by Lorin Grace
Mandy held on to the door handle as the truck turned the corner faster than she liked.
After several minutes of driving, Daniel stopped looking in the rearview mirror as often as he looked forward. “Sorry about that. I had hoped they would leave me alone tonight. Usually when I am down this way I can get by relatively unnoticed. But this was the first time I have been on a date in the area, and I guess someone decided it would be newsworthy.”
“Usually when you’re down here? How often are you here?”
“I spend a week or so every few months here, but I keep a low profile. It has only been since that stupid magazine article that the locals have noticed me.”
“That explains how you know more about the area restaurants than I do.”
Daniel turned down a tiny lane, stopping at a familiar gate.
Mandy looked around in confusion, but she would recognize the old walnut tree anywhere. The Crawford Manson.
Mandy’s unasked question hung in the cab of the truck while Daniel unlocked the gate. He should have gone around to the gate with the automatic opener. He wouldn’t lie if she asked, but he wasn’t ready to show her where he was living just yet.
“I thought the pond would be a nice place to share our scones, no trespassers allowed you know.” He drove around the house toward the west side of the property where the fading sun cast a warm glow over the unkempt lawn. He stopped his truck as close to the pond as he could. They would still need to hike a few dozen yards. Her boot—how could he have forgotten?
“Do you think you and your boot can make the hike?”
Mandy pulled her gaze from the window. “Just you try to stop me.” She opened her door and moved to slide out, but Daniel caught her wrist. “Please wait.” Mandy leaned back against the seat.
Before going around to get her, he pulled a flashlight and blanket from behind the seat, then set them on the hood. He should have driven the Lexus because it would be easier for her to get in and out, but that would mean losing the few moments of contact helping her out of the truck permitted.
Mandy cleared her throat once he’d lifted her down, and Daniel relinquished his hold and handed her the crutches. He gathered the blanket and flashlight in one arm.
They had only gone a few steps when Mandy stopped. “The scones!”
Daniel turned back to the truck.
By the time he returned to her side, she had moved several yards down the path. He started to reach for her hand but pulled back. Crutches were not ideal for romance. The last rays of sunshine sparkled off the water. The ducks honked their protests at the invaders, but no doubt they would search for handouts later.
Mandy stopped. “It hasn’t changed much, has it? I used to come here every summer hoping you would come back, but you never did.”
“Every summer?”
“Until I was thirteen or so. I stopped after I saw you in the news—in the procession at your father and grandfather’s funeral. I knew even if you came back, you wouldn’t want to fly kites, so I stopped looking.”
“So, Miss I-Wasn’t-Trespassing, you are telling me you trespassed every summer for the next six—”
“Seven.”
“—seven years?” They’d reached the edge of the pond, and Daniel spread out the blanket.
“I wasn’t exactly trespassing. The old gardener would wave to me. And one year I was sure he took the pole out of the fence so I could get in.”
“Just how often did you come?”
“The first year, I came every day for weeks until I believed Grandma Mae that you were not living here.”
“I was in Tokyo with my father.” Daniel offered Mandy a hand to help her sit down on the blanket. It took her a couple of tries to find a way to sit gracefully in her tight skirt. More evidence this was not one of his well-thought-out plans. “Sorry. I should have thought ahead better. But I love this spot. It’s the reason I am having such a hard time deciding on a buyer. Most of the options will end up destroying this section.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t sell.” Mandy smiled up at him and patted the blanket next to her. “I want to try one of those scones before the ducks realize we have them.”
“Are you still scared of ducks?” He recalled her six-year-old self, sopping wet and screaming for help. “They are going to kill me! Save me! Save me!” Of course he had. He didn’t need to be Hulk to scare them off, but he had carried her away from the pond with superhero-like strength.
Mandy interrupted his musings. “No, but I don’t want them to eat what is mine, either.”
He watched as she took her first bite. Her eyes closed like they did whenever she had eaten one of Cook’s special peanut-butter cookies.
“Oh, these are good. Had I known, I would have skipped the salmon entirely.” She held her hand in front of her mouth to hide the fact that she was still eating.
They ate the scones and shooed the ducks away when they came too close.
Mandy finished the last of her scones. “You would think after all these years they would get weary of humans. They can’t be the same ducks, can they?”
Daniel shook his head. “The average wild mallard only lives five to ten years. So these are grandchildren or great-grandchildren.”
“Good. I would hate it if Hank recognized me.”
“You never know—he might have passed on the story of the girl who tried to steal his sandwich.”
“You have that backward. He stole my sandwich. Do you still speak duck?”
Daniel laughed. “Not a single quack.” He’d felt silly lecturing the ducks in their language, but his act had made Mandy laugh and the frightened tears go away before she’d hugged him and given him a kiss on the cheek for saving her life. He hadn’t appreciated a kiss then.
“Too bad. I would ask you to tell them there are no more scones.” Her eyes grew wide, and she leaned toward him and plucked something off the front of his shirt. “Except for this one.” She popped the large crumb into her mouth before he could get it back.
“Hey, that isn’t fair!”
Mandy shook her head. “Finders keepers.”
“Really?”
Mandy nodded.
“If I find a crumb?” He gave a crooked smile.
Mandy studied her clothing before answering. “All yours.”
Mandy stilled when he reached out and cupped her jaw. “There is one on the corner of your mouth.” He could have easily wiped it off with his thumb, and he had meant to at first, but Mandy’s eyes fluttered closed, so he kissed her—a soft brush to dislodge the crumb and let her protest. A second brush to be sure she wouldn’t pull back, then a kiss. It was evident she wasn’t as experienced as the women he’d kissed these last several years. He deepened the kiss when she responded like a butterfly—soft, fragile, beautiful. Her hand on his chest rested lightly, not pulling him in but not pushing him away either. Not wanting to push her too far, he pulled back.
Mandy blinked at him. “Is it gone?”
Daniel studied her face in the dimming light. The weariness in her eyes told him she had yet to decide if she needed her fight or flight response. The crumb rested near her chin, he lied. “No more crumbs.”
“Good, I would hate for Hank’s great-grandson to see a crumb there.”
I would too, darling. “Don’t worry. I would save you.”
Mandy leaned against his shoulder and watched the pond.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Part of Mandy wondered exactly what number she was on DC’s list. In the past few years, she had replaced Candace’s three-date rule with her own ten-date law. No one ever stayed around long. She longed to tell Daniel she wasn’t that kind of girl.
She shivered.
His arm came around her. “We don’t have jackets. I think I should take you home. I need to get back to Chicago. I fly to New York in the morning for the paparazzi and Vandemark trials.”
“I’ve read about them.” Mandy didn’t want to think about the gorgeous socialite
Daniel had dated for more than a year. “Do you have to be there for both trials?”
“Unfortunately. I hope they can be resolved quickly.”
A lone duck swam across the pond, its quacking answered from the far bank.
“Whatever you do, please promise to leave this pond here.” She would have asked for more, but shared memories of a single summer gave her little right.
Daniel nodded against Mandy’s head and pulled her closer.
Neither of them moved for several minutes. Mandy wished the fireflies were out. It would be an excuse to sit there longer.
When Hank’s great-grandson quacked, breaking the silence, Mandy forced herself to shift away from Daniel’s side. He stood and helped her to her feet. For a second she thought he would kiss her again, but he stepped back and grabbed the crutches.
He handed her the flashlight. “Can you turn it on?”
Holding the light awkwardly against her crutch, Mandy kept it aimed at the ground to not blind either of them and hopped off the blanket.
Daniel shook the blanket and folded it in half before wrapping it around her shoulders. “You’re still shivering.” He took the flashlight from her hand. Mandy tucked the blanket more tightly around herself to prevent it from sliding as she maneuvered on her crutches. Daniel guided her to the truck.
Mandy wondered if her shivering had more to do with the man than it did the dropping temperatures. Several yards from the truck, Daniel stopped and turned off the flashlight. He stepped into her space, set his hands on her waist, pulled her close, then rested his chin on her head for a moment before he spoke. “Amanda, I am not going to say I am sorry for the kiss, because I am not.”
Mandy felt the but hanging in the air.
“But I am sorry for the timing. I have some things I committed to attend to in New York with various women. Some of it is for publicity, and I can’t explain more. I don’t want you to think I am using you or—” He let the sentence hang.
“Do you usually kiss on the first date?” Mandy would have covered her mouth, but Daniel stood too close.
“Regardless of what the tabloids say, or will say, I am not a player. Back when I was at college, maybe, but not as bad as I might have been. Mr. Morgan saw to that.” He paused to lift his face to the stars. “But no, I don’t normally kiss on the first date, and I suspect you don’t either.”
Mandy hoped that didn’t call for an answer.
“But if we stand here much longer, I will probably kiss you again, and I don’t know if that is wise.”
She felt him shift away as the flashlight came back to life.
No, it wouldn’t be wise at all.
Stupid.
Double stupid.
Wonderful.
Daniel turned on the radio, hoping to find something to distract his thoughts during the nearly three-hour drive to Chicago. Love song, love ballad, polka music. Seriously?
Mandy was not some Hollywood A-lister who had grown immune to the power of a kiss, or a socialite who expected such was her due. At dinner, he’d admitted to becoming jaded, but when he kissed her tonight, he realized it was more than that. He had forgotten what real felt like.
And real was a dangerous thing. Especially when the next two weeks required he act as if he were vying for an Oscar. Why had he agreed to his legal team’s plan? At the time, the high-profile social life seemed like a good idea. But that was before Amanda had fallen back into his life. The worst part was, he couldn’t explain why he was going to spend as much time trying to get in the gossip columns as he would be sitting in the courtroom.
Not only had the DA subpoenaed his testimony for the criminal trial of the paparazzi, but Summerset’s lawyers’—or her father’s—had planned the civil suit against the hotel to coincide with the state’s prosecution of the paparazzi. It was a media frenzy in the making, and he had managed to land himself in the middle of it, as vulnerable as a bleeding diver in a shark cage.
The tones of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He answered using the car’s hands-free feature.
Thomas Morgan skipped any formalities. “Couldn’t you wait two more weeks? What is wrong with you?”
I’m not sure, but I think you are going to tell me. “What are you talking about, Morgan?”
“A date in Podunk, Indiana? They have cell phones there too! How many times must I tell you citizens with camera phones are ten times worse than the paparazzi? They post their unfiltered opinions. And there are more than a few about the art teacher and the millionaire.”
“We only had dinner.” Morgan didn’t need to know about dessert at the pond.
“I know you. That’s not your dinner face. It isn’t even your what’s-for-dessert face. And don’t try to tell me it’s just friends. That photo is of a man who is falling hook, line, and sinker. And by their comments, your fans know it too. You are no actor, as you proved last year on that reality whatever-it-was.”
Daniel concentrated on keeping his car in the lane. Morgan had to be wrong. “She is an old friend; we were catching up.”
Thomas ignored his protest and continued. “PR is having a fit. She doesn’t have a contract. Did you hear any part of their “keep to the script until the lawsuit is over” lecture? Never be seen with the same woman twice, only take out women who will mutually benefit from the exposure, and don’t get serious. Three months of carefully scheduled dates, and you go impromptu.”
“You said this Amanda is an old friend.”
“Yes. I met her the summer Grandfather kept me at his mansion.” Daniel exited the freeway.
“PR might be able to do something with that, but you had better get her on board. You didn’t do something foolish like sleep with her, did you?”
Daniel struggled to keep his voice calm. “She isn’t that type of woman.”
“Fortunately for you, I believe you. I’m not going to ask for any details, but wherever you were after the restaurant, could some amateur have taken your photo?”
“Not legally.”
“You had better hope so. And you make sure she doesn’t do an interview.”
Daniel glanced at the clock on his dash 10:58, nearly midnight in Amanda’s time zone. He’d call her in the morning.
The house had been dark when Daniel dropped her off. She had hoped he might kiss her again on the doorstep, but the lingering hug was almost as good. The silence between them had not been as awkward as it was full of promise.
Too early to go to bed and too restless to work, Mandy headed for the grocery store. The scooter carts were all available. She took one and cruised the nearly empty aisles. Candace had shopped that morning, so other than the tomatoes she had forgotten, Mandy didn’t need anything.
She stopped in the frozen-foods aisle. What would Candace think? They were years beyond the tradition, but a carton of mint chocolate chip would lead to a conversation. She was back in first-kiss territory and needed advice.
Only two checkout lines were open. Mandy steered the cart to the one closest to the door. Ahead of her, a teenage girl was bent over her phone, tapping her feet to a tune only she could hear through hot-pink earbuds. The customer in front of them left, and the girl moved up.
The scooter jerked and banged into the end of the checkout stand as Mandy tried to move close enough to deposit her purchases on the conveyor belt.
The girl spun around, her glare fading. “Miss Fowler! Is it true?”
Mandy couldn’t place the teen beyond seeing her in the hallways of the high school. “Is what true?”
The girl extended her phone. A photo of Mandy and Daniel at the restaurant filled the screen. Mandy squinted to try to make out the writing but failed.
“Wow, it’s true! You are wearing the same blouse. Is your date over already? That was quick. Is he as hot in person? Oh, ice cream—did he dump you already? I’m not surprised. Slumming it with a high school teacher. Not like you are DC’s type.”
Mandy felt the heat rising in her face.
> The girl’s fingers flew over the face of her phone. Then she turned and snapped a picture.
“Excuse me? What are you doing?” Mandy tried to keep her voice steady. Ramming the cart into the presumptuous teen was tempting.
“They’re going to be so excited I saw you!”
Shoppers turned their direction. The girl answered the cashier. Mandy cursed the boot on her foot. If she wasn’t on the scooter, she would abandon the food on the conveyor belt. The girl paid the cashier, turned her back to Mandy, and raised her arm to take a selfie.
At the slightest touch, the scooter jerked toward the girl, who jumped away. “Hey, you ruined my picture.”
“Oh, pardon me.” Mandy used her teacher’s voice. “I was just trying to check out.” She smiled sweetly and turned her attention to the cashier, ignoring the curses coming from the teen.
Mandy returned the cart to its place near the exit and hobbled toward her car, bag banged against the crutches. The now-angry girl moved to block her. “I still need a photo.”
Mandy ducked her head and tried to move around her. Daniel’s advice about the paparazzi being a zit came to mind. She pictured the teen with a large one in the center of her forehead and nearly laughed out loud.
Once again, the girl moved to block her.
Only two more car lengths to her little Golf. Mandy turned between two cars, forcing the girl to run around them, then zigzagged through the cars to reach hers before the girl had a chance to get a picture.
Pulling out of the lot, Mandy hoped the girl had a warehouse-sized supply of face cream for all the zits.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Candace scooped the last of the mint ice cream into a bowl. “Best breakfast ever. I still can’t believe you kissed him.”
Mandy’s face burned anew. She’d spent all night agonizing over the kiss. Why her? Stupidly she’d searched for photos of Daniel with his old flames and analyzed the kisses. And the women. The girl at the store last night was right—a ponytailed-vintage-clothes-wearing high school teacher was slumming it. Mandy would never be as thin or as fashionable as any of those women. “I should have never bought the ice cream. Your advice has been less than helpful.” I want to know I am not a number.