Starlight Hill: Complete collection 1-8

by Heatherly Bell

  “All I have to do is stop talking? You got it.”

  They eventually made it to the high school track, empty of runners by now, and he mostly pushed her around the track. Diana staggered to a stop after the second lap and bent over, wheezing. “Stop. Break. Water. Jerk.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he said, handing her a water bottle from his ruck pack. “Good job.”

  He followed her to the stands, where she sat down and chugged the water, alternatively throwing him death glares. “I can’t figure you out. You save my life twice, and now you’re trying to kill me.”

  “I’m trying to help you.” He looked at the ground, then met her eyes. “Maybe I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “About what? Saving my life the first time or the second time?”

  “You know what. I stood you up.”

  “Oh yeah, I guess you did. But hey, we were young. Kids. I’m so over it.”

  Yeah, right. “I had a good reason if it helps.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not. After that summer I never saw you again. I’d hear you were in town to visit Mrs. Paulsen but you kept to yourself.”

  “Yeah, once I got a part-time job it got harder to spend much of my summer here.”

  “I really liked you, even back then.”

  “Sure, and I liked you too. But then I decided I liked guys who showed up better.”

  “Ouch.” He made sure to meet her eyes. “I show up now, Diana. Like today.”

  Her glasses were fogged up, cheeks ruddy and red, hair plastered to her neck. Made her look like she’d just been thoroughly and pleasantly screwed to the wall. Damned if he didn’t wish he’d been the one to do it.

  He took a seat next to her. “Why do you want to run? You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

  She threw him a you-men-are-so-hopeless look. “There’s this online video in which people are commenting on which diet plan I should try next. Then there’s this cute little baker in town who has caused my current substance abuse problem. That substance being sugar and cinnamon.”

  “Ah. I get it. Honestly? I’m one of those men who like it when a woman actually has an ass I can grab.”

  For one moment, she didn’t speak, only stared at him. He wondered if he was about to get slapped.

  “I have more than enough of an ass for you to grab.” Like she realized what she’d just said, she covered her mouth. “Not that you’ll be grabbing it!”

  Damn, she was cute. “Only if I get lucky.”

  A moment passed between them and he couldn’t shake the feeling she was considering him. Checking him out. Wondering if he’d be worth a second chance. Wondering if he’d be worth the trouble. Interesting since he had been wondering the same thing about her. She studied him intently, not breaking the gaze. He’d been locked in staring contests before but not quite like this. Still, he’d be the last one to give in. It would be best if she learned that about him now.

  Diana finally broke eye contact, turning away from him and running a hand up and down her arm like she might be cold. “I wanted to tell you something. I’m going to be at the photo shoot this weekend. For the calendar.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m writing an article about it. I’ll need to interview you, and some of the others. Is that all right with you?” she asked this tentatively, liked she really did care what he thought.

  He took a swig of his own water and tried not to grimace. Billy had trained him to detest all reporters in general. “You’re a journalist then?”

  She sighed. “No. I started out that way but I write fiction now. Actually, this is good timing for me. I need to work.”

  “You won’t get Ty to say much. He’s ex-Marine. And Mr. December.” Possibly Scott’s grin might be a bit too wide, but hell, seeing Ty with a Santa hat on was going to be an early Christmas present for Scott.

  “He’s Mr. December? This is going to give new meaning to ho,ho,ho. I guess that means you’re Mr. September.” She pointed to his chest and laughed.

  Damned if that belly laugh didn’t seem to be connected directly to his favorite organ. Just like he remembered. He cleared his throat. “Yep. Maybe I’ll be covered in autumn leaves. What I do know is I’ll be holding a bottle of Brooke’s Wine or I won’t be able to show my face at Billy’s house again.”

  “They’d be crazy to cover you up in anything,” Diana said and looked away.

  She was shy, which was also sweet. He began to reassess his chances. Maybe he’d get a chance to grab her ass at some point after all. If he did, he’d make sure to hang on to it. Tight.

  “You’ll talk to me, though, won’t you?” Diana turned back to him. “Give me a good interview?”

  He considered it. Like Ty, there were certain things he’d rather not discuss. But he might be able to come up with something interesting. After all, he had a multi-millionaire retired baseball player for a brother. People were generally interested in both baseball and money.

  “You know it.”

  “Thanks.” Diana rose. “We could start now, if you’d like. When I get back home. I’ll take a shower, and then come over and interview you.”

  Way to see that one coming, soldier. Thought he’d have more time to come up with some bullshit, but nothing like making it up on the fly. “Sure.”

  Diana seemed pleased, so much so he took a moment’s pleasure in turning the tables. He threw a look at the track, then to her. “Want to go again?”

  6

  An hour later, Diana staggered in the front door and threw herself on the couch. Scott was a cruel, cruel man. He liked torturing people as much as he enjoyed rescuing them.

  “Thank God you’re back in one piece,” Gran said. “I kept your dinner warm and I absolutely insist you eat something besides a tomato!”

  “I’m starving,” Diana admitted.

  She’d probably eat her weight in food if she could. At least Gran had prepared a pretty healthy meal of steak, boiled potatoes and steamed vegetables. Diana ate everything on her plate.

  “I love to see a woman who can eat,” Gran said, and Diana reconsidered going back for seconds.

  After dinner she showered and dug through her small but growing wardrobe. She now had seven pairs of Mom Jeans, which seemed like a good choice given she’d been trying to cover up as much as possible lately. No, they weren’t flattering (to anyone) and Mandy would kill her for being a blight on the planet but Diana slipped them on anyway.

  Then she quickly stepped out of them.

  She took the white halter top sundress off its hangar. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wear it tonight. Simply to, if nothing else, feel like a woman again. Wanted. Desired. One look from Scott and she found that she’d willingly dive head first into uncomfortable but thrilling territory. Such as what his lips might feel like on hers. Whether his beautiful brown hair would feel soft or coarse running through her fingers.

  God, she was such an idiot. She had no business thinking any of these thoughts. No business diving into anything with Scott. Not now. Maybe not ever. He might have changed in some ways, but she’d bet he was still every bit as unreliable when it came to matters of the heart. And her heart was not available. She held up the Mom jeans in her right hand, the dress in her left. Seemed like an angel sat on the Mom Jeans begging her to do the ‘smart, sensible thing’ while the devil sat on the dress urging her to ‘go get some before it’s too late.’

  Anyway, this was an informal interview with a friend. Who cared what she wore? She slipped on the dress.

  Diana wasn’t all that experienced with men or dating, having dated Bradley all through college and after. She didn’t know much about wild men like Scott except you couldn’t count on them. Men who loved an adrenaline rush. The thrill of the chase. She’d been inexplicably chased by more than one of them in high school, only to have them lose interest quickly once they’d ‘caught’ her. The challenge of catching the so-called brainy woman, proving even intelli
gent women had a weakness for hard bodied men. She preferred them with a brain and an ounce of compassion, but they’d actually never stuck around long enough for her to drop them.

  She grabbed her Alphasmart, a pen and pad of paper, and left Gran sitting in front of one of those reality Housewives shows. “I’ll just be down the street.”

  “Don’t let me keep you.” Gran waved her off.

  The moment Scott opened the front door with that killer smile, Diana felt a tingle down her spine which wasn’t completely unwelcome. Her thighs responded in a rush of heat, not quite as comforting. This interview should be a piece of cake, as long as she could ignore how thoroughly male he stood in those jeans that hugged every vital part of him. The short sleeved green t-shirt he wore set off his eyes and hugged his biceps. Lucky t-shirt.

  No sooner had she walked in than he had offered her a glass of chilled white wine.

  “Thanks.” She accepted the wine and followed him into the kitchen. His floor plan was the same as Gran’s, only reversed. But the decor was typically male earth tones with sparse furnishings completely unlike Gran’s pack rat house. Definitely not frat-house messy as she might have expected. And she could smell paint.

  He caught her staring. “I just finished that up earlier tonight.”

  “Nice color,” she said. The wall was purple. Purple.

  “Yeah, I know the color’s weird. But I needed a dark color. I’m tired of painting it.”

  “Oh, sure,” she said, still not quite clear.

  “If this doesn’t work, I might have to go to black. How do you feel after your run?”

  “Wonderful. My favorite part is always when I get to stop.”

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  “Big surprise! I don’t like to run. Anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s about you, Mr. September.” He winced, and she rather enjoyed that. Call it karma. She set her Alphasmart on the kitchen counter, put her wine glass down and slipped onto one of the kitchen stools.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the Alphasmart.

  “This,” her hand caressed the keyboard, “Is a real live dinosaur. Strictly a word processor. You might call them the first laptops, except that you would be wrong.”

  “Huh.” He leaned across the counter, big forearms straining, pecs practically ripping through the shirt. “Okay. I’m ready. Shoot.”

  She swallowed hard, a little overcome with all the muscles. “Relax. It’s not an interrogation. Just tell me a little bit about yourself.”

  She listened as Scott talked about his family. She learned about his brother Wallace, the contractor who was married to Gen, and of course quite some time was spent on his brother Billy, the former star pitcher for the Oakland Sliders. He skillfully moved into talking up his brother’s vineyard, and then mentioned his mother’s remarriage to a restaurant owner in town who was several years her junior. Talked about his stepsister, Sophia, and not surprisingly he sounded like an overprotective big brother.

  “Fascinating stuff. But I wanted to hear about you. Do you realize you haven’t told me one thing about yourself?”

  He made a face. “What? Not possible.”

  “Is it really so difficult to talk about yourself?”

  “Not at all,” he said as he pulled out a beer from the fridge and twisted off the top. “I’m a regular narcissist. Let’s talk about me. I like long walks along the beach, getting caught in the rain, and long deep kisses that last for two days.”

  Her palms broke out in a sweat. “You cheated. I think that’s a song. Or it’s in a movie. Maybe both.”

  “Is it?” He eyed her as he took a swig of his beer, then set it on the counter. “Why aren’t you writing any of this down?”

  She typed into her Alphasmart, file two: Has trouble talking about himself. Might have deep-seeded personal issues.

  “What do you think people who buy this calendar want to read about?” He grinned. “Because there’s more where that came from.”

  “I think readers would appreciate your honesty. You’re ex-military—”

  “Yeah, not talking about it.”

  “Right. So, you don’t like wine?” She threw a look at his beer, trying to change the subject and get him to talk about himself even in some small way.

  “I’ve always been more of a beer guy. Wallace and Billy like a good scotch. Billy didn’t even much care for wine when he bought the vineyard. He bought it for Pop, our grandfather, who helped raise us. Now, Pop’s the wino. So is Brooke, of course. And Billy has acquired a taste for it. Not coincidentally about the same time he acquired a taste for Brooke.”

  Progress. There was at least some information about Scott in there. He liked beer, and not wine. “Even when you do talk about yourself, you manage to include your family.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “So?”

  She managed to relax enough to lower her shoulders below her ears and took another sip of her wine. “I get it. I’m close to my sister. And Gran, of course.”

  “Not your mom or dad?”

  “My parents are divorced. My mom owns a bridal boutique and Mandy does the books.”

  “And your dad?”

  She shrugged. “I hear he’s doing fine.”

  “I didn’t have a dad growing up, so my brothers pretty much raised me. Especially Wallace.”

  “Really? What did he do?”

  “I got into a little trouble as a teenager, and he strongly encouraged me to stop.”

  “And?” It was like pulling teeth with this guy. Just when he started talking he’d stop.

  “And he encouraged me to join the military. It was a good fit, and Wallace knew it would be. My mother was generally happy with the outcome.” He took another swig of his beer.

  “I’ll bet.”

  “I’m not telling you anything people don’t already know about me. They’re kind enough not to talk about it. It’s in the past. Why rehash it?”

  “So what made you decide to be a firefighter?”

  “I got tired of guns.” He moved towards her. “You should really talk to Ben. He’s a fifty-six-year-old firefighter and he and his wife have been foster parents to about twenty children.”

  “Seriously?”

  “The man’s practically a saint.” He set his beer down on the counter. “And I’m not.”

  He was so close now that he might see her note about his possible personal issues, so she shut the Alphasmart off. She swiveled the stool towards him. “Point taken. Sounds good. Maybe I’ll interview him at the photo shoot.”

  “I can’t read what you’ve written?” He reached, bumping into her.

  “Um, no. Sorry. Not yet. Of course you’ll read the final copy. Not that you’ll get to approve it or anything.” She moved her Alphasmart further away from him.

  Now she had butterflies in her stomach because he was so close. Seriously? I’m not sixteen anymore. I need to get a hold of myself.

  “There’s one more thing you should know about me. It’s kind of private.” His index finger ran the length of her face, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

  Her special parts started to sing ‘Ave Maria.’ “Oh yeah? Tell me.”

  “I like you. A lot.”

  Her heart moved to her throat, beating like a hummingbird’s wings. “Thanks. I try hard to be approachable.” What the hell am I saying to the man? Did I forget how to make conversation with a guy?

  He leaned closer and the surge of lust spread all the way to her toes. He was going to kiss her and she might, apparently, let him. It certainly began to look that way. It all seemed so easy for him, the way he gracefully leaned in and took up all the space between them.

  He removed her glasses and set them on the counter. “Your eyes— they’re so beautiful.”

  No one ever called her beautiful, not even Bradley. He said she was ‘striking’ which sounded more like a baseball term than a compliment. Mandy said Diana could choose to highlight her assets or hide them. So far, hiding them had worked. The minute
she’d chosen to get a little crazy for a minute alone, look what had happened. She’d been in a fire.

  Scott didn’t kiss her, but bent down and sucked in her earlobe. She gasped, her hand fisting his shirt. When he let her earlobe go, he lightly tugged at it. Then he leaned in and kissed her lips with a kiss both gentle and at the same time wildly possessive. Firm. Demanding. This is what his lips feel like on mine. He wasn’t giving an inch, but moving in to take, possess. Without another thought she opened up to him, the one man who reminded her of how she’d struggled to fit in as a teen. How she’d failed to connect, too caught up in her own little imaginary world. He was just the kind of mistake she should resist and walk away from without a backwards glance.

  But maybe later.

  Both hands now fisted his t-shirt and she pulled him even closer. The kiss got a little wild, and she was pulled out of the chair and into his arms. She touched him everywhere, the way she’d wanted to do since first laying eyes on him in the emergency room—her fingers trailing along those rock solid hard arms, rising up to thread through his soft hair. His hands were on her ass, pulling her even closer where she felt his hardness. She had the sense of being moved—and kind of hoped towards the bedroom.

  But yes, she agreed, the bedroom was too far away. She was up against a wall before she knew what had happened, his glorious warm tongue trailing down the column of her neck. His warm hands were underneath her skirt, caressing her ass. But this was too crazy, too out of control and not at all what she’d come here to do. She was in town to take care of a grandmother that didn’t need taking care of, bring down a video that had gone viral, interview a firefighter that wouldn’t talk about himself, and lose ten pounds without cutting off a body part. Not to mention write the article, which meant she’d sooner or later have to get a word down. Gran would be waiting at home for Diana right now, maybe curious about the interview. The last kind of behavior she’d expect from Diana would be for her to be a few blocks down the street at Scott’s house about to be nailed to the wall.