The Girl From Summer Hill

by Jude Deveraux

  “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.”

  “I guess that’s my house,” Casey said. “So you wanted to do that too?”

  “I did.” They had reached the picnic area. Gizzy was sitting on the quilt, her back against the boulder, and Jack was stretched out, his head on her lap. She had a copy of Kit’s script of Pride and Prejudice in her hands.

  Jack turned to them. “Here they are. You two look too happy. Lizzy and Darcy are supposed to hate each other.”

  “No,” Tate said. “She hates me but I love her. Most true-to-life role I ever had.” He sat down on the quilt and picked up a bottle of water. “Is there any lemonade left?”

  “No,” Jack said, “but I found some beer in the bottom of a cooler. Casey, it wasn’t nice to hide that.”

  “There’s a difference between hiding and saving. If you’d drunk it with lunch, you wouldn’t have it now. Did you find the green-chili crackers? No? I’ll get them.” She opened a plastic container that she’d hidden under some empty ones. “Did you two settle your argument?”

  Gizzy smiled, but Jack grimaced. “I lost,” he said. “Completely and totally lost. So which scene are we doing first?”

  “The opening one?” Casey sat down near Tate.

  “No,” Tate said, “we have to do ours out of order. Jack and I will have to go back to L.A. for a few days, probably next week, so we’ll miss some rehearsals. He needs to reshoot some scenes and I have to be fitted for armor.”

  “Really?” Gizzy said. “What’s the movie?”

  “It doesn’t have a name yet,” Tate said. “The final script isn’t done and there’s a big argument about the title. I’m playing
an Elizabethan knight who comes forward in time, meets a pretty lady in distress, and we fall in love. Then I go back to my time and she follows me, but I don’t remember her, so we have to fall in love a second time.”

  “Who’s the lead actress?” Casey asked.

  “No idea. So what scene should we rehearse first?”

  Gizzy looked at the script. “At Netherfield, when Darcy is writing to his sister. I’ll be Miss Bingley, who is mad about Darcy. Casey, you have to quit smiling at Tate and look at him as though you can’t stand him.”

  “I’ll try,” Casey said. Her lips weren’t smiling, but her eyes were.

  Tate picked up one of the scripts and found the scene. “Jack, do you have the number of that blonde we met at Marty’s party? I thought I’d suggest her as the lead for my next movie. I need to do something to make the sex scenes enjoyable.” With a smile, he looked back at Casey.

  She knew what he was doing and she wanted to say that his words had no effect on her, but damn it, they did! “Okay, you got it. I am in Darcy-is-a-jerk mode.”

  Jack stayed seated while the other three got up. Since she had helped write them, Casey knew the lines, and Tate demonstrated his ability to quickly learn them. For a while, Gizzy held the script, but Jack took it from her.

  Gizzy was good. She batted her lashes at Tate so convincingly that Casey was astonished. The realism of Gizzy’s performance spurred Casey so that by the time she delivered her line to Darcy that she’d never heard of so many accomplished women, there was venom in her voice.

  At the end, Jack and Gizzy applauded and Casey took a bow. She glanced at Tate, who seemed to be gazing at her in speculation.

  He picked up a copy of the script, flipped through it, and handed it to Casey. “Let’s do this scene.”

  “But this is where Mr. Collins proposes to Lizzy,” Casey said. “Who will play him? Jack?”

  “I am wounded,” Jack said. “I can play a loser but ol’ Landers can’t?”

  Tate stepped to the edge of the stream and to Casey’s astonishment, he poured handfuls of cold water over his head. He ran his hands over his long hair to slick it down, then his body slumped. When he turned back to them, the handsome hero was gone. In his place was a sleazy man who had a bent back and eyes that moved around a lot. He looked Casey up and down in such a lecherous way that she stepped back from him.

  He gave her a creepy little smile and began telling how his patroness, the condescending Lady Catherine de Bourgh, said he must marry so he had chosen Lizzy. “ ‘I will overlook your lack of dowry and I will make no demands on your father. And my further concession is that after we are married I will not remind you that your station in life is much inferior to mine.’ ”

  “My what?” Casey’s upper lip curled into a sneer.

  “Psst! ‘You are too hasty, sir,’ ” Gizzy quoted.

  Casey knew she was in a play, but she couldn’t make herself remember that the odious creature in front of her was a man she was beginning to like. Her delivery of the refusal to marry him showed her revulsion. When he said he knew she didn’t mean her words, she told him again, this time in a tone that was unmistakable.

  Tate’s eyes turned cold and seemed to glitter with animosity. He told her that her lack of income, as well as her failure to be a great beauty as her sister was, would ensure that she would never get another offer of marriage from any man.

  His words about her sister’s beauty and her lack of proposals hit too close to home. It was as though he was throwing what she’d told him about her personal life back in her face. “Why, you—” She was too angry to be able to think of a clever putdown.

  Tate stood up to his full height, picked up her hand, and kissed it.

  —

  “Did you get that?” Jack whispered to Gizzy.

  She looked down at the video on her cellphone. “I did.”

  Casey was smiling as she rolled out the pie dough. It had been days since the trip to the estate sale, and it had been a glorious time. She and Tate and Jack and Gizzy had become a happy foursome.

  Well, maybe not a real foursome, as there were big differences between the couples. Jack and Gizzy were lovers; Casey and Tate weren’t.

  But the discrepancy hadn’t caused problems. When Jack and Gizzy’s physical actions became too much, Tate and Casey would walk away.

  They’d all had a very busy few days. Casey had a lot of cooking to do to prepare three meals a day, plus she’d had a children’s party and a dinner for eight to cater.

  One afternoon, they’d all crowded into Casey’s kitchen and iced cupcakes. After the cake and snacks were done, Tate helped her put them into his truck and he drove her to the party. He’d stayed in the cab, his head down, while Casey unloaded.

  “Is that…?” the child’s mother whispered. Everyone in Summer Hill knew Tate was in town and that he and Casey were the leads in the play.

  “Of course not,” Casey said, but she’d never been a convincing liar.

  When she slipped into the seat beside Tate, she said, “It’s like being around a criminal on the run from the law.”

  “The price you pay. So where to now?”

  “Back to the stage, I guess.”

  They both groaned. For days, Kit had not seemed able to get over his bad mood, and he’d directed them with scowls and complaints.

  It hadn’t helped that Casey was by far the worst actor. She found it nearly impossible to laugh with Tate, then ten minutes later be onstage and treat him with disdain. Even though she’d read Pride and Prejudice a couple of times and had seen every film production, she’d not thought about how oblivious Lizzy was to Darcy’s growing love. Kit’s idea was that Tate had to let the audience see that he was falling for Lizzy.

  This meant that every time Casey so much as glanced away, Tate gazed at her with love. When she spoke one of Jane Austen’s famous lines, Tate stared at her blankly, but the second she turned her back, the audience saw Tate’s face soften. Sometimes he smiled in a dreamy sort of way. Other times, his whole body leaned toward her, as though in surrender.

  Casey wasn’t supposed to see, but she did. One time she whipped around and saw his eyes so full of warmth and longing that she reached out her hand to him.

  “Stop!” Kit yelled. “Acacia, you are not to look back. Lizzy is not to see what Darcy is feeling. You are—”

  He broke off because Olivia had put herself in front of Casey. She didn’t say anything, just stood there and glared at him. But that was all it took to make Kit back down.

  “Don’t look,” he’d mumbled, and turned away.

  Later that day, the foursome had lunch at Casey’s house. She put out sandwich makings and homemade bread.

  “All I can say,” Jack said, “is that I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Olivia’s evil eye. Is there any more of this stuff? Tate ate it all.”

  Casey got a jar of mango–blood orange chutney off the shelf and handed it to him. “What’s going on between them? They’ve been odd since the first day.”

  Jack and Tate were having a tug-of-war over the jar of chutney.

  “I have no idea,” Gizzy said. “Anyone up for a swim this afternoon?”

  Jack released the jar. “Not if you plan to jump off the roof into the pool again.”

  When Casey went back to the stove, Tate joined her. Behind them, Gizzy and Jack were arguing.

  “Are you all right?” Tate asked her.

  “The acting is hard for me. Saying and feeling what I don’t mean goes against my nature.”

  “Lying versus honesty.”

  “I guess so. The emotions you show when you look at Lizzy seem so real. How could she not see what he was feeling? How would she not know that Darcy was falling for her?”

  “In the book, I don’t think Darcy sneaks glimpses of Lizzy behind her back. That’s all from Kit’s direction, but I like it. It lets the audience see what’s in Darcy’s mind and adds some sex to the drama.”

  “You do it all so
well, but knowing what you’re doing behind my back makes it hard for me to look at you with…What is it? Cold disdain?”

  “Just think of me rummaging around in your bedroom with your PJs on the floor.”

  That image made her smile.

  “Definitely the wrong expression,” Tate said. He straightened his shoulders, then stared down his nose at her, his eyes full of contempt. “Perhaps, Miss Reddick, you should stay away from the pies.”

  “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  Tate’s eyes changed in an instant. He looked her up and down again, but this time in a way that made her take a step toward him. With a wicked grin, he moved away. “Jack! Leave some of that ham. Save it for the stage.”

  “Are you saying I was hamming it up?”

  With a wink at Casey, Tate went back to the table.

  His teasing spurred her into wanting to do a better job on the stage. In the afternoon, Jack, Gizzy, and Tate went to the Big House to work out with the trainer who’d arrived from L.A.

  “Come with us,” Tate said. “If you don’t want to hit the weights, sit and watch.”

  “So I’d be the fat girl who sits on the sidelines? Is that what you mean?”

  Tate seemed startled. “You are not fat. Girls in L.A. work to look like you. I didn’t mean that for real. I was just showing you an acting technique. You—”

  Casey grinned at him.

  “Good one! I certainly did walk into it. Come meet the trainer. He’s five foot four and has never smiled in his life. Kit wants him to play Mr. Collins.”

  “I have cooking to do and Olivia is coming by. And I have to figure out how to make an Oreo pie.”

  Tate was walking backward toward the Big House, his face one huge smile. “Nina will come here after I get back from L.A. Emmie wants me to buy her a pony.”

  “And who will take care of it when you’re on some faraway location set clumping around in a suit of armor?”

  “Think Kit would like to muck out the stables?”

  Casey groaned. “He’d tell the poor creature it was wearing the wrong expression. ‘Pony! I want to feel what you do!’ ” she quoted in a deep voice. “ ‘Don’t just stand there munching the hay, emote!’ ”