by Law, Kim
When Brody himself uncoiled from behind the wheel, dark sunglasses in place, her heart rate took off as if it planned to meet him at the car and dance him into the backseat.
Brody drove a hot, sexy machine like that? She almost purred at the thought.
But what was he doing here?
“Ah,” the mayor hummed at her side. “Clyde must have sent Dr. Hollister in his place.”
“Clyde?” she asked, not taking her eyes off Brody. “The owner of the playhouse?” Clyde Reynolds had been invited to the press conference to ensure that all members of the community who would have a stake in the new park were included.
Part of their plan was to build a community amphitheater for open-air plays. That’s why they had only twenty-two days to get the park ready. The last run of the play would be held on day twenty-three. Right here.
Cat eyed Brody as he shrugged a blazer on over dark jeans and a light blue oxford shirt, and set off across the lawn in a lazy stroll.
“Does Dr. Hollister have something to do with the theater?” she asked absentmindedly.
Brody hadn’t looked anywhere but toward the small group of people she was standing with since he’d stepped from the car, and though she couldn’t see behind his glasses, she was almost positive that he had his gaze set on her.
Was he thinking about almost kissing her the night before?
About their friendly “date” coming up the next night?
Or maybe he was replaying their walk along the ocean.
All three of those things—as well as knowing he would be outside running on the beach—had been the impetus for getting Cat out of bed that morning with a happy attitude, no matter the mess her parents had made of all their lives.
Or the fact that she was in charge of cleaning it up.
In charge or not, she wouldn’t be doing all the work. She’d already hired a project manager for the job. The woman would be arriving later that day to get started.
“He sure does,” the mayor said, reminding Cat that she’d asked a question. She dragged her gaze away from Brody and glanced at the mayor, forcing a polite expression back to her face as he stretched out his hand to greet Brody. “He writes the best plays that Dyersport has ever seen.”
Cat’s smile faltered as her brain stuttered over the mayor’s words. She looked back at Brody.
He what?
Brody watched Cat as shock passed across her face. There was one secret out of the bag.
Not that he’d been planning to keep it from her—or that he would have been able to. His name was listed on the program. But he would have loved to get her honest feedback before she found out he was the playwright.
He flicked his gaze over the rest of her now, taking in her attire and noting that she was dressed for her Davenport role today. Slim, yellow tailored skirt with a perfectly ironed white short-sleeved button-up tucked into the waistband. Her blonde hair was pulled up behind her head, and she even had on tiny glasses. Dark, wire-rimmed frames that made him think naughty teacher instead of the dignified professional he assumed she was going for.
He’d seen pictures of her in glasses before. He liked it.
“Dr. Hollister.” She held out her hand, her tone polite. He looked at it before closing his fingers around hers. Did she not realize that everyone knew they were living beside each other? Of course they would be friendlier than “Dr. Hollister” and “Ms. Carlton” at this point.
Her hand was soft in his.
“Cat.” He dipped his head with the word. He wouldn’t tell them that she’d been the first girl he’d ever seen naked, but he also wouldn’t act as if they’d never met. “I heard you were out here,” he added, releasing her hand. “Something about a land donation?”
Clyde had only given him the barest of details. Land for a park was being donated, the city wanted it opened for closing night of the play. Clyde had been unable to come out himself when he’d gotten the last-minute call, but had caught Brody as he’d been leaving the college for the day. Brody had one summer class and kept morning office hours three days a week.
At first he’d been thrilled at the news. There would be another venue for the local acting community. And Dyersport could always use another park.
Then Clyde had mentioned the Davenports, and all the pieces had clicked into place.
Brody had seen the news that morning. Her family was in the spotlight at the moment, and not for a good reason. Of course, he assumed his “family” was behind it.
A secret Davenport mistress that had been hidden for nearly nine years? No doubt someone had helped that along at this opportune moment.
Or made it up.
Until he’d arrived, he’d assumed a fifty-fifty chance of the rumor being false. But Cat had quite the crowd assembled here. Her family was clearly intending to make some noise.
Which told him that Daddy Davenport had been the bad boy the news was making him out to be.
And, of course, Cat was going along with whatever her family needed her to do.
As she picked up a conversation with the mayor, city planner, and several other dignitaries about her plans for the park, Brody stepped to her side, inching closer until he was just slightly behind her, and waited until she stopped talking long enough to take a breath. When she did, he whispered, “Not coloring outside the lines today, are you, Cat?”
Her crystal-clear gaze shot immediately to his. She didn’t like having the obvious pointed out to her. Or maybe she didn’t like the role she was playing?
He gave her an evil grin. “Such a rule follower.”
Why he was teasing her, he didn’t know. Other than the fact that he’d almost forgotten who she was the night before. He’d been about to kiss her.
And he’d intended to take her to bed.
Luckily, she’d gotten a call and he’d had a moment to pull his brain back out of his pants. This was Cat. They did not need to be anything more than buddies.
For his sanity, but also for her peace of mind. A Davenport and a Harrison?
That would go over like a sinking ship.
Not that anyone would know, but still. If his brother or father were to find out—
The sound of a camera clicking caught his attention and he shifted his gaze from Cat’s perturbed expression to the nearest reporter. There was a lens focused directly on them.
Well, shit.
Arthur and Thomas Harrison would most definitely be watching the papers to see how the next round played out with the Davenports, and Brody did not want them to see him with Cat. It was none of their business whom he associated with.
He glanced at her as she suddenly smiled brightly and shifted her focus back to the crowd, no doubt aware of the cameras as well. His gaze clung to her lips as she talked.
And it was no one’s business whom he kissed.
Or didn’t kiss.
But he still stepped back out of the shot. This was her show.
“I’m sorry your friend canceled.” Cat’s soft words registered as the lights went up in the theater. “It was a terrific play.”
Brody looked to his side, where she stood smiling hesitantly up at him, her hair once again swept up and behind her head, but this time into a looser, sexier knot. It made her look years younger than she was. Everyone was on their feet clapping, the actors were taking their final bow. He forced the tension in his jaw to relax.
“No big deal,” he said, trying hard not to let his irritation seep into his voice. And it hadn’t been a friend who’d canceled, but the producer he’d been working on since January. Though Cat didn’t realize that. “But thanks.”
At this point, he had no doubt Cat was lying through her teeth about the play. Nothing about it had been terrific. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong had.
At the last minute, the producer—actually, the assistant to the pr
oducer’s assistant—had e-mailed, saying Mr. Searcy was sorry that he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight after all. Then there had been the emergency call from Clyde. Their lead actress would be in tonight’s play, but she’d just found out about a family emergency back home. In Iowa. A sickness that would keep her out the remainder of the summer.
And they didn’t have a backup.
Of course, with the girl worrying about what she’d find when she got home, and frustrated that there was no flight out until the next day, the actress’s mind had been on everything but the play.
Then his mom had caught sight of him sitting in the crowd with Cat and had missed her cue. She had eight lines in the whole damned play, and she’d missed her cue. Twice.
He felt his jaw clench again, and this time left it that way. What a night.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Cat said. He could hear the note of trepidation in her voice. She had no clue what to say to make it better.
He didn’t either.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up,” he said. Yet one more thing that had gone wrong. His mother’s car wouldn’t start so he’d had to make the hour drive to her house to get her, only to arrive and find that her neighbor had just finished fixing it.
The alternator had gone out.
“It’s not like this was a date or anything.” Cat laughed lightly, which only set him more on edge. She bit her lip as she watched him.
No, it wasn’t a date.
She’d been perfectly “friendly” all evening. Clearly, since going up on her toes the other night—her mouth inching toward his—she’d had second thoughts. As had he. And third thoughts. And fourth thoughts.
He should not kiss her. He knew that.
Yet when he’d seen her walk into the playhouse tonight wearing a sundress covered in bright red cherries, along with her sexy, strappy heels, he’d wanted to rush to her side and finish what they’d started.
He’d wanted it to be a date.
She reached up and touched his hair, smoothing her fingers across it, then a shocked expression popped onto her face. “I’m sorry.” She snatched her hand back. “It was standing up. You kept running your hands through it tonight.”
Brody caught her hand in his as she flushed with embarrassment.
“You must have been nervous,” she whispered.
He nodded. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Yeah. Silly, huh?”
“Not silly.” The cool blue of her gaze heated. “It means a lot to you. I remember the play you wrote that summer. What was it called? Much Ado about Dyersport?” Her light laughter pinged through his body, hitting all the hot spots. “You had it bound, but the thing was falling apart; you’d carried it around and worked on it so much.”
Her words started a buzz inside him. She remembered his play? “It was the first one I’d ever written.”
“I know.” Her free hand landed on top of his. “I was so impressed. I’d never known anyone who’d written a play before.”
The actors began mingling with the crowd, and he caught sight of several people handing out bouquets. Opening night was always exciting. His mother reappeared on the far side of the room and headed their way.
“I think you were just easily impressed,” he muttered as he turned her hands loose. He didn’t want his mother to interrupt, yet he knew there was no way of getting out of it. Plus, he had flowers for her.
Cat shifted around in front of him then, catching his full attention as she tilted her head back to stare up at him. Her lips parted slightly and he couldn’t help but take in the red lipstick that perfectly matched the cherries in her dress. Her bare throat arched and he found himself wondering if her skin was as soft as he remembered it.
He was amazed that he remembered what she felt like. But he did.
Every last inch of her.
She studied him carefully, her eyes hiding her thoughts, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and drag her off backstage.
This friendship-only thing was not going to last.
“I apparently still am,” she finally murmured. Her gaze dipped for a brief second to his mouth, and his dick twitched in his pants. Friends shouldn’t look at friends like that.
“Can I take you home tonight?” he asked, his voice coming out scratchier than he’d like, but hell, Cat was staring at him as if she wanted him for a midnight snack.
“But my car—”
“Will be fine here. We’ll get it tomorrow. I want to take you for a ride in my car.”
Didn’t that sound naughty? Come here little girl, I have some candy for you.
“I’ll put the top down,” he coaxed.
Surprise lit her features. “Oh,” she breathed. “Your car. The red one.”
“The Chevelle,” he said drily. Good Lord. It wasn’t “the red one.” He shook his head, somewhat offended. “It’s a 1970 Chevelle SS. It’s the first car I ever owned,” he added. “The actual car I owned, not one like it. I managed to find it last year and paid a hefty price to have it restored.”
Cat snickered. “Touchy about your car, Brody?”
“He’s touchy about a good many things.” His mother joined them. She smiled widely at him before looking from him to Cat. “Don’t you want to introduce us, dear?”
“No,” he said. “Not really.”
But Cat turned and gave his mother a warm hug. “You were so good up there, Ms. Hollister. What a pleasure to meet you.”
His mother made eye contact with him over Cat’s head. Her look seemed to be saying What the hell? Is she blind?
He returned the look. Yeah, you stunk.
His mother frowned at him.
Cat pulled back and Brody retrieved the bouquets of roses he’d stashed under his seat. He held one out for his mother. “Undeserving this time, Mom, but here you go.”
“What do you mean, undeserving?” Cat squawked like any good mother would. “She was terrific.”
“She had eight lines and she missed her cue both times.”
“I was caught off guard,” his mother stated. “I didn’t realize you’d be here with a date.”
“Oh.” Cat brushed the words off and slipped her arm through his mother’s. “We aren’t on a date. We’re just neighbors.” She grinned broadly at Brody. The look came across a little too bright. “Friends.”
His mother stared at her. Cat was several inches shorter, but with the heels, they were almost the same height. His heart squeezed at the sight of the two of them standing arm in arm. At fifteen, he’d wanted to introduce her to his mom. He’d thought they had the kind of love that lasted forever.
Funny how things turned out.
“Annabelle Hollister,” he finally said, clearing his throat and inclining his head toward his mother, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Catherine Davenport Carlton.”
Cat beamed and squeezed his mother’s arm tighter. She really seemed to be having a great time tonight. “Please,” she said. “Call me Cat. I only get called Catherine when I’m in trouble with my mother or when the media wants to make me out to be more important than I am.”
His mother’s eyes widened slightly. “Cat it is, then. And aren’t you just the cutest?”
“Mom.” Good grief. “Please.”
His mother made a face. “Women love compliments, Brody. Even if it is by an old woman instead of a young man.”
She shot him a look he found hard to interpret. If he wasn’t mistaken, he would swear she was giving him the go-ahead with Cat. As if he needed her permission. Yet it had been only two days ago that she’d been warning him off.
Cat’s power to turn a person’s head apparently wasn’t restricted to boys and men. She could also wind mothers around her little finger.
“Cat stole a bloom out of my yard the other night,” he told his mother, at a loss for what else to say, but fin
ding himself shocked at “tattling” on his neighbor. But she knocked him off balance. “One of the ones you’re named after.”
At the mention of the hydrangea, Cat’s relaxed expression tightened and she put a couple of inches between her and his mother. It was barely noticeable, yet he seemed to be unable not to notice everything about her.
“Is that right?” his mother asked. “They do look great in a vase, don’t they? I have several bushes of them at my house, too. I cut them and bring them in all the time.”
Cat didn’t say anything. Likely because she hadn’t cut the bloom to put in a vase. But he wasn’t about to tell his mother it was now christening the exact location where their teenage selves had once thought they’d found forever.
The look on Cat’s face made it clear she wouldn’t be admitting that, either.
“Come on, Mom.” Brody reached out an arm to her, slipping her hand over his elbow. “Go with me to give the other roses to Kristi.” Kristi was the lead in the play. “This is her only night to perform.”
“What?” Cat lifted her gaze from where it had fallen to the second bundle of roses he held. “Why? She’s perfect for the part.”
“An emergency.” And yes, she was perfect for the part. But then . . . it wasn’t as if he could get an interested party anywhere within three hundred miles of the place, anyway. “We’ve had to cancel the show for the next two nights, hoping to get someone else up to speed to replace her. But I’ve stressed over this all afternoon; no more about it tonight. Right now I’m taking you both over to talk to Kristi,” he said, then pointed a finger at Cat, “and then I’m going to show you what my ‘red car’ can do.”
CHAPTER SIX
CAT LAUGHED OUT loud, her face lifted toward the clear night sky, as she and Brody drove down the highway in his pride and joy. His car purred and vibrated beneath her, adding to the excitement of the ride. When they’d walked out of the playhouse earlier, amid claps on the back and congratulatory handshakes on another play well written, he’d stopped before opening the car door and looked her up and down with a deadpan expression. She’d accused him of wanting her to take her shoes off before letting her inside. He’d shut her up by picking her up and plunking her down in her seat.
