A hand on her shoulder brought her back into the moment, and she turned to see Kelly staring at her, her mouth moving, an odd expression on her face. Nikki popped her earbud out. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, what the hell was that all about?” Kelly asked, wide-eyed.
“I’ll explain later.” Nikki was barely able to contain what would’ve certainly been a cheesy grin.
When she was finished, Nikki found Kelly sitting on the locker room bench with a bottle of water, waiting for her, almost glaring at her. “What?” she asked, sitting down beside the brunette.
“What the hell . . . did he say he’d call you later?” Kelly scowled.
“He, um, he asked me out.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to get that man to notice me, and he asked you out? What the . . . ?”
“Hey, hang on for just one damn minute!” Now it was Nikki’s turn to be righteously indignant. “I know I’m not as young or firm or well-endowed as some of you, but, hell, I’m not exactly chopped liver either. I work hard to at least look presentable. Some men might even find me somewhat attractive.” She felt her eyes burning. Don’t cry!, she told herself. “I was married to a man who told me every day how beautiful I was. I miss that. I’m not under any delusions, but I’d like to think I have something to offer.”
Kelly looked sheepish after Nikki’s outburst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean it the way it came out. You’re a very nice-looking woman. But I’ve spent a lot of money and time trying to get men like Tony Walters to notice me. He’s like a goal that women want to reach, and I thought I might actually have a shot, and then you come along and, well, you’re not flashy, you don’t stand out in a crowd, and wham! He asks you out? You’ve gotta understand, that hurts.”
“Wait. He’s like a goal that women want to reach?” Nikki looked at her in confusion. “What exactly do you mean by that? He’s just a guy.”
“Well, for some of us, he’s a god.” Kelly was looking down at her hands, picking around her fingernails.
“I don’t understand. He’s good-looking. I get that. But a god?”
“I mean, he’s Tony Walters. The Tony Walters,” Kelly emphasized. Nikki stared at her, still not understanding. “You know, Tony Walters? Walters Construction?”
“Yeah, I know. He works for Walters Construction. I guess that’s his family?”
“How long have you lived here in The Ville?’”
“Almost six years, give or take.”
“And you really don’t know, do you?” Kelly stared at her in disbelief.
Nikki shrugged. “I guess not.”
“Well, then, let me educate you,” Kelly stated matter-of-factly. “Tony doesn’t work for Walters Construction – he is Walters Construction. He owns it. All of it.”
“Is it big?” Nikki asked innocently.
Kelly looked at her with astonishment. “Big? It’s the biggest construction firm in Kentucky, possibly in five states. If there’s a major project going on, you can bet Walters Construction is involved. They have hundreds of employees and millions of dollars’ worth of equipment and property. It’s huge.” Kelly threw her arms out in illustration. “I know he has an average-type house here in town somewhere, but he’s got a multi-million-dollar spread somewhere out in Shelbyville that was the family farm. Wait,” Kelly ran to her locker and returned with a magazine in her hand. “Here, look. You’ll see what I mean.”
It was a five-year-old copy of Kentucky Today magazine, ragged from being passed around. Nikki stared at the cover in disbelief. The headline read, “The Bachelors of Kentucky.” There were four insets across the top of the page and six down one side, all of very good-looking men who were, presumably, bachelors. But the central image snatched the breath from her lungs.
There in all its glory was an enormous photo of an only-slightly-younger Tony. He was wearing a plaid work shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his muscular pecs. With his arms crossed and his flexed biceps outlined through the sleeves, he exuded pure maleness. The shirt was tucked into a pair of skin-tight jeans, in which the bulge was prominent. Her gaze traveled down his legs; he was leaning against a Walters truck, ankles crossed with one foot on the ground, the other toe down, and sporting black work boots. He practically glared at the camera, his smoldering eyes looking straight into the lens, and every fiber of his being oozed sex. She swallowed hard. If he only had a little dollop of whipped cream on his head, she’d eat the page and beg for more.
“H-h-h-holy shit.” It was all she could force out.
“Now you see?” Kelly looked vindicated. “And that was five years ago. I think he’s hotter now, if that’s even possible.”
“So, if he’s such hot man meat in Louisville, how many women has he dated in all these years?” Even if she wasn’t part of the gossip circles in town, Nikki knew it ran rampant.
“That’s just it!” Kelly whispered loudly. “No one. He was married to that hideous bitch all those years and, to everyone’s knowledge, he’s never dated anyone. All that, well – I mean, look at him – going to waste. Incredible.” Kelly shook her head.
Wow. Nikki stared at the magazine cover again. Why her? “I guess you’re wondering, why you?” Kelly said in answer to her unspoken question; that was creepy.
“Exactly.”
“I gotta tell ya, I have no idea. I mean, you certainly don’t look anything like his ex.” Kelly rolled her eyes as she muttered, “Thank god.”
“That bad?” Nikki asked. Spectacular – an ex-bitch.
“Yeah, that bad. She’s, well, I should let him tell you himself. All I know is rumor after rumor. But everyone in town knows about her.”
“Except me.” The woman must be a real piece of work if she was legend.
“The scoop?” Kelly asked, leaning in. “Tell me, how did this all happen?”
Nikki filled Kelly in on how Tony had come into the shop and ordered the flowers. As she told the story, she realized how clever it had been. It appeared he’d been thinking for awhile about how to approach her. Had he engineered the whole double sandwich thing too? Why? He could’ve just asked her out. Could he possibly be that scared? Nikki glanced at the magazine cover again. Was it possible someone so sexy and desirable had been as nervous about asking her out as she was about being asked? How could someone like him be anxious about asking out a woman? Good god, they were probably crawling all over him.
She pulled herself out of her head. “So I’m going home. He said he’s going to call me. I guess we’re having dinner tomorrow night; that’s what he asked anyway. Maybe I’ll have something to tell you this weekend.” Nikki grinned at Kelly. “By the way, can I borrow this?” She pointed to the magazine.
“By all means. Take it home and read it. The article is pretty good. And hey, good luck, girlfriend!” Kelly giggled and slapped Nikki on the shoulder. “Have fun. And tell me how he is, uh, how it goes, okay?”
“Right!” But Nikki’s real thought was, Not on your life. She might fill Kelly in on the date itself, but not what they would talk about or do. She never was a kiss and tell.
She’d finished her little dinner when her phone rang. It was him; she’d saved his number after her text.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Nikki?” Tony sounded a bit hesitant.
“Yeah! Hi!” She had trouble forcing out the words, almost breathless from the effort.
“Um, thanks for texting me. I didn’t know if you’d want to go out or not.”
“Sure! Why not?”
“Well, I didn’t know if you, I mean, Annabeth told me you were a widow, and I wasn’t sure if you dated or not.”
“Actually, I haven’t up until now. But I thought I’d take a chance. You aren’t going to make me regret it, are you?” she asked, laughing.
“Well, god, I hope not!” Tony laughed back. “I think I’m a pretty nice guy. I hope to prove that to you tomorrow night.”
“I’d already figured that out or
I wouldn’t have said yes. After all, you raised a beautiful, gracious young woman! What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking, since we really don’t know each other, maybe you’d like to meet me for dinner? Down the street from your work? Vocelli’s Pizzaria?”
Ah, Italian food! Wouldn’t it be funny if he really was Italian? “Yeah, that sounds great! What time?”
“You get off work when?”
“Six.”
“So would six thirty be too early for you?” Tony asked.
“Nope. Six thirty would be fine. I’ll see you there.”
“Actually, it’ll be getting dark by then. I’ll meet you at the shop and we’ll walk down together, if that’s okay.” He didn’t like the thought of her walking down a Louisville street alone in near-darkness.
Ah, a gentleman!, Nikki thought. “That would be perfect. I’ll see you at the shop at six thirty tomorrow night.”
“Great! See you then. Have a good evening.”
“You too, Tony.” She pressed END and the phone went silent.
Nikki remembered the magazine, so she got it from her bag. Tony’s face burned into her from the cover. Bill and Hillary settled in beside her on the sofa as she finally found the right page.
There he was behind a massive desk, feet crossed and resting on its surface while he leaned back in a big chair, hands clasped behind his head. Rolls of blueprints were scattered on the desk along with several books, lots of papers, a telephone, and a coffee cup. The bookcases behind the desk framed a huge window and, even in the photo, the heavy equipment, cranes, trucks, all of the trappings of the construction industry, were visible through the window. He looked so comfortable and at home in that environment. In the photo he was wearing jeans and a form-fitting thermal shirt in dark blue; the color of the shirt made his warm eyes look even more intense.
Nikki forced herself to stop looking at the photo and read the article, and it was revealing. The lead-in was worth the couple of minutes it took to read it. “Take Mel Gibson. Mix in a generous portion of Gerard Butler and a dash of Bradley Cooper. Then give him the largest construction company in the Bluegrass State to own and run. And make him beyond gorgeous and spectacularly single. That’s the recipe for this year’s Kentucky Today’s most eligible bachelor, Tony Walters of Walters Construction out of Louisville.” According to what was written there, Walters Construction was enormous, with contracts in at least five states; that meant it was probably even larger at that point. It was worth millions of dollars. There were all kinds of facts and figures, plus a list of some of the larger projects they’d been involved in. Many were newer landmarks there in the area, things even she, as a more recent transplant, recognized.
But then it turned more personal, especially about his divorce. Nikki did the math in her head; if she’d subtracted correctly, he’d been divorced for sixteen years. He had two children; she knew about Annabeth, but he also had a son, Clayton, who was older. And there were five boys in his family. She couldn’t imagine having four siblings, much less all brothers. Even though it didn’t name her, it did mention his mother – was she still living? It said she lived in Louisville, as did two of his brothers. The brothers were Mark, Bart, Freddie, and Bennie; two were older than him, and two younger. Bless his heart, he was smack in the middle. There was a photo of Tony at a charity event with a woman. She looked older than him, but the photo was so tiny that it was very hard to tell much about it.
She turned a page to find another photo, this one of Tony in white drawstring pants and a white cotton shirt, barefoot, sitting in a cushy armchair in front of a huge fireplace. From the caption, it appeared it was taken at his family home in Shelbyville. In every photo, his hair was pulled back in the ponytail she’d always seen him wear. She wondered what his hair looked like down and she shivered with pent-up tension. Around the photo were more details, charity work in which he was involved, his likes and dislikes – apparently he hated liver – and what he looked for in a woman.
“Walters says he’s always been attracted to women who have no idea how beautiful they are. ‘I can’t stand being around a woman who’s sure she’s the most desirable thing in the room,’ Walters says. ‘Down-to-earth, real beauty is a rare commodity. It’s hard to find. I’m hoping someday to find it myself in someone who’ll rock my world.’” Well, he’d be avoiding arrogance with me, she thought. I’m a lot of things, but sure of myself isn’t one of them.
Nikki put the magazine down and sighed. She stroked his photo on the cover. She knew a little more about him now, but she wanted to know more, and she wanted it to come straight from him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Okay, so the guys will be at the Colufab site in the morning with the cranes. I know it’s a Saturday, but can you be there at eight thirty? Boss?” Tony snapped back into reality and stared at Cal, who looked concerned. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tony glanced around furtively and then whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”
“You bet!” Cal whispered back. “What’s up?”
Tony’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got a date tonight!”
“No way!” Cal ran to close the door. “Who is she?”
“A lady who goes to my gym. And she works at a florist shop down on Frankfort Avenue.”
“Nice looking, huh? Big rack?”
“Uh, no, not an especially big rack. But she is cute. And very nice.” Tony pictured her in his mind, and he felt his cock give a little jump.
“Oh, come on, boss. You can have any woman you want, cream of the crop. Don’t settle.” Cal sank back into the chair.
“I’m not settling. She’s a really nice person, very cheery and upbeat. I really like her. Annabeth told me about her, too. So she kind of came at me from two different directions. I took that as a sign, you know?”
“Yeah. But, hey, I’m glad you’re getting your feet wet again. It’s time.” Tony noticed Cal almost seemed relieved. That was curious. “Do you have, you know, protection? ’Cause, I mean, even at our age, you can’t just assume . . .”
“Geez, Cal, no!” Tony felt his cheeks overheat. “I mean, I’m not planning on sleeping with her tonight. I’m not even picking her up; we’re meeting at Vocelli’s. I thought she might be more comfortable that way, seeing as how we really don’t know each other that well.”
“Yeah, good thinking. So you think this will go anywhere?”
“I have no idea, but I’m willing to find out. She said she doesn’t date – she’s a widow – but she was willing to take a chance on me. I want to take a chance on her too.”
“Gotta start somewhere, I always say. So, you’ll be at the Colufab site tomorrow morning?”
“Yep,” Tony answered. “Business is business.”
Tony went to his truck, got his clothes, and changed. It was five forty-five, and he didn’t want to be late. He’d decided to park in the lot across the street from the shop like he’d done before. That would mean he’d have a chance to spend more time with Nikki when he walked her back to her SUV. He’d thought out everything very carefully; he’d always been that way. Leaving things to chance just wasn’t his style.
Cheryl was gathering her things when Tony walked out into her work area, and she looked up in astonishment. “Wow, nice! Going somewhere?” she asked cheerily.
“Yeah” He didn’t volunteer anything else.
“Well?” Cheryl demanded, hands on hips. “Planning on telling me where? Or maybe I should ask with whom?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning to . . .”
“Out with it!” she barked, pointing a finger at him.
Tony cringed. “Okay. I have a date.”
“OH MY GOD!” Cheryl screamed and ran across the room to hug him. “That’s GREAT! Who is she? Where are you going? Oh, Tony, I’m so happy!” He looked up at her and realized she was starting to cry.
“Whoa there! It’s one date! Shit, I don’t have a ring in my pocket or anything!” He looked at her, tears running down
her face. Apparently his efforts at hiding his loneliness and misery had been more of an epic failure than he’d even imagined.
“I know, I know, but do you know how much we’ve all wanted you to find someone? To be happy, not be alone?” Cheryl sniffed. “This is a huge first step for you. Is she nice? I hope she’s nice. She’d better not hurt you. If she hurts you, I’ll . . .”
“She’s very nice,” he said, trying to calm her. “She goes to my gym, and Annabeth met her elsewhere and tried to hook us up.”
“I trust that girl’s judgment; good head on her shoulders. Sure didn’t get that from her mother,” Cheryl snorted.
“No kidding. Anyway, I asked her out yesterday and I’m meeting her for dinner.”
“Oh, I’m so happy!” Cheryl screeched again, clapping her hands. “You’ll tell me all about it on Monday, right?”
“Maaaaybeeeee . . .” So much for privacy.
“Okay, well, have a good time,” Cheryl called out as she left for the day.
Tony walked back into his office and looked in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Dark gray blazer, darker gray shirt. Black jeans, really black, brand new; perfect fit. The black biker’s boots he’d bought a couple of weeks earlier were a nice touch. Perfect. He looked in the mirror again. Something wasn’t right.
He looked again, then reached up and pulled the band from his hair, and it fell free. He shook his head, and it loosened, just brushing his shoulders. Instead of reaching for his brush, he ran his fingers through it and took another look in the mirror. What he saw there startled him.
The man looking back at him was confident, elegant, and very, very virile. He’d never seen that man before. Was that what women saw when they looked at him? He reached into his bag, brought out the new watch he’d bought, a carbon black Tag Heuer, and strapped it onto his wrist. Then he pulled out his dad’s large onyx signet ring with the Walters “W” on it and slipped it on his right ring finger. There – polished and well-dressed, he thought. I need to make a good impression.