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a hundred pounds dripping wet.
    It pleased her how comfortable he seemed with her pet now. A farm girl at heart, Katie still measured a person's character by how they behaved around animals. She never quite trusted anyone who didn't like her dog. “His name's Watch. My brother gave him to me to keep an eye on me when I moved to town.”
    “I'll bet he serves his purpose.” Nick formed a clear mental picture of an overprotective big brother sending this behemoth to keep scoundrels away from his baby sister. To the dog he said, “I'll bring you a bone next time, pal. The bread you've got your eye on is for the lady.”
    “First a bouquet of pasta, now a loaf of bread. You romantic devil,” Katie teased, surprised at how lighthearted she felt now that Nick was there. He was a nice man, fun to be with. Maggie was right, there was no point worrying about complications at this point in their relationship. “You really are a chef at heart, Nick.”
    “Tonight I'm a chef who's tired of his own cooking. Let's go sample the local fare, Miss Quaid.”
    Nick was amazed at how little attention he paid to his dish of crabmeat and salty Virginia ham. There weren't many things that could distract his senses from a good meal. Katie Quaid did, though, with the way she tilted her head when she talked, the subtle quicksilver changes in her large gray eyes, her very proper posture andmanners, the way she smiled and greeted friends who passed their table.
    Her general manner was confident and straightforward, and Nick was sure that was how most people thought of her. Yet he sometimes sensed a hesitancy in her, as if she were afraid of someone finding a hole in her armor. As much a connoisseur of people as he was of fine food, Nick would have bet his last dime—if he hadn't already sunk it into his restaurant—that there was a lot more to Katie than met the eye.
    They talked about their respective school backgrounds, Katie's college days at William and Mary, and how she had spent her spare time working in the restored colonial capital of Williamsburg. Nick told her about learning to cook from his mother and aunts and uncles. They touched on all the safe first- date topics.
    “What's it like to be an interior designer?” he asked, cutting his fork through a piece of chocolate pecan pie. “Do you enjoy it?”
    “Most of the time I love it,” Katie answered, eyeing his dessert longingly. “The retail outlet for wallpaper and draperies keeps us busy, and as consultants we spend a lot of time going throughhouses with our clients to get an understanding of what they want done.
    “I'm afraid I don't always have the required patience. Once in a while the people can be hard to work with—the lady who's determined to keep a moth- eaten moose head and funeral- parlor drapes in her new den, that kind of thing.”
    “I have a feeling your partner would be good at dealing with tough customers. Aren't you having any of this pie? It's delicious,” he said, dipping his fork into the chocolate- sprinkled whipped cream that topped the triangle of scrumptious calorie-laden pie.
    “I can't,” Katie said on a sigh. Dessert was a rare treat because she couldn't work it off in rigorous exercise as she once would have.
    Nick's eyes twinkled. He forked up another piece of pie and leaned across the small table to offer it to Katie. “One bite,” he murmured seductively, easing the fork toward her mouth. “I promise it won't ruin that adorable little figure.”
    Temptation wasn't to be resisted when it was so mouth wateringly near. She took the treat into her mouth as Nick's dark gaze held hers. Sud denly, eating off her date's fork seemed as if itwere the most intimate thing she'd ever done. She almost groaned at the heady sensation and at the rich flavor of the pie, then blushed when she realized several other diners were watching them.
    Nick chuckled, but his expression suddenly went stony as the wailing of an alarm followed by sirens sounded in