Summers' Love, A Cute and Funny Cinderella Love Story (LPC Romantic Comedy Series) (8 page)

At the sound of his footsteps she looked up, and using the palm of her hand, swiped her sun-ripened cheeks. He could not believe how unbelievably pretty she was. Even with mascara streaks.

He edged closer. “Haven’t we met?”

“At the bookstore.” Her voice was a ragged whisper. She pulled something from her back pocket and held it up. “You gave me this. I thought you were … ”

He fell into an almost trancelike state as he watched her struggle to gain composure. He’d always experienced a twinge of sadness for the desperate women who paid to stay at his cottage, but this was different. This was the first time he’d actually witnessed the consequences of their desperation and his deception up close, and to someone who’d already gotten under his skin. The whole thing made him feel small.

“Yeah, sorry about that. You’re not the first person to make that mistake. My marketing gal insists it’s not a big deal. Says that if readers would read the fine print they would see that it’s a sales pitch for a beach rental.”

“You need to hire a different marketing gal.”

“You want the job?”

“Me?”

“She earns six figures.”

“For making bookmarks?”

“Oh, no, she does a lot of other stuff. Branding, mostly. And I’m not her only client. She also handles the country singer T. Bone, the teen actress Millie Vanilla, and Jeter.”

“You have the same marketing person as Derek Jeter?”

Stu shook his head. “Just Jeter, no last name. He’s a Silicon Valley billionaire who is trying to make it as a white hip-hop artist. Sort of like Eminem only without the attitude.”

“I see.” She slipped the bookmark into her hip pocket.

Unsure what to say next, Stu blurted, “Kate is it?”

She nodded. Sighed. “You … complimented me on my necklace.”

An awkward moment of silence followed while Stu recalled his comment about the fake pearls. “Those pearls, they looked nice on you.”

She blinked slowly. “Thanks.”

Stu stared at his feet. He hated making small talk. At book signings and in public appearances he
appeared
to be personable and outgoing but, like everything else, it was an act. The truth was, Stu considered himself an introvert. He’d read someplace most writers were.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and pivoted the top half of his body toward the cottage. “Your car is in my driveway. I assume if I look inside I’ll find a bag with fourteen books?”

She frowned. “Thirteen. You signed one, already.”

Hattie wanted to know why he didn’t ask women out? This right here, this is why. He nodded, thinking he should hire a dating coach ... and make the fine print bigger on those bookmarks. “Listen, are you hungry? ‘Cause if you are, we can go inside and see what there is to eat.” He slapped his neck. “It’s that or stand here and get chewed up by mosquitoes.”

“Are you asking me to stay for dinner?”

“Only if you think I am asking you to dinner. Do you think I’m asking you to dinner?”

“I think if you think that I think you are asking me to dinner then, yes.”

“Well okay, then.” He stared at her, not moving. He could not get over how pretty she looked. Even with smudges of makeup under her red-rimmed eyes. Maybe Hattie was right. Maybe she was his Alia, his angel.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Stu replied.

“Are you going to invite me inside?”

“Oh, right.” As they walked toward the house, Stu said under his breath, “Can’t believe how bad I am at this.”

“At what?”

“This.” He made a back-and-forth gesture to indicate he meant the two of them.

“Walking?”

“No,
this
. You and … Never mind, forget it.” They were almost at the top of the back stairs when he said, “I’m Stu, by the way. Stu Summers.” He held out his hand.

“Yes I know. Your name is on the cover of those fourteen books I bought.”

He felt his cheeks redden. “Told you I’m bad at this.”

She half-smiled, which was half-nice. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re doing just fine.”

He opened the back door and led her inside.

Chapter Nine

Kate stood in the kitchen watching him as he began making dinner preparations. He pulled a small pot from a cabinet and filled it with water, then placed it on the stovetop.

She smiled inwardly. For a rich and famous author he certainly acted like a normal guy. Normal being a relative term given Kate’s dating history. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and wished she had thought to get her purse from the car. She knew she looked a fright.

“Our choices are corn crab chowder soup, or pasta with clam sauce. I would offer you something more elaborate, but I just realized I forgot to stop by the grocery on the way into town. We’re eating out of the owner’s closet, which is pretty bare.”

“Either is fine,” Kate replied. “You pick.”

“Chowder? It’s from a can.”

“Sure.”

“And split peas?” With the freezer door opened he rattled a white bag. “There’s also half a pack of dinner rolls in here.”

She could not believe how easy he was to talk to. Or how polite and good-looking he was. “Soup and rolls sound wonderful. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

He set the frozen bag of peas in the pot of warm water and rinsed his hands under the faucet. Drying them on a paper towel, he said to her, “It’ll be a while before these thaw. If you want, we can move the party onto the screened porch and catch the last of the sunset.”

“Actually, if it’s not too much trouble, I would like to use your guest bath to freshen up. I’m sure I look hideous with makeup smeared all over my face.”

“Down the hall, first door on the right.” A genuine smile broke from his lips. “And I don’t think you look hideous at all.”

She hurried out to her car and brought back her purse and the two bags of books which she intended to drop onto the table. But, when she entered the kitchen she spotted two bottles of wine on the counter. Stu, with his back to her, was reaching into the cabinet for two stem wine glasses.

“I have chardonnay and cabernet, which do you prefer?”

“I’m not a big wine drinker. Been to a wine tasting or two, but that’s it. You pick.” She placed the bags on the table, hoping the movement would make him turn. See the books.
Sign.

But it didn’t. Instead, he placed all his concentration on studying the bottles’ labels. “We’re having crab chowder, that’s seafood. How about if we go with white?”

“Perfect.”

He glanced at her. “Want to get the corkscrew for me? It’s in the drawer next to you there.”

Kate sorted through an assortment of utensils until she located an apparatus that looked as if it might possibly open a bottle of wine … or launch the space shuttle. She handed it across the serving island. As she did, their fingers touched briefly. Her heart skipped and she pulled her hand back just as quickly. “You said the bathroom is down the hall and to the right?”

Clamping the wine opener around the neck of the bottle, he nodded.

The guest bath was larger than her condo’s master bathroom and immensely cleaner. Sparkling clean, actually, with towels neatly folded and placed on a white counter. An assortment of small bottles of exclusive shampoo, conditioner, and body soap, along with an unopened bar of soap stood on the wide edge of the garden tub beyond a clear shower curtain with nary a watermark. Kate sighed, thinking of what her hotel room in Nassau might look like.

She placed her purse on the counter and pulled out her phone. After the fourth ring her brother’s voice prompted her to leave a message.

“You’re not going to believe where I am, Roger,” she all but whispered. “I am inside Stu Summers’ beach house! Can you believe that? Oh, this was such a good idea. I can’t believe I almost didn’t come. Thanks for insisting. But I need you to do me a huge favor. If you look on that small desk in my kitchen you will see a manila folder. Inside is a contact list of potential clients. These are women who responded to our lead generation program and said they might be interested in attending a stun gun party. I need you to send each one an email from my laptop asking if they would like an autographed copy of Stu Summers’ latest novel as a perk for buying a Tasmania personal protection device. You can word it however you like. I’ll be able to check the responses from my phone. I’m sure I can talk him into signing as many copies as I want.” She grinned so broadly her cheeks hurt. “Nassau here I come!”

Kate ended the call and slipped the phone back into her Coach knock-off. Only then did she dare look in the mirror. She gasped. If Stu Summers didn’t think
this
was hideous … well, he really
was
a fiction writer.

Kate washed her face, reapplied her makeup, ran a brush through her hair and then gave it a “tossed” look with her fingers before returning to the kitchen. But Stu wasn’t there. She took a few steps toward the island until she found him standing slightly beyond a pair of open French doors on the back porch looking across the water at the sunset.

At the sound of her footsteps, he turned. If the look on his face was any indication, her touch-up had produced the proper effect.

He eased toward a small table situated between two rockers and lifted a wine bottle from its holder.

He poured and offered a glass to Kate. “Let me know if it’s okay. It’s from a vineyard I’ve never heard of.”

Kate, recalling how the wine snobs at the vineyard did it, swirled her glass around and inhaled the wine’s sweet aroma. She sipped. “Not bad. Has a hint of oak and something else. Apple, maybe.”

“Actually, I’m surprised there is any left. It’s been months since I’ve been here.” He gestured toward two rocking chairs. “Shall we?”

Kate settled into the rocker next to his. He kicked off his loafers and rested his feet on the porch railing.

Intimate, Kate thought. Maybe
too
much so. She tried to ignore the uneasiness she felt. His invitation to dinner was all well and good but she still did not have a place to stay. She wondered if she should mention something to him, but she didn’t want to appear too forward. Or give him the wrong impression. Based on her experience, even the slightest hint of an overnight stay could be interpreted by a guy as an invitation for sex.

The wind picked up, bringing with it the smell of rain. The breeze rattled the reeds growing along the creek bank.

She took another sip of wine and said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

She heard him echo her words at the same time and together they laughed.

“You first,” he said.

“No, you.”

He sipped his wine and turned his gaze toward the wide expanse of water, allowing his silence to serve as a response. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the clouds.

“Think that rain will reach us?” she asked.

“Are you worried about your car? Does the top leak?”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be fine where it is.”

He shifted in the rocker, resting his elbows on the arms and studied her. “What was it you were about to say?”

Even in the fading light of dusk she could see the intensity of his blue eyes. Never had anyone looked at her with such genuine interest.

She hesitated, unsure how to answer. Finally she blurted out, “I … don’t have a place to stay?”

“Ever or just tonight?”

“Tonight,” she said, softly laughing.

“In that case, you’re in luck. Turns out I have more than enough room to accommodate a homeless person.”

Once more, she found it impossible to believe she was sitting on a back porch rocking chair and enjoying wine with Stu Summers. The idea she would up and agree to spend the night with a man she just met flew in the face of all her self-defense training. “No, I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t look right.”

“It’s just you and me, Kate. Who’s going to know?”

“It’s tempting, but …”
I can’t believe I’m saying this.
“I better not.”

“Look, this is pretty big for a cottage. You’ll have the whole upstairs to yourself.”

“Thanks, that’s sweet of you, but I’ll be better off in a motel.”

“Good luck with that. You won’t find rooms available tonight. At least not in Ocracoke.”

“Then I’ll catch the ferry and drive to Nags Head.”

“Are you serious? You would rather spend another three hours on the road than enjoy a night in a giant guest bedroom with a king-size bed, fresh linens, and your own private bathroom?”

“It’s not that I would rather. It’s just …”

He threw his head back and chuckled. “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll sleep in the boathouse. You can have the cottage.”

“What? I can’t do that, that’s not fair to you.”

“Too late. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Really, I couldn’t ask you to sleep outside.”