by Gina Wilkins
Savannah had to take a deep breath for composure before she walked into the living room. She immediately spotted Kit sitting on the sofa, easily charming an entire roomful of women who looked utterly delighted that a Hollywood celebrity had favored them with his presence.
So he hadn’t been a hallucination, after all, Savannah thought dazedly. He really was here.
How on earth had he found her? And, more importantly, why?
“Is everything all right, Savannah dear?” Lucy Bettencourt asked, her tone sweet, her eyes too eager.
Savannah forced a smile. “Yes, everything’s fine, thank you. I’m afraid Michael and his friends got into some mischief, but it’s all been taken care of.”
Lucy shook her head and clucked her tongue. “I warned you about that Nick Whitley,” she murmured. “The boy is headed for trouble, and you don’t want him taking your son with him.”
Several of her friends gravely nodded agreement. Others looked embarrassed for Savannah’s sake. Mildred Peeples, who happened to be Nick Whitley’s great-aunt, looked torn between being worried and taking offense.
Barbara Mitchell, one of Savannah’s favorite neighbors, swiftly changed the subject
“Mr. Pace was just telling us how the two of you met on your vacation,” Barbara said, with a quick smile at Kit.
To Savannah, it seemed that every expression in the room turned speculative. She knew people had thought it odd that she’d taken off for a Caribbean island by herself, leaving her family at home. They simply hadn’t understood that she’d desperately needed to be entirely on her own for the first time in…well, ever.
“I explained that you’d invited me to Campbellville for my research on small Southern towns,” Kit said quickly, and Savannah wondered if anyone in the room suspected that he was lying through his pretty white teeth.
“Can you imagine? Our little Campbellville as the setting for a bestseller.” Annalee Grimes shook her bluish-gray head in amazement. “’Wouldn’t that be something?”
Kit smiled. “I wouldn’t actually use Campbellville, of course,” he corrected. “My books are a series about law enforcement officers in a not-too-distant future, battling futuristic criminals. I thought it would be interesting to create a futuristic Deep South. I’m just here to soak up some atmosphere.”
The ladies listened intently to his explanation, some looking a bit bewildered, most fascinated.
Ernestine glanced from Savannah to Kit, then pointedly at her watch. “Goodness,” she said rather loudly, “it’s getting late, isn’t it?”
Barbara Mitchell promptly rose from her seat. “It certainly is. We’d better be going.”
Lucy Bettencourt showed a tendency to want to linger. Barbara didn’t give her a chance. Within ten minutes, she had purses distributed, empty dessert dishes back to their rightful owners, and the ladies of the auxiliary on their way out the door. Bless her heart, Savannah thought fervently. She was definitely sending flowers to Barbara at the earliest opportunity.
The last guest finally departed, leaving only family—and Kit—in the McBride house. Savannah noted that Miranda was staring at Kit as if she were waiting for him to grow a second head.
Ernestine did not look pleased.
“What in the world,” she demanded, “was Michael doing, to be brought home by the police?”
“We’ll discuss that later,” Savannah answered calmly. “Mother, Miranda, could you give me a moment to speak privately with my guest, please?”
“Oh, man. I can’t believe you know Christopher Pace.” Miranda turned her dazed eyes onto her mother. “Michael’s going to go crazy. Why didn’t you tell us?”
Avoiding Kit’s eyes, Savannah motioned for her daughter to leave the room. “Go wash your face,” she said. “It’s almost bedtime.”
Miranda seemed tempted to argue, looking longingly at Kit, but must have sensed from her mother’s voice that this was not the time. Reluctantly, she left the room.
“Michael’s upstairs, Mother,” Savannah added to Ernestine. “Maybe you should have him tell you what he did tonight.”
Having to confess to his socially conscious grandmother would be almost as serious a punishment as the grounding Savannah planned for him, she knew. Michael would hear the old lecture about not embarrassing the family, about guarding his reputation in the community, about taking pride in his good name. Heaven only knew Savannah had heard that talk often enough while growing up—not that it had stopped her from humiliating her mother, she thought grimly.
Was she now in danger of doing so again?
6
SAVANNAH WAITED until she’d heard her mother climb the stairs behind Miranda before turning to Kit “What in the world are you doing here?”
“Before I answer that,” he said, advancing purposefully toward her, “there’s something I simply have to find out”
She didn’t even have a chance to ward him off. Almost before she realized what he intended, he had her in his arms, her mouth crushed beneath his. And there was absolutely nothing she could do except lock her arms around his neck and lose herself in his kiss.
She had never expected that she would have the chance to kiss him again.
This time, though, they weren’t standing on a windswept beach beneath a canopy of stars, in the pale light of a full moon. They were standing in Savannah’s party-littered living room, under the same roof as Savannah’s curious mother and children.
It didn’t matter. This embrace was as powerful, as staggering, as electrifying as the ones they’d shared on Serendipity. Maybe even more so because it had been two weeks since they’d been together.
She’d been kidding herself by trying to believe that she and Kit had shared a pleasant vacation flirtation, something she could easily put behind her. Even if Kit hadn’t shown up on her doorstep, she would never have forgotten him. Would never have stopped wondering about him, wishing she could be with him again.
She had considered a relationship between them impossible even before she’d known his full name. So impossible that she’d run away from him rather than take a chance at making a fool of herself again, at being hurt again. Now that he’d found her, and she’d discovered that he was a famous novelist, a celebrated screenwriter, a media favorite…well, that made it all the more terrifying that she had recklessly fallen for him.
He finally released her mouth and lifted his head with a look of satisfaction.
“That answered one question,” he murmured, his voice husky.
“What question?” Her own voice was hoarse.
He drew a deep, slightly ragged breath. “One of my own. Now. Tell me why you left without saying goodbye.”
Savannah winced in response to Kit’s tone. She’d thought maybe he would be annoyed that she’d left the way she did, but it had never occurred to her that he’d be hurt.
“I didn’t think a goodbye was…necessary,” she answered awkwardly.
Kit frowned. “Necessary? No. But maybe it would have been polite?”
She doubted that he’d gone to all this trouble just to lecture her on her manners. “I’m sorry,” she said, anyway. “I just didn’t know what to say.”
“You could have said that you had to leave, but that you’d had a nice time with me.”
“I had a wonderful time with you,” she admitted. “But—”
“You could have said you were really sorry we didn’t have more time to get to know each other better.”
“Well, yes, of course I would have enjoyed spending more time with you, but—”
“You could have given me your number, so that I could call you without tracking you down through the Internet Unless, of course, you didn’t want me to have your number. If that was the case, all you had to do was say you weren’t interested. I’d have understood that.”
He paused for a moment, then stunned her by adding, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Savannah.”
She moistened her lips, stalling while she tried to think of somethin
g to say. She could almost believe that she was imagining this entire conversation. It sounded eerily like the ones she’d been having in her dreams for the past two weeks.
After a taut moment of silence, Kit cleared his throat. “Um—Savannah? You want to give me a hint about what you’re thinking? I don’t know if you’re glad to see me, or if you’re hoping I’ll disappear in a puff of smoke.”
She looked up to find him standing quite close to her now, his smile rueful. Their gazes locked, and for just a moment she was transported back to the island, back to the fantasy. There was only Savannah and Kit, two people with nothing more on their minds than their next’moonlit dance.
Just as she opened her mouth to assure him that she did not want him to disappear in a puff of smoke—or, if he did, that she would love to disappear with him for a while—she was interrupted. Her son burst inelegantly into the room, a paperback book in his hand and a wild look in his eyes. Apparently, his sister had been to visit him.
“You’re Christopher Pace!” Michael almost shouted at Kit, waving the book frantically.
“Yes, I know,” Kit answered mildly, turning from Savannah after only a slight hesitation. “And what’s your name?”
“I’m Michael. Michael McBride.”
The boy’s face was flushed, his hair tumbling haphazardly over his forehead. Savannah hadn’t seen her son looking so flustered since—well, ever, she thought ruefully.
Kit held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Michael.”
Michael shook Kit’s hand almost reverently, then blurted, “What are you doing here?”
“Michael.” Savannah shook her head in response to his lack of manners. She didn’t want him to forget that he was still in serious trouble, but she wouldn’t embarrass him further in front of his hero, she decided. She and her son would have their talk after Kit left.
“I’m a new friend of your mom’s. I just stopped in to say hello while I was in the area.”
“Oh, man. You’re, like, my favorite writer ever. I just finished reading Code of Thieves. It was great”
“Thank you. It’s always nice to meet someone who enjoys my books.”
“So, could you, like, sign it for me or something?”
Kit promptly reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pen. “I’d be glad to.”
“Oh, man.” Michael looked delirious with pleasure.
Kit scribbled something in the book, signed his name with a flourish and handed it to Michael, who thanked him fervently.
“You’re welcome,” Kit replied. “It’s been very nice to meet you, Michael. I know your mother must be very proud of you.”
Michael flushed, glanced quickly at his mother, then down at his feet, and mumbled something unintelligible.
“Yes,” Savannah said firmly, “I’m very proud of both my children. They’re good kids. They just need to learn to choose their friends a bit more carefully.”
Michael’s gulp was audible.
Kit shook his head and chuckled. “The worst trouble I ever got into was when I let a guy who was supposed to be my best friend talk me into doing something stupid. Nearly got us both killed. After we were rescued, I thought my dad was going to finish the job. Fortunately, he just grounded me for a month and made me work my punishment off in his hardware shop.”
Michael looked up at Kit through his lashes. “That really happened?”
Kit nodded sympathetically. “Sure did. I knew it was a dumb thing to do, but I didn’t want my friends to think I was chicken. I learned my lesson that time, though. Haven’t you noticed that in my books, I often have basically decent guys go bad because they haven’t learned to stand up for what they know is right when they’re pressured to do something wrong?”
Michael nodded slowly. “Like Deke Irons in Code of Vengeance.”
“Exactly.” Kit looked pleased that the boy had taken his point
Michael looked thoughtful for a moment, then glanced at his mother again before turning back to Kit “You were grounded for a whole month?”
Kit nodded gravely. “I didn’t like it, of course, but even then I knew it was better than being in juvenile detention. Or dead,” he added. “Remind me sometime, and I’ll tell you the whole story. When I’m finished, you’ll probably agree that I really got off easier than I deserved.”
“I’d like to hear it,” Michael agreed eagerly.
“Not tonight,” Savannah said, deciding it was time to intercede. “It’s getting late, Michael. Go back upstairs and get ready for bed. I’ll be up soon.”
Like his sister, Michael knew when arguing would get him nowhere. He probably realized he’d pressed his luck as far as it would go. He shook Kit’s hand, said he hoped to see him again soon, and left the room, looking back over his shoulder until he was out of sight
“What did you let your friend talk you into?” Savannah asked Kit curiously.
His smile was sheepish. “Playing chicken with a freight train. My shoe got caught under the rail. If I hadn’t been able to get out of my sneaker at the last minute, I’d have been killed.”
“Oh, my God.” Savannah wished now that she hadn’t asked. The thought of her son doing anything that stupid was enough to make her want to lock him in his room until he turned thirty.
“You look pretty much the way my mom did when she found out what I’d done,” Kit said ruefully. “She didn’t have to say a word to make me feel like a real jerk. She let one little tear trickle down her cheek, and I threw myself at her feet and cried and promised her I’d never do anything like that again.”
Savannah laughed shakily and ran a weary hand through her hair. “You think that would work for me and Michael?”
Kit rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “A little motherguilt never hurts,” he said after a moment. “But my dad’s tough punishment was pretty darn effective, too.”
“Then I’ll have to find a way to combine the two, since I’ve had to fill both roles since the twins were born.”
“You’re—er—divorced?”
She’d told him on the island that she’d never been married. Either he’d forgotten, or he was trying to be tactful. Savannah shook her head. “I wasn’t married to their father. He never claimed responsibility for them.”
She figured he might as well understand completely that the lighthearted woman he’d met on the island who’d been free to dance and play and flirt with attractive strangers, the-woman he’d come looking for, didn’t exist. She doubted that he would have been as likely to follow her had he known she was a single mother of twin teenagers, solely responsible for them and their grandmother.
Kit slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You didn’t tell me you had children.”
“There were a lot of things I didn’t tell you,” she reminded him.
“Why?”
She shook her head, wondering how she could make him understand. “Because it wasn’t real. It was like a…like a fantasy,” she said inadequately. “A tropical island, an attractive man, romantic music. I knew our lives were nothing alike, but for those few hours it didn’t matter.”
He looked momentarily confused. “So you knew all along that I was Christopher Pace?”
“No. Not until Miranda let it slip tonight. I told you, I don’t follow celebrity news much. I didn’t know.”
“Then what made you think our lives were so different?”
“Just a feeling, I guess,” she admitted. “But, obviously, I was right. You’ve caught a glimpse of my life tonight, Kit. I have my kids to look after. And my mother. There’s very little time for fun and adventure. In fact, this was probably the most exciting party my mother’s friends have ever attended. They’ll talk about it for weeks.”
“And you hate that” His dark eyes were focused intently on her face, seeing more than she’d expected.
She nodded. “I don’t like providing grist for the gossip mills. I’ve been in that position enough to know that it can get ugly.”
“Trust me, gossip is
something I know all too well.”
She almost shuddered at the thought of how Kit’s life, like many celebrities, was open to discussion and speculation by anyone with an access to the media, no matter how sleazy or disreputable the source might be. She had often thought that she was glad she’d outgrown her girlhood dreams of fame and fortune, since she would truly hate living her life in a public fishbowl. She couldn’t help wondering if Kit’s appearance in Campbellville was going to thrust her into it, whether she liked it or not.
But even with that fear at the back of her mind, she couldn’t honestly say she was sorry Kit was there.
“Oh, Kit,” she murmured, stress and exhaustion loosening her tongue. “Why did you have to come here? It was so much safer when you were just a fantasy.”
He was standing close enough to her now to reach out and touch her cheek. “I already told you why I’m here. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
He slid his fingertips along the line of her jaw, making her shiver. “I wanted to see you. Touch you. Dance with you again.”
Savannah was trembling now, her hands itching to slide around his neck and into the soft thickness of his luxurious dark hair. He had only to speak in that low, sexy voice to take her back to the fantasy, she realized numbly. She could almost hear sultry music begin to play in the background.
“You don’t even know me,” she reminded him in a whisper.
“I know enough to want to know more. Are you going to give me that chance, Savannah, or are you going to send me away?”
She searched his face with questioning eyes. Was he really still interested in her? Didn’t he understand how difficult—if not downright impossible—a relationship between them would be? “And if I ask you to leave?”
“I’ll go,” he answered promptly. And then gave her that pirate’s smile she hadn’t been able to resist on the island. “But not without trying to change your mind.”
With that warning, he lowered his mouth to hers again. And if Kit had any second thoughts about having come looking for her, she certainly couldn’t tell from his kiss. He kissed her as heatedly, as eagerly as he had on the island, when the magic between them had taken them both by surprise. And this kiss, like the last one, might have flared into mutual passion had not a gasp from the doorway broken them apart as effectively as a pail of cold water.