The Girl From Summer Hill

by Jude Deveraux

  “Love affair?”

  “Of course,” Casey said. “Only deep love could make two people as snotty as they are to each other. Will Jack be back for breakfast?”

  “Last night he got a call that so upset him I thought he was going to burst. I think it was from his new girlfriend.”

  “I…” Casey began. She’d sent Gizzy the email saying she was wrong. Maybe Gizzy had called Jack and he got angry. “I think that was my fault.”

  “Which of course means that my ex had a hand in it. Rage trails behind him like damage after a forest fire. Whatever happened, Jack must have left very early and we haven’t heard from him since. My guess is that right now he’s with Gisele.”

  Casey was washing a stockpot. “Tate must hate me,” she said softly. When Nina didn’t say anything, she turned and looked at her.

  Nina’s pretty face was serious. “I’m not going to lie. He got his male pride hurt and he’s not happy. But I think if you’re patient he’ll get over it.” She paused. “Between you and me, his pride could use some bruising. All that fawning isn’t good for anyone.”

  “Thanks.” Casey gave a bit of a smile. “And thank you for all the work you did to show me how I misjudged him.”

  “Oh, well. His pride and your prejudice against him. It’s a perfect match.”

  They looked at each other and laughed.

  Tate didn’t show up for the rehearsal. Frowning, Kit said he was the only person who didn’t need to work on his part, so he could stay home.

  Everyone groaned. They’d been at this for weeks and had seen Kit change from easygoing affability to scowling tyranny.

  One of the scenes Casey had to endure was where Wickham told lies about Darcy. Somehow, Casey was supposed to look as though she believed him.

  As they got into position to say their lines, Casey saw the bandage on Devlin’s left hand. “Did you hurt yourself?” She put as much innocence as she could in her voice.

  He gave a sheepish look that she’d seen before, as though he’d been caught doing something he’d meant to keep secret. “You know the saying. No good deed goes unpunished. Let’s just say that I won’t ever again try to help a woman who is carrying too many packages. She misunderstood my intentions and slammed the car door on my hand. I gave her a couple of tickets to the show, so I hope that made her forgive me. But…”

  “But what?” She was gritting her teeth at his lie.

  “We all know where the spotlight will go in this play. You and I, as regular people, won’t be noticed beside Landers.”

  Now that Casey knew the truth, she marveled at the way this man twisted the facts. It was as though he were a human balance scale. If Tate, his nemesis, went down, he went up. She forced a smile. “But what about your fans from Death Point? If a pretty girl like Rachael would fly out here just to see you, I’m sure more of your fans will show up on opening night.”

  Devlin gave a genuine smile. “Maybe you’re right.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Have you seen Lori today?”

  “Not yet. Maybe she—”

  “Quiet!” Kit bellowed. “Wickham and Lizzy! Take your places.”

  It wasn’t easy for Casey to play the scene with wide-eyed innocence, but she did it—and afterward she felt as if she needed a shower.

  At four, Kit called a halt to the rehearsal. By then everyone was worn out from the tension on the set. Casey couldn’t keep from glancing at every movement offstage, wondering if it was Tate. Jack and Gizzy had shown up, and she was dying to ask them how they were. During a family scene, Casey had whispered to her father, “I want to hear all about Ace.” Unfortunately, that had made Dr. Kyle let out a laugh—which Kit heard.

  “Miss Reddick! Is it too much to ask that you do not try to entertain the players while onstage?” Kit said through clenched teeth.

  Yet again, Olivia stepped forward. “She only recently learned that her father was Ace, and she wants to know about it.”

  Kit’s face went white and he looked away. When he turned back, he wore no expression. An hour later he let everyone go. “There will be a dress rehearsal tomorrow, so I want all of you here at ten A.M. And, Casey, we’ll want lunch. Send me the bill.”

  “Double it,” Olivia muttered as she walked past Casey and Dr. Kyle.

  Casey glanced at her father. “Do you know what this is about?”

  “I know they had a mad, passionate affair during the summer of 1970. I was only five then, and Letty’s and my main goal was to spy on them. We were like Native Americans counting coup. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized what was happening that summer.”

  “Who dumped whom?”

  “I don’t know. I just remember that Kit left in a big black car. I think Letty and I told Livie that his father had come to get him. One thing I remember is that after Kit left, Livie refused to go into the well house. She said Letty and I could have it. We were joyous, and we filled it with treasures from all over the house.” He smiled in memory.

  “How was Olivia after Kit left?”

  “Angry. Quiet. Letty and I missed Kit and kept asking where he was, but no one knew. That fall, my mother…” He shrugged. “I quit thinking about Kit and Olivia, and I didn’t see her again for years.” His cell buzzed and he looked at it. “Sorry, I have to go. Medical emergency.” He went down the stairs. “Invite me to dinner and we can talk for hours.”

  “Wait!” Casey said. “Did you find a diamond ring in the well house?”

  Dr. Kyle grinned. “Maybe. Who knows? To Letty, everything was made of diamonds that had been mined on the moon. To her, everything that she saw and touched was magical.” He was walking backward.

  “Wish I’d known her,” Casey said.

  “Wish I’d married her.” Turning, Dr. Kyle ran to his car.

  “Then I wouldn’t have been born,” Casey muttered. “Or Tate would be my brother. Not good!”

  She went back to her house and began making out a menu for the big lunch the next day. It was going to take a lot of work, and she needed to go to the grocery. When she got to the door, she saw Nina and Emmie coming toward her.

  “How did the rehearsal go?” Nina asked.

  Casey rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if my lack of concentration or Kit’s bad temper was worse. Whichever, today was a bad experience.” She held up her list. “I have to do lunch tomorrow, so I’m off to the grocery. Tell me what you need.”

  “Fruit, sandwich makings, milk. The regular stuff.”

  “I want to go with you,” Emmie said.

  “To the grocery? That’s pretty boring,” Casey replied.

  “You have enchanted her. Would you mind?” Nina asked.

  “No, of course not,” Casey said honestly. “Ready?”

  Emmie, wearing a very cute pink dress with a matching shrug, was already on the way to the car.

  Shopping with a child was new to Casey. She was used to concentrating and giving her mind over to what she needed to buy. But Emmie wanted to learn, so Casey answered a lot of questions.

  Emmie was intrigued when Casey said she did nearly all her shopping against the walls, not on the inside aisles.

  “But my mom buys everything from the middle.”

  Casey didn’t reply to that; she just talked about produce ripeness and cheeses and meats. When they finished shopping, the car was so full that she said it might be too heavy to drive.

  “We should have brought Uncle Tate’s truck. Do you still like my uncle?”

  “Very much.”

  “Good,” Emmie said. “Mom is talking to him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Emmie shrugged. “Mom says that sometimes Uncle Tate acts like the men in his movies.”

  “I’ve never seen one, so I’m not sure what that means.”

  “Me neither. Mom says I can only see them when I’m thirty-five and have three kids.”

  They looked at each other and laughed.

  “So, uh, what’s he been doing?” Casey wanted to sound like
she wasn’t deeply interested.

  “Kicking things and fighting and reading scripts.”

  “Fighting?” Casey sounded alarmed.

  “With swords.”

  “Oh, I see. Working out. Did you know the trainer is in the play?”

  “Yeah. Uncle Tate said he’s perfect for the role.”

  Casey tried to hide her laughter; the trainer was so good at playing the slimy Mr. Collins that when he’d asked her to marry him, Casey hadn’t had to act. She really had been repulsed.

  “Uncle Tate is angry about the scripts. He wants to do something funny.”

  “Too bad people can’t see the movie he made with the peacock. That was very funny.”

  Emmie looked at Casey with a brilliant grin.

  “What’s that for?”

  “I was just thinking about clouds. They’re very pretty.”

  Puzzled, Casey agreed.

  When they got back to the house, Emmie thanked her, then ran away, leaving Casey to haul everything inside and start her prep work. But first she cooked a crab-cake dinner for the Landers family and packed it into a cooler and a big basket. On impulse, she wrote a note.

  Dear Tate,

  I would like to apologize for believing another person over you. I am angry at myself for not seeing the truth.

  When you returned from your trip and spoke of future possibilities, I misunderstood. I feel bad that Nina had to go to so much trouble to show me the truth.

  I understand if you cannot forgive me.

  Thank you for everything.

  Acacia Reddick

  She put the note in an envelope, sealed it, shoved it into the side of the basket, then hurried over to the Big House to leave it all on the porch steps.

  When she got back to her house, she was shaking. How would Tate react to what she’d written? Would he call her and bawl her out? Appear on her doorstep and tell her she was never to contact him again?

  When she couldn’t get her mind off what Tate was going to do, she turned on the TV. Maybe a nice scary movie would distract her as she prepped for tomorrow. Counting cast and crew, the lunch would be for about fifty people, so she had a lot to do. She needed to get up no later than five tomorrow morning to put it all together.

  She checked the channels to see what was on. To her shock, a Tate Landers movie was just starting. Usually, she’d flip past it—not what she was interested in. But today she pushed the button and put the remote control down. Maybe she should see what so many women were talking about.

  There was a naked man on Casey’s back porch.

  It was five A.M., her alarm had just gone off, and she’d staggered down to the kitchen to start making lunch.

  Last night she’d stayed up late because she’d watched three Tate Landers movies in a row. When the first one ended, her heart was pounding and her fingertips were tingling—as was every other part of her body.

  The plots of the movies were absolutely absurd. Pretty girl in a jam gets saved by the reluctant hero. Ho-hum. Nothing new there.

  But Tate made the pictures so very watchable. His dark good looks were intensified on the screen. When he scowled in annoyance at the heroine, Casey found her own heart beating faster. She’d set down her knife and stared at the screen.

  Had Tate ever looked at her like that? she wondered. Maybe he had, at first, but she hadn’t realized what he was doing. She’d been so angry at him that nothing he did made a good impression on her.

  When the first movie ended, all she knew for sure was that she wanted more. She searched until she found movies she could stream, and she purchased—not rented—two of them.

  By the middle of the second one, she gave up cooking, moved to the bigger TV in the living room, turned out the lights, and watched.

  When that was over, she put on the pajamas Tate liked so much and watched the third movie on her iPad while in bed. It was as close as she could get to snuggling with him.

  If it hadn’t been for the huge lunch she had to cater the next day, she would have stayed up and watched a fourth film. Reluctantly, she turned the iPad off and went to sleep.

  When the alarm went off at five, she could hardly get out of bed. She fumbled her way down the stairs, yawning, filled the electric teakettle, and put the leaves in the strainer. A sound made her turn. The back-porch light was on, but she often left it on.

  Standing on the stone path was Tate, and as she watched, he took off his T-shirt and sweatpants and let them fall to the ground. Totally nude and facing her, he walked up the three steps, his full male glory in clear view.

  He forgave her! That’s what went through her mind.

  The second thing was lust. His movie! Him on the screen! How much she’d missed him!

  She took a step toward the door, her only thought of jumping on him. Ravishing him. Lips and tongues, bodies together. She reached for the buttons on her pajama top, but then she stopped.

  No, this was a fantasy. It was being replayed for her, and she wasn’t going to ruin it with reality.

  Without taking her eyes from Tate’s beautiful naked body, she stepped back and fumbled for the electric kettle. As she poured boiling water over the loose tea leaves in the silver strainer, quite a bit missed the mug, went onto the granite countertop, and ran down to the tile floor, but she didn’t notice.

  She sat down on the stool and studied his body from the toes up. Slowly, taking in every inch of him. But this time, she knew what was to come.

  When she got to his face, she looked at his dark eyes under the heavy brows, his lips that she’d grown to know so well. She could remember the feel of his hair when she buried her face in it.

  When he got to her door, she drew in her breath. Was he coming inside? But no, he reached out to turn on the water, and his body flexed. Since she’d first seen him, he’d put on more muscle, had trimmed down even more. Casey could feel sweat breaking out on her.

  Picking up her mug of tea, she sipped it while she watched him lather himself. He soaped his legs, between them, then moved upward. When he had trouble reaching the entire width of his back, as before, Casey thought of slipping out of her pajamas and joining him.

  But she didn’t. She wanted this delicious, divine fantasy to play out for as long as possible.

  He reached up to the showerhead on the wall, pulled it down, and sprayed water over his entire gorgeous body. Casey was beginning to smile now. Just thinking of what was coming was making her vibrate. Would the electricity between them be in full force? Make all the hair on her body stand on end?

  When he turned off the water and looked around for a towel, Casey’s smile broadened. This time, would he come inside and keep searching? In one of his movies he’d grabbed a woman’s dress and torn it open. Buttons flew everywhere.

  Since Casey didn’t want the pajamas her mother had given her torn, she unbuttoned the top. Saves time, she thought practically.

  When Tate stepped toward the house as though he meant to enter, her heart seemed to stop. He put his hand on the door handle, and her breath halted. She couldn’t move. But he dropped his hand and went back down the steps, and she let out her breath. And frowned.

  No. This isn’t the way it was supposed to go. Tate was to come inside. Didn’t he know she was there? Watching him?

  Still nude, he picked up his sweatpants. He was about to put them on when Casey flung the door open and ran. Dropping the pants, he opened his arms to her. When she reached him, he held her to him, the two of them clinging together so closely they were like one person.

  For minutes they were content to do nothing but feel. Electricity went through them, a soft hum of what was almost peace.

  It was Tate who moved first. His lips came down on hers, at first sweetly, but at the touch, the charge that went through them ignited. His kiss became deeper.

  Casey’s top was already unbuttoned, so her breasts were against the bare skin of his chest.

  He backed her against a tree, and as much as she wanted him there and then, she
was aware of where they were. She managed to get out one word. “Emmie.”

  It didn’t take more than that to remind Tate that his niece had a way of appearing where she wasn’t expected.

  To Casey’s delight, Tate swept her into his arms and carried her up the steps to her house. With what she knew was a rehearsed gesture—it was in movie number two—he opened the door and carried her inside.

  He set her down in the living room. She could see that he was ready for her, but before she could touch him, he had her against the wall, the pajama bottoms off, and entered her quickly.

  Passion. That feeling of being desired, wanted, needed by a beautiful man was as glorious as the actual sex.

  It was as though Tate would die if he didn’t have her—and she felt the same way.

  She put her head back against the wall, her throat exposed to his lips, as his strokes became harder and more urgent.

  When they at last came together, it was a release, but it was also a relief that their separation was over. Anger, misunderstanding, lack of trust, went away. Withholding of secrets and deeper feelings were released.

  They clung together, skin to skin. Casey’s legs were wrapped around Tate’s waist, locking him to her, and his arms held her just as tightly.

  When he fell out of her, she felt his smile against her neck. He didn’t say anything but carried her up the stairs to her bed.

  For a moment he looked down at her in her open nursery pajama top.

  Casey had seen the expression he wore in his movies, and for a second it was exciting to think of. But then she saw the man. She had shared a lot with him, from their lonely childhoods to being entangled with a man who plagued his family. In a short time Casey had become enmeshed with Tate’s friends, his family, his very life.

  The movie-star image fell away and she saw the man she’d come to care for deeply. She lifted her arms to him.

  The smile he gave her seemed to show that he understood. He stretched out on the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms, her head on his shoulder.