Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  Blake eyed the folding table and brass rotating raffle bin. There was no way they would fit in her little convertible BMW. She obviously wanted him to haul it for her. And as a gentleman raised in the South, he had a duty to hold doors, pick up heavy things, kill bugs, and haul stuff in his truck.

  “Do you need me to drive it over there for you?”

  “Oh, would you? That would save my skin.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” Blake made quick work of carrying the items across the street and throwing them in the back of his truck. The fairgrounds were a mile up the road. It wasn’t a hardship to do it, and if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t hesitate. With Lydia, there always seemed to be strings or complications.

  Lydia followed him to his truck. “You are such a darling,” she cooed at him.

  He wasn’t so sure about that, but he accepted the praise with a faint shake of his head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing? You’re my hero!” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder for a moment and a smile curled her thin lips. Then she returned her gaze to him. “Thank you,” she added, and leaned in to give him a hug.

  Blake accepted the hug because it was the polite thing to do, but before he could pull away, Lydia turned her head and planted a kiss square on his lips. He was stunned still for a moment before he could gather himself and jerk away from her. He’d never had a woman do that to him before. He was about to ask what the hell she thought she was doing when Blake heard a commotion across the street.

  He turned toward the sound. Ivy was standing across the street with a pool of various bags and purchases at her feet. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes reflecting fresh betrayal. He knew that look well. It was the same expression she’d worn when she’d caught him with that cheerleader. Dammit. Lydia had done that on purpose. She knew Ivy was there.

  Ivy crouched down to gather up everything she’d dropped and headed as fast as she could in the other direction.

  “Ivy, wait!” Blake untangled himself from Lydia’s greedy arms and jogged across the street after her. It took longer than he’d like to catch up with her, but sprinting was not an option anymore. “Ivy, please stop!” he begged, reaching for her shoulder and finally tugging her to a stop outside the antique shop.

  “Let go of me.”

  “No. Listen to me, that wasn’t what you think it is.”

  She chuckled bitterly and shook her head. “It wasn’t you kissing Lydia?”

  “No, it was Lydia kissing me. There’s a big difference.”

  “Please,” she groaned. She adjusted her hastily gathered bags, avoiding his gaze. “Don’t bore me with excuses, Blake. You don’t owe me one, anyway. It’s not like we’ve gotten back together or anything. You’re allowed to kiss whomever you want to, even snotty Lydia Whittaker. It’s none of my business.”

  Blake scanned around them for one of the rental cars or their suspicious occupants. He didn’t see any, but better safe than sorry. He opened the door to the antique store and gestured for her to go inside.

  “I don’t need anything from in there.”

  “There are rental cars all over town today. Would you rather we go inside or have this discussion on the street where Nash or some other sleaze can film it?”

  Thinking better of it, Ivy ducked into the store, and he followed her. The only person in the shop was the owner, Miss Phyllis. She was stone-deaf and couldn’t spread any of their conversation around town even if she wanted to.

  He led Ivy behind a multipanel lacquer screen, where they couldn’t be seen from the street. “Lydia and I are not together,” he insisted at last. “And I had no intention of or interest in kissing her.”

  Ivy sat her bags down on a dusty dining room table and crossed her arms over her chest. “You just tripped and fell into her, right?”

  “Of course not. She asked me to take some things to the fairgrounds for her. I thought she was just going to hug me for assisting her.” He shook his head and winced. “Then she saw you coming and kissed me. But I did not kiss her.”

  “It didn’t look one-sided.”

  “Come on, Ivy. You’ve been gone a long time, but some things don’t change. I’ve never had any interest in Lydia, but you know that’s never stopped her from trying. Having you back has just made it worse. She’s probably more interested in upsetting you than she is in kissing me.”

  “I have no doubt of that, but why would she think that seeing the two of you kissing would upset me?”

  Blake placed a finger below Ivy’s chin and tipped it up so she couldn’t look away from him. “Really? I saw it in your eyes, Ivy. It did upset you. You dumped all your stuff onto the sidewalk.”

  “It startled me,” she argued dismissively. “I didn’t expect to look across the street and see the two of you making out at the gas station. It gave me flashbacks to high school and all the things she used to do to me when we were together.”

  Lydia had been full of tricks over the years. She was always looking for reasons to talk to Blake, especially if Ivy was around. She tried to get into the same classes and was always asking him to study with her. One time, she’d even invited Blake to her house for a party and when he arrived, he found out he was the only guest and her parents were out of town at a horse show.

  Things like that, combined with her constant digs at Ivy, had worn Ivy’s nerves thin over the years. It was no wonder the incident with the cheerleader pushed her over the edge. Ivy had probably been waiting to lose him for years.

  “It didn’t mean anything back then,” he assured her, “and it doesn’t mean anything now. I wouldn’t do that to you, Ivy. We went to all that trouble to make up; I don’t intend to throw it all out the window a day later. Besides,” Blake added, his voice low, “I’m more interested in the two of us moving forward than moving backward.”

  Ivy’s dark green gaze focused on his, a touch of surprise reflecting back at him. “Forward? What do you mean by that?”

  Blake wasn’t exactly sure. They weren’t really in a position to pick up where they’d left off all those years ago. She would be back in California long before his freshman boys mastered the new tennis module. But he knew he wanted something more. Maybe friendship. Maybe spending time together catching up on their lives. Maybe making out in his Corvette like they were teenagers again.

  “It means whatever we want it to mean. There’s no reason we have to decide right this minute. Let’s just take it one day at a time and see what happens.”

  She looked dubiously at him. “And no more fighting?”

  “No more fighting,” he agreed. He had no more interest in going rounds with Ivy. It just made the situation worse and encouraged him to say things he regretted. “What do you say to making our truce official over blue cotton candy and some rides at the fair tomorrow night?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, unconvinced. “I was just planning on leaving after the ribbon cutting.”

  “Aw, come on. It’ll be like old times. We always had a great time at the fair. We can get on the Scrambler and scream like we’re going to die. It will be fun.”

  “The press will be there,” Ivy argued.

  “So? They’re going to take pictures of you no matter what you’re doing. You might as well let them take pictures of you having fun. You know who else will be there? Lydia. She’ll pounce on me the minute the ribbon-cutting ceremony ends if you’re not there with me.”

  At that, Ivy chuckled. “Are you afraid of Lydia?”

  “A little bit,” he admitted. “Look at it this way: if we go together, even as friends, it will make her absolutely green with jealousy and ruin her whole night. That’s got to be worth something, right?”

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly, although a smile eventually spread across her face. “I will go and protect you from the evil clutches of Lydia Whittaker. But,” she said, “I can’t stay too late. I need to get home and work on some songs.”

  “You’ll be home long before you turn back into a pumpkin,” Blake assured he
r.

  “And,” she added, “I want the pink cotton candy.”

  Blake had to laugh at her list of demands. “Whatever color you want, Ivy Grace.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ivy’s manager returned her call later that evening, skipping the pleasantries, as usual. “And I quote,” he began, “ ‘Blake Chamberlain has an excellent penis! It is quite large and he is very skilled in using it.’ ”

  Ivy groaned into the phone. She had forgotten about saying that. Of course Nash would be there to record it. “He was filming longer than I thought.” She had deliberately avoided the Internet since that incident, not wanting to know what would show up about her this time. “How bad is it?”

  “Well, TMZ and a couple of other entertainment news sites have picked up Nash’s video. Most of the audio is bad and the dialogue undecipherable, but for some reason, you seem to have shouted that part about Blake’s penis. They’re having a field day with it, of course. Care to fill me in?”

  Ivy sighed. “I was apologizing to him about the song. It wasn’t about his penis, we all know that. When I said that last part, he asked me to repeat it louder, so I did. I hadn’t seen a single photographer since I got here. I thought it was safe.”

  Kevin chuckled. He’d been working with Ivy too long to be fazed by the drama that seemed to follow her around. “How many times have I told you? You have to live your life as though someone is always taping you. It might have been safe before, but Rosewood is officially contaminated. If you haven’t noticed the reporters sniffing around already, you will. The video has sparked quite a bit of interest.”

  Ivy frowned and sank into her kitchen chair. “You’re probably right. But what are they interested in? That thing in the alley was embarrassing, but there’s not much more to it.”

  “Well,” Kevin explained, “there’s buzz going around that you and Blake have copious amounts of sexual tension. Apparently the hug you shared seemed to cross a boundary or two. Their tongues are wagging at the thought of you reconciling with the man who started your whole man-bashing career. They are, of course, more interested in the inevitable fallout and what song you’ll write about him this time.”

  “Just great,” Ivy said. Although she was thankful to have her name in the press for something unrelated to Sterling Marshall, she really wished it wasn’t about Blake. She’d just apologized to him for the last time he’d been dragged into the spotlight. Now she’d have to do it again.

  “So what is going on with you two?”

  “I, uhh . . .” Ivy was at a loss. What was going on? She didn’t know. They’d apologized and hugged. She’d agreed to go to the fair with him tomorrow. That was all, really, but if the Internet saw more, maybe they were right. She’d felt . . . something between them. She wasn’t about to share that fact with her manager, however, until she knew what that something was.

  “Nothing, really,” she explained. “There’s certainly not a reconciliation in the works, nor will there be another song about him. I owe him that much. Since I’ve arrived all we’ve done is fight. We were trying to be adults and talk out our issues before all the activities we have to do together begin.”

  “What activities?” Kevin asked.

  “So you didn’t know?” Ivy was a bit relieved that Kevin hadn’t kept those details from her.

  “Know what?”

  “That I’m attached at the hip to Blake for the next couple of weeks. It was all part of the big plan. We’re the town celebrities,” she said, mimicking Gloria’s tone. “Having a private discussion in an alley to clear the air was preferable to having a knock-down, drag-out argument while the papier-mâché float we’re forced to ride on together makes its way down Main Street.”

  Ivy didn’t have to see Kevin to know his eyes were squeezed shut and he was rubbing his balding head. He always did that when he got news he didn’t like. “So you two are good now? No more fighting?”

  Ivy certainly hoped so. It was exhausting. “I think so.”

  “Well, even though the video is a minor glitch, it was a good plan. You were right to try to clear the air before everything got under way.”

  “So what do we do now that the press is in town?”

  “You focus on what you’re there to do. Try not to cause any more scenes in public and I’ll take care of the rest. I spoke to your publicist this afternoon. She’s going to put together a few press releases about the tornado and the upcoming fund-raisers in Rosewood. With the video of you two center stage, we can promote why you’re there and all the good you’re doing for your hometown.”

  That was probably the best plan. Since everyone already knew she was here, there wasn’t any sense in trying to keep quiet about it when she could be drawing national attention to the cause. The peace was most certainly over, though. “The press will be all over me at the fair tomorrow night.”

  “Maybe, but that’s the point, as you well know. The press uses us and we use the press. If they want to write about you and Blake, make them talk about the fund-raiser you’re doing together. It will draw the national attention the cause needs. We need to sell concert tickets and drum up online donations. Every time that video of you two is played, I want ‘Text ROSEWOOD to 55515 to donate ten dollars to the tornado fund’ coming up.”

  “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll try to stay out of trouble,” Ivy said. “But I make no promises.”

  Kevin’s low chuckle rumbled in her ear. “I know, Ivy. Trouble just seems to find you.”

  The lights of the rides were starting to glow brighter against the darkening late-summer sunset. The music from different games and booths filled the air, along with the tantalizing scents of funnel cakes, roasted corn, and ribbon potatoes.

  Blake loved the fair. Since he was a football player, his favorite time of year was the fall, and the fair was the official kickoff to the season. Going forward there would be cooler temperatures, shorter days, and crunching leaves. And football, of course. But it all started with candied apples and rides on the Tilt-a-Whirl.

  The only thing between Blake and a night at the fair with Ivy was a big yellow ribbon.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mayor Gallagher said to the eager crowd. “Thank you for joining us on opening night of the forty-second annual county fair. We’ve got plenty of games and treats to delight the senses. Remember, twenty-five percent of the proceeds go to the Rosewood Gymnasium Fund, so don’t hold back! It’s for a good cause!”

  Ivy was standing beside Blake, waiting to cut the ribbon. Why it took both of them, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t complain about being near her. She looked really lovely tonight.

  Her dark hair was up in a sleek ponytail, highlighting her high cheekbones. Her makeup was flawless, with mysterious cat eyes and a dark plum color on her lips. She was wearing a silky dark purple top with a snug pair of skinny jeans that had a rhinestone design on the rear pockets. He’d only looked because they caught the light, of course.

  Part of him hoped she’d dressed up for their night together, but it was more than likely for the cameras. Blake spotted at least six unfamiliar men with cameras in the crowd. It hadn’t taken long for those rental cars to start spawning photographers. Clark Newton with the Rosewood Times didn’t stand a chance against these guys.

  Blake hadn’t been able to shake the constant sensation that he was being watched all day. They’d photographed him on the field. Walking to and from the school parking lot. He visited his sister Maddie at the bakery to pick up a cupcake, and the next thing he knew, Grant texted him that there were pictures online of him eating cupcakes.

  Was that really interesting to people? They were shooting anything and everything they could while they waited to catch him and Ivy together. Tonight would be their first real chance at a photo worth taking, but Blake wasn’t certain what they would capture. He and Ivy were going to the fair together, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a date. He’d told her not to worry about labeling it, to take it as it came, but then he did the same
thing.

  He still didn’t know what was going on between them. Blake had gotten used to the fighting. He’d spent six years being angry with Ivy, and her arrival in town had allowed him to vent all his pent-up frustration.

  Now the hatchet was buried. Whether or not she’d meant to, she’d announced to the whole world that his penis was not the Vienna sausage she’d led them to believe. He was happy about that, but honestly it hadn’t done him much good. The damage was done. All the video got him was a couple of texts from Lydia sniffing around for another date.

  Not going to happen. As expected, Blake easily spotted her at the edge of the crowd. She kept flipping her blond hair over her shoulder and reapplying her lip gloss while she watched him on the stage. He hated the way Lydia looked at him. There was a predatory edge in her gaze that unnerved him. The kind that made him think she wanted him, but if she couldn’t have him, no one else would, either.

  Thank goodness he’d convinced Ivy to hang out with him tonight.

  The mayor turned around and handed him a large, golden pair of scissors. They were ridiculously big and quite heavy. It made Blake wonder if every town had one of these stashed away for ribbon-cutting events.

  “And now, Grammy Award–winning music sensation Ivy Hudson and former Auburn and Houston Texans quarterback Blake Chamberlain will cut the ribbon and kick off the fair.”

  Blake looked at Ivy and gestured for her to go ahead of him down the stairs. They walked over to the ribbon that crossed the archway leading to the fairgrounds. Once in place, he held out the scissors so she could take half.

  She hadn’t really looked at him or spoken to him tonight. He figured it was because of all the cameras, but as she reached for the golden handle she gave him half a smile and a little wink. Together, they opened the scissors and slipped them into place.