Edge of Forever Read online

  Nick accepted the criticism gracefully, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, careful not to chuckle. “Now about your roof…”

  “Mr. Verone—”

  “Nick.”

  “That roof has been up there for years. It may have a few leaks, but it’s in no danger of caving in. Surely it can wait until Monday. I appreciate your offering to help, but I did make a deal with Mr. Watson.”

  Nick was already moving toward his truck. “He won’t show up,” he muttered over his shoulder.

  “What’s that?”

  “I said he won’t show up, not unless he’s out of liquor.” He pulled an extension ladder from the back of the pickup and returned purposefully up the walk, past an increasingly indignant Dana.

  “Mr. Verone,” Dana snapped in frustration as Nick marched around to the side of the house. She had to run to keep up with him, leaving her out of breath but just as furious. The familiar, unpleasant feeling of losing control of a situation swept over her. “Mr. Verone, I do not want you on my roof.”

  It seemed rather a wasted comment since he was already more than halfway up the ladder. Damn, she thought. The man is impossible. “Don’t you ever listen?” she grumbled.

  He climbed the rest of the way, then leaned down and winked at her. “Nope. Give me my toolbox, would you?”

  She was tempted to throw it at him, but she handed it up very politely, then sat down on the back step muttering curses. She picked a blade of grass and chewed on it absentmindedly. With Nick Verone on her roof and a knot forming in her stomach, she was beginning to regret that she’d ever helped Tony Verone with his history project. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if coming to River Glen was going to be the peaceful escape she’d hoped it would be. Sensations best forgotten were sweeping over her this morning.

  While she tried to put her feelings in perspective, Nick shouted at her from some spot on the roof she couldn’t see.

  “Do you have a garden hose?”

  “Of course.”

  “How about getting it and squirting some water up here?”

  Dana wanted to refuse but realized that being difficult probably wouldn’t get Nick out of her life any faster. He’d just climb down and find the hose himself. He seemed like a very resourceful man. She stomped off after the hose and turned it on.

  “Aim it a little higher,” he instructed a few minutes later. “Over here.”

  Dana scowled up at him and fought the temptation to move the spray about three feet to the right and douse the outrageous, arrogant man. Maybe then he would go away, even if only to get into some dry clothes, but at least he’d leave her in peace for a while. She still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d talked her into letting him stay on the roof, much less gotten her to help him with his inspection. For a total stranger he took an awful lot for granted. He certainly didn’t know how to take no for an answer. And she was tired of fighting, tired of confrontations and still, despite the past year of relative calm, terrified of anger. A raised voice made her hands tremble and her head pound with seemingly irrational anxiety.

  So, if it made him happy, Nick Verone could inspect her roof, fix her leaks, and then, with any luck, he’d disappear and she’d be alone again. Blissfully alone with her books and her herb tea and her flowers, like some maiden aunt in an English novel.

  Suddenly a tanned face appeared at the edge of the roof. “I hate to tell you this, but you ought to replace the whole thing. It’s probably been up here thirty years without a single repair. I can patch it for you, but with one good storm, you’ll just have more leaks.”

  Dana sighed. “Somehow I knew you were going to say that.”

  “Didn’t you have the roof inspected before you bought the place?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He grinned at her. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we all agreed it was probably in terrible condition and knocked another couple of thousand dollars off the price of the house.” She shot him a challenging glance. “I thought it was a good deal.”

  “I see.” His eyes twinkled in that superior I-should-have-known male way and her hackles rose. If he said one word about being penny-wise and pound-foolish, she’d snatch the ladder away and leave him stranded.

  Perhaps he sensed her intention, because he scrambled for the ladder and made his way down. When he reached the ground, he faced her, hands on hips, one foot propped on the ladder’s lower rung in a pose that emphasized his masculinity.

  “How about a deal?” he suggested.

  Dana was shaking her head before the words were out of his mouth. “I don’t think so.”

  “You haven’t even heard the offer yet.”

  “I appreciate your interest and your time, Mr. Verone…”

  “Nick.”

  She scowled at him. “But as I told you, I do have another contractor coming.”

  “Billy Watson will tell you the same thing, assuming he doesn’t poke his clumsy feet through some of the weak spots and sue you first.”

  “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating slightly?”

  “Not by much,” he insisted ominously. Then he smiled again, one of those crooked, impish smiles that were so like Tony’s when he knew he’d written something really terrific and was awaiting praise. Like father, like son—unfortunately, in this case.

  “Why don’t we go inside and have something cold to drink and discuss this?” Nick suggested, taking over again in a way that set Dana’s teeth on edge. Her patience and self-control were deteriorating rapidly.

  He was already heading around the side of the house before she even had a chance to say no. Once more, she was left to scamper along behind him or be left cursing to herself. At the back door she hesitated, not at all sure she wanted to be alone with this stranger and out of sight of the neighbors.

  He’s Tony’s father, for heaven’s sakes.

  With that thought in mind, she stepped into the kitchen, but she lingered near the door. Nick hadn’t waited for an invitation. He’d already opened the refrigerator and was scanning the contents with unabashed interest. He pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and poured two glasses without so much as a glance in her direction. To his credit, though, he didn’t mention the fact that the door was missing a hinge. She’d ordered it on Thursday.

  Nick studied Dana over the rim of his glass and tried to make sense of her skittishness. She was no youngster, though she had the trim, lithe figure of one. The weariness around her eyes was what gave her age away, not the long, slender legs shown off by her paint-splattered shorts or the luxuriant tumble of rich brown hair hanging down her back. Allowing for gaps in her résumé, she was no more than twenty-nine, maybe thirty, about five years younger than he was. Yet in some ways she looked as though she’d seen the troubles of a woman twice that age. There was something about her eyes, something sad and lost and vulnerable. Still, he didn’t doubt for an instant that she had a core of steel. He’d felt the chill when her voice turned cold, when those intriguing brown eyes of hers glinted with anger. He’d pushed her this morning and she’d bent, but she hadn’t broken. She was still fighting mad. Right now, she was watching him with an uneasy alertness, like a doe standing at the edge of a clearing and sensing danger.

  “Now about that deal,” he said when he’d taken a long swallow of the sweetened tea.

  “Mr. Verone, please.”

  “Nick,” he automatically corrected again. “Now what I have in mind is charging you just for the roofing materials. I’ll handle the work in my spare time, if you’ll continue to help Tony out with his homework.”

  Dana sighed, plainly exasperated with him. “I’m more than willing to help Tony anytime he asks for help. That’s part of my job as librarian.”

  “Is it part of your job to stay overtime? I’ve seen the lights burning in there past closing more than once. We don’t pay for the extra hours.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I enjoy what I do. I’m not interested in p
unching a time clock. If staying late will give someone extra time to get the books they want or to finish a school project, it gives me satisfaction.”

  “Okay, so helping Tony is part of your job. Then we’ll just consider this my way of welcoming you to town.”

  “I can’t let you do that,” she insisted, her annoyance showing again.

  “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re from that old-fashioned school that says women can’t accept gifts from men unless they’re engaged.”

  “I don’t think fixing my roof is in the same league as accepting a fur coat or jewelry.”

  “Then I rest my case.”

  “But I will feel obligated to you and I don’t like obligations.”

  “You won’t owe me a thing. It’s an even trade.”

  Dana groaned. “Is there any way I can win this argument?”

  “None that I can think of,” he admitted cheerfully.

  “Okay, fine. Fix the roof,” she said, but she didn’t sound pleased about it. She sounded like a woman who’d been cornered. For some reason, Nick felt like a heel instead of a good neighbor, though he couldn’t find any logical explanation for her behavior or his uncomfortable reaction.

  Changing tactics, he finally asked, “How come I haven’t seen much of you around town?”

  “I’ve been pretty busy getting settled in. This place was a mess and I had the library to organize.”

  He tilted his chair back on two legs and glanced around approvingly. “You’ve done a lot here. I remember the way it was. I used to play here as a boy when old Miss Francis was alive. It didn’t look much better then. We thought it was haunted.”

  He was rewarded with another grin from Dana. “I haven’t encountered any ghosts so far. If they’re here, they certainly haven’t done much of the cleaning. The library wasn’t any improvement. It took me the better part of a week just to sweep away the cobwebs and organize the shelves properly. There are still boxes of donated books in the back I haven’t had a chance to look at yet.”

  “Then it’s time you took a break. There’s bingo tonight at the fire station. Why don’t you come with Tony and me?”

  He watched as the wall around her went right back up, brick by brick. “I don’t think so.”

  “Can’t you spell?” he teased.

  Her eyes flashed dangerous sparks. “Of course.”

  “How about counting? Any good at that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  The problem, Dana thought, was not bingo. It was Nicholas Verone. He represented more than a mere complication, more than a man who wanted to fix her roof and share a glass of tea now and then. He was the type of man she’d sworn to avoid for the rest of her life. Powerful. Domineering. Charming. And from the glint in his devilish eyes to the strength in his work-roughened hands he was thoroughly, unquestionably male. Just looking at those hands, imagining their strength, set off a violent trembling inside her.

  “Thank you for asking,” she said stiffly, “but I really have too much to do. Maybe another time.”

  To her astonishment, Nick’s eyes sparked with satisfaction. “Next week, then,” he said as he rinsed his glass and set it in the dish drainer. He didn’t once meet her startled gaze.

  “But—” The protest might as well never have been uttered for all the good it did. He didn’t even allow her to finish it.

  “We’ll pick you up at six and we’ll go out for barbecue first,” he added confidently as he walked to the door, then bestowed a dazzling smile on her. “Gracie’s has the best you’ve ever tasted this side of Texas. Guaranteed.”

  The screen door shut behind him with an emphatic bang.

  Dana watched him go and fought the confusing, contradictory feelings he’d roused in her. If there was one thing she knew all too well, it was that there were no guarantees in life, especially when it came to men like Nick Verone.

  Chapter 2

  After a perfectly infuriating Monday morning spent waiting futilely for Billy Watson, Dana opened the library at noon. She’d found Betsy Markham already pacing on the front steps. Instead of heading for the fiction shelves to look over her favorite mysteries, Betsy followed Dana straight to her cluttered desk, where she was trying to update the chaotic card file so she could eventually get it all on the computer. The last librarian, a retired cashier from the old five-and-ten-cent store, obviously hadn’t put much stock in the need for alphabetical order or modern equipment. When a new book came in, she apparently just popped the card in the back of whichever drawer seemed to have room.

  “So,” Betsy said, pulling up a chair and propping her plump elbows on the corner of the desk. “Tell me everything.”

  Dana glanced up from the card file and stared at her blankly. “About what?”

  “You and Nick Verone, of course.” She wagged a finger. “You’re a sly little thing, Dana Brantley. Here I’ve been trying to introduce you to the man for weeks and you kept turning me down. The next thing I know the two of you are thick as thieves and being talked about all over town.”

  Thick brown brows rose over startled eyes. “We’re what?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Betsy said, nodding so hard that not even the thick coating of hair spray could contain the bounce of her upswept gray hair.

  Betsy’s eyes flashed conspiratorially and she lowered her voice, though there wasn’t another soul in the place. “Word is that he was at your house very early Saturday morning and stayed for quite a while. One version has it he was there till practically lunchtime. Inside the house!”

  When she noticed the horrified expression on Dana’s face, she added, “Though what difference that makes, I for one can’t see. It’s not as if you’d be doing anything in broad daylight.”

  Dana was torn between indignation and astonishment. “He didn’t stop by for some sort of secret assignation, for heaven’s sakes. He came to look at my roof.”

  Betsy appeared taken aback. “But I thought you’d called Billy Watson to do that, even though I tried to make it perfectly clear to you that Billy’s a bit of a ne’er-do-well.”

  “I had called him, and don’t get me started on that. The man never showed up this morning. He said he’d be there by eight. I waited until 11:30.” Dana wasn’t sure what incensed her more: Billy Watson’s failure to appear or having to admit that Nick Verone was right.

  “Then I still don’t understand what Nick has to do with your roof.”

  “Mr. Verone apparently heard about the leaks from Tony and stopped by on his own. He wasn’t invited.” Darn! Why was she explaining herself to Betsy Markham and, no doubt, half the town by sunset? Nick’s visit had been entirely innocent. On top of that, it was no one’s business.

  Except in River Glen.

  She’d have to start remembering that this wasn’t New York, where all sorts of mayhem could take place right under your neighbors’ noses without a sign of acknowledgment. Here folks obviously took their gossip seriously. She decided that Crime Watch organizers could take lessons from the citizens of this town. Very little got by them. Perhaps she should be grateful they hadn’t prayed for her soul in the Baptist church on Sunday or put an announcement in the weekly paper.

  Betsy was staring at her, disappointment etched all over her round face. “You mean there’s nothing personal going on between the two of you?”

  Dana thought about the invitation to bingo. That was friendly, not personal, but she doubted Betsy and the others would see it that way. She might as well bring it up now, rather than wait for Saturday night, when half the town was bound to see her with Nick and Tony and the rest would hear about it before church the next day. “Not exactly,” she said finally.

  Betsy’s blue eyes brightened. “I knew it,” she gloated. “I just knew the two of you would hit it off. When are you seeing him again?”

  “Saturday,” Dana admitted reluctantly, then threw in what she suspected would be a wasted disclaimer, “but it’s not really a date.”

 
Betsy regarded her skeptically, just as Dana had known she would. Dana forged on anyway. “He and Tony and I are going out to eat at some place called Gracie’s and then to bingo.”

  She thought that certainly ought to seem innocuous enough. Betsy reacted, though, as if Dana had uttered a blasphemy. She was incredulous.

  “Barbecue and bingo? Land sakes, girl, Nick Verone’s nigh on to the richest man in these parts. He ought to be taking you to someplace fancy in Richmond at the very least.”

  “I think the idea is for me to get to know more people around here. I don’t think he’s trying to woo me with gourmet food and candlelight.”

  “Then he’s a fool.”

  Dana doubted if many people called Nick Verone a fool to his face. But Betsy had taken a proprietary interest in Dana’s social life. She might do it out of some misguided sense of duty.

  “Don’t you say one single word to him, Betsy Markham,” she warned. “Barbecue and bingo are fine. I’m not looking for a man in my life—rich or poor. To tell the truth, I’d rather stay home and read a good book.”

  “You read books all day long. You’re young. You ought to be out enjoying yourself, living life, not just reading about it in some novel.”

  “I do enjoy myself.”

  Betsy sniffed indignantly. “I declare, I don’t know what’s wrong with young people today. When my Harry and I were courting, you can bet we didn’t spent Saturday night at the fire station with a bunch of nosy neighbors looking on. It’s bad enough we do that now. Back then, why, we’d be parked out along the beach someplace, watching the moon come up and making plans.”

  She picked up a flyer from Dana’s desk and fanned herself absentmindedly. There was a faint smile on her lips. “Oh, my, yes. That was quite a time. You young folks don’t care a thing about romance. Everybody’s too busy trying to get ahead.”

  Dana restrained the urge to grin. Being River Glen’s librarian was hardly a sign of raging ambition, but if thinking it kept Betsy from interfering in her personal life, she’d do everything she could to promote the notion.