by Jaci Burton
"Are you hungry?"
"I am, actually. I'd hate to bombard some poor restaurant with the paps, though."
"I think Bert's can handle it. They'd enjoy the free publicity."
"If you say so." The restaurants in L.A. hated it, though she refused to stay holed up in her condo all the time. So she went out. Then again, it wasn't this bad in L.A., because the media hounded other, more famous people than her. She might have someone with a camera follow her when she went out to eat, but it wasn't a horde of photographers like today.
Thankfully.
He drove down the road and they ended up in front of a very charming restaurant at the side of the highway. Since they'd gotten a late start it was actually past the lunch hour, so the parking lot was nearly empty. It didn't take long once they got out of the truck and headed inside for the procession of vehicles to pull into the parking lot, though Des noticed that Luke and the other police car pulled in, too, and came inside.
"I didn't know you were so popular, Logan," an older woman said once they got to their table.
"Yeah, the ranch is a real hot spot for photographers these days. Anita, this is Des."
"Oh, I know who you are, Miss Jenkins. I've seen a few of your movies. Nice to have you in town."
"Nice to meet you, Anita. And call me Des."
Anita handed them menus. "We're glad you stopped in. I recommend the club sandwich today. And Bert, he owns this place, makes the best fries in the state. Charlotte, his wife, also makes the finest sweet tea you'll ever taste."
Des laid her menu aside. "No sense in me looking any further. I'll have sweet tea and the club sandwich. With fries."
"Same here," Logan said, handing off the menus to Anita.
In the meantime, Des met Bert, the owner, who looked like a holdover hippie, with his long ponytail of gray hair. Charlotte's hair was gray, too, but she styled it short. Both were very nice to come over and greet her. They told her they were happy to have her in their restaurant, and if there was anything she wanted, not to hesitate to ask. Then they hurried off behind the counter to fix lunch.
They didn't even pay attention to the photographers pressed against the window. They did stop to pour coffee for Luke and the other officer, and, of course, to pet and fuss over Boomer, who was obviously welcome everywhere he went.
"Nice people here."
"Yup."
Anita brought their tea, and true to her word, Des smiled when she took a sip. "This is heaven, and so much better than anything from catering."
"You can't beat a glass of homemade sweet tea."
"On the movie set they give us this fancy flavored stuff, overbrewed and tastes like crap. Same thing with coffee. It's always some new flavor every day. I just like a basic cup of coffee."
"I like that about you."
"What? You like something about me? I'm shocked, Logan."
His brow furrowed. "I never said I didn't like you."
"Oh, but you try really hard to act like you don't. Secretly, I think you burn for me, and you desperately want to get in my pants, but you're trying hard to act like you don't."
He stared at her for the longest time, then looked out the window. "I sure as hell hope someone out there doesn't have long-range microphones. If they pick up this conversation, they'll have one hell of a story."
"As far as I know, there's no story to tell about us." She pinned him with a look. "Yet."
He gave her a look right back as he leaned toward her. "Do you make it a point to do this with all the men you meet?"
"Actually, no. But there's something about you that gets under my skin. Maybe it's your lean, chiseled looks, or those stormy gray eyes and the way you track me with them. I also like the way you walk."
"You like the way I walk."
"Yes. It's not deliberate or calculated. But it's damn sexy."
She watched him swallow, then he took a long drink of his tea.
It was suddenly very warm in the diner, and her nipples hardened, rubbing against the material of her bra.
She had no one to blame but herself for the way she was feeling. But he'd asked, and she figured she might as well be honest with him. He was either going to go for it or not.
She kind of hoped he would, though. She liked this man. He might be a little on the quiet side, but underneath?
There was a fierce storm brewing in Logan McCormack. And she'd like to be in the middle of that when it burst.
Logan was getting decidedly uncomfortable, especially under the table, where his jeans were tightening. He'd never met a woman like Des, one so blatantly honest in her assessments and the way she approached men. All the women he knew were more . . . subtle. They might look at you a certain way or say something that let a man know she was interested.
Des was just . . . out there. She wanted him, and she made no bones about letting him know it.
He just didn't know what the hell to do about it.
Nothing. That's what he was going to do about it.
Nothing at all. Because of all the reasons he'd decided the moment he'd met her. She was too young for him. She was a movie star, and out of his league. She said she and Colt weren't involved, but now there was this ex-boyfriend thing he'd heard about, and he didn't need that kind of entanglement. Plus, there were all these goddamned photographers. At least they weren't allowed on the ranch.
He didn't know how she dealt with them, but she seemed oblivious as Anita brought their sandwiches. She dug in and ate as if hundreds of cameras weren't focused in on every bite she took.
"How do you do that?" he finally asked.
She paused, mid-bite. "How do I do what?"
"Ignore all those cameras monitoring your every move."
She shrugged. "I can't do anything about them. After my first couple movies were critical successes and I started having paparazzi follow me around, I was freaked out. That loss of anonymity can be overwhelming. But I had some friends in the business who helped me through it. Eventually, you get used to the paps who stalk you and take photos of you every time you're in public and you learn to ignore them. As long as they don't breach your personal space, everything's okay."
"And if they do?"
She looked up and met his gaze. "It hasn't happened yet."
"Are you prepared for what you'll do if that does happen?"
"Not really."
"Maybe you should hire a bodyguard. Just how popular are you, anyway?"
She looked over her shoulder. There were at least twenty-five photographers out there. "You tell me."
"I guess you're pretty damned popular. I'd hate it."
"I did, too, at first. But it's part of the business."
"I don't think I'd like your business."
"With all that land you have, all that space to be alone? No, I don't imagine you would."
He finished off his sandwich and fries, keeping one eye on the photographers. Though Luke and Evan seemed to have them well in hand. And Boomer had taken up residence near the front door. Patrons coming in greeted Boomer with a pat on his head. Locals were used to seeing Boomer around. Logan knew that without a command, Boomer was a house pet. The photographers, on the other hand, seemed to have one eye on Des and the other on Boomer, as if they expected the giant German shepherd to go crashing through the front door and take off after them any second.
That made him smile.
Anita finally brought their check.
"I can get this," Des said, reaching into her purse.
Logan frowned. "Seriously?" He took out his wallet and paid Anita.
"I'll be back with your change."
"Caveman mentality. Women pay these days, you know," she said.
"Not when they're out with me, they don't."
"Okay, then. Thanks for lunch."
"You're welcome."
When they got up, so did Luke and Evan. Boomer, on instant alert, stood by the front door.
"We'll clear them out," Luke said, as Logan and Des approached.
> "I feel bad you have to take time out of your day for this."
Evan smiled. "Are you kidding? This beats the hell out of sitting at a speed trap. If something comes up, dispatch will radio."
They pushed through the front door and moved the photographers back, Boomer making an imposing figure. The photographers obviously didn't want to tangle with a police dog whose hairs were raised, so they complied and headed toward their cars.
Des looked at Logan. "I really like it here. The police in L.A. aren't so accommodating."
"I'm sure the police in L.A. have a lot more to do."
They climbed in the truck and Logan started it up, then grabbed his phone to check the time.
"Any more errands to run?" she asked.
"No. And some time to kill before we're due at Luke and Emma's place for dinner."
"How about you drive me around and show me the town?"
He looked at her. "We drove through it."
"Yeah, through the main highway. I want to see the town."
"That was it."
She cocked her head to the side. "It was not."
He put the truck in gear and backed out. "Fine. I'll show you the town. That should take about five minutes."
"I think you underestimate Hope, Logan."
He pulled out of the parking lot. "And I think you overestimate it."
But if she wanted to see Hope, he'd show it to her. Every damn block of it.
Chapter 5
LOGAN STOPPED AT the end of the driveway and rolled down his window. Luke came over. "Des wants a tour of the town. Think you can stop the procession for a bit so we don't disturb the residents?"
Luke nodded. "I can do that. Y'all have fun."
"Thanks."
He pulled out and Luke and Evan halted the progress of the other vehicles.
"That is awesome," Des said, feeling as if she were part of a stealth operation. Hell, any time they could beat the paparazzi, it was a win in her book.
"He won't be able to hold them long, but maybe we can lose them." Logan turned down a side street, then hit one of the blacktop highways, pushing the gas pedal to hit maximum speed. When he got to the nearest exit, he turned left across the railroad tracks, then right again.
"I'm so confused right now with all these turns you're making. I have no idea where the main highway is, or where we are," Des said.
Logan slowed as they entered a residential section. "The best part is, neither do those photographers."
"So . . . where are we?"
"This is one of the older sections of town, one of the first ones built when Hope was incorporated. The houses are smaller and closer together."
Des loved the little one-story homes, even if some were a little run-down. There was history here with the painted mailboxes and bikes in the yard. It felt safe and like home.
He made a few turns and they reentered the highway. A few miles down the road, he turned into another residential neighborhood. Here, the houses were a little larger, with well-kept yards and even a park and a man-made lake.
"This is so pretty," she said.
"It sold out pretty fast, too. They even built a school within the subdivision."
"Oh, that's handy."
Logan drove out of the subdivision and down the county road. The road curved and trees grew thicker, lining the road. She felt as if she were someplace else, each turn taking her to a different place. Suddenly there were wide-open spaces, a golf course, and much, much bigger homes with a lot of land. She even spotted deer hiding amid a grouping of trees.
"This is beautiful. There's such a variety here."
"Just about anything you could want. Smaller homes with little patches of grass and tiny yards, medium-size houses, or a whole hell of a lot of acreage. There's something for everyone here."
"And this is all Hope?"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
When he made another turn, there was Hope High School, a beautiful tan brick building with bright red colors on the school sign.
"Oh . . . there's play practice after school today. What time is it?" Des took a quick look at the dashboard clock. "It's three o'clock. What time does school let out?"
"Two forty-five."
She slanted him a look. "Can we stop?"
Logan frowned, but slowed the truck down. "What for?"
"I'd like to go in."
"Again. What for?"
"To see the students practice for the play. They're doing Much Ado About Nothing. I love Shakespeare."
Logan shook his head. "Whatever." He pulled into the back parking lot and turned off the car, then turned to her. "You really want to go in and watch some kids practice Shakespeare?"
"Absolutely. Do you think they'd let us in? I know you can't just walk into a high school."
He opened the door. "They'll let us in. I went to school with the principal."
Des smiled. "I love small towns."
She slid out of the truck, excitement making her shiver despite the oppressive heat.
"Do I look okay?" she asked as they headed toward the front door.
"What? You look fine. It's a high school, Des, not a movie premiere."
She laughed. "You're right. I'm nervous. I haven't been to school since . . . well, since I was in school. I cut my acting teeth on Shakespeare. God, I love it so much."
He gave her a look. "Obviously. You do realize this is a high school play, not Broadway, right?"
"Yes. But I loved the drama club in high school. It's where I discovered I wanted to become an actress. These kids are so full of joy and love of the craft."
Logan didn't say anything, just held the door for her and led her to the office. A young woman stood behind the counter. She was very attractive, with short blond hair and pretty green eyes.
"Hi, Logan."
"Hi, Serena. Is Daryl in?"
"He sure is." She picked up the phone and pushed a button. "Hey, Daryl, Logan McCormack is out front to see you. And he's got Desiree Jenkins with him," she added in a very excited voice.
Des grinned.
She listened for a moment, then hung up. "He says to go on right into his office."
"Come on, Des." Logan led her past the desk and toward the back of the room where a sign on the door said "Daryl Tucker, Principal."
A tall, blond-haired, very good-looking man wearing a red polo shirt and khakis stood behind the desk. He came around and shook Logan's hand.
"What's up, Logan? And you must be Desiree Jenkins. I'm Daryl Tucker."
Logan smiled. "Hey, Daryl. You're looking all principal-like."
Desiree grinned at that. "Nice to meet you, Principal Tucker."
"Oh, please. That makes me feel old. Call me Daryl."
"I will if you call me Des."
"Have a seat." Daryl leaned against the corner of his desk. "So what brings you two to Hope High?"
"Des saw the sign about drama club practice today, and she was hoping she could sit in and watch."
Daryl's brows rose. "Really? Margaret Penfield is our English teacher and head of the drama club. She'll be thrilled. So will the kids."
"Oh, great," Des said. "I'm a big fan of Shakespeare. I actually did Much Ado About Nothing in high school myself."
Daryl pushed off his desk. "Then let's not waste any time. I'll take you to the performing-arts center."
Des walked next to Logan, listening to him and Daryl catch up. Apparently Daryl had gotten married last year to a teacher from Oakdale High. The two were expecting their first baby in a few months.
"How's Patty feeling?" Logan asked.
"Complaining about teaching on her feet all day and her ankles being swollen because it's so damn hot. Sorry for cursing, Des."
"Nothing I haven't heard before, Daryl," she said as they made their way outside and across the lawn.
The performing-arts center was beautiful and looked new. It was a round building; she couldn't wait to see what it looked like inside. As they took the cement steps leading u
p to it, everything about her high school years came rushing back to her.
She'd been lucky they'd been stationed in one place that long, so she got to do at least two years of high school in North Carolina. It had been hard to insert herself into an already established group, but she'd done it anyway because she'd loved drama, had loved being in the plays and musicals. Though she couldn't sing for shit, whenever there was a musical she'd at least try to get minor roles or work on set design. Anything to be a part of the production.
As they stepped through the double front doors she could already hear the cast rehearsing the familiar words, lines that she still remembered. They walked toward the stage and Des's nerve endings tingled. She wanted to leap up there and start reciting Beatrice's dialogue.
Instead, she grasped Logan's arm midway down. "I'll just grab a seat here."
"Why not go all the way down?"
"I don't want to disturb them."
He shrugged. "Suit yourself. We're going to sit here, Daryl. Des doesn't want to stop the practice."
"Okay. I'll just let Margaret know you're here, then I'll get back to work."
Daryl headed down to the stage where he stopped to talk with a curvy redhead. It was dark in the audience section, but the woman looked their way, then nodded at Daryl, who waved in their direction and headed out a side door.
The acoustics in the theater were great, so while Margaret led the students through their scenes, Des leaned forward and listened. They were rehearsing the festival scene, when Beatrice was ranting about Benedick to a man she thought was someone else, when it was, in fact, Benedick himself in disguise. A delightful scene and the teens were doing a great job. She laughed at Beatrice's over-the-top performance and Benedick's responses.
"What's this play about?" Logan asked.
She turned to him. "You've never seen it?"
"Not much for Shakespeare, though I had to read Julius Caesar and Romeo and Juliet in English class in high school. Didn't care for it. Hard to understand."
She laughed. "It can be. But it's also rich with language and interpretation and such a delight for an actor to play. So much tragedy, and in the case of Much Ado, comedy."
"So this is supposed to be funny."
"Yes."
He leaned back in his chair. "Huh."
"Just watch, and listen. You'll get the hang of it."
"I doubt that."
Des could tell Logan was confused, so she sat back and explained the basics of the plot to him.
"So everybody lies to everybody else. Not only about what they feel, but about what they're doing."