“If Conte nixes the deal, the whole thing is off.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re the best.”
She concentrated on her pasta. When she finally looked up, it was to see a strange expression cross his face. He seemed unsettled. “How would you know?”
Alexa smiled. “I’ve seen your work. I used to watch when we were young, and you’d build things in the garage. I always thought you’d be a carpenter, but when I saw Mt. Vesuvius restaurant, I knew you found your true calling. The whole place pulled at me, Nick. From the trickling water, to the flowers and bamboo and the resemblance to an old Japanese hut in the mountains. You’re a brilliant architect.”
He looked positively awestruck at her comment. Didn’t he know she had always admired his talent, even when they’d ruthlessly teased each other? Even after the long years apart? “Why do you look so surprised?”
He seemed to shake off the spell. “I don’t know. I never had a woman interested in my career. No one really understands it.”
“Then they’re stupid. Can I finish this last portion or do you want some more?”
His lips twitched as he handed over the bowl. “Be my guest.” She fought a groan as the spicy tomato sauce danced on her tongue. “Alexa, what’s going on with your bookstore expansion?”
The strand of spaghetti caught in her throat and she choked. He flew up from the chair and began pounding on her back, but she shook him off and guzzled a few mouthfuls of water. The poem flashed in mocking horror past her vision. Oh, the tangled web we weave, when first we first practice to deceive…
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.” She changed the subject. “We have to go over my parents’ for Thanksgiving.”
“No, I hate holidays. You didn’t answer my question. You got the cash and I was under the impression you needed to start the cafe right away. I have some ideas I’d like to go over with you.”
Her heart beat so fast the blood roared in her head. This was bad. Very, very bad. “Umm, Nick, I don’t expect you to help me with the cafe. You have enough on your plate with the waterfront project and the board hounding your every step. Besides, I already sort of hired someone.”
“Who?”
Shit.
She waved her hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. “Forgot his name. A customer recommended him. He’s, um, drawing up the plans and we’ll start soon. I may wait until spring.”
He frowned. “No reason to wait. I don’t trust this guy already. Give me his number and I’ll talk to him.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you involved.” The words seemed to punch him like a surprise right hook. He winced, then quickly recovered. The misery of her lies festered, but she reminded herself to stick to business, even though she knew in some strange way she hurt him.
His face reflected disinterest. “Fine. If that’s what you prefer.”
Her voice gentled. “I’d just like to stick to business in our relationship. Getting you involved in my cafe project isn’t a good idea. Don’t you agree?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
The silence beat around them and verged on awkwardness. She cleared her throat. “Back to Thanksgiving. You have to go, there’s no choice.”
“Tell them I have to work.”
“You’re going. It’s important to my family. They’d suspect something’s up if we don’t attend.”
“I hate Thanksgiving.”
“I heard you the first time but I still don’t care.”
“Family holidays weren’t in the contract.”
“Sometimes we can’t follow the contract to the letter.”
His head popped up from his plate like she suddenly had his full attention. “You’re probably right. We have to allow for some flexibility and maybe some mistakes along the way.”
She nodded and forked off the last mouthful. “Exactly. So, you’ll come?”
“Sure.”
His total turnaround made her pause, but she ignored it. Her empty bowl mocked her. Damn, what had she done?
“Funny you mentioned the contract,” he said. “A little problem came up but it’s solved now.”
Maybe she’d do some extra work on the treadmill. And lift some weights. Maybe even go back to yoga class.
“I wasn’t going to say anything but I wanted to be honest. You probably won’t even care.”
She’d call Maggie tomorrow and go to kickboxing. The class burned more calories and was good for self-defense.
“Gabriella kissed me.”
Her head shot up. “What did you say?”
He shrugged. “She called and wanted to meet me. She said she’s moving to California. I didn’t initiate, so I guess it was her idea of a good-bye kiss. End of story.”
Her eyes narrowed. His seemingly casual attitude masked a deeper truth. She also knew the way to get it was to play the whole thing off.
“A good-bye kiss, huh? Well, that doesn’t sound too threatening.” She watched him practically slump in the chair with relief. She pretended to be engaged with the leftover leaves from her salad to take the pressure off. “Cheek or lips?”
“Lips. Quick, though.”
“Okay. So no tongue, right?”
The chair squeaked with his definite squirm. The son of a bitch was busted. “Not really.”
“Sure?”
“Maybe a little. Happened so fast I don’t remember.”
Even when they were kids, he’d sucked at lying. He got in trouble every time and Maggie escaped punishment because she was damn good. Nick’s nose practically grew and screamed the truth to the world.
“Okay. The main thing is you told me the truth. Where did this happen?”
“Down by the river.”
“After your meeting?”
“Yep.”
“She called on your cell phone.”
“I told her not to come but she said it was important so I waited for her. I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her.”
“Then she kissed you and you pushed her away.”
“Right.”
“Where were her hands?”