“Because you want free labor?”
“Because you played me,” Amelia corrected.
Nate sealed her against the sink by pressing one hand on either side of her. “I thought I explained myself.”
“So? A murderer doesn’t get a get-out-of-jail-free card by explaining the way he killed someone.”
“You’re warped,” Nate said with a laugh. “You know that?”
“I’ve been called worse,” Amelia said, shrugging.
The height difference between them without her heels was blatantly obvious when he straightened. Nate belonged on the runway or a basketball court. His thick brows rose with a question.
“Tell me about it over dinner.” His voice softened with apparent concern and his hand snaked out to take hers. “Off the clock.”
At least at dinner, Nate would be covered. Of course, Nate possessed the ability to make a duffel bag look good. “I don’t think so. I don’t go out when I’m in town.”
“No problem,” Nate said cheerfully. “I’ll cook.”
Fine, gorgeous and he could cook? What could go wrong?
* * *
What could go wrong? More like what couldn’t go wrong? To say Nate started a full-blown fire was exaggerating. Sure, the flames were high, but the smoke had been the scariest part. And speaking of smoke—where it was, there was fire. At least, the fire now brewed in Nate’s system. He was the one with the obsessed thoughts and dreams of Amelia. He refused to let his opportunity to be with her be threatened by someone else. One of Southwood’s finest firemen lingered on the porch, talking and flirting with Amelia. He got it; she’d been gone for a while.
“I can’t believe you’re really here.” Fireman Parker Ward was the first to greet Nate in the Marlows’ driveway. He introduced himself after assessing any damages, claiming to have been familiar with the address and wanting to personally make sure Helen Marlow was okay. When Amelia stepped out from around the side of the house, the guy had been following her around like a lovesick puppy.
Amelia rubbed her fingers across her chin. She leaned a hip across the railing of the porch. Parker stood too close for Nate’s comfort, with his fireman’s hat in his hand, coat open and shamelessly displaying the snug T-shirt. Who did he need to write a complaint to? Nate’s mind tried to recall the name of one of the bachelors from the auction, but he was too busy eavesdropping from the other side of the door. Was this even professional?
“Well, I can’t say I’m here for long, Parker,” Amelia said with a slow Southern drawl Nate had become familiar with from the other residents of Southwood. When they’d met at the hotel bar, she’d spoken with no trace of an accent.
Parker nodded. A series of smiles passed between them. “Well. I hope while you’re here you’ll let me cook you a real dinner.”
Seriously, dude? Nate’s fists balled. The dig of his fingers against his palm snapped a bit of reality into him. Nate reminded himself he did not do complications. Amelia had made it clear she did not plan on staying in town. Nate loved Southwood and planned to be here for the long haul. He was at the Marlow residence for a job and when that was complete he owed her nothing. Well, at least maybe dinner tonight.
“I’m not sure you cooking me dinner is a good idea.”
“I—” Parker pressed his helmet against his chest “—am a great cook. Ask anyone at the station. Besides if anything should catch on fire, I’ll put it out myself.”
Nate closed his eyes and counted to ten in order to keep from ripping the screen door off and choking the smug fireman. A light, airy giggle sounded off. Realizing he’d never made Amelia giggle without touching her irritated Nate even more. From his angle, he saw Amelia’s face light up. The corners of her eyes softened and her smile widened.
“You’re still crazy,” Amelia replied.
“And you’re still beautiful,” said Parker. “But of course I may be biased.”
No bias, Nate thought. Anyone with a pair of eyes saw the beauty in Amelia. From what he understood, she spent her career filming people when she needed to be on film. Now there was something worth turning on the television for.
“Oh, Parker, stop.” Amelia flirted on.
Yeah, Parker, stop. Nate rose from the back of the couch, ready to interrupt, when one of the other firemen honked the horn on the truck.
“I’ve got to go,” Parker announced. “But I am serious about catching up with you before you leave. I understand you don’t want to run into folks but maybe I’ll meet you at FP General for a cup of coffee. It will give me a chance to catch up with Miss Helen. I had no idea she’d hurt herself.”
The squeak of the screen door caught their attention. Both Parker and Amelia turned toward him. Amelia’s face was more quizzical, while Parker shot him a glance of irritation for the interruption. The man did not care for Nate’s presence. Whatever. Amelia was his for at least thirty-two more hours, with a bonus for dinner tonight.
After the local fire department cleared out of the driveway, the desire to cook a meal gone, Nate convinced Amelia to let him take her out for dinner. Women didn’t resist his invitations to dinner. With Amelia, it seemed more like an act of congress. With people like Donna Jean or Brittany, they wanted to be downtown at one of the local restaurants, depending on the night. Since it was Sunday, most were closed, with the exception of some of the old eateries closer toward the town square, run by families who spanned generations in Southwood. Nate decided to take her choice to eat at a newer pizza joint across town as flattery, and tried to read it as a desire to have him all to herself, but somehow he couldn’t fool himself. Amelia did not want to be out with him; that she’d picked the corner in the back of the pizzeria where no one would see them clued him in.
“Did you leave here under WITSEC orders?” Nate teased.
Amelia’s dark eyes stopped skimming the laminated menu long enough for her to furrow her brow. “What?”
“You’re all cloak and dagger.” Nate nodded at the way she held the menu in front of her face. “Unless you need glasses.”
The way she frowned was cute. The corners of her mouth turned upside down and her bottom lip poked out. A shoe made direct contact with his shin. “My eyesight is perfect.”
“Not just your eyesight.” Nate cocked his head to get a glimpse of the hourglass curve of her shape.
“Does your cheesy machismo usually work on women?”
Nate flashed a grin. “It worked on you last week.” He regretted the words the second before he finished the k in week. Amelia’s foot came into contact with his shin again. “Sorry. Chalk this up to being nervous.”
Amelia settled back against the black leather booth. “You’re supposed to be nervous?”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Nate relaxed in his seat. “You breeze into town and drop a wad of cash on me just to make me do work for what you could have hired someone else to do, and much more cheaply, too.”
The little flower in the center of her white spaghetti-strap top rose up and down. Even through the flicker of the flame bouncing off the deep maroon glass candle holder, he caught the way her cheeks turned pink.
“Let’s say I don’t trust anyone around town to do the work for me.”
He stopped himself from mentioning Parker’s name. The man seemed too eager to spend time with Amelia. Clearly, the two of them had history together.
“So you work on a reality show directing all kinds of odd jobs.” Nate shrugged and cleared his throat to get the thought of Parker out of his mind. What mattered was that Amelia had declined Parker’s offer and accepted his. “Couldn’t anyone else do the work?”
The frown disappeared and Amelia glanced around the room. Her teeth captured the bottom corner of her lip. “I am not allowed to contact any of the folks from the shows I produced.”
“You’re the producer.” Nate leaned forward. “Tha
t explains the cash flow.”
“Was,” Amelia clarified, twisting her lips to the side—her reminder that she’d been fired because of him. Nate bowed his head in apology. “And I was a producer, but not in the sense most people think.”
“I’m not most people.” Nate wiggled his brows.
“I was a field producer, which meant I oversaw a lot of the production. I traveled with at least a dozen guys to keep up with the Ruiz crew, depending on what they had going on during the day.” Amelia paused for a moment when the waiter approached with their sodas and a notepad ready, to take their order.
Now raising two kids, Nate rarely ever got to order a pizza with more than pepperoni or cheese on top. They both thought the Supreme sounded delicious. Kismet yet? Probably not, but he did find her desirable when she asked if he’d be okay with a deep dish. The waiter disappeared into the kitchen.
Nate reached across the table and captured her hand. His thumb stroked small circles on the bones of the back of her hand. “You were saying?”
“About the pizza?”
“About being a big-time producer.”
Amelia’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Field producer.”
Nate chuckled and inclined his head. “Okay, what is a field producer?”
Long lashes fanned against her high cheekbones as she contemplated her answer. Her cinnamon-kissed skin glowed in the light of the camera. A blush shone across her high cheekbones. “What’s your favorite reality TV show?”
“Don’t have one.” Nate rested his arms on the table.
Amelia cocked her head to the side and spoke slowly. “Because you have so many?”
“Because I don’t watch them.”
Amelia’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward as if she didn’t hear correctly. “Pardon me?”
“I don’t watch reality shows.” Nate’s shoulders rose up and down, shrugging as she sat across from him clutching her heart and dramatically feigning being wounded. “I live with my two nieces, and if a show has to bleep out every other word because women are fighting or tearing each other down, it’s not worth watching.”
“All right.” Amelia nodded. “I can understand to an extent. But what about Azúcar?”
A tremble threatened to lift his upper lip. “What about it?”
“It is the first crossover American reality show with a predominately Puerto Rican cast. It’s my number one project for MET Studios.”
“Hey, that’s fantastic.” Nate tried not to come off sarcastic. “But to me, the Puerto Rican cast is plain old regular folk.”
“Of course,” Amelia groaned and hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I forgot how close you and Natalia are. Exactly why did Stephen and Natalia meet up?”
“I’m afraid if Natalia did not tell you the nature of the meeting,” Nate said with a sigh, “then it’s not my place to tell. I will say I’ve known her family for years and I know for a fact they’re headed by an egotistical woman named Yadira who sees nothing but dollar signs when it comes to her nieces and nephew.”
“Aunt Yadira isn’t so bad.”
Nate studied Amelia’s face as she spoke. Her bottom lip twitched and she glanced away for a second. No one got along with Yadira Ruiz. “Because she’s the one padding your pockets,” Nate grumbled.
“MET Studios pays my salary,” Amelia snapped, “or they did.”
The animosity in her voice came in loud and clear. He wanted to hang his head in shame knowing he was the reason she’d lost her job, but she needed to look on the bright side. He’d done her a favor. “The studio is a platform for money and greed.”
Amelia sat back, tight-lipped. Her dark brown eyes glanced up to each corner of the ceiling. The huff of breath blew a stray strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her eyes.
“Are you looking around for cameras?”
“No.” She sighed. “I’m looking around for places I’d put a camera if I wanted to create a show.”
“Habit of yours?” Not sure if he preferred her avoiding eye contact with him or taking the icy glare she gave him now, Nate wiggled his brows.
The bells over the door jingled. The young girl behind the counter shouted out for the new guests to have a seat wherever and let them know someone would be with them in a moment. Meanwhile, the door to the kitchen swung open and a waiter came out with a pizza for another couple. Nate watched Amelia, who’d gone back to observing the restaurant.
“I like to come up with different ideas for shows,” Amelia finally answered him, resting her elbows on the table. Out of habit with Philly, Nate moved Amelia’s glass of soda out of the way. “It relaxes me. How long have you lived with your nieces?”
“About eight months.”
Amelia nodded as if she already knew but tested him. “How old are they?”
“Sixteen and five,” he answered.
“How are they doing?” Amelia spread her fingers flat on the table, almost touching his, but as if she was too afraid to make a move.
Nate half smiled. “They’re fine. Better than I was when I heard the news.”
“It’s so noble of you to take care of them.”
Nate placed his hands over hers again. “I can honestly say they’re the ones taking care of me. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Not really.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I mean, I have bunch of cousins. One is like a sister to me. Cayla, well, we call her Cay. She was with me last night when I...”
“Staked your claim on me?” Nate chuckled. She tried to withdraw her hands but he held on tightly. “Stop pulling away. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But—” Amelia raised her left brow and offered him a challenging smile “—I don’t want to get burned.”
Had they not been in a public place, Nate just might have pushed the salt, red pepper and parmesan cheese shakers to the ground and lifted her onto the table. Hurt her? He wanted to protect her, cherish her and even worship her body. That was not too complicated, right? “Amelia, you’re going to have to learn to trust me. I understand we got off to a rocky start yesterday.”
“Because you set me up?”
Nate nodded. “If you want to view it that way, okay. But despite why I needed to see you, understand I wanted to be with you the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you believe that, Amelia?” Was he pleading with her? When had he started pleading with women? Each second she took to answer caused a notch of strange insecurity in him. “Do you believe you won’t get burned with me?”
“At the moment.” Amelia shook her head back and forth.
Dying to know what she meant, Nate leaned forward. Did she believe he’d burn her? Didn’t she understand how much he wanted to be with her? “Tell me what I need to do to get back in your good graces?”
“What are you talking about?” Amelia yanked her hand away before he could protest. “I’m talking about the pizza.”
“What?” Nate felt his brows furrow.
“Pay attention, the pizza’s here.”
Chapter 6
With the pizza stand between the two of them empty, Amelia sighed at the thought of their evening ending. Tonight was the first time she’d gone out with no one or nothing hounding her, not her work or her past. Nate made an irresistible dining partner. His humor kept her from jumping every time a car passed by the windows or the bell chimed when the door opened. The last thing she wanted to do was be spotted by someone in town. She wanted a smooth in-and-out when it came time to leave.
“You have to have dessert here,” Nate suggested, polishing off the last morsel of pizza crust before wiping his hands on the napkin in his lap.
Unlike most women she knew, Amelia did not act shy when it came to eating in front of a man. The pizza had been layered so beaut
ifully, with fresh mozzarella, paper-thin prosciutto, crispy pepperoni and some of the freshest vegetables around. When their pie arrived, she’d vowed to eat the whole thing, but the buttery parmesan crust had fooled her and she only managed three slices. Dessert seemed out of the question.
“They have the best affogato.”
“Gelato or ice cream?” Amelia perked up.
Nate’s lips pursed together. “You know your desserts?”
“I know my frozen desserts,” she replied with a nod. “My folks used to own an ice-cream parlor downtown.” A part of her wondered why she’d told him. She hated talking about being from Southwood.
“No kidding?”
“I promise.” Amelia crossed her heart with her forefinger and raised her other hand in the air. “The Scoop, off Main Street.”
“Original.” His nod of approval caused her to beam. “Did your folks retire?”
“They live in the California mountain area of Little Tujunga now,” she said, sitting back. Their waiter came over to clear the table and take their dessert order. Having a combination of gelato and coffee didn’t sound like it would help her get any sleep tonight and she’d already tossed and turned last night, no thanks to Nate.
Now with a clean table, Nate reached across and held out his hands for her to take. For some strange reason, she did. “Do you get to see your parents often?”
“Good God, no.”
“Why do you make it sound crazy?”
“How often do you see your folks?” she countered.
“I saw them for the Fourth of July and I’ll see them Labor Day weekend for the Crystal Coquí.”
“The what?”
The way Nate shrugged his shoulders, she thought he might be playing down this event. “It’s a banquet my family puts on once a year to honor the big business contributors to the community.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“Tux-and-evening-gown fancy,” Nate confirmed. “It is embarrassing.”
“Wearing one?”
“The event.” The corners of Nate’s eyes crinkled. Amelia’s stomach did a flip, but she contributed it to the massive heap of whipped cream on the dessert bowl the waiter placed in front of her.
His Southern Sweetheart Page 8