“No,” he’d replied. “You need the spotlight. You need the three hundred dollar massages and nine hundred dollar shoes and the stylist and limousine and paparazzi. Me? I need a life again. My life. Not this glitz and glamour fakery.”
“You dumb fuck, you can live it without me. I will never give all of this up. Never!”
“What about love?”
“Love?” She looked puzzled before her nose crinkled and her whole face turned into a giant sneer. “What about it? It’s just a fantasy, Nick. Love doesn’t exist. It never has. Not for us. Not for anyone. Just face it. We used each other. I needed you to get out of the rattrap I was in. My career was headed straight into the toilet. You gave me instant name recognition and opened all the right doors so I could blossom into who I am today. People Magazine writes about which fashion shows I attend. US covers my charity events. I’m named to best-dressed lists. Even Oprah and Ellen return my calls.”
“And how did I use you, Vanessa?”
She laughed. “You needed a nursemaid, Nick. Someone to be sure your clothes matched. Someone to organize your leukemia foundation and keep your head out of the clouds with all that silly writing and be sure you showed up to games on time. You needed someone around so you wouldn’t feel so lonely. Well, I did my part, babe, but not out in the sticks. I’ll take you for every cent you have, down to your last cashmere pullover.
“I never loved you, Nick. That’s why it’ll be easy to walk away.”
That’s why he couldn’t fall for another shallow, self-consumed actress. Or really any woman. Women always had a hidden agenda. The few dates he’d been set up on since he’d come to Aurora proved it. They only went out with him for who he used to be, so they could brag about their time spent with a sports legend.
The one woman he thought was different ended things a month into their relationship when she realized he had no money—and what she decided were no prospects.
So he gave up on women. And romantic feelings. He wouldn’t be bothered by them anymore. He knew he’d never marry again. He was all right with that. As a writer, he was used to a solitary life. And he still had his family.
And his characters. That’s where he created true, lasting love. Each of his novels had murder and mayhem in them since crime sold well, but every time he built a relationship between two main characters. Twice it had been between a cop and the heroine. Once the hero had been a journalist instead. But in his perfect world, he could create real, lasting emotions. He could give his people the love he craved that he knew didn’t exist in real life.
He would not—under any circumstances—give into this momentary infatuation with Callie Chennault. For God’s sake, she was an actress who could probably fake every emotion on the planet. He could feel sorry for her because of the brutal attack she’d endured. He could even learn to get along with her while she resided at Noble Oaks. He would be friendly but keep his distance.
But he knew not to get hung up on her. Because as an actress, she probably decided to milk this whole attack anyway for publicity purposes. It probably hadn’t been nearly as bad as reported. And she’d retreated to Aurora, so the public would keep guessing. Then she’d make the comeback of her career at twice her old salary, and the ratings of her stupid show would go through the roof. Plus, she’d probably win every award out there since she’d survived a crazy stalker’s attack.
And he’d be one of the poor fools she practiced her story on. Glean a little sympathy. Play up to him like they had some things in common.
No, sir—he would not fall for her. Or her act. He would keep his distance and pray she returned home soon.
Before he lost his willpower.
Because he wanted nothing better than to take Callie in his arms and kiss her senseless.
A brisk knock summoned him from his reverie. Nick went to the door, flipped on the porch light, and found his cousin Pam standing on the porch.
“Hey, Pammie. Come on in.” He stepped aside to let her inside. “How was your—”
“I’m here to invite you, and your grilling skills, to a barbecue tomorrow night. You are the best at chicken, hands down, and you give Eric a run for the money with your burgers.”
He laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’d disown you and punch my lights out.”
“Nope. I’m making my molasses baked beans and potato salad, so he’ll show up. Any starving bachelor would.”
“What can I bring? Make it easy. Buns, maybe? Or I can pick up dessert from The Sweet Shoppe.”
“Dessert is covered, so buns it is. That and Callie, and we’ll see you around 6:30.” Pam started out the door before her words hit him.
“Wait a minute, kid. Buns . . . and Callie?”
She grinned. “Yep. It’s in her honor, and since Eric is already picking up Gretchen, it falls to you to bring Callie over.”
“Why can’t Eric—”
“Because he’s taking Gretchen into New Orleans for the afternoon. They’ll come straight from there. What’s the big deal? You’re right next to her.”
“No big deal. We’ll be there. Hot buns and all.”
Pam reached around and pinched his butt. “You have the amazing hot buns in this family, Cuz. See you tomorrow night.”
She zipped out the door with her usual, boundless energy. Nick closed it thoughtfully.
His willpower would definitely be tested tomorrow night.
Chapter 16
Callie checked her appearance once more in the floor-length mirror, nerves flittering like butterflies in her stomach.
“Relax,” she told the image in front of her. “It’s just a few friends. Food. A little laughter. Gretchen’ll be there. Pam.”
And Nick . . .
She knew she was being foolish. Why should it bother her that some stupid ex-jock would be there? She would keep her distance, eat a little food, and then hightail it out the minute she felt ill at ease.
Or better yet, she should simply stay home. She was already uncomfortable enough as it was. And it wasn’t just being in the presence of more than two people.
It was being in sight of Nick. Her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of him.
She gave a stern look in the mirror. “This is craziness, Callie Chennault. You are not fourteen years old. This is not a date. You don’t want or need any man in your life. Period. You need to put on ten pounds. Get your head together. Find what you want to do with the rest of your life. Now, man up!”
Her hand gently stroked her right side as she spoke, making herself aware of the scars hidden below her sky blue sleeveless blouse. A man had done that. And she hadn’t been able to stop him. She determined no man would ever hurt her again—either physically or emotionally.
She was strong. She was a Chennault. She would conquer her fears and by golly, she’d enjoy tonight. Damn Nick La Chappelle and any other man that caused her to miss a step. She deserved a little fun. Gretchen told her that all the time.
Callie left her room with a tad more confidence than she’d mustered in weeks and headed down the stairs. She heard voices in the kitchen and turned in their direction. As she entered, her aunt and Essie were seated at the table in the breakfast nook, laughing and chatting over bowls of red beans and rice accompanied by plates of hot, steaming cornbread. Wolf sat close by, an expectant look on his face in case anyone dropped something.
“I see you’re ready for your outing,” Callandra said, her eyes sparkling with approval.
Essie rose. “Let me get you that slaw, else Miz Pam’ll make you turn around and come back. She is one bossy gal.” The cook opened the refrigerator and took out a large glass bowl covered in Saran wrap and handed it to Callie.
“You have a nice time, hear?” Essie gently squeezed Callie’s shoulder. “Eat something of everything for me.”
She left the kitchen and went to the foyer table. She slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed the car keys to the SUV they’d rented and headed out the door.
“Better lock it.”
She froze at the low, deep voice. She whipped around and found Nick seated on the porch swing, his long legs stretched out in front of him. A slight breeze ruffled his dark hair as those midnight blue eyes focused on her with intensity.
“You about made me drop this,” she accused him, hugging the glass bowl tightly. “How dare you sneak up on people like that.”
He stood as she stormed down the steps.
“Wait a minute,” he called after her.
She stopped and watched him slip a key into the front door and turn the dead bolt before he lumbered down the steps with a grace that screamed his athletic roots.
“I told you to lock it,” he said. “Miz C is careless about that. I tell her all the time that times have changed. It’s a different world now than the one she grew up in.”
He placed his palm against the small of her back. “Let’s go.”
Callie stiffened at the touch and turned to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m your ride to Pam and Tom’s.” Nick paused a moment. “I thought Pam told you.”
“No. She didn’t.” She took a deep yoga breath to calm her racing heart. “That’s okay. I’ll see you there.” She turned to go.
“Wait.” Nick took her elbow in his hand. She winced, and he dropped his hand.
“We’re going to the same place. We might as well go together.”
She hesitated. “I . . . I might have to . . . leave early. I wouldn’t want—”
“Then I’ll leave early, too.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I’m not much on get-togethers myself. You give me a sign when you want to leave. I’ll do the same.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal?”
Callie held the bowl close to her with her left hand and moved to place her right hand in his. “Deal.”
He clasped her hand in his. Warmth flooded her at his touch. It felt . . . nice. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his. He reached over and took the slaw from her.
“Come on. Pam’s a-waiting.”
He escorted her to his red convertible, which sat in the front drive. She was disappointed for a moment that the top was up. She hadn’t ridden in a convertible in fifteen years and realized she’d missed the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair.
Nick opened the door for her. “Don’t sit on the buns,” he warned.
She located two packages of Mrs. Baird’s hamburger buns in the passenger seat and picked them up before she slipped into the car. Nick handed her the bowl and closed the door as she fastened her seat belt.
The car smelled of its leather seats and Nick’s cologne. Utterly male. Callie shivered. She didn’t know if it was in fear or anticipation.
He backed out and headed toward town. He didn’t attempt any small talk. Neither did she. Yet the silence between them wasn’t strained. She felt a small victory when they pulled down the long driveway of Pam’s rambling two-story. Her breathing was still normal. She hadn’t panicked in Nick’s presence or needed him to stop the car.
Maybe this night out would be good for her, after all.
Before she had unbuckled her seat belt, Nick was already out of the car and opening her door. He took the food items and gave her a hand to get out of the low-slung car. Once again, she experienced a feeling of security for the few moments her hand rested in his. As if everything was right with the world.
“Hey, guys.”
She watched Pam’s husband head toward them. Tom hesitated a moment before he gave her a swift hug. Callie was certain Pam had told him of her feelings about men. But the hug was brief, and she didn’t feel like a trapped prisoner because it was over so quickly.
“How’s the team this year?” she asked, glad to hear her voice sounded natural. “Pam said you made it to regionals last year.”
Tom snorted. “This football team is headed all the way to state, honey. I have a quarterback with an arm on him that you haven’t seen the likes of. The kid’s six-three and still growing. Accurate as hell. And he reads defenses like a dream.”
He smiled at her. “You’ll have to come to a few games.”
She returned the smile, relaxing in the presence of someone she’d known for many years. “I’ll do that. It’ll be odd, though, seeing you coaching on the sidelines instead of out there making tackles and forcing fumbles.”
“You’ll get used to it. Besides, it’s the only place I get to boss anyone around.” Tom winked at her.
“You aren’t saying that you’re henpecked, are you, Tom?” Nick asked, a teasing light in his eyes.
“I prefer to think of myself as a modern man. One who knows he pleases his wife and yet knows his place.”
“I’d say your place is back at those coals, buster,” Pam said. “Go nurse them so Nick can get things rolling. I’m starving.”
Tom rolled his eyes dramatically. “It’ll be another ten minutes, Nick. No need to rush back. I’ve got it covered.” He headed off toward the grill.
Pam hugged her. “Glad you’re here. Elvis just called. He said to say hello.”
“How are things going for our newest state legislator?”
Pam took the bowl of slaw and sat it on a picnic table dressed in red and white gingham.
“You know Elvis. Politics is his life. It wasn’t enough being Aurora’s district attorney. He had to aim for the big leagues.”
“I know you must miss him not being around. How is Eric taking it? I think it would be hard to be separated from your twin after so many years. I mean, they even roomed together in college. And married sisters from their same hometown.”
“Elvis definitely got the better part of that deal. His wife is the sweetheart in that pathetic excuse for a family. Poor Eric got saddled with the Queen Bitch for what thankfully turned out to be a very short ride.” Pam sighed. “But he’s perked up, for sure. Gretchen’s only been here for a few days. Even Elvis said that Eric sounded like a new man on the phone.”
She nodded. “They are already thicker than thieves.”
A dark sedan pulled up as they spoke. “Why, there’s the devil himself, with an angel by his side,” Pam said. They watched as the couple got out of the car and came up the drive, and Pam went to greet them.
Callie always thought Gretchen vivacious. She had a rich love for life written across her heart-shaped face. Yet this Gretchen seemed even more alive and vital than the woman Callie had lived with these past few months.
“He’s smitten,” muttered Nick under his breath, but she caught the comment all the same. She turned to him.
“Well, look at her. She seems pretty taken, too.”
Nick frowned. “Yeah. After she made a play for me.” He shrugged. “Redheads are supposed to be notoriously fickle.”
“Gretchen is not fickle,” she hissed between her teeth. “She’s had a rough time of it. A man who never tried to understand her. A very messy divorce. She deserves a little happiness.”
“Don’t we all,” he added sarcastically.
She chose to ignore him and walked over to her friend. “How was New Orleans?”
“Divine,” Gretchen drawled in an imitation Southern accent. Eric came up beside her and draped an arm around her shoulder. She smiled up at him. “And I couldn’t have had a better tour guide.”
Eric beamed. “This little lady can move.” He shook his head. “Hey, Cal, do all you New Yorkers walk so fast? I had to about tie her ankles together to slow her down so she could actually see the sights and not race by everything.”
She laughed. “Everyone is pretty much in a hurry in New
York. Of course, down here the heat’ll slow anyone to a crawl.”
Gretchen collapsed on a nearby lawn chair. “You are not kidding me. I could use a cold one.”
Callie had worried about standing around feeling useless. Now she had a job. “I’ll get you something. I’ll get everyone something. Be right back.”
She hurried into the kitchen, pleased that she’d made small talk and actually enjoyed it. She spied a pitcher of iced tea sitting on the counter, but she knew most people would want something a little stronger. As she opened the refrigerator, she heard the kitchen door open behind her. Thinking it was Pam, she said, “Go back and poll the guys if they want beer or wine. I know what you’ll want.”
“That so?”
She popped her head up and found Nick standing there. “I . . . thought you were Pam.”
“Pam sent me in to help. She didn’t think you should have to make so many trips. Don’t worry. I know where everything is.”
“I’m fine. You can go.”
He stayed.
She pulled out several beers and a bottle of white wine and set them on the counter.
“I had you pegged as a white wine kinda gal,” he said.
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