Almost Famous

by Gina Wilkins

  “Come to think of it, courthouses have never been very kind to my family,” she added thoughtfully.

  He supposed she’d meant that as a joke. A way to lighten the conversation. He offered a weak smile in response.

  “You know what? I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said suddenly, pushing herself to her feet. “I don’t even want to think about the past or the press or anyone who has anything to do with either. Do you want to watch a movie? It’s starting to rain outside, so it isn’t as if there’s anything else to do. My brother has, like, a thousand DVDs here.”

  Not the time to tell her about his very public career, he decided. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s watch a movie. What are you in the mood for?”

  THEY CHOSE A FILM with lots of action, plenty of funny lines, and a dash of romance. Just the kind of mindless entertainment Stacy liked best. She had seen this one before, so she didn’t have to concentrate that hard—which made it even better.

  Jake started the DVD in a funny mood. Sort of distracted. Maybe he was thinking about the things she had told him about her past. Or maybe he had his own problems on his mind. But the movie soon worked its magic on him, too, and he began to relax. Laugh. Enjoy.

  They sat at opposite ends of the couch when the movie started. Halfway into it, they were sitting close together, making room for Oscar, who curled up to sleep at Stacy’s other side. By the time the film was almost over, Jake’s arm was around her shoulders and she reclined comfortably against his chest. And what had been a lousy day had turned heavenly.

  Maybe it didn’t matter to him, she thought, staring at the screen now without really seeing the action there. Maybe her father’s dubious fame was immaterial to a truck driver from North Carolina, unlike the aspiring CEO she had dated in Chicago.

  She and Greg had been college sweethearts, and she’d thought they would be together forever. And then he had done a little research on her family history. And had decided that Harley Carter’s daughter was not the best match for a man on the rise in the cutthroat corporate world.

  That was when she had moved back to Arkansas. Back to a quiet life of working at home and spending her free time with a few close friends and her brother and nephew. It might have seemed odd to some that she had come back to a state where so many people remembered her father, knew all about her family. But she’d figured that at least here she wouldn’t have to tell the story to every new person she met.

  Of course, that applied only to people who had actually lived in the state while her father was alive, and remembered his escapades, she thought, glancing up at Jake.

  He looked so different without the scruffy beard. She’d thought he was good-looking before, but now—wow. She’d nearly swallowed her tongue when she’d opened the door to him.

  He glanced down at her with a questioning smile. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She looked at the television screen, realizing that the movie was nearing the conclusion. She rather hated to see it end, and it wasn’t because she was enjoying the plot that much.

  The rain was still pouring outside when Jake pressed the stop button on the remote control a few minutes later. A brisk wind blew the drops against the windows in a steady rat-a-tat, making it sound very appealing to stay inside for the afternoon.

  “Do you need to work today?” Jake asked, glancing without enthusiasm toward the rain-lashed window. “If so, I can go back to my own cabin and watch TV or something.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. He probably thought he was being considerate making the offer to leave, but he couldn’t have been more obvious in his reluctance to do so.

  “Why don’t we hang out here for a while?” she suggested instead. “I’m pretty much caught up with work for today. Nick keeps plenty of rainy-day activities stocked here. Board games, like the Monopoly set we played the other day, video games, that sort of thing.”

  Jake’s smile broadened. “That sounds great. I’ve been eyeing that video game system, actually. I have the same one in my—at home.”

  She noted the slight stammer, but paid little attention to it. “My nephew is addicted, of course. He has two or three game systems at home, but Nick only allows this one here. And he doesn’t let Andrew play more than a couple of hours a day, though that’s a constant battle.”

  “I’m sure it is. So, are you any good? At video games, I mean.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “I can hold my own with some of them. Some of the others are entirely too complicated for me.”

  “Then I’ll let you pick what we play. I like them all.”

  “I warn you, I’m pretty good at the golf game.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not my strongest one. You’ll probably stomp me.”

  “I’ll certainly try,” she agreed, grinning up at him.

  His arm twitched spasmodically around her shoulders and his smile faded as he gazed down at her. Their faces were close together, their bodies cozily aligned. And suddenly it was very warm in the room.

  Jake reached up to brush back a stray curl that had escaped her loose ponytail. His fingers lingered on her cheek, curving to cup her face. “You have the most amazing eyes,” he murmured. “Such a clear gray-blue. Like the sky on an autumn morning. I guess you hear that all the time.”

  “Uh…” She cleared her throat. “No, not really.”

  “Then you’ve been around some very unobservant people.”

  “Or maybe you’re just more full of blarney than most.” The retort might have been more effective had her voice not been quite so breathless.

  He laughed softly, a low, seductive chuckle that slid right down her spine. “Maybe you’re right. But I really do think you have beautiful eyes.”

  “Thank you.” She wasn’t very good at flirtation. Should she tell him that his eyes were beautiful, too? Because they were.

  He didn’t give her a chance to say anything at all. His lips brushed hers, lightly at first. Testingly. And even that was enough to empty her mind.

  He must have read willingness in her response. Rather than drawing away, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head for a better angle. She put her arms around his neck and parted her lips for him.

  THIS KISS WAS explosive. Amazing. And just a little bit terrifying, because she couldn’t imagine ever being kissed so perfectly by anyone else. Would she spend the rest of her life remembering this moment? Comparing every future embrace to this one and finding them lacking, because they wouldn’t come from Jake?

  That thought gave her the strength to draw back, breaking off the kiss. Jake’s arms tightened just a moment, but he released her without further protest. Though his features were tight with arousal, he managed a smile. “Too fast?”

  “Much too fast,” she agreed a bit hoarsely, and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll go refill our glasses with more iced tea. You choose a video game.”

  He sighed in resignation. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her knees a bit rubbery, Stacy walked into the kitchen, where the first thing she did was open the refrigerator and let the cool air rush over her.

  She heard Jake’s cell phone ring just as she pulled the tea pitcher off the refrigerator shelf. Adding fresh ice to the glasses they’d sipped from during the movie, she took her time pouring the tea and adding slices of lemon to give him a chance to complete his call in privacy. Yet he was still talking when she carried the two glasses to the doorway.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, Pam, I promise,” he was saying. “I just need a little more time.”

  That brought her to an abrupt stop. Pam?

  “I know I’ve been avoiding you,” he added, sounding apologetic. “I just didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t ready to make any commitments until after I talk to the doctor.”

  Commitments. Stacy swallowed, wondering just what she had interrupted.

  “So do you forgive me?” he asked in his teasing, ultracharming voice, making Stacy’s fingers tighten fiercely around the glasses. “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll call yo
u in the morning. ’Bye, now.”

  Suddenly aware that she had been eavesdropping, Stacy flushed. “Um, here’s your tea. Are you hungry yet? I can make sandwiches.”

  “No, not yet, thanks.” He rose to take his glass, searching her face as if to gauge how much she’d overheard. “That was my assistant,” he said lightly. “She handles all my scheduling.”

  She’d never heard of a truck driver needing an assistant, but what did she know? Besides, it was none of her business whom he’d been talking to. Or what his relationship with the other woman involved.

  “I’m sure your friends are anxious to have you back soon,” she commented, taking a seat at the far end of the sofa, so that Oscar would be sitting between her and Jake.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You must miss them, too.”

  “I’ll enjoy seeing them again—but I haven’t been missing them so much since I met you.”

  Lifting her glass to her lips, she didn’t answer. She had teasingly accused him earlier of being full of blarney. She couldn’t help wondering now just how accurate that accusation had been. Was he a compulsive flirt? Were easy endearments and fabulous kisses things he passed out a bit too generously?

  Had she read too much into what had been happening between them?

  He handed her a video game controller. “Let’s see if you’re as good at this golf game as you claim to be.”

  Playing video games seemed like a safe enough way to pass the afternoon. Setting down her tea glass, she gripped her controller. “Okay. You’re on.”

  THEY PLAYED for over an hour, and then broke for lunch. By then Stacy was smiling again, flushed with success at beating him at golf. Twice. He got his revenge by winning every other game they played. She didn’t seem to mind, apparently content with her golf championship.

  Jake wasn’t sure how much she’d overheard of his conversation with Pam. He had been honest with her about Pam’s role in his life—but he wasn’t entirely certain she had believed him. Had there been a hint of jealousy in her eyes? Would it be too shallow of him to be a little pleased if there had been?

  He’d have to level with her soon, of course. He had to admit that it would have been easier before she’d gone off on her animosity toward the press—and pretty much anyone who lived in the spotlight.

  She went into the kitchen to make sandwiches for lunch, declining his offer to help. Oscar tagged along at her heels, probably hoping for scraps. Jake took advantage of the opportunity to switch the television to the coverage of qualifying, checking to see how his teammates were doing. With just a few cars left to qualify, Ronnie Short was in third. Not bad. If he could keep running well, Ronnie could very well be one of the front-runners for the cup.

  Rookie Scott Rivers was sixth, and Mike Overstreet ninth. Three of the four Woodrow drivers in the top ten. Woody would be pleased. Unfortunately, the Number 82 car with temporary driver Pete Sloan at the wheel was way down in the field.

  Though he was one of the most promising drivers in the NASCAR Busch Series, twenty-year-old Pete was still having trouble finding his rhythm in NASCAR NEXTEL Cup racing. It had to be killing him to be messing up his chance at showing what he could do—and Jake had no doubt that Pete could handle top-level racing eventually. It was simply a matter of gaining experience and confidence.

  Something clattered in the kitchen, and he heard Stacy mutter a curse. Grinning, he turned off the television, stood and walked to the door, and he realized that he was hardly limping at all now.

  He was getting better. It wouldn’t be long at all before he was back on the track. He wondered if Stacy would still be in his life then, or if she would have decided that she had no interest in a man who lived in a fast-moving fishbowl.

  “Problems in here?” he asked from the doorway.

  She was down on her knees, wiping up what appeared to be a splatter of mayonnaise. “Dropped the container,” she admitted, making a face.

  “I like mustard better anyway,” he said.

  “Now you tell me.”

  Chuckling, he pulled out a chair at the table, forgetting about the television.

  Stacy rose to her feet, still shaking her head at her clumsiness. “I guess I’m still distracted by Mindy’s call. Still furious with our so-called old friend. I’ll try to put it out of my head now. I just keep reminding myself that the spotlight will have to seek out someone else soon, and that by the time I return home, I’ll be happily anonymous again. That makes me feel a lot better.”

  Jake’s smile slid right off his face. He had planned to tell Stacy everything about himself over lunch, but maybe this wasn’t the right time after all. Not while she was still so worked up about the reporter’s call.

  He could tell her later, he assured himself. After she’d calmed down a bit. And after he figured out a way to convince her that being in a fishbowl wasn’t such a bad way to live if the incentives were strong enough.

  She walked him to the door after lunch. Knowing she had work she wanted to get to that afternoon, he didn’t try to linger, nor did she try to detain him.

  It had stopped raining. He hadn’t even noticed until he opened the front door. The sky was still low and gray, and puddles of water were scattered between the cabins, but at least he wouldn’t get wet going back to his place.

  Glancing at Stacy, he said, “Thanks for the breakfast. And the lunch. You really made my day better.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

  She moistened her lips, then nodded. “I’d like that, too.”

  He knew he shouldn’t kiss her again until he leveled with her. But when it came to Stacy, he was learning that his willpower was weak. He contented himself with a quick brush of lips, knowing that brief taste would still be enough to torment him through the night.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promised her—and himself.

  Her smile was just a bit strained, as if somehow she had some premonition that talk wasn’t going to be an easy one.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STACY WAS PACING again Sunday afternoon, and this time Oscar seemed resigned that there was little he could do to distract her. He sat in a corner gnawing on a rawhide chew, looking up only occasionally to see if she had come to her senses yet.

  She was afraid he might have to wait a while for that.

  Jake had left not long after lunch the day before, claiming he was giving her time to work and that he had a few things to do himself. He had seemed very distracted after she’d told him about her family history. Maybe the sordidness had bothered him more than he had let on.

  After all, she reminded herself, Jake was a very private person. He, too, had chosen to recuperate in solitude. He had probably been appalled at the thought of being surrounded by reporters and photographers hoping to find out something interesting about Harley Carter’s daughter. She couldn’t blame him for that.

  But at least it was out in the open, she told herself, trying to find something positive in the situation as she plopped onto the couch. He knew exactly who she was now. If he was interested in getting to know her better, then she was certainly willing to spend more time with him. Cautiously, of course.

  And if he wasn’t interested…well, she hadn’t really expected anything to come of this anyway, she assured herself. The hollow feeling inside her that accompanied that thought made her scowl and reach for the television remote in an attempt to distract herself from any further thoughts of Jake.

  A NASCAR race came onto the screen. Colorful cars roared around a track while names and numbers scrolled across the top of the screen and faceless announcers kept up a lively commentary.

  Great, she thought with a sigh. Even the television was conspiring to make her think of Jake, automatically tuning in to his favorite sport. She reached again for the remote, thinking maybe she would find an old movie or an interesting biography or something that had nothing whatever to do with…

  A knock on the door made her catch her
lower lip between her teeth. So much for not thinking about him. She had no doubt that he was the one on the other side of the door.

  Turning off the television, she rose and crossed the room, Oscar bouncing at her feet.

  She’d guessed correctly, of course. Jake stood on the doorstep, his expression somber. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” She moved out of the way, then closed the door behind him when he entered. Watching as he bent to greet Oscar, she asked, “Can I get you anything to drink? Tea or coffee?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  He straightened and pushed a hand through his hair as though bracing himself for something. She held her breath, wondering what he was trying to work up the nerve to say.

  After a moment, he gave her a wry smile and said, “You know, I think I would like a glass of tea, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  He was stalling. From what, she didn’t know, but she was willing to go along. Judging from the look in his eyes, she wasn’t sure she was in any hurry to hear what he had to say.

  He followed her into the kitchen and watched while she filled two tumblers with ice cubes and tea, adding slices of lemon from a bowl in the fridge. “Can I get you anything to go with it?” she asked. “A snack of some sort?”

  “No, thanks. This is good.”

  He looked down at the glass as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it now. Whatever he had come to say, it was apparently difficult for him to get started—which made her even more nervous.

  He cleared his throat. “Um, Stacy, there’s something we need to talk about.”

  No good conversation had ever begun with those particular words, she decided on the spot. Figuring they might as well get it over with, she set her untasted tea on the counter and squared her shoulders. “What is it?”

  “It’s about my job.”

  That surprised her a little, but she nodded. “Go on.”