners whatsoever. She could just see over the man's slouching shoulder. Nick stood a good ten feet behind him with a murderous scowl on his face.

“Pardon me,” she said.

The fat man grunted and stepped out of her path, then left.

“Who was that?” Katie asked.

“The county engineer. Charming guy, don't you think?” Nick said sardonically. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging little particles of plaster. There was a smudge of plaster dust on his square chin, and a thin layer of the stuff coated his black T-shirt. “He just told me I've got to cough up forty- five hundred bucks for a new curb and gutter before he'll issue my remodeling permit. And he seemed to take unusual pleasure in telling me.”

Katie frowned in concern. “Can you manage it?”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Sure, but then I won't need the permit. That's half my remodeling budget.”

He swore under his breath as the phone rang two flights above them. The phone company had yet to hook up a new phone on the ground floor. Now he had to wonder if he could afford it. He glanced distractedly at Katie. “You brought those sketches. Come on upstairs.”

He turned and bolted up the steps two at a time, yelling to the phone that he would be right there.

Katie followed at her own pace, her heart heavy over Nick's problem. People could cross off all their wild theories that involved his having a lot of money. He was operating on a shoestring, doing much of the work himself, and had obviously sunk every nickel he had into his dream. Despite the warnings of her cautious heart, Katie had become very fond of Nick over the past two weeks. She hated to see something bad happen to him.

“…yeah, Uncle Guido, I know. I know, but you gotta do it. You gotta get rid of him, he's a bum. Vinnie warned you the guy wasn't worth the space he took up. Lose him.”

Katie's eyes widened as she stood on the thirdfloor
landing clutching her portfolio in front of her.

“I know it's tough, but it's business, you know. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming back for the trial. What'd you think—that I wouldn't show? No. Right. Say hello to everybody for me. Bye.” With a sigh, Nick hung up the phone and looked around. “Katie?”

She peeked around the doorway. “I didn't want to intrude,” she said in a small voice. Trial? she wondered.

He waved it off and went to the refrigerator. “My uncle Guido and his labor disputes. He's a bricklayer. He hired his sister- in- law's son- in-law as a favor. The guy's a deadbeat, but Guido doesn't have the heart to fire him. You want a soda or something?”

“No, thanks.” She took a seat at the Formica-topped table and let her gaze wander. It wasn't hard to guess at Nick's priorities. The kitchen was immaculate. Little clay pots of growing herbs lined the window ledge above the sink. There was a rope of fresh garlic hanging to one side of the window. Cookbooks and gourmet gadgets lined the counter. Across the hall his bedroom was a
jumble of bedsheets, shirts, jeans, and abandoned shoes.

Nick popped the top of his soda and slumped onto a chair. What a lousy day, he thought, and it wasn't even noon yet. His uncle, the county engineer, then there'd been that little bit of information he'd picked up after running into Peter Ramsey at the gas station. He leveled his dark gaze at Katie. “Why didn't you tell me you were involved with that cop?”

“Peter Ramsey?” she asked, incredulous. “I'm not involved with him.”

“But you were,” Nick said, pressing the issue. He sat up and leaned his elbows on the table. “I heard you were practically engaged!”

“Oh!” Katie nearly choked on a mixture of surprise and anger. “We were not! I went out with him a few times. Things didn't progress the way he wanted, and that was the end of it.”

“I just wish you would have told me.” He pouted, scratching his arm. He knew he was only making the day worse by acting like an idiot. It was none of his business who Katie had dated in the past. It only concerned him because he was quickly developing a wide possessive streak when
it came to her. Some irrational part of him wanted to think he was the only man she'd ever been interested in. “I'm trying to make a good start in this town. I don't want to antagonize the police department by trespassing on their territory.”

Katie jumped out of her chair, needing to be taller than Nick for once. She glowered down at him, her hands perched on her slender hips. “I am not Peter Ramsey's territory! I am not
anybody's
territory. This is Virginia, not the wild West.” She stepped back and shook her head. “You are absolutely amazing. Half the town thinks you're a cross between Al Capone and James Bond, and you're worried about something so stupid!”

“They think
what?”
Nick asked, his dark brows shooting up in surprise.

Katie planted her hands on top of her head and rolled her eyes. “Me and my big mouth. I'm sorry, Nick, but this is a small town—gossip is the number one pastime. You haven't been very forthcoming about your background, so, naturally, rumors have run rampant.”

“They think
what?”

“Well… there are lots of theories.”

Nick watched her shifting uncomfortably from
foot to foot. It was amusing to see Katie Quaid squirm. She wasn't a lady who lost her composure easily. “Such as?” he questioned.

“ Oh… they range from you being a former agent for the CIA to being a retired international art thief to being a protected witness to being a ruthless mercenary.”

He broke up, laughing so hard he got a stitch in his side. “Me? Ruthless? A mercenary? A spy? Me?”

“Those are some of the more popular rumors.” She frowned at him. “That doesn't make you angry? I thought you'd be furious.”

“It's too funny! I'm the last guy—I mean, I may have a checkered past, but I was an Eagle Scout, for crying out loud!”

“Then what was that you said to your uncle about going back for a trial?” she demanded, letting slip the fact that she'd been eavesdropping on his conversation.

Nick sat back in his chair, trying to catch his breath. He rubbed his side and took a long swallow of his cola. “A couple of weeks before I moved down here I happened to be in a store when some goofballs tried to rob the place. I got shot, actually
the bullet only grazed my shoulder. I have to go back to testify at the trial.”

Katie was torn between relief and sick fear. The thought of Nick getting shot in a holdup made her throat constrict. She sat back down and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “And what about your statement about knowing what the inside of a jail looks like?”

“A simple misunderstanding,” he said, giving her his most innocent look. He wasn't quite ready to tell her he'd been the entertainment for a “ladies only” night at a club and the place had been raided. Poor Katie, he thought, suppressing a chuckle, she'd had enough revelation for one day. She'd struck up one of her Southern- belle poses but looked annoyed and embarrassed instead of cool and serene. “Don't tell me you believed those rumors.”

She gave him a look. “I know better than to believe ninety- nine percent of the rumors that fly around a small town. Do you think I would have gone out with you if I believed you were some sort of thug?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged, playful lights dancing in his dark eyes. He leaned across the table to run
his finger down her nose. “Maybe you're one of those ladies who gets excited by that kind of thing.” Her icy glare made him laugh again. “You know, maybe these rumors will actually be good for business. I could center an ad campaign around them. ‘Eat at Nick's—it's an offer you can't refuse,’ “ he said in a rough voice.

Katie rolled her eyes, trying not to grin. She was relieved he was taking the rumors so well. The towns people didn't mean any harm. They were just curious. Deciding it was time to lay the topic to rest, she asked, “Do you want to see my sketches now?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, standing up and ambling toward the bedroom, fluffing white powder out of his hair. “But let me change my shirt first. This plaster dust is making me itch.”

She told herself she wouldn't look, promised herself she wouldn't look. She looked. She exhaled so hard, her lungs hurt. Nick's back was a lesson in classical art. Smooth, dark skin was stretched taut over an array of muscles that rippled beneath the beautiful surface.

He dropped the black T-shirt carelessly on the floor beside the bed and looked over several possible
replacements hanging on various parts of the open door. He settled on a red T-shirt that had been snagged over the doorknob.

“So, did you come up with any good ideas?” he asked, strolling back into the kitchen with the shirt dangling from his fingertips, ostensibly unconcerned that he was only half dressed.

A wave of heat washed over Katie. Her heart spun like a top. He belonged on a poster. A hunk poster. A super- hunk poster. His black hair spilled onto his forehead. A sweetly boyish grin kicked up the corner of his mouth. His chest was no disappointment. Sculpted muscle was thickly forested with ebony curls. The curls arrowed down around his slightly off- center navel and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Just to the right of his belly button he had the cutest little mole shaped like a crouching bunny. And unless she was looking for it, she'd never have noticed the tiny pink scar on his shoulder. Gaping wound, indeed, she thought with a laugh.

“Ideas?” she asked blankly. Boy, did she have ideas! She was having ideas she hadn't had in years.