Just the Way You Are (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 1)

by Pepper Basham

  A preschool teacher? It fit her to the sparkle in her eyes and curbed his inner critic with another clashing match. He wasn’t certain how to respond. He focused his attention on the road ahead and tried to stifle a sudden urge to laugh. She had a well-thought-out story. He’d hand her that.

  “And this bit about your ancestor? The ancestor you and Lizzie share.” Dad interjected from his restful back seat. “Lizzie says her story is an adventure?”

  “Well, from the little bits of information passed down through our family, we know she helped smuggle Tyndale Bibles throughout Derbyshire during King Henry VIII’s early reign. I’m not sure how she smuggled them or who she helped, but more importantly”—her voice dropped to a mysterious whisper, nearly causing him to draw closer in anticipation. She was good.—“I want to know how she survived being burnt at the stake.”

  Wes nearly veered off the motorway. “What?”

  “Isn’t it amazing? Uncle Joe has spent about twenty years trying to unearth details from anyone who might know. Any tips or rumors. The family legend is, a local priest found out about Julia’s secret work and tried to kill her. She was rescued, but no one knows how for sure—only that she disappeared afterwards. My grandmother thinks she was rescued by the man she finally married.”

  “And he was...?”

  Eisley shrugged. “I’m hoping Lizzie and I can figure that out together. All I know are his initials—G. M.—from a torn letter that’s been passed down through our family.” She leaned forward in the seat. “Look at all these old buildings. Don’t you just love living in a place so rich with history?”

  The wonder in her face captivated him for a second before he turned his focus back to the road. Perhaps the wrong adult in the car secured an acting degree. Either that, or Eisley Barrett truly was as genuine as she seemed. His mind refused to wrap around the latter option.

  “You know, Eisley,” Dad said, “I hoped Wes might have the opportunity to speak with you. Your opinion will be invaluable to him.”

  Wes glanced in the rearview mirror. His father avoided the glare.

  “My opinion? That sounds a little unlikely, Mr. H.”

  Mr. H? He’d heard it once in the airport, but now she used it like a nickname, and his father appeared to like it. This entire charade grew more questionable with each scene.

  “Actually, he and his friend, Henry, have completed a screenplay based on a story set in your part of the world, I believe. It’s some sort of historical adventure. Isn’t that correct, Wes?”

  Wes’s reply came slowly. “Yes.”

  “You’re writing a movie? That’s great.” Her entire expression brightened in awe. “Where is it set?”

  He pulled his gaze from his father’s incriminating grin. “I doubt you’d know it. It’s a rather small community known as Summit.”

  “Summit?” Her palm flattened against her chest. “Summit, North Carolina? My mom’s grandparents are from Summit.”

  “What a coincidence.” His father’s words hitched into the conversation.

  Wes shot his dad another glance. “Isn’t it?”

  Dad raised his brows in declaration of innocence—to no avail. Lizzie Worthing and his father were playacting as matchmakers. No surprise on that score. His father had been guilty of it for years, with two strikes and a trail of disappointment. Father prattled on about second chances, but Wes neither wanted nor deserved one.

  Eisley Barrett was not an option. Leave the woman with her two-dimensional heroes. They wouldn’t lead to disappointment—for either of them. But his gaze lingered much too long on her face. A fruitless search for hidden agendas took a surprising slide into interest for a different reason. A sliver of warmth rivered beneath his skin. He stilled his wandering thoughts with an iron grasp.

  “It’s a beautiful place, Wes.” Something about the lilt in her voice when she said his name, the familiarity of it, shook his pulse. “Way up high in the mountains. But you can’t get there by main roads or anything. It’s pretty remote. Why would anyone want to make a movie about Summit? I’ve heard my great-grandparents were characters, but not that kind.”

  Her easy humor caught him off-guard again. She kept doing that. It was unnerving. “Yes...well, it’s based on a novel by Jonathan Taylor, the true story of a British teacher who left home—”

  “Taylor?” A buzz at Eisley’s side interrupted him, followed by the faint Kenny Loggins tune Your Mama Don’t Dance and Your Daddy Don’t Rock and Roll. She flinched forward. “My phone.” She fumbled through her purse and pulled out a lime green mobile. The tune grew louder. “It’s my mom’s ringtone.”

  He felt his eyebrows lift.

  “We’re Baptist.” Her crooked smile nearly provided enough distraction to send him veering toward oncoming traffic.

  “Hi, Mom. Yes, I’m here, a little tired, but thrilled.” Pause. “I’m in the car on the way to the hotel.” Silence. “The flight was absolutely gorgeous.”

  Gorgeous?

  “I’ve never seen the moon so big and close. And there was a storm underneath the clouds. It was amazing.” Pause. “Yeah, I know. Isn’t God awesome?”

  Wes tried to keep his eyes on the road, but the more she talked, the more doubt crept around his excuses. Could she truly be this genuine? Experience told him no, but experience had never brought a woman like Eisley Barrett his way. His chest constricted and those knotted feelings in his heart tempted to unbraid. Clamp them tight, mate. She must have a well-hidden agenda at worst, and a need to steer clear of men with pasts like his, at best. Both options kept him at arm's length.

  “Oh, Mom, you need to keep this information super-private. I mean you can’t even tell Granny.” Eisley shot Wes a wrinkle-nosed grin. “You’ll never believe who came with Mr. Harrison to pick me up from the airport.” Pause. “His son, BBC actor Christopher Wesley Harrison.”

  Wes exchanged a look with his dad, who was chuckling.

  “No, Colin Firth played Mr. Darcy.”

  Another pause.

  “That one was Matthew MacFayden.” Pause. “No, Mom, Wes didn’t play in any Austen remakes. That was Jeremy Northam.”

  So much for feeling famous.

  She looked over at him and smiled her apology, and his responded, naturally. No acting involved. He tried to tame it, but failed miserably. It was official. He was barking mad.

  Perhaps his safest option would be to steer clear of Eisley Barrett altogether. He looked back at his dad and old fears stifled the fresh interest.

  “Wes played in the newest version of Wuthering Heights that came out last year and he just finished staring in the amazing movie A Ransomed Gentleman.” Eisley suddenly gasped. “Oh, my goodness, it’s Big Ben. Mom, can you believe it? I’m staring at Big Ben in London, England.” Excitement tinged every syllable.

  No clock held that sort of interest, surely. Not even Big Ben.

  “That means we’re crossing Westminster Bridge.” She let out a little squeal and took a deep breath. “I know, I’m acting like a preteen girl...Of course I’ll take pictures. Loads. How are the kids?” Tenderness quieted her voice and its authenticity wiggled further into his protesting heart. “Tell them I love them, okay? And give Emily a big kiss for me.” She clipped her mobile closed and sighed back into the seat. “They’re so far away.”

  “You have three children?”

  “Yeah.” A touch of sadness quieted her reply. “Nathan— he’s eight and a mastermind. Pete is a six-year-old daredevil. And Emily is a little over two and kind of looks like a cuter version of Gollum—ya know, hairless and big blue eyes.”

  What a mental image! Coupled with her animated expression, it was difficult to keep any emotional distance whatsoever. What had his father done? He met his dad’s gaze and knew…he knew. This did not bode well for his single-minded future at all.

  He brought the car to a stop by the hotel, determined to halt his father’s nonsense before it strayed any further into the ridiculous. “Dad, might you help me with the luggage?�
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  Once Wes was safely hidden behind the boot, he turned to his father. “Is Mum aware of this matchmaking scheme of yours?”

  Dad fumbled with one of Eisley’s bags. “I have no idea to what you are referring.”

  Wes placed his hand on top of the bag in his father’s grasp. “Dad, there are too many coincidences. She even has family from Summit, North Carolina?” He narrowed his eyes at his father’s profile. “As I’ve told you before, I have more important pursuits at present than building a romantic relationship.”

  “I’m not responsible if you feel an attraction to our guest.”

  “Attraction?” Wes lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, and peeked around the boot of the car to see Eisley shaking the valet’s hand. “I never said I was attracted.”

  “If you were attracted to her, then I would say it showed good sense on your part, and the coincidence? Nothing more than luck, I should think.”

  “Luck doesn’t hand-deliver with such accuracy, as a rule, and I don’t need your matchmaking games, Dad.” He crammed a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to focus my career in the right direction. On the right path.”

  Dad jerked the bag from the boot and leveled his son with a stare. “Who says she isn’t standing directly in the middle of this right path of yours?” He shrugged Wes’s concern away. “Think what you will. I suspect you’ll have little time to set your mind to it, as your schedule usually keeps you busy, doesn’t it? She’s really none of your concern.”

  “When she’s a stranger in my parents’ home, she’s of great concern to me.”

  “Rubbish.” His father growled. “If you’d remove your suspicion for half a moment, you’d see she’s charming. A perfect match, if one was thinking of such matters.”

  “What does Mum say about your ploy?” His father tinkered with the handle of Eisley’s bag. Hesitant. “Mum does know Eisley is coming, doesn’t she?”

  “Of course, perfectly aware.” His father raised a brow and averted his gaze. “You are in a mood for accusations, son. Bad habit, that.”

  Wes peeked around the boot of the car. Eisley was engaged in an animated conversation with the valet, and the valet seemed to enjoy the attention a bit too much. Wes lowered his voice. “As I recall, Eisley isn’t interested in pursuing a relationship either, so your attempts are futile.”

  “Codswallop.” Dad slid Eisley’s duffle from the back. “If you’re worth your salt, you won’t let a little thing like that stop you. Not if you thought she was worthy of the second chance?”

  His father’s voice reverberated through him as if from the mouth of God. It wasn’t her worthiness he was questioning. Or was it? He’d done nothing but interrogate her motives since the first glance. And why not? He didn’t know her, but the way her humor burrowed its way through his defenses proved warning enough. He was in trouble.

  Eisley popped her head around the back of the car. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Wes moved aside so the valet could take the bags, and Dad turned to Eisley. “All you need to do is settle in. We meet Eleanor at ten for tea, after which we are off for an afternoon tour of Westminster. Then there is the Christmas gala, of course.”

  Wes pulled his gaze from Eisley to zero in on his father. She was going to the Christmas gala?

  She grinned up at him. “Will you be there too?”

  “Wes rarely attends these parties, though he is between films at the moment.” His father lifted a brow to him.

  Eisley touched Wes’s arm, the gentleness in her expression tugging at the twist of his emotions. “After your time out of the limelight, it seems you’re taking a slow and steady reentry. Besides, you’ve never struck me as the flashy sort.” She laughed. “Not that I know you or anything. Not the real you. Only the fictional you.”

  “Ms. Barrett, in this case, the fictional Christopher Wesley Harrison is much more appealing than the reformed and somewhat introverted Wes Harrison.” He stared down into her face, uncertain and interested. For the past two years, he’d been more of a hermit than a “famous” actor. Two years of depression turned to healing, with a fair amount of bitterness to slow the process.

  Her green eyes glimmered with curiosity. “I’m from Appalachia. Fact is always stranger than fiction.” Her grin twisted crooked. “And usually a whole lot more interesting too.”

  “The Gala is quite posh. Perfect for the season of fresh beginnings, I should think.” The glint of mischief twitched the edge of his father’s moustache. “Music, food, dancing.”

  “Dancing?” Eisley’s face paled and she waved her hands as if to wipe away the word still floating in the air. “Oh no, I thought it was one of those parties where you stand around, eat, drink, and maybe criticize other people’s clothing. You didn’t say anything about dancing.”

  “Not to worry. We’ll have a lesson or two this afternoon.”

  She gave her head a fierce shake. “Mr. H, don’t you remember my questionable footwork in the airport? The kind that nearly broke your ribs?”

  “Eisley, the fall was not as bad as that.” Dad pulled Eisley’s arm through his. “We shall go inside, get freshened up, and then enjoy our afternoon.”

  She looked over Dad’s shoulder, her eyes pleading for rescue. “Could you please jump out of that fictional world of yours for a minute and come up with a great excuse to get me out of this?”

  Wes closed the boot. “Weren’t you the one who touted how fact was much more interesting than fiction?” He’d teased her? He barely knew the woman and he’d teased her?

  She sighed. “Fact, in this case, is certain to be more humiliating, I’m afraid.” Her shoulders rose in a shrug and the smile returned. “Well, what’s the saying? Hope springs eternal.”

  No, Eisley Barrett wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met, or even imagined meeting. The curiosity about her first English Christmas gala was too much for him to miss. If she was hiding something, he wanted to discover it before his parents felt the sting. If she was as genuine as she appeared, then maybe a closer acquaintance might be the perfect medicine for his skeptical heart.

  ***

  Wes snuck through the doorway of his office merely long enough to retrieve the screenplay on his desk. When he’d returned from his sabbatical, he’d chosen a smaller office in a quieter part of the West End, a safer distance from the life he once knew. Eisley Barrett’s apparent authenticity somehow forced his past into his thoughts with new clarity. He’d been selfish and blind. Lost.

  He closed his eyes, the rush of memories drowning out the hum from the office machines in the next room. The women, the parties. Vivian and Jane. Betraying others…and being betrayed. He had so much for which to atone.

  The past year he’d begun the process of reinventing his professional life with his two newest movies, small films of substance. A Ransomed Gentleman defined the changing point, almost prophetic in title—though, he wouldn’t have considered himself a ‘gentle’ man. The last year bathed in his family’s love made him stronger and more determined to choose God’s way instead of his own.

  He stepped across the dim room, blinds drawn to pinch out distraction leaving the office space gray and sleepy. With his back to the hall, he searched the papers on his desk and checked his watch. He had an hour to get back to the hotel to catch his parents before they left with Eisley to explore Westminster. He wouldn’t leave them alone with her for too long until he felt certain they were out of harm’s way.

  He scanned the working title of his script: A Sea of Mountains. If Eisley Barrett was typical of the people in the Blue Ridge Mountains, this story would provide the part he’d been hoping to play for years. A story with true meaning—a story to mirror the change in his life and provide his own agenda of inspiration to a world he’d previously given sex and paltry romance. He wasn’t the same man anymore and he’d prove it to everyone.

  Something warm and soft glided around his waist and smoothed against his chest, awakening his nerve endings and shocking his sp
ine pencil-straight. Long slender fingers skimmed across the buttons of his shirt. Red nails. The scent of lilacs. Vivian Barry.

  Wes turned around. Her arms tightened against his back, trapping him against her. She inched forward, face angled for a kiss.

  “Vivian?”

  “It’s been a long time since our last visit, Mr. Harrison.” Vivian’s husky voice purred through full lips that drew temptingly close. “Haven’t you missed me a little?”

  Wes jerked back so quickly, Vivian lost her balance and would have toppled to the floor if he hadn’t caught her. Missed her? Not in his heart, but his pulse reacted with a very different answer. Even after two years of celibacy. Would his sin forever haunt him?

  “What are you doing here?” The office door was closed.

  “I sent Grace out for a long coffee break so we could”—she lifted a carved ebony brow, coupled with a twist of her scarlet lips as her arms linked around his neck—“talk.”

  “Talk?” Wes repeated, hating the way his body responded to hers. Everything about her screamed to be touched, from the dark curls framing her face like a pixie to the supple dip at the base of her neck. Her body moved in an intoxicating dance against his senses. Warmth swelled in his stomach. He knew her body well. Too well. And the familiar ache began.

  “I think a continuation of our last conversation will be sufficient,” she crooned, pulling him closer until her lips covered his, warm and urgent. Taking control.

  Her body melted against his and the carnal part of him wanted to take what she offered. All of it. Indulge in the hunger that used to consume him, the pleasure. The familiar sensations battered his infant faith. The empty pleasure. He’d brought this on himself. A few romantic dinners, a couple of unexpected kisses at her initiation, and a regrettable past bound him like a malefactor for execution.

  God, be my strength.

  “Vivian, no.” He kept his voice soft and took her hands from around his neck. “No,” he added with more conviction.