he would be massacred by wild men if he moved to Virginia. They had seemed genuinely uncertain as to whether Briarwood, Virginia, had as yet benefited from electricity and indoor plumbing.
As far as Nick was concerned, Briarwood had it all over any big city. He had been born and raised in Atlantic City and had spent much of his adult life in New York City, but in his heart he always had thought of himself as a small- town boy. The performer in him had yearned for bright lights, but offstage he had found cities could be lonely, unfriendly, dangerous—he rubbed his healing shoulder—places. His friends could have the dirty gray streets, the crime, the garbage-haulers’ strikes, the pollution. He would take a nice quiet life in a town where people didn't need five locks on their front door.
Nick had seen for himself how friendly the people in the small town were. Everyone said hello to him on the street. They were talkative—slow talkerscompared to those he was used to, but they liked to talk. You couldn't buy a candy bar without having to tell at least one person your whole life story.
A frown creased his brow at this thought. He had evaded their questions as politely as he could. Nick had a feeling the people in the conservative rural community wouldn't understand if he were to tell them what he'd spent the last two years doing.
“Pardon me,” Katie said, stepping through the open front door. He went on polishing the glass in the bay window, his hips swaying seductively. The blue foam pads of his headphones pressed against his ears. They were very nicely shaped ears, she noticed. Her stomach tightened. Immediately she began to scold herself. She wasn't at all a nervous person, and she simply did not ever allow herself to go gaga over a man. There was no point in it. Not even if the small of his back was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen wrapped in a skintight T-shirt.
Squelching her jitters, Katie crossed to where he was standing and pulled the plug on his music,disconnecting the cord that ran from the headphones into the tiny cassette player that was hooked onto his waistband.
Suddenly Nick's head swung in her direction. She took an involuntary step back as she felt the impact of his gaze. His eyes were brown—a rich coffee brown that darkened to chocolate as he looked at her. His grin was engaging, endearingly crooked, giving a boyish quality to his classic good looks. He pulled the headphones down around his neck.
“Are you the welcome- wagon lady?” he asked, his gaze shifting to the bouquet of spring flowers in a china vase she clutched before her. Someone should have captured her on canvas, he thought. Standing there in a full flowing skirt and a soft pink sweater with a lace collar, she was as delicate and feminine as the subject of a Renoir painting. Her hair was dark ashen brown, and she wore it pulled back from the fine bones of her face except for a soft fringe of bangs that angled across her forehead. She watched him with huge eyes that were a deep, pure gray.
Before her wits could scatter too far, Katie reined in her composure. She gave him a politesmile. “No,” she said a little breathlessly. “My name is Kathryn Quaid. My store—Primarily Paper—is across the street from your building.”
“Lucky me.” Nick grinned, hoping to elicit a warm response from her. It didn't quite happen. The very corners of her mouth quirked upward, and he caught the hint of a sparkle in her eyes as she glanced away almost shyly.
“My partner and I want to welcome you to Briarwood, Mr.—?” She offered him the bouquet.
“Leone. Nick Leone,” he said, accepting the flowers. He set the vase on the ledge of the bay window and reached out a hand to his new neighbor. “I'm
very
pleased to meet you, Miss Quaid.”
Katie bit the inside of her lip as she grasped his hand. It was warm and firm. A sensation of heat suffused her as his hand engulfed hers. He hadn't looked quite so large from across the street.
As far as Nick was concerned, Briarwood had it all over any big city. He had been born and raised in Atlantic City and had spent much of his adult life in New York City, but in his heart he always had thought of himself as a small- town boy. The performer in him had yearned for bright lights, but offstage he had found cities could be lonely, unfriendly, dangerous—he rubbed his healing shoulder—places. His friends could have the dirty gray streets, the crime, the garbage-haulers’ strikes, the pollution. He would take a nice quiet life in a town where people didn't need five locks on their front door.
Nick had seen for himself how friendly the people in the small town were. Everyone said hello to him on the street. They were talkative—slow talkerscompared to those he was used to, but they liked to talk. You couldn't buy a candy bar without having to tell at least one person your whole life story.
A frown creased his brow at this thought. He had evaded their questions as politely as he could. Nick had a feeling the people in the conservative rural community wouldn't understand if he were to tell them what he'd spent the last two years doing.
“Pardon me,” Katie said, stepping through the open front door. He went on polishing the glass in the bay window, his hips swaying seductively. The blue foam pads of his headphones pressed against his ears. They were very nicely shaped ears, she noticed. Her stomach tightened. Immediately she began to scold herself. She wasn't at all a nervous person, and she simply did not ever allow herself to go gaga over a man. There was no point in it. Not even if the small of his back was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen wrapped in a skintight T-shirt.
Squelching her jitters, Katie crossed to where he was standing and pulled the plug on his music,disconnecting the cord that ran from the headphones into the tiny cassette player that was hooked onto his waistband.
Suddenly Nick's head swung in her direction. She took an involuntary step back as she felt the impact of his gaze. His eyes were brown—a rich coffee brown that darkened to chocolate as he looked at her. His grin was engaging, endearingly crooked, giving a boyish quality to his classic good looks. He pulled the headphones down around his neck.
“Are you the welcome- wagon lady?” he asked, his gaze shifting to the bouquet of spring flowers in a china vase she clutched before her. Someone should have captured her on canvas, he thought. Standing there in a full flowing skirt and a soft pink sweater with a lace collar, she was as delicate and feminine as the subject of a Renoir painting. Her hair was dark ashen brown, and she wore it pulled back from the fine bones of her face except for a soft fringe of bangs that angled across her forehead. She watched him with huge eyes that were a deep, pure gray.
Before her wits could scatter too far, Katie reined in her composure. She gave him a politesmile. “No,” she said a little breathlessly. “My name is Kathryn Quaid. My store—Primarily Paper—is across the street from your building.”
“Lucky me.” Nick grinned, hoping to elicit a warm response from her. It didn't quite happen. The very corners of her mouth quirked upward, and he caught the hint of a sparkle in her eyes as she glanced away almost shyly.
“My partner and I want to welcome you to Briarwood, Mr.—?” She offered him the bouquet.
“Leone. Nick Leone,” he said, accepting the flowers. He set the vase on the ledge of the bay window and reached out a hand to his new neighbor. “I'm
very
pleased to meet you, Miss Quaid.”
Katie bit the inside of her lip as she grasped his hand. It was warm and firm. A sensation of heat suffused her as his hand engulfed hers. He hadn't looked quite so large from across the street.
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