Seducing Savannah

by Gina Wilkins

  Savannah jerked out of Kit’s arms, then cursed herself for reacting to the interruption as if she was still a teenager, caught doing something she shouldn’t. Savannah glanced at her mother, who was looking quickly from Savannah to Kit, her expression a combination of surprise and disapproval.

  “I’ll walk Kit out,” Savannah said with hard-won composure. “And then I really must go upstairs and talk to Michael.”

  “Good night, Mrs. McBride.” Kit flashed Ernestine another of his winning smiles. Had it been directed at Savannah, her knees might have buckled.

  If Ernestine had any reaction at all, she concealed it well. She merely nodded. “Good night, Mr. Pace.”

  “I don’t think your mother will be joining the Christopher Pace fan club any time soon,” Kit murmured to Savannah as they stood at her open front door.

  Savannah shrugged. “Mother tends to be suspicious of strangers.”

  “And so does Savannah, I think,” Kit observed, watching her expression.

  Savannah grimaced. “Maybe a little,” she agreed.

  “I’m not a threat to you, Savannah. I didn’t look you up to hurt you or embarrass you, though it probably didn’t seem that way this evening. I only wanted to spend more time with you. I said it earlier, and I’ll repeat it—if you want me to disappear, just say so.”

  She knew she should ask him to go away. There was no way anything permanent could happen between them. And she wasn’t interested in a fling. Even if she didn’t care about her own reputation, she had her children to consider.

  But she didn’t want him to go. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since he’d left her at the door of her cottage. Now that he was here with her again, she didn’t have the willpower to send him away.

  “I don’t want you to disappear, Kit. But—”

  He smiled and covered her mouth with his fingertips. “That’s all I wanted to hear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She sighed faintly and nodded. “I can meet you for lunch, if you’d like,” she said from behind his muffling fingers.

  He removed his hand to brush his mouth across hers. “Fine. I’ll call you in the morning to set something up.”

  “Call early. I leave for work at 7:45.”

  “Then I’ll call at 7:30,” he said, apparently undaunted by the early hour.

  “Don’t you need my number?”

  His.pirate smile flashed in the dim light. “I already have it.”

  Of course he did.

  “You,” Savannah told him, “are dangerous.”

  “Not to you,” he promised. “Good night, Savannah. This time, I really will see you tomorrow, yes?”

  She managed not to wince at the little dig. “Yes.”

  He kissed her briefly, but thoroughly enough to make her heart pound in her chest. And then he turned and sauntered away.

  He whistled the tune to “Star Dust” as he walked toward his car, and she knew he’d chosen that particular song as a deliberate reminder of their magical evening on the beach. As if she needed reminding, she thought as she closed the door behind him.

  “What,” Ernestine asked from behind her, “was that all about?”

  Savannah drew a deep breath and turned. “As Kit has already explained, I met him while I was on vacation. He wanted to see me again.”

  “I knew it was a bad idea for you to go off to that island by yourself,” Ernestine muttered. “Now you’ve gone and gotten involved with some slick Hollywood type who’ll break your heart and make us the talk of the town.”

  Savannah was tempted to argue, even though she was aware that there might be a grain of truth in her mother’s pessimistic prediction. But for now, she had other things to attend to.

  “I have to go up and talk to Michael now, Mother. Good night—and try not to worry about Kit, all right?”

  Savannah would do enough worrying for both of them.

  “Don’t try to tell me he’s only here for research,” Ernestine called out as Savannah climbed the stairs. “I saw him kissing you.”

  “I’m not trying to tell you anything, Mother,” Savannah said quietly over her shoulder. “Good night.”

  Ernestine was still muttering when Savannah reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hallway toward her son’s room.

  MICHAEL SAT cross-legged in the middle of his bed, gazing reverently at the paperback novel in his hands. His twin sat beside him, looking at the book as if expecting it to sprout wings and fly around the room.

  Honestly, Savannah thought, taking in the scene, who would have imagined her children would be so starstruck?

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you know Christopher Pace,” Miranda breathed, staring at her mother as though seeing her for the first time.

  “I only spent a few hours with him and I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again,” Savannah explained honestly. “I didn’t see any real need to mention it.”

  Michael rolled his eyes. “You didn’t see the need to mention that you met the Christopher Pace?”

  Savannah decided not to explain that she hadn’t known Kit was “the Christopher Pace” until Miranda had told her. She certainly didn’t want her very bright children to even suspect that she had come heartstoppingly close to having a vacation affair with a man whose last name she hadn’t even known.

  “I—er—guess I didn’t quite realize how famous he is,” she said lamely, instead.

  “Mom, he won an Academy Award for the screenplay of his last movie,” Miranda protested. “How could you not know that? Don’t you even read the newspapers?”

  “When I have time. And then only the news section. Not the gossip,” Savannah answered evenly, though she was shaken by this new piece of information about the man who’d tracked her down because he claimed that he couldn’t stop thinking of her.

  “But the Academy Awards are news, not gossip,” Miranda argued. “Gossip would be all those articles about the beautiful movie stars he’s always dating.”

  Savannah didn’t quite flinch, but she felt her stomach drop. “Get ready for bed, Miranda,” she said, just a bit more sharply than she’d intended. “I need to talk to your brother.”

  Dragging her feet every step of the way, Miranda left the room.

  “I know what I did was wrong,” Michael said the minute Miranda closed the door behind her. “And I won’t ever do it again, I promise.”

  Savannah knew full well that he had just said exactly what he thought she wanted to hear. Again, she was concerned by the lack of true penitence in his tone.

  “What were you doing on Bishop Road when you were supposed to be at Nick’s house? And how did you get there?”

  “We rode bikes. I borrowed Nick’s, and he rode his dad’s. His dad said it was okay if we rode around town for a while. He said we couldn’t have much fun just sitting in a tent, so we met Russell and Jeremy over at the Freemans’, and then we went down Bishop Road.”

  “And whose bright idea was it to knock over mailboxes along the way?”

  Michael shrugged. “I dunno. One of the guys did it and then everybody started doing it. It wasn’t any big deal, really. We didn’t tear them up or anything. All they have to do is put ‘em back in the holes.”

  “Michael, vandalism is a very big deal. And so is interfering with the mail. That’s a federal offense! Didn’t you hear a thing Officer Henshaw said?”

  “Nick’s dad said Henshaw was making a big fuss over nothing. He said that we were just being kids and having a little fun, and he didn’t see what was all that bad about it.”

  Savannah was appalled. “Nick’s father said all of that in front of you?”

  Michael nodded. “They called him to come get the bikes. He told Henshaw off pretty good.”

  Savannah planted her fists on her hips.

  “You will call him Officer Henshaw, is that clear? He is an officer of the law and you will speak to him and about him with respect. As far as Nick’s father is concerned, if he chooses to raise his boy
to be a criminal, that’s between him and the police department. But you will follow my rules when you are out of my sight. Have you got that straight?”

  Michael shrugged.

  “I want an answer, Michael. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

  “Good. And you’d better mean it, because I’m dead serious. As of tonight, you’re grounded. For two weeks. You may go to baseball practice and to games, to church and to your Scout meetings. There will be no parties, no hanging out at the mall with your friends, no sleepovers, no phone calls. And you can’t have your friends over here, either.”

  “But, Mom—”

  She forged on. “If there is any monetary damage from this episode, it comes out of your allowance. Now, have I convinced you that this was, indeed, a ‘big deal’ and that it had better not happen again?”

  Her son nodded sullenly. “I bet none of the other guys get grounded,” he muttered.

  “Well, I’m not their mother, am I?” Savannah retorted, then almost winced at hearing her own mother’s words tumbling out of her mouth. She had always hoped to avoid those tired old parenting clichés with her children, but sometimes they just escaped of their own volition, it seemed.

  “I’m punishing you as much for your attitude now as for what you did tonight. We’ll be talking more about this, Michael, but now I’m tired and angry and I think it’s best if we both calm down before we discuss it any further. Good night.”

  “‘Night.” His answer was barely audible.

  By the time Savannah was finally able to close herself into her own bedroom that evening, she was a nervous wreck. This day had simply been too much to handle, she thought with a weary shake of her head. She felt as though she was balanced on a wire with her family’s entire future on her shoulders, and adding just one more element would make it all come crashing down.

  She sincerely hoped that Kit wouldn’t prove to be that one disastrous element.

  THE CAMPBELLVILLE grapevine was amazingly efficient. The moment Savannah walked into her office the next morning, she knew the gossip lines had already been activated.

  A cluster of co-workers gathered in one corner of the main room stopped talking abruptly when. Savannah entered. Someone cleared his throat. Someone else coughed. The group broke up quickly, though Savannah was aware of the surreptitious glances thrown her way.

  From the reception desk, outspoken Patty Grant was the first to greet her. “Is what I heard true?” she demanded.

  Savannah swallowed a groan. “I don’t know, Patty. What did you hear?”

  “I saw Annalee Grimes when I stopped at the doughnut shop on my way to work this morning. Annalee said she was at your house last night when Christopher Pace showed up on your doorstep. The Christopher Pace!”

  “Then, yes, what you heard is true. I met Kit while I was on vacation. He was talking about setting his next book in the South and I suggested that he use Campbellville as research.” The lie Kit had concocted slipped a bit too easily from her own tongue, she thought guiltily.

  Patty’s eyes widened. “He’s going to put Campbellville in a book?”

  Since Savannah was already committed to the excuse Kit had provided—which, she had to admit, was much more innocuous than the real reason he’d given for tracking her down—she answered firmly. “No. He’s going to create a fictional small Southern town of the future. He just wanted to study the atmosphere here to give his setting a realistic feeling.”

  “Wow. Why didn’t you tell us you knew Christopher Pace?”

  Savannah grimaced. “Maybe I didn’t think anyone would believe me,” she suggested, trying to smile.

  “I’d have believed you,” Patty insisted. “Well…I might have thought you were teasing at first, but I would have believed you if you’d sworn it was true. I’d love to hear all the details about how you met him and what you talked about and everything. Is he really as good looking as he is on TV?”

  “He’s very attractive,” Savannah answered vaguely. “Excuse me, Patty, I have some calls I have to make before nine o’clock.”

  Patty wasn’t pleased to have the fascinating conversation cut short, but she didn’t try to detain her supervisor any longer.

  By the time she was supposed to leave for lunch, Savannah wished heartily that she’d called in sick that morning. One more speculative look, one more sympathetic approach about her “problems” with her son, one more avid question about Christopher Pace, and she would be tempted to scream, she thought in exasperation. Her staff could hardly concentrate on their jobs for prying into her personal life.

  Something told her that her relatively anonymous life in Campbellville would never be the same….

  7

  KIT FELT RIDICULOUS as he waited for Savannah in a booth in the very back of a small diner some ten miles out of Campbellville. Savannah had been so furtive when she set up this meeting, he wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if she’d asked him to wear a disguise.

  Why was she so afraid to be seen with him? It wasn’t as if no one knew he was in town. He would bet the women who’d met him last night had already spread the news throughout the county, judging by their unabashed questions about why he was there and how long he planned to stay.

  He was accustomed to the curiosity and attention. Savannah apparently wasn’t.

  He wondered how much of it she would be willing to endure for them to spend more time together.

  He’d been waiting approximately ten minutes when she finally appeared. She headed straight for the horseshoe-shaped back booth where she’d told him to wait. She wore a cream-colored short-sleeved sweater with navy slacks, and her hair was pulled into a neat twist at the back of her head. She looked as though she were going to a PTA meeting. She had obviously dressed so as not to draw attention to herself.

  Kit could have told her it wasn’t working. Savannah McBride was a woman who would be noticed whatever she was wearing. Men would admire her, women envy her, but they would both most definitely notice her.

  She slid into the booth beside him with little more than a nod of greeting. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had an errand to run on my way.”

  Kit searched her face. “You’re angry.”

  She grimaced. “Yes.”

  “At me?” Kit wondered if she was annoyed that he had tracked her down. He supposed he couldn’t blame her if she was, but he hoped he could convince her that he had only wanted to see her again.

  But Savannah shook her head. “I just picked up my son’s things from the house of the friend he was supposed to stay with last night. The other boy’s father ridiculed me for grounding Michael. He made a point of making fun of me in front of his son, who is not being punished at all.”

  Kit shook his head. “He’s not doing his son any favors if he lets him get away with breaking the law.”

  She let out a sharp breath. “Are you kidding? He was practically patting him on the back in pride. He thought the entire incident was funny. The kind of thing teenage boys naturally do when they get together.”

  “I can concede that young boys—and girls, for that matter—tend to get into mischief when they’re left unsupervised,” Kit murmured. “But that doesn’t mean they should be encouraged. They have to learn responsibility and self-control, and to understand the consequences of their actions. I think it’s the job of the parents to teach those lessons before the kids end up in serious trouble as adults.”

  “That’s what I think, too,” Savannah agreed. “I made so many mistakes when I was young. I wanted to help my children avoid making the same ones. I didn’t expect other adults to actively try to sabotage my efforts.”

  “You can’t let them influence you, Savannah. You do what’s best for your son and let them worry about theirs.”

  She nodded, appearing to contemplate his words.

  Kit found it rather odd that he was sitting here dispensing parenting advice to the woman he’d been obsessed with for the past two weeks. Until yesterday, he hadn’t
even known she had children.

  He couldn’t say for certain that it would have made any difference to him if she had known. He might have given a bit more thought to the ramifications of becoming involved with a single mother, but he suspected that he would still have come looking for her.

  A young waitress shuffled up to their table. “What can I get you?”

  Without looking at the menu, Savannah ordered a cup of vegetable soup and a turkey sandwich. Figuring she knew the restaurant, Kit ordered the same for himself.

  When the waitress ambled away, obviously in no hurry to turn in their order, Savannah sighed, seemed to shake off her family problems—at least temporarily—and looked directly up at Kit.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You couldn’t possibly be interested in discussing my son’s misadventures.”

  “Now, that’s where you’re wrong,” he corrected her, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her temple. Even that brief contact made his fingers tingle. “I’m interested in everything about you.”

  A light wash of pink tinged her cheeks. He had her attention now, he thought in satisfaction as their eyes met. For just a moment, the intimacy they’d shared on Serendipity returned, and their surroundings seemed to fall away. For just a heartbeat, there was no one in the little diner except Kit and Savannah.

  And then, to Kit’s disappointment, a clatter of dishes made Savannah blink and look away, breaking the spell.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ve been telling everyone the story you came up with. I think they believe it.”

  She didn’t sound entirely certain of that, but Kit nodded. “I could tell it made you uncomfortable for people to think there was anything personal between us.”

  “That’s because there isn’t. We hardly know each other.”

  He slipped an arm along the back of the booth, so that his fingers were only inches from her shoulder. He scooted just a bit closer to her on the curved vinyl bench, making it impossible for her to ignore their proximity. He knew his tactics were working when the flush on her cheeks darkened.