The Girl from Summer Hill (16 page)

Before she knew it, tears came to her eyes, and she tightened her arms around Tate. He buried his hand in her hair and held her, saying nothing, just standing there with his arms around her.

The tears lasted only seconds, then she became aware of where she was. It was silent in the room. Had the others left or were they watching?

When Casey gazed up at him, Tate kissed her forehead—and electricity shot through her.

She pushed away from him and glared. “You had to ruin it, didn't you?”

He didn't look the least bit apologetic. “I did. My arms around a beautiful woman who I like very much turns me on. Sorry. My weakness. Are you okay?”

She took a breath. “Yes.” Except for deep embarrassment, she thought. “We better go. The owner will sell everything and we'll have a bare stage for the play.”

“No. Jack will take care of him. That fierce act he shows in his movies is real. Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yes, I'm fine.” As he opened the door for her, she looked at him. “I'm sorry about falling apart.”

His eyes were serious. “You were very courageous. If I'd let you go, you would have slid down the roof and hit the ground headfirst. It takes a lot of trust, as well as faith, to do what you did.” He smiled. “And a lot of muscle on my part. Where did you get quads like that?”

Casey went into the hall. “You make me sound like an Olympic lifter. I just haul big, heavy pots off the stove, and I run around the kitchen for sixteen hours at a time.”

“The trainer gets here tomorrow. Maybe you can tell him your technique. I want muscles like you have.”

“Why, you—” She started to smack his shoulder but drew back.

“Wise,” he said. “That electricity you put out hurts weak little me.”

“That
I
put out? It's
you
who thinks he's Benjamin Franklin.”

“Is that the Ben who was so jealous of you that he left in a very cowardly way?”

Casey stopped at the head of the stairs. For months she'd been living with guilt, thinking that she'd been terrible to a really nice man, but Tate was making her see things differently. She smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said softly. “Thank you for not dropping me off the roof and for making me feel better about Ben. It was very kind of you, especially after I…I…”

“Bawled me out after I saved your house from total destruction by a rampaging bird the size of a bear cub?”

She laughed. “More or less.” When she went down the stairs, Tate was close behind her.

Laughter, she thought. It's what she most needed after the harrowing experience on the roof.

At the foot of the stairs, she started toward the kitchen, but Tate stopped in front of her. He nodded toward her bare forearms. They were bleeding. Tate had so distracted her that she'd forgotten about them, but the sight of the blood brought it all back and she felt her knees giving way.

Tate caught her with his hands under her elbows. “Let's go to the truck and clean you up.”

She nodded and followed him out the side door to the parking lot.

Gizzy was sitting on the grass by the truck. She had a bandage on her forehead and gauze around her left hand. Her legs were now covered by her jeans, but Casey guessed there were bandages under there.

“People know you're here, so we need to leave,” Gizzy said to Tate. “Jack had a talk with the owner about his increase of prices. Seems like it worked, because everything we wanted is going to be put into the truck. We just need to wait until they bring it here.”

“Actually,” Casey said, “I want some things from the kitchen before we go.”

Tate was using wipes to clean the scrapes on Casey's arms. When he put a bandage on one of them, she didn't dare look at him. What he was doing now, this tender caring for her, and what he'd done earlier were having an effect on her.

“There,” Tate said. “It wasn't as bad as I thought. I need to speak to Gizzy for a moment.”

Casey stayed on the truck while he went to Gizzy and squatted down beside her on the grass. They are a truly beautiful couple! Casey thought. Gizzy was tall and gorgeous, the same as Tate. Her blondeness matched well with his dark hair and eyes.

Casey was appalled to feel a rush of jealousy. Ashamed of herself, she left the truck and went toward the house.

Tate caught up with her. “I thought I'd play pack mule and help carry the copper pans you want.”

“You'll be recognized.”

“After what you did today, you're more likely to be asked for an autograph than I am.”

When Tate smiled at her, Casey remembered how it felt to be in his arms—and how good he looked with Gizzy. Turning away, she tried to get her emotions under control. She told herself that the trauma she'd just been through would make any man look good.

There were two women in the kitchen checking out old implements. Tate waited until they left before he entered the room. “So, which pieces do you want? Or shall we make a bid for all of it?”

“I thought I'd hunt for chocolate molds. I might start collecting them.”

“What do they look like?”

She described them, and Tate began examining the highest shelves, moving things around as he searched. “You have a lot of them?”

“Only one. Devlin Haines gave it to me.”

Tate's back was to her and for a moment he halted. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he'd been affected by the name. “Did he?”

“It belonged to his grandmother. I said he shouldn't give me something of such great sentiment, but he did. What's between you two, other than being ex-relatives, that is?”

When Tate turned around, his face was expressionless. “He is my niece's father.”

“I know that, but what—”

“I think I better go back to the truck and see if Jack needs any help.” He left so fast he almost raised a cloud of dust.

Casey stood there blinking at the space where he'd just been. Obviously, he didn't want to talk about his relationship with Devlin. Tate Landers would flirt, but it didn't seem as if he'd share his real feelings.

She stayed in the old kitchen for a while, trying to settle her thoughts and emotions. There wasn't anything for chocolate, but there were two copper cake molds that had good tin linings. After paying for them, she started back toward the truck.

Gizzy met her halfway and held out the inlaid jewelry box that Casey had so admired. “Tate had me buy this and he asked me to give it to you. I don't know why he didn't give it to you himself.”

“This is what you two were whispering about?”

“Yes. You didn't think Tate was making a pass at me, did you?”

“Of course not!” she said as she took the pretty box. “But you looked so good when you had your jeans off that I wouldn't blame him.”

Laughing, Gizzy took Casey's arm in hers and lowered her voice, but she couldn't contain her excitement—or her wonder. “Jack wasn't turned off by what I did. And he wasn't scared of me. Oh, Casey, I think this may be
real
.” Turning, she ran back to the truck.

“Please be careful,” Casey said to no one. She needed to have a talk with Gizzy about not falling head over heels for a guy who would probably drop her when he went back to his home in Los Angeles. Gizzy was a small-town girl, a pastor's daughter who went to church three times a week, while Jack was a movie star—and everyone knew what that meant.

She got to the truck as Tate and Jack were closing the back doors. Jack walked away with Gizzy.

“Thanks,” Casey said to Tate as she held up the box. “I didn't realize you knew that I liked it.”

He was smiling, but she saw that it was without warmth. “You're welcome. Are you ready to go?” He didn't wait for her answer, just turned away.

“I'm sorry,” she said loudly.

He glanced back at her. “For what?”

“Being a Mean Girl. I know you and Devlin aren't friends and I shouldn't have mentioned him. But I'll be honest and tell you that I've shared a couple of meals with him and I like him.”

“Like him how?” There was such a deep scowl on Tate's face that she took a step back.

“We're friendly,” she said. “That's all. He talks about Emmie a lot.”

That statement made Tate snort in derision. “How the hell would he know about her? She—”

“You two ready to go?” Jack yelled. “Gizzy knows a place where we can picnic. Casey, did you bring enough food for lunch?”

“We could feed a town with all she brought.” Tate opened the side door and held it for Casey. “You're stuck in here with me.”

She was glad that his anger seemed to have disappeared, but when she looked inside the truck, she halted. Half the seat was taken up by two huge boxes. “What is that? A piano?”

“Just a few extra items Gizzy wanted,” Jack said.

“And so did you!” she shot back.

“Are you saying that you two filled the entire back of this huge truck and this is the overflow?” Casey asked.

“Well…” Gizzy glanced at Jack. “Kit did say his cousin Dr. Jamie and his wife are coming to help Dad out. They're going to need furniture, and our sister needs some for her shop, and I saw a bed that Josh would love, and…” She shrugged.

“Looks like you're going to have to sit close to me,” Tate said, and there was happiness in his voice.

“Hmph!” Casey said. “I just need to find the switch to turn off the electricity.”

“You didn't see the switch on that first morning?” His face was all innocence. “Now, Mean Girl, you've really hurt my feelings. You didn't see
any
switches?”

Casey's face turned red but she couldn't help laughing. “I can't remember very clearly. Besides, what you do with soap is none of my business.” When she threw a leg up to get into the backseat, Tate put his hand under her backside and pushed.

As she went up, he said softly, “I'd like to show you what I can do with soap.”

When they got on the road, Jack and Gizzy began to quietly talk. In the back, by necessity, Casey sat close to Tate. Even if they weren't actually touching, she could feel his warmth.

She looked away from him, across the boxes, and out the window. Now that it was quiet, she was beginning to think about what had happened. She remembered that little boy sitting on the edge of the roof and Gizzy dangling from a rope. As the images came back to her, Casey thought of her own part in the rescue. If Tate had let her go…

“Thinking about what happened?”

“Yes.” She changed the subject. “I'm glad we got all the things Stacy picked out.”

But Tate didn't let her avoid the issue. “I know it was scary hanging down the roof like that, with your body supported by someone you hardly know. Have you ever done anything like that before?”

“Never. I'll probably wake up at two
A.M
. in a panic.”

Tate looked serious. “I could stay with you tonight and…” He gave a suggestive shrug.

“Thanks for your generous offer, but I'll pass.”

“If you change your mind, you know where I live.”

She couldn't keep from laughing, and Tate smiled. She knew he'd been teasing her on purpose and it had worked to bring her back to the present. “Thanks.” She lowered her voice. “If I'd had time to think, I'm sure I would have been too scared to do anything. But it all happened so fast. But then, Gizzy was the real hero.”

“No,” Tate said. “She loved it. There wasn't any real fear in her. When you're afraid but do it anyway, that's courage.” He could see that Casey was getting serious again. “Like me. At the auditions, all those women were looking at me like I was supposed to fulfill their every dream. But I got up there and performed anyway. Now,
that
is courage.”

Casey was smiling again. “Until I got on the stage.”

“Do you think I'm shorter today? I could swear that your delivery of Ms. Austen's lines cut me down by at least four inches.”

“You? It was all new to me. You're used to it.”

“Ha! You turned down my best invitation. You so wounded my pride that I may never be able to get another woman in bed with me. I think
you
are the only one who can heal me. How about eight tonight?”

“You are incorrigible.” Casey was laughing so much that she didn't realize the truck had stopped.

Jack and Gizzy had turned around and were staring at them.

“I hate to interrupt your rom-com banter,” Jack said, “but we have reached our destination. Last one out has to carry the metal cooler.” He and Gizzy got out of the truck.

Casey looked across Tate at the door, but he didn't open it.

“I'm serious,” he said. “If you have any aftermath from today, let me know. If it's in the middle of the night, I'll come. I've had my share of trauma in my life and I know how to handle it. And I'll keep my hands to myself. Okay?”

“Yes.” She gazed into his eyes. “I think I'm all right. If there hadn't been a happy ending I would be a mess, but I feel good about it all.”

“If you wake up screaming from a nightmare that I dropped you, call me. Give me your cell.”

She handed him her phone, he typed in his number, then he opened the door and helped her out.

Casey and Tate were sitting on an old quilt by a pretty rushing stream. Huge rocks glistened and the sun sparkled on the water. Over them was a dense canopy of trees. On the quilt was a feast of Casey's cooking: jicama and citrus salad, olive tapenade, three kinds of bread, and a selection of cheeses.

Their backs against a wide boulder, they were munching on coconut-lime cookies and watching Jack and Gizzy argue. Casey and Tate were too far away to hear what was being said, but they could see them clearly.

“What's that about?” Casey asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. But my guess is disillusionment. You fall for a delicate flower, then she does what?”

“Beats him on a motorcycle,” Casey said. “Jumps out of a plane. Whatever. Men can't take it.”

“Jack can. I have confidence in him.”

“Bet you another berry custard pie that he'll leave her.”

“If by some freak chance you win, what do you get?”

She started to say, “Another shower show,” but didn't. “The satisfaction of having won.”

Tate groaned. “What a cop-out. There must be something you want. Your own restaurant? Boyfriend back?”

“I haven't decided yet. Not about the boyfriend but about my future. What about you? Anything you want that you don't have?”

He stretched out on the quilt, his hands behind his head, all six feet plus of him lying beside her. “I want to be in a comedy or a mystery or a horror movie. I'll take anything besides brooding hero.”

“But you're so good at it,” Casey said. “Just today when you glowered at me, I felt like a princess in a tower.”

“Yeah?” When he looked at her, he saw she was teasing. “I'm going to get you for that. I—” His cellphone rang. “It's probably my agent telling me I'm going to be in the next Wolverine movie….Nope. Better. It's Emmie.” He touched the phone on. “Hi, sweetheart. Are you still making your mother crazy?”

He paused and listened. “Right now I'm lying on a quilt, watching Uncle Jack argue with a very pretty girl. I think he's losing. Beside me is Casey. She made the pie I ate….Oh. Okay.” He handed the phone to her. “Emmie wants to talk to you.”

Puzzled, Casey took the phone. “Hello?” She listened. “Yes, I can make grilled cheese sandwiches. I grill the bread, then put the cheese on the toasted part and re-grill the whole thing. Makes it very crunchy….No, I never use the kind of whipped cream that comes in a can.” She handed the phone back to Tate.

“Does she pass?” Smiling, he nodded at Casey. “Emmie wants to know where you got the hey-diddle-diddle pajamas and would you please marry her uncle—that's me—and cook for all of us?”

Casey blinked a few times. “My mom got them. I'll ask her where, and no.”

Tate went back to the phone. “Yes to the cooking, but sorry, she won't take me as part of the deal. Story of my life. When will you be here?” He paused. “Yes, I'm sure Casey can make a pie that tastes like an Oreo.” He looked at her and she nodded. “I hear your mom calling you….Yeah, me too. Lots. Do try to behave, but feel free to nag to get here sooner.” He laughed. “No, you can't ride the peacock. Go on, now. Kiss your mom for me.” He turned off his phone and looked back at Casey. “You were telling me the plans for your life.”

“No, I wasn't. You've told me very little about yourself. How did you get started in movies?”

He took a while to answer. “The official story is that I was discovered by a director when I was nine years old. That's true but it's also a lie.” He rolled over and stood up, his long body unfolding like a great cat. “Let's walk, or we may see what we don't want to.”

Jack and Gizzy had stopped arguing and were now kissing.

“Besides, my libido can't stand the torture. You wouldn't want to…” He wiggled his eyebrows to let her know what he was thinking.

Maybe it was his ability as an actor, but he seemed able to project images into her mind. Lazily making love on the quilt. Sharing a glass of wine. Her lips on his sun-warmed skin. His mouth caressing her. Her—

“Stop it!” Tate said in a low voice. “Your face gives everything away and I can't take it. You're too desirable. The day is too warm, the air too fragrant, and I've had too much wine.”

Casey looked away from him.

“Come on,” he said. “I saw a path nearby.” He held out his hand, but before Casey could take it, he drew back. “Better not risk it. With our mutual thoughts, if we touch we might start a forest fire. How would we explain that arson to the fire marshal?”

What he said was so ridiculous that she laughed. “Okay, no touching, no anything but what friends do. Lead and I will follow you.”

Tate put his hand on his heart. “To a man, those are the sexiest words a woman can say.”

“How about this? Stop the melodramatic acting and
go
! Jack and Gizzy seem like they might start on the peanut butter.”

Tate began walking down the path. “Just so you know, the bad-acting hit was a good turnoff, but mentioning the peanut butter is enticing. Makes me think of you in those PJs with absolutely nothing on under them. Did your mother really give them to you? What was she thinking?”

“That I'm still a little girl who likes fairy tales. I thought you were going to tell me how you became an actor.”

They'd come to a shallow stream that they were going to have to wade across. “You ever see the movie
Dirty Dancing
?”

“A hundred times. Do you do the lift? Even I saw the movie where Ryan Gosling—”

Tate gasped. “Don't put a dagger in my heart with my competition's name.”

“You're better-looking than he is,” she said seriously.

“You've made my day. So how about it?” He was pointing to a big tree that had fallen across the stream.

She knew what he meant: the scene in
Dirty Dancing
when Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey balance on the log while he talks about how he came to be a dancer. “Nope,” Casey said. “I'm not Gizzy. I don't do logs. How about if we—”

Tate took her hand, but no electricity shot between them, just warmth and encouragement.

“How do you do that? Turn emotions on and off?”

“I have no idea. Some kind of control, I guess.” He started toward the log, but when Casey didn't move, he put her hand to his lips. His voice dropped to a low growl. “The scent of you runs through my body. It delights me, excites me, drives me mad with desire. To touch you, caress you, to…” His voice was a whisper. “To kiss you, I would give my all.”

Casey was staring at him, unable to move or to speak.

He dropped her hand. “The log? Wanna try it?”

She had to shake her head to clear it. “Did you make that up?”

“Nah. Lines from one of my movies. It's either more of that or you walk across the log with me.”

“Tree!” she said, and pushed past him. “Give me a boost, and watch what you do with your hands.”

He lifted her up so she was facing him. He did watch his hands—as they ran down her body. In the next second he was on the log with her.

Casey tried to hide it, but she really was afraid of the height, the narrow roundness of the tree, and maybe a little scared of Tate Landers. If he'd kept on with his hand-kissing and his words, she might have fallen into his arms. She tended to take lovemaking seriously, but it seemed to be a game to him. He could turn the seduction—the electricity between them—off and on at will.

Tate held both her hands as she stepped backward on the log. No matter what else she felt about him, she trusted him to not let her fall.

“We needed the money,” he said. “My dad died when I was four and Nina was just a baby.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I grew up seeing my mom struggle to pay the bills and raise us. I wanted to help, but how could I? I was only a kid.” They were in the middle of the log, and he let go of one of her hands.

“We were living in California, and a kid at school said his mom was taking him to try out for a role in a movie.”

“And you went too and got the job, which means that you were born talented.”

“Just the opposite. My mom took me to the audition and it was a cattle call, with over three hundred kids. Most of them were eliminated before the director saw them.”

“He only wanted pretty boys?”

Tate gave a half smile. “Physical appearance has a great deal to do with how you're cast.”

“A diplomatic answer. But I guess you were the cutest child there.”

“I was certainly the most scared kid. But not by the audition. That morning my mother had one of her asthma attacks. It was so bad I thought she was going to die.”

“Oh,” Casey said. “I really am sorry.”

“Thanks. Anyway, that day I was pretty gloomy. The director put all the kids who were possibilities on a stage. He wanted to see if we could follow directions, so he told us that we weren't to laugh no matter what we saw. He then paraded people past us. They did pratfalls, funny dances, made faces, et cetera. One by one, the kids were eliminated.”

“But not you.”

“No. I was so worried about my mother that nothing on earth could make me smile. After a while there were only three boys left and the director told us to cry. One kid couldn't do it, one faked it, but I…”

“You cried for real.”

“Oh, yes. The director joked that I was either a great actor or one seriously unhappy kid. He said, ‘Okay, so let's see which one it is.' He told me to smile. I don't know if it was fate or what, but just then my mother walked in and gave me a thumbs-up. She had recovered from her attack.”

“And you smiled.”

“With all the joy I felt. The director said, ‘You're hired. And it's my guess that we have a star in the making.' ” Tate stopped talking and looked at her.

“That's a wonderful story.”

“Think so? To my mind, I got the job on false pretenses. I had no idea how to act, so I had to learn. For years I used my emotions about my mother to portray whatever the director asked for. But eventually I learned to cry, laugh, whatever, without having to tear out my guts to do it. That wasn't easy.”

“What about the smoldering that I've heard about?”

“That is a natural talent. Want me to show you?” He was leading her backward, toward the end of the log.

“No thanks.”

“My loss.”

“Tell me, do you come on to all women as you're doing to me?”

“No.” His face turned serious. “The truth is that since I was a teenager I've just stood still and women have come to me. Being the predator is a new experience.” He smiled at her in a very sweet way. “As much as I hate to say it, we better go back. Jack wanted to go over lines for tomorrow.”

“Don't mention the play! If I hadn't been so angry at you, I wouldn't be stuck doing something I'm no good at.”

Tate jumped down off the log and held up his hands to her. He caught her by the waist and swung her down. “Ha! The way you shot Mean Girl barbs at me shows you have a lot of talent. And don't kid yourself about Kit. I think he meant for you to have the role from the beginning.”

“I don't think so. Last winter Stacy and I helped him write the script, and we talked about who could play the parts. Neither Stacy nor I was ever considered as an actor.”

They were walking back to the picnic area, Casey in front.

“Stacy again!” Tate said. “She and my sister became friends.”

“I know. I used to hear them on the phone. We knew Nina was related to Kit and that she was overseeing the decorating of the house, but we didn't know her family used to own the place. You bought it back because…”

“Mom loved Tattwell so much. When she was a kid, she spent summers there with her family. She and a little boy were inseparable. They used to shower on the back porch of the house Mom's family stayed in.”