Really Something

by Shirley Jump

  “I find that hard to believe.” His ocean-colored gaze swept over her, hot and interested. Definitely interested.

  “Trust me. As a kid, I was no beauty queen.”

  He took a sip of soda, then sat back against the vinyl seat. It let out a cheap plastic squeak. “Carlene, huh? I knew a Carlene, a couple years younger than me, I think. She was one of Katie’s friends.”

  Damn. How could she have been so stupid? She knew how. She’d been caught up in Duncan’s smile, his voice, the way he looked at her. No wonder she worked behind the camera. She’d never have made it as an actress. “Hmm,” she said, using her meal as a way to avoid looking at him. “What a coincidence.”

  “Yeah. It’s not a common name.”

  “Common enough where I come from,” she said, hoping he’d believe her. That he’d think everyone in California named their kids Carlene.

  “And where is that? Exactly?”

  “L.A.”

  “You want to know what’s better than that Vi-a-gra stuff?” Joe said to his pals. Several white-haired male heads swiveled in his directions.

  But Duncan either didn’t hear or didn’t care. “You’ve lived there all your life?”

  This lying straight to his face thing was harder than she’d expected. Allie wasn’t a liar by nature. Sweat pooled between her breasts. “I’m full.” She pushed away her plate. “Let’s get going.”

  “You’ve barely touched your food.”

  “Tiger’s claw,” Joe whispered. Then he sat back down and smiled, like a man who was getting some claw three, four times a day. “I swear. My Lucille says she hasn’t seen nothin’ like it since our honeymoon.”

  “Joe, you’re a damned liar.” Harry waved a hand in dismissal. “The only thing getting any action in your house is the remote.”

  “I kid you not. I start putting this tiger’s claw powder in my milk of magnesia and before you know it, I am a lion on the prowl.”

  Petey and Harry exchanged glances then let out a series of guffaws. Joe’s face reddened, but he held his ground.

  “Are you ready to—” Before Allie could finish the sentence, Lisa Connelly and JoAnn Preston strode into Margie’s.

  “Look at that,” JoAnn said, not quite sotto voce as she nudged Lisa. “Someone got the Blue Plate Special. And then some.”

  “What do you mean, the special?” Lisa said, with a sneer. “Looks to me like someone had more than one.”

  For a split second, it was as if no time had passed, as if some wormhole had jetted Allie back to the high school lunchroom. She forgot she was Allie Dean, forgot Duncan, her dinner, her surroundings.

  The past roared to life in her gut, along with every insecurity she’d once had. Then Allie’s gaze slid to the right. She cringed when she noticed a woman, a few years older than her and heavier by at least fifty pounds, sitting at a booth, two empty plates on her table.

  Allie’s past, alive and breathing again, with Lisa and JoAnn, still as vindictive as ever. The woman at the table—their intended victim—sent the girls a glare, then ignored them with a disdainful shake of her head.

  “You girls just pay for your food,” Margie said from the counter. “Ten seventy-nine.”

  Lisa handed Margie the money, grabbed their bagged takeout orders, then whirled away from the counter, her long white-blond hair a flowing curtain of perfection. She paused when she caught sight of Allie again. She skirted her way past the tables, as if she owned the place, then came to a halt. She took one long second to look Allie over, a cat eyeing the intruding stray. “What are you doing here? Trying to steal the heart of Tempest’s most eligible bachelor?”

  The woman was a bitch. Always had been, probably always would be. The momentary stutter in Allie’s confidence disappeared, as a surge of outrage rushed to the surface. Allie refused to let Lisa have any power over her, ever again. “What is your problem?”

  “You.” She sneered at Allie. “I’m just watching out for Duncan.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Allie geared up to say something else then realized the diner had gone quiet. Apparently even Joe’s new virility discovery was less interesting than a potential catfight.

  Allie drew in a breath, refocused herself. The plan. Think of the plan. That was the key to getting back at Lisa for all her cruelty—not flinging words that would likely be forgotten as soon as they hit the air. Besides, stooping to Lisa’s level made her no better than Lisa.

  And Allie had grown up, become a better woman. She had no intentions of becoming a Lisa herself. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still give Lisa just a taste of her own medicine, through the power of the movie set.

  Allie forced a bright, friendly smile to her face. “I don’t think we’ve met, by the way.” She thrust out her hand, lowered her voice, as if she were sharing a secret, just with Lisa. The diners resumed their conversations, clearly disappointed no blows were going to be exchanged. “I’m Allie Dean, and I’m in town with a movie production company.”

  “Movies.” Lisa turned to JoAnn and gave her friend another elbow. “Did you hear that?”

  “You have to keep it quiet, though,” Allie said. “Until Duncan has a chance to interview me for the TV station. He wants the exclusive.”

  “Oh, you have my word,” Lisa said.

  I wouldn’t take that to the bank. Allie leaned forward, that friendly smile starting to hurt her face. “You have a great figure. Have you ever thought of acting?”

  Lisa’s eyes widened with surprise, then she cocked one hip to the side, striking a pose. “Acting? Me? Well…maybe.”

  “I think I could find a part for you, if you’re interested.”

  Lisa blushed. “You really think the director would use me? In a real part?”

  The plan was going exactly as Allie had envisioned. All those awful things Lisa had said to her in high school would be avenged, albeit on a movie screen, and in phony gore.

  “Oh, yes.” Allie smiled. “I’ll make sure of it. Here’s my card. Give me a ring tomorrow and I’ll tell you when the first call is. The director is arriving in a few days and he’ll want to get right to work. We’re shooting at the old farmhouse on State Road 89.”

  “Isn’t that where…” Lisa glanced at Duncan.

  “Yeah,” he said. “But I’m okay with it.”

  A flare of jealousy roared in Allie’s gut at the obvious connection between Duncan and Lisa. She tamped it down, then returned the smile to her face. What did she care about Duncan’s relationships? She had no claim on him, and wanted no claim. “Remember, this is just between us.”

  In an instant, Lisa’s entire body language shifted from territorial to best friend. “Oh, I will. Thank you!” She and JoAnn flounced out of Margie’s.

  After they left, Allie shoved her plate to the side, the food having lost its appeal. She should have been happy, because everything she’d come here for was going exactly as she’d wanted, but for some reason her dinner sat bitter in her stomach, lay flat against her taste buds.

  “You have to feel sorry for Lisa,” Duncan said.

  “Sorry? For someone who talks to people like that?” Allie took a sip of her water and shook her head. “It’s a wonder people keep going to her hair salon.”

  “You don’t know Lisa’s whole story.”

  Allie cast a sharp glance in Duncan’s direction. Of course he would stick up for Lisa, out of all the women in Tempest. “That’s no excuse for the way she talked about that woman.”

  “True. But sometimes, Lisa doesn’t think before she opens her mouth. She’s had it rough, and sometimes that roughness comes out in the way she treats people.” He cocked his head, studied Allie. “That was really nice of you, to offer her a role.”

  “Nice?” Allie opened her mouth, closed it. She hadn’t expected Duncan to think she’d taken the high road with Lisa. “Oh, yeah, that’s me. Just being nice.”

  Right. Wait till he sees what “role” Lisa gets.

  One side of his mouth curved upwar
d and his study of her intensified. “What are you hiding, Allie Dean?”

  “Me? Nothing.” Everything. As he continued his perusal, her heart began to race again, thundering in her ears. Lisa forgotten, the entire diner forgotten, her attention so easily again riveted on him.

  The grin swung across his entire face. “Good. Then you wouldn’t mind a little Truth or Dare?”

  She arched a brow. “Truth or dare?”

  “I’m sure they played that, even in California.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then play. With me. Now.”

  “Now? Here?”

  The grin widened into a tease. “Unless you’re too chicken?”

  “Not at all.” Her chin jutted up, ready to meet any challenge he laid out.

  “So, what’ll it be? Truth? Or dare?”

  Definitely not truth. “Dare.”

  He thought a minute. “I dare you to touch me. Under the table.”

  She moved her foot, bumping against his. “Done.”

  “Not there,” Duncan said, his voice low and dark.

  Everything within Allie melted, going from warm to white-hot in an instant. All she knew, all she saw, all she heard was Duncan Henry.

  And those two very tiny, very sexy words.

  The short vinyl tablecloth hung about twelve inches off the side of the table. Around them, the blur of activity still filled Margie’s, the perfect cover. Servers rushed between tables, filling glasses, taking orders, dispensing salads that were more lettuce than substance. Few spared more than a glance in the direction of Duncan and Allie.

  Duncan watched her, his eyes dark. Allie met his gaze, the pool of desire spreading through her. She kicked off one Prada heel and tiptoed her foot up his trouser leg, inch after inch, until she met the hard resistance of his zipper—and the erection beneath it. She rubbed her toes over it, watching as his eyes grew rounder, darker, then dropped her foot back into her shoe.

  “Maybe we should…ah…” Duncan said, “find another game to play.”

  “Not until I get my turn to ask you. Which will it be?” she asked, her voice husky, her pulse thundering in her ears. “Truth? Or dare?”

  “Depends. Do you want to ask me a question? Or do you want me to touch you?” He arched a brow.

  Oh, she wanted him to touch her. Very, very much. But she also wanted to know the man. The only way to defeat an enemy, she’d once read in a history class, was to know him intimately.

  And that was one lesson Allie was more than willing to learn with Duncan. But not yet. A little truth, she decided, would be a better choice. It might help quell the riot of heat in her gut, take her hormones from the red zone back into something safer.

  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

  Something flickered in his eyes, like a shade being pulled back, allowing a peek inside, nothing more. “Once. A long time ago. And I never even told her.”

  “Why not? What happened?”

  “You only get one question, remember?” His smile, though, had dimmed a bit. Curiosity burned in Allie. Who was she? An ex-wife? Ex-lover? Allie rifled through her high school memories, but couldn’t come up with any one woman that Duncan had dated long enough to fall in love.

  Of course, she’d been gone for seven years. He could have met someone in college, or when he returned to Indiana. He could have fallen in and out of love while she’d been in California, changing her body, her life, and trying to put him out of her mind.

  She shouldn’t care. And yet she did.

  “My turn to ask you again,” Duncan said. “Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  “Are you avoiding truth?”

  “I would think a guy like you would appreciate a girl who prefers dares.”

  “A guy like me, huh? And what kind of guy is that?”

  “The kind that doesn’t want strings, regardless of what you said the other day in the garden.”

  “A real love ’em and leave ’em type?”

  “More the ‘let the woman love me and then leave her’ kind.” She heard the bitterness that tinted her words and drew back. He’d surprised her with his earlier answer about being in love once before, and some of that surprise had bled into her words. It had upset her carefully constructed emotional apple cart, and she needed to get it righted. Fast. Before she again let too much slip. “Of course, I don’t have any firsthand knowledge—” liar, liar “—but that’s what I’ve heard people say around here.”

  He grinned. “So you’ve been asking people about me?”

  “Trust me, every two-X chromosome human in Tempest is talking about you. No need to ask.”

  “Even this one?”

  She raised her chin. “I’m immune to you.”

  “Is that why you kissed me?”

  “I can kiss you without falling in love.”

  “So that’s your plan? Love me and leave me, is that it?”

  She grinned, as though that was a big huge joke, to keep him from realizing how close he’d come to the truth. How cold it sounded, coming out of his mouth. How…awful. “Exactly.”

  “Well then, Allie Dean, that’s my dare.”

  “What is?”

  “Make love to me.” He’d lowered his voice, and the words seemed to skate across the table, heavy, full of promise. “Now. Tonight.”

  “Here?” The word came out with a squeak.

  He laughed. “No, not here. But somewhere.”

  “Don’t tell me.” She tapped a finger on her chin, feigning deep thought. “Lovers’ Hill.”

  He arched a brow. “How do you know about that?”

  Another slipup that pointed to her as an innie, not one of Earl’s dreaded outies. “I’ve been looking for teens to play extras. And you know teenagers. They like to talk.”

  He seemed to buy that because he nodded and went on, still teasing her, still sexy as all heck. “I was thinking of something a little more comfortable than the front seat of my Miata. Or the back seat of your Taurus.”

  She laughed. Anticipation rushed through her at breakneck speed. How long had she dreamed of making love to Duncan Henry? All her life.

  And an extra ten thousand times since that moment in the farmhouse.

  He may be all wrong for her in a hundred different ways and she may not have any intentions of anything beyond right now, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have one night, did it?

  This night. This moment.

  Then tomorrow, she could forget it all. Move on.

  Right?

  Allie accepted the check from the waitress and went to lay a bill on it, but Duncan beat her to it and grabbed up the slim paper.

  “I have a hotel room.” And as she said the words she knew there’d never really been any doubt that eventually it would have come to this. Even as the sensible part of her whispered that while this might fit in so well with her plan—and what could it hurt to spend just one night with him?—her heart might be a casualty in the end. “And it’s not too far from here, but far enough that—”

  “No one in Tempest will see my car or yours and put two and two together.”

  “Exactly.”

  He grinned. “Probably not a good idea to rent a room at Hildie’s B&B then?”

  She laughed again. “No. Besides, by this time, the maid has already turned down my covers.”

  “A real time-saver.” He threw a twenty on the table, way overpaying for the inexpensive meal, and put out his hand. “Let’s go.”

  “So who won?” she asked as they left Margie’s.

  He leaned down, nuzzling his mouth against her neck. His breath, his voice, were warm on her ear. At this rate, they might not make it to the hotel. “Right now, I’d say it’s a draw. Let’s have the tiebreaker—in bed.”

  She took one look at Duncan and doubted there’d be any need for Joe Swanson’s special milk-of-magnesia shake tonight.

  Chapter 16

  The car engine clicked, cooling in its parking space, but Duncan and Allie ha
d already started a heated race up to the room. As the miles between Tempest and Indianapolis had passed, the tension between them had ratcheted up, as if the distance from Duncan’s reality gave him license to enjoy the very real fantasy sitting beside him.

  Not to mention the little tease provided by her foot back in the diner. It had taken three mental recitations of “The Star-Spangled Banner” before he’d been able to walk out of Margie’s.

  He may have told her he wanted a one-night stand, but he’d left out the truth part. There was more between them than one night. Duncan felt it. And he intended to prove to Allie Dean that she wouldn’t be able to walk away after one night.

  Or, at least, he thought that was his plan. Because right now, with her against him and his libido in charge, he wasn’t thinking much beyond small words like Allie, bed, and sex.

  “I can’t find the key,” Allie said, her voice breathless, lost somewhere in her throat.

  “We’ll just break in then,” Duncan murmured along her lips, ready to throw one of the stone-encrusted ashtrays through the glass door if need be.

  “You might consider pausing”—at that she did a pause of her own and returned the kiss, with one as fiery as his—“so that I can dig in my purse.”

  “I would, if you’d quit”—and he did the same, right back at her, tangoing his tongue with hers, dancing along the delicate ridges of her mouth, tasting the after-dinner coffee she’d managed only a few sips of before they’d decided to skip dessert and head for the hotel—“teasing me.”

  “Jackpot,” Allie said, producing a key, fumbling it between them to slip it into the door, doing so blindly while her mouth stayed busy with his, their hands crossing paths when the buzzer sounded, and they shoved on the handle, nearly falling inside the hotel, stumbling onto the carpet in a laughing tangle of arms and legs and caresses.

  “Don’t tell me you’re on the top floor,” he said.

  Her eyes shone with anticipation and she trailed a hand down his chest, her touch lingering on his swollen erection. “Think how much fun we can have in the elevator.”

  But that wasn’t to be. An elderly couple shared the ride with them, frowning disapproval at their disheveled clothes, swollen lips, teasing glances. “Some people,” the woman whispered under her breath.