by Kait Nolan
“I guess it’s a little hard to imagine if you haven’t actually seen it.” Inspiration struck. “Actually…you can see it. Greg Iles is doing a reading in Oxford on Thursday night. We should go. You’d get a first-hand view of exactly what I’m talking about, and afterward, we could go grab dinner on the Square. You haven’t lived until you’ve had the jalapeno cornbread at Ajax.”
She arched a perfectly manicured brow. “Is it really that good?”
Reed laid a hand over his heart and did his utmost to look serious. “Would I lie to you about cornbread?”
She snorted. “I suppose that’s a jailable offense down here?”
“Damn straight.”
“Fine. I guess it’s a date.”
He answered her smile with his own. “Guess it is.”
~*~
“Okay, you’ve been standing in front of your closet for twenty minutes. Clearly you need an intervention.”
Cecily jolted at Christoff’s voice, wondering how long he’d been standing in the doorway. “What’s the appropriate attire for a business date?”
Christoff arched a sardonic brow. “Sweetie, you can have a date or you can have a business function. A business date is not really a thing.”
She winced. “It is if you’re going to an event together for business research and the evening has date-like overtones.”
He crossed his arms. “Just where are you going tonight and with whom?”
“To Oxford for a book reading at Square Books and then dinner. With Reed.”
Going completely brows up, he stepped into the room. “You’re going on a date with Reed Campbell? The same Reed Campbell you would still be avoiding if Norah hadn’t dumped his marketing campaign off on you? The Reed Campbell who looks at you like he’d like to take a bite outta that?” He wagged a finger to encompass her figure from head to toe.
Cecily had a brief moment to wonder if Reed really did look at her like that, but Christoff was rolling right on.
“The Reed Campbell who makes your lips tingle with a remembered kiss, every time you look at him? That Reed Campbell?”
“I never said I got tingly lips,” she protested. Though she totally did.
He offered his best diva scoff. “Please. I know you.”
A fact which she occasionally had cause to regret. Like now. She crossed her arms, knowing the big fluffy bathrobe absolutely undermined the stern glare she shot in his direction.
“I thought you wrote him off,” Christoff continued. “Some bullshit about how he could never accept the real you. Never mind the fact that you couldn’t be bothered to give him a chance to know the real you.” Christoff had never made a secret of the fact he thought she’d made a mistake.
Cecily sighed and dropped her arms. “It’s possible that I maybe misjudged him.” She abandoned the closet and sat on the edge of her bed. “I like Reed. I’ve always liked Reed. And God knows the attraction hasn’t gone away.”
His smirk was clearly the I told you so he was polite enough not to rub in. “So you’re finally giving him a second chance, months after the fact, when you fully intend to leave.”
She pulled her knees into her chest, resting her chin on them. “I’ve been kinda, sorta maybe thinking about staying.” It was the first time she’d said it aloud.
“Oh really?”
She could admit, at least to herself, that was in part because of Reed. There was something between them. Something that hadn’t faded in their months apart. And she couldn’t quite shake the idea that if she didn’t explore it, she’d wonder for the rest of her life. “I haven’t been offered any interviews anywhere I want to go. And I’m not willing to use my family connections to get any. I like Wishful, and I’d rather come up with some scheme that would allow me to stay here and work, than take a crap position somewhere else that’s just a job.”
“You and I both know you don’t need some scheme to stay.”
“I won’t live off my trust fund, Christoff. I didn’t do anything to earn that money. And I sure as hell am not going to live like the pampered, privileged heiress I’ve been accused of being. I need to work. I need to make my own way. Make my own mark on the world.”
“Your prerogative, sweet cheeks. But as I very selfishly have a stake in your staying, I shall put myself and my expertise at your disposal and help you make your mark on Mr. Campbell.” He marched into the closet and began rummaging around.
“It’s a book reading and dinner in small town Mississippi. Don’t you come out here with Versace.”
“No, I want him looking at you, not at men he’ll want to beat back with a stick.”
She was still laughing as her phone began to ring. “Hello?”
“Miss Dixon?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Nina Winslow from Verdant Marketing in San Francisco.”
Cecily automatically stood and straightened. Verdant Marketing was one of the top West Coast firms. She hadn’t expected to stand a chance of even getting the courtesy of a thanks but no thanks from them given the fact that she’d chosen to follow Norah to Mississippi rather than sticking with Helios in Chicago. “Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“We received your portfolio and resume and were very, very impressed with your work.”
Her heart quickened. “Thank you.”
“We were hoping you could come out for an interview in a few weeks. We’d do it sooner, but two of our partners will be overseas, and they very much would like to meet you.”
“Certainly, I’d be happy to come out. Just let me know when.”
“I’ll have my assistant email you with possible dates, and you let us know what works for you. I’m looking forward to speaking with you, Miss Dixon.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Christoff was standing in the closet doorway, a pair of her knee boots in his hand. “Well?”
“Verdant wants me to interview.”
“The Verdant?”
“They’re pretty much my top tier of firms where I’d like to work.” Cecily looked down at her phone. Why was this happening now, when she’d just started considering another path? Was it some cosmic sign that she needed to stick to her guns? Not be distracted by broad shoulders and hazel eyes?
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to interview. An interview is not promise of a job. And I’m going on this date. A date isn’t promise of forever. I’m going to hang out in the purgatory of possibility and see what shakes out.” She tossed the phone aside. “Now what am I wearing?”
Chapter Five
“Sorry about the walk. I didn’t realize it was a game weekend.” Reed hoped the half-mile hike in those heeled boots wasn’t going to hurt Cecily’s feet.
She looped her arm through his and smiled. “I don’t mind. It feels good to stretch my legs, and it’s nice to see a little more of Oxford. I’ve heard Norah talk about it often, but I haven’t actually been up here in the entire time I’ve lived in Mississippi. It’s a lovely town. An interesting blend of old and new.”
“It used to be more old, but over the last decade or two, they’ve built tons of these fancy condos for people who want game houses.” They’d passed at least a dozen on their walk up Van Buren Avenue.
“Game houses?”
Reed shrugged. “Some people have weekend cabins. A lot of Ole Miss alums want a permanent base for weekend football. SEC football is serious business down here.”
“Takes all kinds, I guess. I’d rather spend my weekends at the beach.”
He wondered if her family had a beach house. Hell, with that kind of money, they probably had more than one. Maybe they own a beach. But he didn’t ask. Instead, he gave himself over to telling her about Oxford, showing her the quirks and landmarks that hadn’t changed on the way to the Square.
By the time they arrived at Off Square Books for the reading, the place was pretty packed. People mingled in clusters all through the store, sipping at wine an
d eating canapes. Several rows of folding chairs were set up facing a podium at the back of the store. Reed paused to inhale the heady scent of old books from the locked wire cages around the shelves of first editions and rare books lining the entry wall. Beside him, Cecily clapped her hands once and bounced like a kid in a candy store, her eyes taking on the avaricious gleam of the book lover in paradise. It was sexy as hell.
“Go ahead and look around,” he invited.
With a flashing grin, she began to browse. She had five titles tucked in one arm in almost as many minutes—a wide array from folklore to poetry to gardening. As she was flipping through the Greg Iles books available for purchase, the current bookstore cat leaped up on the table and demanded her attention.
“Well aren’t you a beautiful thing?” She set the books aside and reached for the cat, who climbed quite willingly into her arms, then seemed content to lie there like a queen on a litter, her gray fur blending with the gray of Cecily’s sweater.
“Clearly you stroked her ego in exactly the right way,” he said.
Cecily rubbed her cheek against the cat’s head. “She just has discerning taste. Don’t you, gorgeous?”
The cat began to purr. Reed suspected he would too, if Cecily petted him.
“You should totally get a bookstore cat,” she told him.
“I’d need to make sure Brenda’s not allergic.” He trailed off before voicing the suggestion that Cecily ought to come to the shelter with him to help pick one out.
Across the room, he saw a flash of blonde hair. It was just blonde hair. Every other woman in town had blonde hair by God or by design. But there was something in the tilt of her head that pulled at him, made him watch until she turned and he could see her face.
Reed went rigid.
No, no, no. Not here. Not now. Not while he was with Cecily. But will alone couldn’t hold back the sudden wash of old resentments, shame, and defensiveness that went along with Annelise Arrington Stanton. He hadn’t seen her since she’d dumped him, and he’d been fool enough to think he never would again. But he knew perfectly well that Mississippi was one big small town.
Cecily laid a hand on his arm. “Reed?” She followed his gaze to Annelise and frowned.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please take your seats.”
“C’mon. Let’s sit,” he said.
Introductions were made and the author took his place behind the podium, greeting the crowd, making a bit of small talk before getting started. The audience sat hushed and on the edge of their seats, listening as Mississippi author Greg Iles read from his latest book. Reed didn’t hear a word.
Why the hell couldn’t he shake this?
Cecily’s fingers laced with his and squeezed. He met her clear gray eyes. The roaring in his head stopped and the band around his chest loosened. Her mouth kicked into a half smile, her expression asking, Okay? Reed laid his free hand over hers and held on the rest of the reading.
As everyone rose around them to queue up for autographs, Cecily leaned over. “Do you want to stick around or shall we try to beat the crowd to dinner?”
She was giving him an out. But that would be giving Annelise too much importance.
“Let’s stick. You still have that pile of books to buy, and you wanted to get one signed. Plus, I should introduce myself as a bookseller.” Reed pressed a hand to the small of her back, steering her toward the line that snaked back from the signing table.
“Reed?”
For just a moment, he froze, hand flexing against Cecily’s back. Time to face the inevitable.
“Reed! It’s so good to see you!”
As he turned toward his ex-girlfriend, he hoped he managed to fix his expression in something more polite than a grimace. “Annelise.”
She looked a little more polished than she had in college, a little more mature. Her blonde hair was swept up in one of those careless looking updos that he knew perfectly well took her an hour to achieve. Pretentious Playboy was with her, looking self-assured and generally bored with the proceedings. Annelise’s smile had a shark-like quality as she crossed over.
Had she been like that in college?
Cecily neatly stepped into Reed’s side, sliding one arm around his waist, and Annelise’s smile faltered just a little. Reed could’ve kissed her right then and there. Instead, he wrapped a comfortable arm around Cecily’s shoulders and offered a more genuine smile.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“Nick and I came up for the game.” Annelise tucked her arm through her husband’s. “Reed, this is my husband Nick Stanton. Nick, this is Reed Campbell. He works at a little bookstore down in Wishful.” She shot a glance in his direction. “Or are you doing something else now?”
Reed fought the urge to grind his teeth as he shook the other man’s hand with rather more force than absolutely necessary. “I own the bookstore, actually.”
“Good for you.” If Annelise had any more faux sweetness in her tone, they could all drown in honey.
And he’d thought he wanted to marry this woman? Christ. Who knew she’d saved him from a fate worse than death.
Reed looked down at Cecily, “Honey, this is—”
“Oh, you must be Annelise.” Cecily beamed and extended her left hand toward his ex. “Reed’s told me so much about you.” Reed couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something in Cecily’s manner had shifted subtly, become more…regal, somehow. And suddenly he was looking at the heiress she actually was.
Annelise hesitated, eyes clearly drawn to the big honking ring glittering in the overhead lights. Where the hell had that come from? Seeming to collect herself, she shook Cecily’s hand.
“I’m just so pleased to meet you. And you, Nick.” Cecily shook his hand, too, before returning to a proprietary hold on Reed’s arm. “Stanton. You wouldn’t happen to be related to the Kenilworth Stantons, would you? I mean, not that I know them well since they’re based in Chicago, and my family’s in Greenwich, but they’re just down the road from our summer house in the Hamptons.” She tipped her face up to his, and Reed saw her eyes sparkle. “Remember, sweetie. It was that cute little place without a gatehouse?” Her tone was as sweet and polite as could be, while still very clearly conveying how vastly below her experience this alleged house was.
“I, uh, don’t believe so,” Nick said. “And you are?”
“Oh, silly me. Where are my manners?” She leveled the pair of them with a superior smile that made the cat look like an amateur. “I’m Cecily Davenport Dixon.”
~*~
“Ooohoo,” Reed crowed, “the look on her face! That was absolutely priceless.” As they strolled back toward the car to drop off her purchases, he gave her shoulders another squeeze. “The ring was an especially nice touch. Where’d that come from, anyway?”
“It was my grandmother’s. I inherited it when she passed.” Cecily shifted the antique diamond and ruby ring back to her right hand.
Reed blew a kiss toward the sky. “Thank you, Grandma, for your participation in tonight’s caper. Man, Norah told me you’d done some acting, but I had no idea you were that good.”
Cecily bit the inside of her lip. He thought she’d made it all up. Damn. This is going to be harder than I thought. “Reed, it wasn’t an act.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it was an act. And it was brilliantly executed. I don’t think she’d have been any more impressed if you’d been the Queen Mother.”
She stopped walking, towing him to a stop so that he turned to face her. “Reed, I wasn’t kidding. I am Cecily Davenport Dixon.” She waited for him to lose the smile, close off, and demand an explanation.
Instead, he brushed the hair back from her face, the humor in his expression shifting to something gentler. “I already knew you’re Cecil Davenport’s granddaughter. But that privileged princess back there isn’t who you are. Not by a long shot.”
Something warm and bright slid through her at the acknowledgment. Then she blinked. “You k
new? Since when?”
“The M & S article.”
“Damn it. I thought we’d got all the copies.”
Amusement shone in his hazel eyes. “I ordered more.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I figured you’d gone to a helluva lot of trouble to keep the secret and wouldn’t appreciate that you’d been found out. Plus we weren’t exactly on close, chatty terms after I stuck my foot in it at the lake.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, not knowing what to say.
“To be clear,” he continued, “whatever invective I may have spewed about the wealthy that night was entirely specific to Annelise, whether it sounded like a generalized opinion or not.”
Cecily sighed and started walking again. “I don’t blame you for that opinion. God knows, I’ve been surrounded by that particular brand of snob most of my life. I despise it, but I know how to play the game when necessary.” It was how she’d gotten into acting in the first place back in high school.
“I appreciate that you thought me worth the effort.”
“She hurt you. And tonight she was determined to resurrect that.” Cecily hadn’t been able to resist the urge to put Annelise in her place.
“I don’t know why she bothered. She made it absolutely clear years ago that I was beneath her.” He unlocked the car.
“The bigger question is what the hell you saw in her in the first place.” Hello Pot, my name is Kettle. Cecily tossed her bag in the back seat and shut the door. “You couldn’t have had anything in common, and I would’ve thought you weren’t the kind of guy who’d fall for beauty without substance.”
“She isn’t without substance. She was actually on academic scholarship. But somewhere in the last semester of college, as graduation and the real world got closer, she changed her mind about what she wanted. And thank God for it. We’d have been miserable together. I can admit that now that I’m older and wiser, and in far better company.” He laced his fingers with hers.
“Nice to know you learn from your mistakes.” She glanced up at him, feeling suddenly shy. “I can admit I learn from mine, too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If I’d just come right out and mentioned my family at the lake, instead of assuming you wouldn’t accept it…” Where would they be if they hadn’t lost the last three months?
