by Linda Turner
Considering all that, he’d thought it took a hell of a lot to get the lady down. But something had knocked her legs out from under her and drained the fight out of her, and it had to be that damn letter. And James Wiley. He started to ask her who the man was and what he meant to her, only to shut his mouth with a snap. No, dammit, this wasn’t any of his business or his problem to solve. If he wanted to do himself a favor, he’d leave it alone.
The problem was he couldn’t leave her alone. He hadn’t from the beginning. He’d sworn he wanted nothing to do with her, but every passing day made it harder to keep his hands to himself. She was a fever in his blood, and after the loving they’d just shared, a woman he needed to avoid like the plague before he found himself up to his neck in something he wanted no part of. But instead of finding excuses to stay out of her way, all he could think of was that he wanted to cheer her up.
“The town always has a big parade and street dance on the night of Midsummer’s Eve,” he told her, “and that’s this Thursday. I was wondering if you’d like to go?”
That got her attention. “You mean with you? Like a date?”
He should have said no, he didn’t mean anything of the kind. But that was exactly what he meant, and he couldn’t help but be struck by the ludicrousness of the situation. He lived with her, he’d slept with her, and now he was asking her out?
Backtracking, he said casually, “It’s one of those things that the whole town goes to. Though after living in L.A., it’ll probably seem pretty tame to you. I just thought you and Emma might enjoy it. And Laura, too,” he quickly added. “Everyone brings their kids, but if you want to pass, it’s no big deal. It might not be all that safe, anyway. The streets’ll be crawling with strangers.”
He expected her to turn him down flat. It would have been for the best. If he showed up with her and Emma and the nanny like a family unit, he could hear the gossips now. They’d add one plus one and come up with a fairy tale that was never going to happen. And then there were the reporters crawling out of the woodwork every time you turned around. They were bound to get wind of the story. By the day after the festival, it would be all over the country that Angel Wiley had a new man in her life—him.
“Maybe you’d better not go,” he began.
That was as far as he got. “No,” she said quickly, a slow smile breaking across her face as she thought about it. “It sounds like fun. And Emma will love it. We’d love to go.”
The night of the Midsummer’s Eve Festival promised to be warm and clear and perfect for a parade. As the sun sank behind the mountains to the west and twilight gradually deepened, the stars peaked out of the heavens overhead one by one. And on the light breeze that whispered through the crowds that lined Main Street, the scent of grilled hamburgers and smoked turkey legs and roasted corn mixed with the infectious sound of laughter on the air.
Because of mechanical problems with the fire truck that would lead the parade, the start time had been set back for at least thirty minutes, but no one seemed to care. Gathered in groups and bunches along the parade route, the good citizens of Liberty Hill took advantage of the delay to stuff themselves with greasy foods and cotton candy and visit with people they’d probably seen just that afternoon.
It was so small townish—and so reminiscent of her childhood—that Angel couldn’t help but smile mistily as memories swamped her. Her father closing the café on the Fourth of July and dressing up like Uncle Sam, fireworks and sparklers, riding the Ferris wheel at the carnival and sucking on big dill pickles like they were the best thing she’d ever tasted.
She’d forgotten how much fun she’d had…and how wholesome it had all been. Living in L.A., far from the world she’d grown up in, that kind of innocence was reserved for movies and Disneyland. She was glad to know it still existed.
“When’s the parade going to start, Mommy?” Emma asked excitedly. Barely able to stand still, she stood between Angel and Joe, holding each of their hands, and hopped from one foot to the other. “Will they have clowns? With balloons? I want a balloon, Mommy. A great big one!” she said enthusiastically, spreading her arms wide in spite of the fact that her hands weren’t free. “Can I have one? Please? Please? A red one—like the fire truck. Is it still broke? Why don’t they fix it? Can I drive a fire truck in a parade when I grow up, Mommy?”
Her head spinning, Angel grabbed it with her free hand and laughed. “Whoa, sweetheart! Slow down and catch your breath. Mommy’s had a hard week, and my brain’s moving in slow motion. I can’t keep up with you.”
She was teasing—and spoke nothing less than the truth. Hard didn’t begin to describe the week she’d had. Because they were behind in the shooting schedule, Charles had tried to make up for lost time by working the cast and crew from sunrise to midnight or longer over the course of the last three days, and the pace had been exhausting. When she hadn’t been in front of the camera, she’d been studying her lines, and what meals she’d eaten had been gulped down on the run. By the time she’d finally got home each night, she’d been so tired, she’d fallen into bed and hadn’t moved until her alarm went off at five-thirty, when the routine started all over again.
Exhausted, she’d only had one afternoon off, and should have used that time to rest or catch up on the chores she’d let slide because of work. But she’d promised Elizabeth McBride that she and Emma and Laura would pay a visit when she had some time off, so the three of them had spent yesterday afternoon with her and Cassie.
She’d had a wonderful time, but she still hadn’t managed to catch up on her sleep. And tomorrow was another long day of shooting. Considering that, she’d actually considered staying home for the evening and turning in early. But she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Emma or Laura—or deny herself the opportunity to spend some time with Joe. That, she knew, wasn’t wise, but she couldn’t forget those heated moments in his bed, couldn’t push the sensuous images from her head. Her common sense warned her not to make more of it than it was—sex was sex, and if she let herself start to think it could ever be anything more than that, she was going to be in serious trouble.
But she was confident that wasn’t what she was doing. She had her head on straight and her heart locked up tight. And it wasn’t as if Joe had asked her out for a romantic dinner. It was a parade, for God’s sake! What could happen when they were accompanied by two security guards, not to mention Laura and Emma, and surrounded by a crowd of hundreds?
So she’d made the decision to come, and she was glad now that she had. Just being out and about among people who had nothing to do with the movie business was like a breath of fresh air. Oh, she still had to contend with fans who wanted autographs and their pictures taken with her, but for the most part, people were respectful and, thankfully, far more interested in the festivities than her.
Turning her attention back to Emma, she grinned and patiently answered her questions. “Yes, you can have a balloon—when we start for home. I don’t know when the parade’s going to begin—it all depends on how long it takes to repair the fire truck. And yes, you can drive a fire truck when you grow up…if you’re a firefighter. Any more questions?”
“Yeah,” Joe growled. “Why don’t we eat before the parade starts? I’m starving!”
“A hamburger sounds good.”
“Mommy, can I have a turkey leg?”
“The roasted corn smells delicious. I could eat just that.”
There were a dozen or more food booths to choose from along the parade route, and the scents that drifted from them were mouthwatering. Not surprisingly, everyone changed their mind two or three times before they finally decided what they wanted, but that was part of the fun. Before the evening was over, they’d probably eat again anyway and go through the process all over again. Enjoying himself, Joe pulled out his wallet and treated his three dates to whatever culinary delights their hearts desired.
Considering how health-conscious Californians were, he half expected Angel to limit herself to the corn since it wa
s just about the only choice available that wasn’t loaded down with fat and cholesterol, but she surprised him by going for a nice big greasy hamburger, then thoroughly devouring it. Amazed, he watched her daintily touch her napkin to her mouth when she was finished and couldn’t help but grin.
“What?” she asked when she caught him watching her. “Have I got something stuck in my teeth or what?”
“No,” he chuckled. “You just look like you’re having a good time, and the parade hasn’t even started yet.”
“And that surprises you? I love things like this!”
Her mouth still half-full of the hot dog she’d polished off with every bit as much enthusiasm as her mother, Emma tugged on the cuff of Angel’s shorts. “I’m done, Mommy,” she announced around the food in her mouth. “Can I have some cotton candy now? You said I could when I finished eating.”
Laura and Joe both choked on a laugh and grinned at Angel, waiting to see what she would do. To keep Emma from filling up on sweets, Angel had promised her she could have the special treat if she ate supper. Who could have known that the little girl could manage to eat half her hot dog without swallowing?
Solemn as a nun, Angel studied her knowingly. “What’s that in your mouth?”
Caught red-handed, Emma looked up at her guiltily. “Uh—”
“That’s what I thought,” she said dryly, amused. “Why don’t you chew that up before you choke on it? Then you can have your cotton candy.”
Her eyes lighting up, Emma chewed very quickly, her little jaw working like a piston, then swallowed with an almost audible gulp.
Trying not to laugh, Laura quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I’ll get this,” she choked when Joe grinned and started to pull out his wallet to pay for Emma’s dessert. “It’ll be my treat. Would anyone else like anything?”
“A candied apple,” Angel said promptly. “I haven’t had one in years.”
Mother and daughter looked an awful lot alike at that moment, and as Emma skipped off with Laura and one of the security guards to collect the much anticipated sweet, Joe studied her in puzzled amusement. “I can’t figure you out. I saw the news reports last summer when you had dinner with the President and First Lady in the White House. It was a state dinner and you charmed the hell out of some Prince from the Middle East.”
“Prince Hammed Amin,” she confirmed with a half smile. “He sent me two dozen roses the next day.”
“And now you’re eating candied apples in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado, waiting for the mayor to get our one and only fire truck running so we can start a damn parade that’s going to be over in about fifteen minutes.”
“And your point is?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Angel Wiley,” she said simply. “Mom, homemaker, actress. I live in L.A. now, but only because that’s where I work. I actually grew up in New Mexico, in a town that wasn’t much bigger than Liberty Hill. We didn’t celebrate Midsummer’s Eve, but we did have duck races in the winter.”
So she wasn’t a big city girl, after all. Surprised, he wondered why he hadn’t guessed. She might have the sophistication of a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth in Beverly Hills, but she walked the streets of Liberty Hill with the relaxed stride of someone who had lived there all her life. And unlike some of the other cast and crew members he’d heard complaining in town, she was totally unconcerned with the lack of city conveniences. She didn’t whine because Liberty Hill had no multiplex movie theater or sprawling shopping mall or upscale restaurants with overpriced food and bad service. On the rare occasions when she was able to make it into town, she was content to eat the blue plate special at Ed’s and buy her own groceries at Harrison’s Market. And she didn’t have a clue how the locals admired her for that. How he admired her for that.
Later, he was going to have to think about that, but not now, when there were more important things to talk about. His lips twitching, he arched a brow at her. “Duck races? Flying or waddling?”
“Waddling,” she replied, chuckling. “And I loved it. But I love the Rose Parade, too. It doesn’t matter how big or little the parade is, it’s the people who make it fun. Like that man over there,” she said, lowering her voice and nodding toward an old gentleman across the street. Tall and spry, with a thatch of thick white hair on top of his head, he stood head and shoulders above the people around him. And in his arms, held up so it could see what was going on, was a miniature poodle with hair as white as his.
Her face sparkling with laughter, she grinned up at Joe. “Now tell me, who would bring a dog to a parade? And why? So he can bark at the pretty girls on the floats? C’mon, Joe, that’s hysterical!”
Chuckling, he had to agree. “That’s old man Peabody and Hercules. You never see one without the other—even in Ed’s Diner.”
“Mr. Peabody takes his poodle into Ed’s?”
He nodded, fighting a smile. “And orders him meat loaf every time. It’s Hercules’s favorite.”
She laughed in delight, and Joe couldn’t help but be enchanted. Every building and tree in town was decorated with tiny white lights that twinkled like stars, and in their soft glow, she was so pretty, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Staring down at her, he felt need tighten deep inside him and wondered how he was going to get through the evening without reaching for her.
Just then, Emma, Laura, and their security guard returned, their hands loaded down with sweets of all kinds. “Look, Mommy,” Emma crowed. “We got enough for everybody!”
At Angel’s arch look, Laura shrugged, her smile wry. “I couldn’t resist. It’s not a parade without cotton candy and candied apples.”
Down the street, a loud horn blasted and they all turned in time to see the fire engine start down Main Street with its lights flashing. All around them, people stood on tiptoe to see as a cheer went up along the four-block parade route. Officially, Midsummer’s Eve had begun.
Following the fire truck, the high school band fell into step and broke into a ragged rendition of “YMCA.” Singing the well-known words, the crowd added the hand movements, and between one beat and the next, everyone was smiling and dancing.
And Angel loved it. With an apple clutched in one hand and cotton candy in the other, she sang along with the crowd, her slender hips swaying as she made the letters of the song with her arms. Openly watching her, Joe grinned and never noticed that the people in front of them had shifted to block Emma’s view until she tugged at his hand. Surprised, he looked down to find her holding her arms up to him.
“I can’t see, Mr. Joe.”
Dressed in a yellow sundress that was as bright as her bouncing curls, her eyes full of mischief, her dimples flashing and her mouth smeared red from her candied apple, she was as impossible to resist as her mother. Chuckling, Joe swept her up and lifted her onto his shoulders. “All right, little bit, up you go. Try not to get the gooey stuff in my hair, okay?”
Totally at ease letting him hold her, she grinned, pleased with the world. “Okay, Mr. Joe. I’ll try.”
The parade lasted fifteen minutes, just as Joe had known it would, but no one seemed to mind that it was over almost before it had begun. The crowd surged out into the street as Nick drove by in his patrol car, signaling the end of the parade, but the evening was far from over. There were arts and crafts booths to visit on the square, not to mention face-painting and fortune-telling booths and a petting zoo for the little ones. Later, there’d be a street dance that would last until well after midnight.
Thanks to the movie cast and crew’s presence, the crowd was bigger than it had been in the past and there were a lot of strangers in town. If it hadn’t been for their two security guards, Joe would have suggested to Angel that they call it an evening and return to the ranch. But the guards were big and burly and watched the crowd with sharp eyes that saw everything. Reassured, he strolled to ward the square with Angel and Laura at his side and Emma resting comfortably in his arms.
Not surprisingly,
Emma was the one who spied the petting zoo first. With a squeal of delight, she cried, “Look, Mommy. Baby pigs! And bunnies! I wanna pet them. Put me down, Mr. Joe.”
Chuckling, he set her on her feet…and looked up to find himself face-to-face with his mother and his sister, Merry, who were running the petting zoo together. A veterinarian with her own clinic on the ranch, Merry brought baby animals into town every year for the festival for the kids to play with.
“Hello, dear.” Her blue eyes sparkling with good humor, his mother glanced from him to Emma, who just then worked up the nerve to touch the squirming baby pig that Merry held out to her. Squeaking in surprise, she jumped back, drawing a laugh from the grown-ups. “Who’s your date?” she teased, nodding at Emma.
“Emma Wiley,” he replied with a grin, and turned to introduce his houseguests to her and Merry. “Angel, Laura, this is my mother, Sara McBride, and my sister, Merry.”
Stunned, Angel greeted both women with a smile, unable to believe they were mother and daughter. She couldn’t begin to guess how old Sara McBride was, but time had been good to her. She was, Angel knew, the mother of four grown children, yet her oval face was virtually unlined, her skin as young and smooth as her daughter’s, who had to be somewhere in her early thirties. In fact, if there hadn’t been a touch of gray in her sable brown hair, she and Merry could have been mistaken for sisters.