Holly Read online

  Dropping her arms, Holly glared at him. “You’re supposed to wait for me downstairs.”

  He gave her nearly nude body a look up and down. “Nice necklace. I especially like the display case.” Turning, he walked toward the fan.

  Hastily, Holly shoved the yellow stone back into her bra, but it hurt so she took it out again. No use trying to hide it now. “That’s broken,” she said as he fiddled with the fan.

  Nick examined the fan, then pushed two hatboxes and a moth-eaten teddy bear aside to find the cord. He followed it until it plugged into an extension cord, then he moved at least twenty boxes until he found the plug. Smiling at her, he plugged in the fan and it started blowing dust and papers across the room.

  Holly knew she should run after the papers, but the air felt so good she ran to stand in front of the fan, her back to it, arms and legs outstretched.

  Nick sat down on an old leather and wood Eastlake chair and watched her. “Wish I had a camera,” he murmured.

  Holly turned her back to him as she let the fan dry the sweat on her body. “Not even you can stop me from enjoying this,” she said.

  “Since when have I tried to stop you from enjoying anything? In fact, I thought part of my job was to give you enjoyment.”

  She turned back to face him. “Don’t start on me—and quit looking at me like that. I have work to do.”

  “Ah, yes, winning the hand in marriage of Belle Chere.”

  She glared at him. “You’re not at all funny.”

  “Sometimes I’ve made you laugh.” His voice was low and husky.

  “Nick! I mean it! I don’t have time to fool around with you.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, the smile gone from his face.

  She sat down on an old stool and looked around the huge room at all the boxes, trunks, and cabinets. “As far as I can tell, every piece of paper concerning the occupants of Belle Chere since it was built are in this room. But there’s no organization, no labeling, no way to find something. Cataloging all this is a year-long job for about twenty graduate students.”

  Nick was looking at her in puzzlement. “So what’s the rush? You can become Mrs. Belle Chere, then spend your life reading these old papers.”

  “You can be a real jerk, you know that?” She went across the room to her clothes and angrily pulled on her trousers.

  Nick got out of the chair. “You’re right. I apologize. The problem is that I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Do you need to read every piece of paper in here before you can write your dissertation?”

  She was buttoning her blouse. Her clothes were dusty and wrinkled, but at least they were now dry. “No,” she said, “things have changed. I just need—” She waved her hand. “It’s too much to go into.” She opened a big armoire, then sighed when she saw the contents: boxes of various ages and states of deterioration, with hundreds of old letters shoved into the empty spaces. She pulled out two letters. “World War One and the Civil War,” she said. “How will I find anything quickly?”

  Moving behind her, Nick put his hands on her shoulders. She didn’t move away. “I have an idea. How about if we go downstairs and you take a shower while I make us some lunch? While we eat you can tell me what to look for, then I’ll come up here and help you.”

  When Holly looked hesitant, Nick said dryly, “I can read.”

  “I…” Holly began, but her face turned red.

  “I make a mean lemonade,” he said.

  “In that case…” Smiling, she headed for the door, but Nick stopped her. He put his hands at her neck and pulled the necklace he’d given her to outside her blouse. “It looks good,” he said softly.

  Holly thought he was going to kiss her so she leaned forward, but Nick took her shoulders and turned her toward the door. “You’re too sweaty for me!”

  “Shall I test that?” Holly said over her shoulder.

  “Please don’t,” he said in such a pleading way that she laughed.

  Forty-five minutes later, Holly felt much better. She’d taken a cool shower, washed her hair with Lorrie’s shampoo, washed her underwear and hung it on his heated towel bar, and she was now sitting in the kitchen with Nick eating a thick turkey sandwich. She was on her third glass of icy cold lemonade, and she’d just finished telling Nick all she knew of the story of Arthur, Jason, and Julia.

  “So you’re looking for the 1840s,” he said. “But exactly what are you looking for? Julia’s diary telling her private story?”

  “I wish. I found a Bible that contained some dates but not much else.” She started to look in her pocket for her notes, but she was wearing Lorrie’s green silk dressing gown. “The dates are right and the facts are there. Everything happened in 1842. The Bible said Julia married Jason on the ninth of April 1842, and three days later he died, but it didn’t say how he died. She married Arthur in June and had a baby—” She took a drink of her lemonade.

  “Early December,” he said.

  “Right. How did you know that?” Before he could answer, she said, “Big family.”

  “Yeah, lots of pregnant women in my family. We Taggerts are very fertile.”

  “Speaking of which—”

  “More lemonade?” he asked, cutting her off. “When did Arthur die?”

  “November something, before the baby was born.” She looked at her sandwich. “We’ll have to buy Lorrie some groceries to replace these.”

  “What else did you find for 1842?”

  “A big black book of slaves bought and sold,” she said, her lip curling. “I couldn’t look at it. That’s one aspect of American history I can’t abide. Human beings put on an auction block and—”

  Nick put his hand on her arm. “At least the publication of the records can help people find their ancestors.”

  “True,” she said. “Maybe afterward I can find—”

  “What’s that sound?”

  Holly listened for a second, then jumped up. “It’s my cell phone.” Her bag was on the floor by the front door. She ran to the hall, grabbed her phone and listened, her face falling with every second. She said good-bye then went back to the kitchen.

  “That was Taylor. I have a fitting today. She says she told me about it, but I didn’t remember.”

  She looked so forlorn that Nick put his arm around her shoulders. “Your dad said I had to look after you only while you were here. How about if you drop me off at Spring Hill, I get my truck, you go to your fitting, and I’ll go to the local library? If Jason Beaumont was hanged the newspapers will be full of it.”

  “Can you? I mean, do you—?”

  He pulled away from her, one eyebrow raised. “Do I know how to research? Sure. It’s easy.” He stepped back, unbuttoned his shirt halfway down, gave her a lascivious look, and said, “So what do you have on Belle Chere in 1842?” He looked like a very sexy gang member.

  Holly laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “If it works it’ll be worth it. Remember, I want the job.”

  “Job?” she said and felt guilty, as though he’d read her mind about her idea of sending him off to Hollander Tools. “Oh, you mean as manager of Belle Chere after I…after I…”

  “After you marry the owner of this place.”

  “Yeah,” she said, but was unable to meet his eyes.

  Nick put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Come on, now, you’re not falling in love with me, are you?”

  “Not even close. I was thinking that you cannot possibly work here after Lorrie and I—I mean, if Lorrie and I—” She glared at him. “You nearly went crazy last night when Lorrie kissed me.” She expected Nick to deny it, but he didn’t.

  “You ready to go?” he asked, no humor in his voice. “This research might take a while.”

  Holly got up from her chair and followed Nick outside to the car. Again, she thought how Nick was the only difficulty in her plans for the future. If she could just take Nick out of the picture, she felt sure that everything would work out the