Caught in the Act (The Davenports)

by Law, Kim

  “I can always vacuum the floor mats tomorrow,” he’d teased, leaning into the car with her.

  She’d grinned up at him, letting him buckle her in, while feeling like a teenager going out on her first date. Thankfully, no one was at home waiting for her return.

  She’d been afraid he’d simply take her home. Or give her a quick pass through town and then take her home. But instead he’d snaked through back roads for a while before heading out to Highway 1, where he’d been pushing the speed limit ever since.

  She had her hands at the back of her head now, holding her hair out of her face and trying to maintain some sort of order to the messy bun she’d spent way too much time perfecting earlier that evening. But the bun couldn’t be contained. Wildly blowing tendrils continued to escape and whip around in front of her face.

  “I’m freezing over here!” she shouted into the wind as they sliced through the damp night air. It wasn’t cold out, exactly, but fifties in June—with the top down and her in a sundress—was not quite what she was used to in Atlanta.

  “Such a Southerner,” Brody teased. He glanced at her. His left hand was on the steering wheel and the right was casually fidgeting with a plastic water bottle held against the side of the vinyl seat. He flashed his white teeth at her and her belly quivered. He was so handsome in his charcoal suit that her mouth watered every time she looked at him.

  “Want me to pull over and put the top up?” he asked. “We can roll up the windows and turn on the heat.”

  She could barely see his eyes through the lenses of his glasses, with only the lights from the dash as a backdrop, but she shivered as he looked at her. It felt like he was mentally undressing her, which heated her right back up.

  She shook her head. “Not on your life.”

  Giving up on her hair, she pulled the remaining pins out. So much for the stylish look. Driving with the top down was more about freedom and fun anyway. She might as well go with it.

  She sank her fingers into the depths of her hair and shook it free, and the bottle in Brody’s hand crackled with a pop.

  “Where were the glasses tonight?” he asked. He’d turned his gaze back to the road ahead, but leaned closer to talk above the roar of the wind.

  “You mean the ones I had on yesterday?”

  At his nod, she patted her clutch. “I have them, but I wear my contacts most of the time. The glasses only come out for special occasions.”

  He shot her a quick glance. “Like when you want to appear all professional?”

  “Exactly. Most of the time I don’t look my age, and though most people would be glad of that, it isn’t always a good thing. The glasses help.”

  “I like them,” he said.

  She studied his profile. “Because you’re stuck with a pair yourself, so you think everyone should wear them?”

  “No.” He straightened and put both hands on the wheel at ten and two. “Because you look naughty in them instead of professional.”

  She got a lungful of cold air and realized her mouth was hanging open. She had no reply to that. She’d never been told she looked naughty in her glasses.

  The car began to slow.

  “Where are we going now?” she asked, ignoring his comment. It was exhilarating, just getting in the car and going wherever he took her. Not her norm, but she’d always trusted Brody. Seems that hadn’t changed.

  “There’s a spot up ahead I want to show you.”

  The road grew darker and added curves, and she could tell they were heading back toward the ocean. “Awfully secretive, Mr. Hollister. Keeping me in suspense for a particular reason?”

  His body language took on a more serious tone.

  “What?” she asked, the word barely slipping out. The cool air swept over her upper chest, where the sweetheart neckline of her dress started, and she shivered. At least the dress had sleeves. Otherwise she’d be a Popsicle by now.

  “Nothing.” Brody shook his head. “Just thinking about secrets.”

  She didn’t want to think about secrets. She had too many.

  And she was having to cover up even more. Another phone call had come from her mother earlier that day. Apparently they were continuing to defend their father’s honor. They didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong. No affair. It was a fabrication. Of course, no one would come right out and say that in front of a camera in case they got caught in a lie later on, but it was the impression Cat was to give if questioned.

  When questioned. Because someone would ask her about it.

  Thankfully, yesterday’s press conference had remained primarily focused on the park, but there was no way that would last. Not with all the tabloids and even some national papers now picking up the story.

  In the next instant, a flash of light caught her attention and she held her breath. They were driving out to a lighthouse.

  “You remembered,” she said softly. She’d once told him that she and her dad had both shared a fondness for the nautical buildings. When she’d been six, they’d taken a father-daughter trip along the coast, where they’d visited as many lighthouses as they could fit into a five-day span.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “Just like you remembered that I’d written a play.”

  She chuckled. “I did remember that. In fact, it had a big impact on me.”

  Brody pulled off the road into a gravel lot and parked so they were facing both the lighthouse and the ocean. He turned off the car and all went dark. Stars covered the sky. The sound of waves crashing into the rocks fifty yards away hit her ears, and she inhaled a deep breath, catching the sweet scent of the lilac bushes along the walkway to the lighthouse.

  It was gorgeous there. And they were the only two people in sight.

  Brody shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it out for her, and she leaned forward, letting him slip it over her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. She snuggled into the pristine white bucket seat, the heat from his jacket wrapping around her.

  “You’re welcome. I should have thought of it before.” He slipped low into his seat and faced forward. His dark hair was a stark contrast against the back of his seat, and his hand once again began to fidget with the plastic bottle. He tapped it against his thigh. “Tell me how my once-pitiful excuse for a play could have had a big impact on you,” he said.

  The sounds of the night woke up around them as they sat there, both quiet, while she silently replayed the year after she’d met him. It had been a rough time for her, and coming out of the pregnancy hadn’t been easy. In fact, she’d been on antidepressants for several months.

  But when she’d returned home and had gotten back into her regular school the following fall, she’d known she had to do something to get her mind elsewhere or her grief would have eaten her alive. So she’d joined the drama club. It had felt good to pretend to be someone other than Catherine Davenport for a while.

  She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face him. When he mimicked her actions, shifting one thigh onto the seat between them, she spoke softly into the dark. “I saw how passionate you were about that play, and I wanted something like that in my life. So I joined the drama club.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You were an actress?”

  She shrugged. “I was in high school plays. My junior and senior year.” And she’d loved every minute of it. “My teacher said I was a natural.”

  Her parents had rarely had time to come to her performances, but that hadn’t stopped her. She’d found her own passion, and she’d given it everything she had.

  Brody put the water bottle in between the seats and reached for one of her hands. “That explains the look I saw tonight.”

  “What look?”

  He leaned closer and his voice lowered. “The one where you were almost salivating as you watched the hot mess that was happening up on stage.”

  “
It was not a hot mess,” she protested. “Yeah, it could have been a little smoother in a few places, but it was good.” She paused, feeling the heavy thud of her heart against her chest as Brody slid his fingers between hers. “And I don’t think I was salivating,” she finished softly.

  It almost felt like he was putting the moves on her.

  And she was pretty sure she liked it.

  He nodded and gave her a smile so small she leaned even closer, as if hoping to catch it with her lips. “You were salivating,” he whispered. “You were having a blast. It was almost as if you wanted to find those crayons right then and say to hell with those lines.”

  She closed her eyes and bit her lip at his words. She had wanted to color outside the lines tonight. She’d sat on the edge of her seat for most of the night, memories of her high school days bombarding her. At times she’d almost felt as if she’d been the one up on stage.

  “I was having a blast,” she admitted, opening her eyes. There were only inches separating them. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a community theater. But my enjoyment wasn’t just from watching the play. It was from knowing that you wrote it. That you never lost that desire.” She eyed him in the dark. “You were going to tell me yourself if the mayor hadn’t outed you, weren’t you?”

  She’d been floored when she’d learned that Brody still wrote plays.

  “Of course.” He brought his free hand up and stroked the back of one finger down her cheek. Tiny sparks were left in its wake. “I couldn’t have kept it from you even if I wanted to. My name is on the program. But I would have liked for you to see it without knowing first,” he told her. “To give me an honest opinion afterward.”

  “I gave you one.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He shook his head. “It stunk.” He dropped his hand to their joined ones and let out a little sigh as he looked out toward the sea. “This whole evening did. Kristi couldn’t concentrate, poor girl, and then the—”

  He stopped talking abruptly and pulled his hands away, turning his body to align with the windshield. An emotional barrier slammed between them.

  “What?” Cat prodded. “What else happened?”

  She reached through the barrier and touched the hand that held the water bottle—which he’d picked back up and had started tapping against his leg again. She trapped his fingers beneath hers. “You can talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  A light breeze floated through the car and made the hair framing her face dance.

  He pulled his hand free from hers, but he didn’t pull away. His voice came out low and gravelly. Almost as if he were in pain. “The ‘friend’ who didn’t show tonight was a producer. Ben Searcy. From Broadway. I’d been working to get him up here for months. Now I’m back to square one. Then again, given the many hiccups in tonight’s performance, maybe it’s best he didn’t see it.”

  Wow. She hadn’t realized it meant that much to him.

  “So you want to sell to Broadway? That’s great,” she enthused. “We just have to get someone else to come up. I can make some calls. Maybe—”

  “No. Don’t make calls on my behalf.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with letting someone help.” He’d been like that, even as a teen. Stubborn and prideful.

  “Maybe there’s nothing wrong with it for some people,” he stated, his voice solid and sure. “But not for me. I take care of myself.”

  “You make it sound as if you’ve always been alone or something.”

  He gave her a sardonic look.

  “That’s not true,” she insisted. “You have your mother.” She paused as it occurred to her that she knew nothing about his father. She couldn’t remember him ever saying the first thing about the man. Maybe he’d never had anything to do with Brody. “Your mother is so proud of you,” Cat told him, at a loss for what else to say. “It was written all over her face tonight. She would do anything in the world for you.”

  The beam from the lighthouse flashed over Brody and she thought she saw anger, but the light swung on around and she wasn’t sure what it had been. This evening was not turning out how she’d expected. It was supposed to be about fun.

  Finally Brody looked away. “You’re right, she would do anything in the world for me. Same as your mother, I suppose.”

  That sounded like an accusation. “What do you mean?”

  When he didn’t answer, she focused on the light flashing out over the water. It was a lonely place to be at night. No one was around, only the lapping waves and the seeking light. But it felt right to be sitting there with him.

  He pushed open his car door. “Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested.

  “Brody.” When he turned back, she held out one foot. “I’m wearing heels, and we’re parked in gravel. I’ll twist an ankle if I try to walk in the dark.”

  He let out a groan and circled the car to her door. Before she could guess his intent, he bent at the waist and scooped her up.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she squeaked.

  “I’m carrying you to the sidewalk.” The words came out as though “of course” he was carrying her to the sidewalk.

  “What’s wrong with the car all of a sudden?”

  He stared down at her, and she caught her breath. The strength of him was clear when he looked at her like that. Even though it was so dark she could barely make out his features. He was a man on a mission, and he was going to get what he wanted.

  She only wished she knew what that mission was.

  “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?” With his words, he headed to the sidewalk. Cat scowled at him from her inferior position.

  “And you’re a bit of a bully,” she grumbled.

  A grin softened his jaw. “Got to get what I want somehow.”

  She could feel her pulse pounding in her throat. “And what do you want?” she whispered. The words came out far more suggestive than she’d intended.

  His head angled down to her again, right as the light landed on his features, and she shuddered in his arms. It wasn’t anger on his face now. And she had a pretty clear idea of what he wanted.

  “I want you to be my new lead,” he answered.

  Her eyes rounded. “In what?”

  She felt his gaze stray to her mouth. “In the play. What else?”

  In his bed, maybe?

  And then his words sank in. She wiggled in his arms, ready to get down. “I can’t be in your play.” The words practically screeched out of her.

  “Why not?”

  Two more long strides and he put her on the sidewalk that led to the lighthouse.

  “Because I’m not an actress,” she said. Was he crazy?

  But oh, the mere idea stirred something inside her. She wanted to be up on that stage. The suggestion lit a fire inside her, and she could almost feel herself coming to life. As if she’d been lying dormant for years.

  Plus, this was her vacation. Why couldn’t she do what she wanted on her vacation?

  Because she was a Davenport, that was why. And because the world was always watching.

  The fuse fizzled out.

  Brody grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him as he headed for the benches she could just barely make out up ahead. “You are an actress. I see it all the time.”

  She tugged on his hand but he didn’t relent. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw it yesterday at the park. I see it anytime you’re in the news. You act on behalf of your family all the time.”

  A groan slipped out before she could catch it. “Do not bring up my family tonight,” she warned him. “I’m supposed to be enjoying myself here. The first time to myself I’ve had in years. I don’t want to spend the evening talking about museum donations or building parks.”

  “Or about what your father did before he died?” The slash o
f Brody’s mouth was hard.

  “Especially not about that.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  They emerged from behind the lighthouse into the clearing and stopped. There were three garden benches positioned in a half circle, facing out over the ocean, and bushes, dripping with flowers, lining the walk all around them. She let Brody push her down onto one of the benches. He followed to sit beside her, his hard thigh pressed against hers, and it warmed that entire side of her.

  She shot him a questioning look as she repositioned his jacket around her shoulders. It was almost as cold out here, closer to the ocean, as it had been driving down the highway. “Why do I do what?”

  “Have the press conferences.” He stretched his arm out behind her on the bench. “Cover for them.”

  “Because it’s my job.” That sounded lame. She lifted a shoulder, giving him an I-don’t-have-an-option kind of shrug. “You probably can’t understand it, but I have to. It’s my family. Plus, things are kind of rough right now. The Harrisons are intent on making us look bad. They’ll do anything to stir up trouble before the election.”

  Brody went quiet. She watched him, catching a small tic along his jawline and wondering what he was thinking so seriously about.

  After a long moment, he finally spoke. There was no animation in his voice. “I do understand, actually. And I think you do have a choice.”

  She started to protest, but he captured her hand again. The rightness of it stopped her.

  “Didn’t you say only two nights ago that you want to do the unexpected?”

  “But I won’t just ignore my family.”

  “Why not?”

  She stared at him. He had no clue. “Because of who we are, Brody. I won’t simply pretend I’m not a part of them just because I want some time to myself.”