by Lee McKenzie
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “There are two sides to every story, you know. And the world would be a lot better off if people like Allison would mind their own business.”
Maggie tried her best to be diplomatic. “I think she was trying to warn me that if you...if you and I...”
Nick was staring at her.
Way to go, Maggie. Talk about an utter lack of finesse.
“Exactly what did she say?” he finally asked.
“Nothing! Really, this was my fault. Allison said you broke a lot of hearts and I guess I just wanted to see for myself.”
Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “And?”
An uncomfortable heat crept up her neck. “And what?”
“What did you find out?”
“About what?”
“About me being a heartbreaker.”
How was she supposed to answer that question? You were, and still are.
Nick grinned at her. “Was that a yes?”
“What makes you think that?”
“You nodded your head. That usually means yes.”
Her face was completely on fire at that point and to make matters worse, Aunt Margaret was having a good laugh. Well, they weren’t getting the best of her. Not over something as silly as this. “If you have a history of breaking hearts, I’ll have to take everyone’s word for it. I have no experience with that sort of thing.”
“You’ve never had your heart broken?”
Only by two men who never knew how she felt about them, so that didn’t count. She glanced down at the floor. “No. Never.”
He hooked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “Then that means Maggie Meadowcroft is one of the lucky ones.”
His hand was warm and a little rough, and at that precise moment, she felt luckier than she had ever felt. “I guess it does.” Except that she’d always thought she would have risked everything, even a broken heart, to have had the attention of a guy like Nick.
He let her go and abruptly stepped back. “I think we’d better go over this estimate. As soon as we decide where and when to start, I’ll order the materials.”
An hour later they’d moved past the awkwardness and decided tearing out the wall and renovating the bathroom would be the best place to start because that work would take the longest.
“We can get to work first thing Monday morning but I’ll stop by on Sunday, just before six, so we can go to the barbecue together.”
“You don’t have to pick me up. I’ll be fine on my own.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have to go alone.”
Was he really that insecure about being with old friends? If that was the case, he really did need her help. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll be happy to go with you.”
* * *
AT FIVE MINUTES to six on Sunday, Nick turned onto Maggie’s block and slowed almost to a stop. Both sides of the street were lined with cars, which could only mean one thing. Allison’s “little” barbecue was anything but.
Great, he thought. Why had he agreed to this? He glanced at Maggie’s front door. There was one good reason. He had a date, sort of, and he needed to do damage control before his old high-school flame filled Maggie’s head with a bunch of garbage.
Why did women have to make things so complicated? It had been a good while since he’d met a woman who interested him as much as Maggie did, and he’d never met one who seemed so remarkably uncomplicated. A little off-the-wall, maybe. Even a little spooky with her ability to know what he was thinking, but not complicated. Or clingy and controlling. Or any of the things that drove him nuts about the women in his family. Maggie was happy and secure and self-confident. Yes, this was definitely a first for him.
And he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual, if her checking out his old high-school photos was anything to go on. Not to mention the whole heartbreaker thing. He didn’t believe she was inexperienced enough to have never had her heart broken but even if that were true, he’d wager she’d broken a few herself. Unintentionally, maybe, but broken them just the same.
That she was his client made him a little uneasy.
He reached for the box on the seat next to him, had second thoughts and pulled his hand back, then grabbed it and jumped out of his truck. He’d already knocked on the door when he was hit by the second wave of second thoughts.
“Hi.”
Too late. “Hi. Wow. You look amazing.”
And that was an understatement. She had on a denim skirt that showed a generous length of leg, and a purple tank top.
“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself, although I expected you to be a little more casual.”
Nick had toyed with the idea but instead of giving the high-society tongue-waggers any more to talk about than they already had, he’d done his best to look like part of the country-club set. Seeing Maggie in casual clothes made him wish he hadn’t bothered to press his khaki Hilfiger’s and buy a new golf shirt. It wasn’t as though he ever went golfing. He shouldn’t worry about what other people thought. Maggie didn’t.
“Everything else was in the laundry,” he said.
“I hate it when that happens. I just have to grab my plate and I’ll be ready to go.”
She seemed to float down the hallway in a pair of sandals that were tied on with crisscrossed ankle straps.
A minute later she reappeared with a huge tray piled with cookies. Be interesting to see Allison’s reaction to that.
“I made these,” she said. “What are you taking?”
“Where?”
“To the barbecue. In the box you’re carrying.”
“Oh, right. It’s not for the barbecue, it’s for you.”
“For me? Another present?”
“Not really. No. It’s not a present. It’s for the construction project. Here, open it.” For some reason his brain was only sending intermittent signals to his tongue.
He held the plate and watched her set the box on the hall table and lift the lid.
“A scrapbook? What’s it for?”
“Well, I remembered how you had all those sketches and color samples in a folder and I thought you might like to keep a record of the renovations. Photos, that sort of thing. But if it’s too corny—” He waited for her reaction.
“I love it! It’s a great idea. We can do lots of before-and-after pictures and paste in scraps of the old wallpaper and curtains and...” She grinned widely. “We can put it on display when the spa opens. We’ll call it ‘the story of a makeover.’ Customers will love it. Thank you.”
He liked that she said “we” instead of “I,” even though he didn’t have the guts to tell her that this makeover business would never fly. He was also relieved she didn’t think he was being too forward by bringing her another gift. Choosing gifts for women had always been difficult, but Maggie was different. Lately he kept noticing things he’d never paid attention to before and wondering what she would think of them.
“Are you ready to go? These cookies smell great, by the way. What’d you put in them?”
She gave him a sly wink. “My secret ingredient. It makes them irresistible.”
“I hope it’s legal.”
She laughed. “In all fifty states.”
“Let’s go, then.” Allison’s Fourth of July barbecue was almost certain to be a catered affair and he could hardly wait to see her reaction to Maggie’s irresistible, and obviously homemade, cookies.
CHAPTER SIX
NICK HADN’T REALIZED just how insecure he felt about facing these people until his hand was on the gate. Although he’d lived in Collingwood Station all his life, he rarely saw the people he went to school with. It always amazed him how easy it was to avoid the champagne and caviar set when you lowered your standards to pizza and cola. Except it didn’t feel lower. He’d take a cold soda over a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bottle of bubbly any day.
Maggie smiled up and leaned into him a little. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting t
his.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. Unfortunately this was exactly what he’d expected.
The fence had been liberally draped with red, white and blue bunting. A bar, complete with a tuxedoed bartender, had taken up residence on the deck and beneath a huge blue-and-white-striped tent, a chef in a tall white hat was fussing over the tables loaded with food.
“Everything looks perfect,” Maggie said.
Perfectly extravagant.
Right down to the hostess who was strolling across the lawn toward them. Allison had attired herself in a strapless sundress and a pair of elegant flat-soled shoes that were probably Prada, or something equally expensive. “I’m so glad you could make it. Happy Fourth of July! Welcome to our little gathering.”
“Little” being a relative term in Allison’s vocabulary. There had to be forty or fifty people at this shindig and Nick swore every single one of them had stopped what they were doing and were now staring at him and Maggie.
“What’s this?” Allison asked when she spied the plate in Maggie’s hands.
“Cookies,” Maggie said. “They’re homemade.”
“Oh. How...thoughtful. Thank you.”
“I thought the kids would like them.”
Allison looked puzzled. “The children are spending the weekend with my parents. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It was no trouble.”
Nick loved that she was genuinely unaware of their host’s discomfort.
Allison looked at him, as though for support. What? She thought he should tell Maggie to take the cookies back to her place? Not a chance.
“Why don’t you help yourself to drinks while I give these to André?” She glared at Nick, then strode away.
He watched her carry Maggie’s offering across the lawn. As she stepped under the tent, she glanced back at them. He smiled at her and nodded. She’d been checking to see if they were watching. If they hadn’t been, Maggie’s “irresistible” cookies would have done a disappearing act.
The chef looked just as surprised as Allison had when she presented Maggie’s contribution to the festivities. Even from across the yard, Nick could see the man’s eyebrows knit together as he shook his head. Once again Allison glanced their way and briefly met Nick’s gaze. Then she pulled herself up to her full height and shoved the plate toward the white-suited chef. The man threw up his hands in a dramatic gesture, snatched it from her and carried it over to the dessert table.
To Nick’s relief, Maggie was admiring the crowd and the decorations like a child who’d just seen her first snowfall. Come to think of it, a nice blizzard would certainly put an end to this nightmare.
“Do you know all these people?” Maggie asked.
Another quick glance around. “Let’s say we’re acquainted. And I’d say that calls for a drink.”
Two uniformed waiters strolled through the crowd, one with hors d’oeuvres and another with a tray of crystal flutes.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “No thanks. Champagne doesn’t seem like the right thing for a barbecue.”
No kidding. “Come on, then. We’ll grab something at the bar.”
Bad decision. John Fontaine, Allison’s husband, stood near the bar, talking to Candice, and it was too late to distract Maggie. She had already stepped onto the deck and was heading straight into the fray.
“Nick!” John’s handshake was limp and a little too sweaty for Nick’s liking. “Good to see you, buddy. How long has it been?”
Buddy? Yeah, right. John had gone off to college and stolen his girlfriend, which meant he’d actually done Nick a favor, but that hardly made them buddies.
“You remember Candice, don’t you?”
The woman forced herself into his arms, presenting one cheek, then the other. Nick had no choice but to kiss both of them. She reeked of expensive perfume.
She ran her hands down his chest. “So this is what hard labor does for a man’s body. You know, I need to have a few repairs done. Maybe you can bring your tools over to my place sometime.” She gave John a sly wink as she said it.
Nick’s skin crawled as he held her by the wrists and backed away before letting her go. He hastily draped an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. Using her to deflect Candice’s come-on was a bad idea but he couldn’t think fast enough to come up with an alternative, and he really hoped Maggie recognized it as signal to go along with him.
Maggie responded by leaning close and resting her head against his shoulder. Man, he really owed her for this.
“Maggie’s keeping me pretty busy,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Have you met Maggie Meadowcroft?”
Candice’s gaze slid in Maggie’s direction. “Oh, hello.” She took in Maggie’s casual attire and seemed ready to dismiss her. “Did you say Meadowcroft? That sounds familiar.”
If Maggie picked up on the woman’s hostility, she didn’t let on. “Margaret Meadowcroft was my great-aunt. She used to teach English at Collingwood High School.”
Candice laughed. “Of course! Oh, I haven’t thought of Miss Meadowcroft in years!”
Nick figured she hadn’t thought of anyone but herself in years.
“Wasn’t she the teacher who gave you all those detentions, Nick? I seem to recall—”
“That was a long time ago, Candice. Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been up to since high school? I hear you just got divorced. And I always thought you and Mark were a match made in heaven.”
The woman’s insincere laughter bugged him. “Silly you,” she said. “Mark and I only lasted a little over a year. Come to think of it, our divorce took longer than that. I’ve been married and divorced twice since then.”
“I see.” Which he didn’t. Although all that wedded bliss probably explained the wealth of diamonds she was flashing around. Divorce must be profitable.
“Thankfully I have Allison and John. Allie’s been my rock through all this. And John...” She snuggled against her best friend’s husband’s shoulder. “John has handled my last two divorces.”
The tension between John and Candice was strung as tight as a banjo and if Nick had to guess, he’d say that John had handled a lot more than her litigation.
What was it with these people? They turned personal relationships into a blood sport. Nick would be the first to admit he was no saint and that’s why he wasn’t married. He tried to look John in the eye but the man was suddenly intent on something on the other side of the yard. Nick followed his gaze.
Allison.
No doubt John hoped his wife hadn’t witnessed that last little exchange. Lucky for him, Allison was too busy being the perfect hostess.
Nick still had his arm around Maggie and he took advantage of it to steer her toward the bar. “How ’bout we get that drink? Will you excuse us?” he said to John and Candice.
“That was awkward,” he said as soon as they were out of earshot.
“I’ll say. Three marriages,” Maggie whispered. “Wow. That’s...” She actually seemed to be at a loss for words, which had to be a rare occasion for Maggie Meadowcroft.
Nick helped her out. “Insane?” he suggested. “Obscenely ridiculous?”
She grinned, then laughed out loud.
He glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Allison crossing the lawn to join John and Candice. He dipped his head toward Maggie’s ear and lowered his voice. “You’d think he’d cool it with the mistress while his wife’s around.”
Maggie looked startled. “Is that what you think is going on? I didn’t get that sense, at all. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Candice wouldn’t give it a second thought, but John is going along with her because she’s a client. What do business people call it? Schmoozing?”
“Do you always find a way to see the best in people?”
“I see all kinds of things in people. I’m sure you’re wrong about John but—” she lowered her voice some more “—whatever you’re thinki
ng about Candice is probably bang on.”
Far be it from him to dispute a woman’s intuition.
The bartender handed two glasses of wine to the couple ahead of them and wiped the counter. “What would you like, madam?”
Maggie leaned across the counter. “What do you have that’s cold and nonalcoholic?”
“Mineral water? Iced tea with lemon?” the bartender suggested.
“Oooh, iced tea, please.”
“Excellent choice, ma’am. And you, sir?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Of course, sir.”
They picked up their drinks, turned from the bar and ran straight into his sister.
“Nick? This is a surprise.” Leslie wasn’t looking at him, though. She was studying Maggie like a court transcript. “How are you?”
He’d hoped to avoid family entanglements until the day of the wedding but he should have known he couldn’t avoid Leslie. Maybe he could at least avoid getting into a dull conversation with Gerald Bedford III.
“Good. How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
“And Mother?”
Leslie forced a smile. “She’s fine. Busy with wedding arrangements.”
Now that he knew everyone was well and fine, he wasn’t sure what else to say.
Leslie, on the other hand, was never at a loss for words. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Yes. Sorry. Leslie, this is Maggie Meadowcroft. She lives next door in her aunt’s...”
“I know who she is, silly. Allison’s told me all about the two of you.”
That figured. “I’m renovating Maggie’s house.”
“And bringing her to the wedding. And to neighborhood gatherings, I see.” Leslie gave him a patronizing smile. “Mother’s been hoping you’d call. She was disappointed that she had to hear about Maggie from someone else.”
The remark was laced with innuendo and completely uncalled for. What was there to hear? “I’m renovating Maggie’s house,” he repeated. “I’ve been meaning to call but I’ve been busy.” They both knew it was a lie, but in his family, telling a lie was acceptable as long as it didn’t make the person you were lying to look bad.
