Summers' Love, A Cute and Funny Cinderella Love Story (LPC Romantic Comedy Series) (16 page)

“An audition? For like a real play?”

“
Gilligan’s Island: The Musical
. I told you about it. I’m auditioning for the role of the professor.”

Gilligan’s Island. “How ironic.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Sorry, I guess I forgot. And no, I’m not home. Guess again.”

“Seriously? You’re still not back. Oh man, I am so—”

“Shut up and listen, Rog. I need you to do something for me. I need you to call the bookstores in Beaufort, North Carolina and find out how many copies of
In Heat
they have. Then buy all you can with my credit card.”

“All?”

“Do I need to give you my credit card number or do you still have it?”

“Kate, have you lost your mind?”

“Hey, this was your idea, Rog, not mine. You said I should get him to sign copies of his books and that’s exactly what I’m doing. So will you do this for me?”

“No.”

“Roger?”

“Sis, look, if this guy figures out that the only reason you want to be with him is to …”

“He already knows. I told him about my stun gun girls and he’s fine with it. In fact, he’s better than fine with it.” She held one hand in front of her face. “I have him so wrapped around my finger he’ll do anything I ask.”

“Remember your own mantra, Sis. ‘Women who flirt get hurt.’”

“Call the stores. Then text me back and let me know how many I can expect to pick up.”

“But I already told you; I need to get ready for my audition.”

“Rog?”

“Yeah?”

“You want to know where I keep the extra key?”

“You have an extra key?”

“Order books. Text me with the total.
Then
I’ll tell you where my spare key is.”

Kate hung up. She opened her cabin door and saw Stu sitting at the navigation station with his back to her, and went prowling.

* * *

Stu stared at the screen; no words came. Could he possibly have writer’s block? Already? And only two chapters into the story?

He decided to take a break by returning to his inbox where he opened the email with the Subject Line: My Sister Thanks You.

Mr. Summers, I wanted to follow up to let you know how much my sister appreciated the autographed novel. You may remember me mentioning that Marge had ovarian cancer. She went to be with Jesus this morning at 2:45. Her last words to me before she lost consciousness were, “Tell Mr. Summers his words carry the hope of heaven and wisdom of God.” I know you promised to pray for her and I so appreciate that. Even in her pain, she felt comforted by your prayers and the prayers of others. You were a hero to my sister and blessing to our family. Keep writing! The world needs your words!

Stu felt sick to his stomach. Not only were his words not
his
, but he hadn’t bothered to pray for Marge, didn’t even know how. At the very least he figured he should have mentioned Marge to Hattie. Or brought it up in the Bible study. “I’m pond scum,” he said to no one. No, worse. He was the parasites that feed on the bacteria that make up pond scum.

The creaking of floorboards behind him caused Stu to turn around. Kate emerged from her cabin wearing blue gym shorts and a loose-fitting white tee shirt. Before he could close his laptop, she snuggled up and rested her chin on his shoulder.

Wrapping her arms around his chest, she purred, “What are you working on?” Her lips hovered close to his ear, teeth playfully tugged on his ear lobe. “Nothing too hard, I hope.”

He casually closed the lid to his laptop with his elbow. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

She smiled and sighed, releasing the mint from her toothpaste. The scent of it was nice. Intimate. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Stu eased from the seat. He took her into his arms and tilted his mouth toward hers until
… Bump!

Kate pulled back. “What was that?”

Bump! Bump!

He jerked away from her. “Oh, crap!”

“What?” she asked, her voice elevated. “And don’t say ‘crap’. Say ‘crud’.”

Stu felt the boat lurch sideways in that sickening manner that let him know they’d run out of water.

“Quick! Start the engine while I run up to the foredeck.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“We’re aground, is what’s wrong!”

Chapter Eighteen

On Stu’s command Kate put the boat in reverse and gunned the engine. He stood on the bow, feeding out more chain. She watched him take another look over the bow pulpit before rushing back to the helm.

“Here, let me,” he said, pushing her aside.

He shoved the shift lever into neutral, backed off the throttle and, spinning the wheel, tried to power forward. She felt the bump-bump of the keel bouncing off the bottom. Looking astern she cringed at the plume of mud and sand turning the green water brown. But at least they were moving; that was a good sign. He swung the bow around and motored toward the channel.

Stu pointed to the depth gauge. “Okay, we have two feet of water under the keel. That should keep us off the bottom until I can get the anchor up.”

Kate eyed the water between the bow and beach. “How are you going to do that? Isn’t the anchor in shallower water?”

“It is.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “Which is why I’m going for a swim.” He tossed the shirt toward her and she caught it easily. “Be right back.”

Minutes later he was in the water, swimming toward the buried anchor, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts.

Stu Summers was unlike any man she’d ever known. Heroic, even, just like the guy in
In Heat.
He reminded Kate of her father—decisive and bold. Kate’s heart filled with warring emotions. Some were from the memories of her father and the way he treasured her. No man will ever be able to love me like dad, she thought. He was my rock and I …I was his little girl and always will be.

But her feelings for Stu were different. On one hand, she found herself attracted to him in a physical way. She had been, really, since the first time he flashed that bright white smile at her from his book-signing table at the bookstore. And what woman wouldn’t? Rich, famous, and genuinely attentive. There didn’t appear to be anything phony or pretentious about him. How could she
not
find him attractive? At the touch of his hands Kate burned with excitement. On the flip side, her priority remained those thirteen unsigned books. Without those, no sales commission, no sales award, and no trip to Nassau. Until she had autographed copies and his promise of more to come, her feelings for him would have to remain in check.

Kate peered over the railing to see the water-blurred image of Stu swimming toward the anchor. Sensing she might have to help, she went below to change into something more than sleeping shorts and her tee shirt. As she eased past the navigation desk, the laptop caught her eye. She lifted the lid, more curious as to how a famous writer crafts a best-selling story than concerned about Stu’s need for her help.

The screen illuminated the words:
She gave in to the tingling feeling surging within her and felt her body tremble with anticipation. He pushed back her bangs, which hung long on the sides of her face, and kissed her softly on her cheek.

Her heart stopped.

The rumblings of the inboard diesel engine became a distant drone.

Kate had to remind herself to breathe as she scrolled through the document, reading the story—
their story
. A stomach-clenching nausea swept over her. She paged up the document. Every precious moment or tender comment they had shared lay exposed on the pages for all to see. She felt violated, humiliated, and used.

The boat tilted slightly. She was vaguely aware of someone stomping around in the cockpit. Hurt and anger began to numb her senses. She turned and slowly looked up at the wet and bare-chested man standing in the companionway.

“Got the anchor, dodged another disaster.” He smiled like the hero he’d written himself to be.

In spite of the effect it previously had, Kate did not return Stu’s award-winning, famous-author, brilliant white smile.

Chapter Nineteen

Instead of appearing relieved, as Stu expected, Kate’s face had turned to stone.

“How does it work, exactly?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean. How does what work?” Stu rested his hands on his hips and splayed his fingers. “Resetting the anchor?” He tried the smile one more time.

It didn’t work. “Do you first research the type of woman to play your heroine, or just wait for fate to drop one into your lap?”

“You lost me.” And he wasn’t kidding. Stu honestly had no idea what had come over the sweet Kate he’d left aboard
Summers’ Breeze
.

“Come on, I’m dying to know how you select the characters for your books. Was it my hair?” She flipped her hand through her tresses. “The color of my eyes? These?” She thrust out her breasts.

He noticed it then; not her chest, though that did catch his attention, but his laptop. Its lid lay open with the screen and his manuscript in full view.

“My manuscript …” he whispered. He glanced at the words on the screen behind her, feeling a mixture of confusion and rage. He eased down the steps and, reaching past her, pushed the lid shut. “Didn’t your mother tell you it wasn’t nice to snoop?” he demanded, his voice rising.

Kate gasped. “Don’t try to put this back on me.”

“Can’t believe you are that nosey,” he said, stepping toward the galley sink. He turned on the water to rinse the mud from beneath his nails, all the while confirming that this right here was why he didn’t date.

It was just too darn complicated.

“And I can’t believe you would write about
us
,” she shot back, the hurt evident in her tone. “Especially after you promised me you wouldn’t.”

“When did I say that?”

“Night before last, at dinner, when I opened up about my first marriage. You swore you wouldn’t use any of what I said in your books.”

“And I haven’t.”

“You
used
me, Stu.”

He turned off the water and shook his hands free of the moisture. “Oh, come on, Kate. I used
you
?” His hands returned to his hips and his jaw flexed. “You’re the one who drove all the way to Ocracoke to find me. And why? So you could get a bunch of autographed copies of my novel for your stun gun gals. I fed you, gave you a place to sleep, let you sail on my yacht. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman. What part of any of that makes you feel used? Tell me.”

“You lied to me.”

“I did not.”

She had obviously tuned him out. “You lied to me and used me,” she repeated.

“And
you
lied about getting those books signed. I thought they were for your book club. Now I find out it is so you can make a sale and possibly win a trip to Nassau. I would have to say, Kate, overall, you got the better end of the bargain.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.

But before he could apologize, she asked, “Whose idea was it? Yours or your editor friend’s?”

He stared hard at her, feeling as though he’d just been belted in the stomach. “What editor friend?”

“I read her comments in the manuscript. She wrote I struck her as ‘high maintenance.’ She barely knows me. How dare she judge me like that.”

“Look, maybe we should talk about this when you’re not so upset.”

“All of this is one big game with you, isn’t it? You took my feelings for you and tried to manipulate them into something you could sell to your readers. How dare you!”

Stu took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. Last thing he needed right now was a hysterical woman on his sailboat packing a stun gun. One stray shot and she might fry the electronics.

He responded defensively by holding up his hands as if surrendering. “Okay, you know what? You caught me. Last night at my cottage when I asked you to stay for dinner, I needed a story, I admit it.”

“Night before last.”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘last night.’ We had dinner at your cottage night before last.”

“Last night, night before last, what difference does it make?”

“If you are trying to keep your lies straight, it makes a huge difference.”

The comment stung; Stu pressed on, overlooking the fact that she acted as if she didn’t really care about his explanation. “I
was
desperate for inspiration and you provided it. Nothing wrong with that. Authors use bits and pieces of people they meet all the time in their writing. It’s called adding character color. So yeah, I’m guilty. Guilty of finding you interesting and attractive. Is there anything wrong with that?” He paused, waiting for her face to soften, even a little.