Читать книгу The Secret Seduction - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 7

Lily couldn’t believe it. Fletcher Hart was actually going to kiss her. Right here as the party was breaking up, in front of everyone getting into their cars. “I don’t—” she said, splaying her hands across his warm, hard chest. Before she could protest further, his lips were on hers, and in one sizzling instant, all reasonable thought left her brain and she was only aware of the sensations rippling through her. The smooth lips. Seductive pressure. The incredibly good taste of his lips and mouth and tongue as he erotically deepened and took full command of the kiss. She’d heard about embraces like this, read about them, even seen them when a few of her friends fell head over heels in love with the men of their dreams, but never had she experienced anything like the tumultuous whirlwind of emotion and pleasure.

And even though she knew, in some distant part of her brain, that Fletcher was only doing this to provoke her, the fun-and-pleasure-starved part of it never wanted it to end. Because fiery hot kisses like this, men who could kiss like this, so masterfully and evocatively, did not come along every day. As his arms wrapped all the tighter around her, and he brought her even closer to his hard, demanding length, Lily moaned, surprising herself with the sensuality of her response, and melted deeper into the embrace. And that was when she heard it—the low male laughter surrounding them.

The sound was like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her head. She broke off the impetuous kiss and looked around to see Fletcher’s brothers chuckling and shaking their heads with a mixture of amusement and chastisement.

“Getting a head start there?” Dylan remarked sarcastically.

“You better watch yourself,” Mac warned as he strolled to the SUV he drove whenever he wasn’t on duty as the Holly Springs sheriff.

Joe sauntered past, his wife Emma’s hand tucked in his. “You could find yourself married before you know it.”

Joe sure had, Lily remembered, thinking of the whirlwind romance earlier in the summer that now had Joe and Emma living as man and wife.

Despite the odds against a happily-ever-after in the situation Joe and Emma had initially found themselves in, Lily had to admit the two looked very happy now.

“Ah, leave him alone,” Cal said, waving off the interference of their other brothers. “It was only a kiss. Kisses don’t mean anything.” Cal turned his attention to her, looking every bit the compassionate doctor he was known to be. “Right, Lily?”

“In this case, definitely right,” Lily confirmed stormily, trying to look as casual as if she did things like this every day when everyone knew she did not.

“From where I was standing it looked like Lily was kissing him back. And that does mean something,” Thad said, as he leaned over to buss his bride-to-be’s cheek. “Right, Janey?”

“That’s where all my troubles started.” Janey sighed, looking as happy as any engaged woman should be as she laced her arm around Thad’s waist and leaned her cheek against his chest.

“It’s all disgusting to me,” her 12-year-old son, Christopher, said, as he tagged along behind his mother and Thad.

“Not to worry,” Lily said, glaring at Fletcher. “It’s not going to happen again.” She hurried to catch up with his older brother Mac. “Care to see me to my car?” she asked as she fell into his protective shadow.

“Be happy to, Lily.” Mac flashed her a reassuring smile before turning to send his third oldest brother a censuring look. “And not to worry, Lily. You’re safe with me.”

UNFORTUNATELY, FLETCHER noticed right away, Lily was not going to be safe with the TV actor who rolled into town the following morning in a custom-outfitted silver trailer.

“Who’s the beauty?” Carson McRue asked as he and Fletcher met to discuss a horse.

Fletcher followed Carson’s glance. It led straight to Lily, who was loitering on the other side of the wooden barricades erected to keep the cast and crew of Hollywood P.I. away from the spectators gathering to watch the action in the town square.

Damned if Lily didn’t look particularly gorgeous this morning, with her tousled blond hair and her sunglasses propped on top of her head. That pale pink sundress she was wearing not only hugged her slender curves to sexy advantage, it made her look like a peach blossom, ripe for the picking. Fletcher did his best to contain his mounting frustration. Protecting the headstrong and way-too-naive-for-her-own-good Lily from heartbreak was going to be no easy task. Especially with her constantly trying to win the bet she’d made with the girls. Fletcher’s only comfort was that the bet he had made was—unlike hers—strictly under wraps to those who had made it with him.

He turned back to Carson, irked by the man’s crassness in everything they discussed. His true personality seemed directly at odds with the great guy he played on TV. “She’s off-limits,” Fletcher stated casually.

Carson lifted a well-plucked brow. “Married?”

“Just off-limits,” Fletcher repeated, doing his best to appeal to the actor’s sensitive side. Assuming he had one. “Her grandmother, who was her only family, died last year. And she lost the cat she’d had since she was five years old, too. She had a very rough time.”

Carson eyed Lily rapaciously, his glance lingering on her hourglass of curves. He licked his lips. “She looks ready to kick up her heels to me.”

Punching out the competition would get him nowhere, Fletcher reminded himself firmly. At least right now. Later, if Carson continued in his current vein, all bets were off. “If you’re looking for…companionship,” Fletcher said meaningfully, “I can direct you to some likely places in Raleigh, Durham or Chapel Hill.” There were dozens of bars in all three college towns. Lots of willing young women who would give anything to spend an evening in the handsome celebrity’s company.

“No thanks. I like small-town girls.” Carson continued studying Lily as if she were an item he’d like to purchase. “There’s a sweetness and a purity about ’em. Besides, you never know…you could be giving one of them the thrill of a lifetime.”

“And then what?” Fletcher asked.

Carson looked at Fletcher as if he were an infant, and not a particularly bright one at that. “We both move on.” Carson spoke slowly and directly.

Only Fletcher knew Lily wouldn’t be able to move on. Were she to be seduced and abandoned by someone like Carson McRue, it would crush her vulnerable heart.

“About the horse,” Fletcher said impatiently, eager to have this business finished so he could go waylay Lily again and keep her from winning the wager.

Carson frowned his displeasure. “It’s the wrong color.”

It was Fletcher’s turn to scowl. “You asked for a roan stallion—”

“I wanted a lighter brown,” Carson interrupted, running a hand through his dark brown hair. “Something with a lot more copper in its coat. This one is too close to the color of my hair.”

Fletcher would have thought the actor was kidding if not for the earnestness on Carson’s face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Fletcher allowed, with as much professionalism as he could muster, “but stunt horses are in short supply in this area of the country. And since you didn’t want to pay to have one shipped in from the West Coast—”

“Just find what we need,” Carson cut him off. “I’m expert enough to ride even an untrained horse. And while you’re at it—” he pointed to a shady area, half a block away “—do something about those two dogs over there.”

Fletcher turned and looked at the beagle mix and black Lab, sitting side by side in the shade, watching all the activity along with everyone else. “They don’t seem to be bothering anyone.”

“I’m allergic,” Carson announced tightly.

Good to know, Fletcher thought.

“I don’t want them barking and ruining a shot. We’re going to be filming here later.” Carson glared at Fletcher.

“Right.” He nodded as if this were part of his job description.

“So call whomever you have to call and get rid of them,” Carson continued.

“I’ll try their owners,” Fletcher said dryly.

Carson dismissed Fletcher and without a backward glance at any of the fans waving autograph books and calling his name, stepped inside his silver trailer.

Unbeknownst to him, Lily had somehow sweet-talked her way past the security guards standing watch over the barricades and was already heading toward them. She looked disappointed to have missed her chance to wangle an introduction out of Fletcher while Fletcher was talking to Carson. “Hoping to say hello?” he razzed her as she approached, wishing she didn’t look quite so much like a Southern beauty queen this morning.

“Something like that.” Lily looked past him, toward the door of Carson’s trailer.

Fletcher moved to bar her path to the door and stood, legs braced apart, arms crossed in front of him. “Carson McRue specifically requested he not be disturbed,” Fletcher informed Lily with a stern look.

Lily sighed, disappointed. “Maybe later,” she hoped out loud.

Not if Fletcher had anything to do with it. Figuring, however, that Lily would not believe him even if he told her what Carson had just said about her, Fletcher let the opportunity to set her straight about the actor’s true character pass. He gestured toward the two dogs chasing each other on the green. “Want to help me round those two up?” he asked her casually.

Lily’s full lower lip slid out into a delectable pout. “I’m not a dog person. You know that.”

Fletcher could imagine she didn’t want to get her pale pink sundress dirty, and he couldn’t really blame her. It looked expensive. Too expensive to be wasted on a guy like Carson McRue. “How do you know?” he challenged her playfully. “You’ve never owned a dog.”

“So what are you hinting here, Fletcher? That dogs are superior to cats?” She looked down her nose at him. Clearly, she didn’t think so.

“For a young single woman in need of protection—” from men like Carson McRue, Fletcher added silently “—yes. They are.”

Lily lifted a delicate brow. “Maybe from know-it-alls like you,” she acknowledged silkily.

Fletcher looked deep into her eyes, wishing he could haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless again. Just for the hell of it. But knowing that timing was everything, he forced himself to bide his time. He’d not only protect her when all was said and done, he’d win his bet, too. “Just come by the clinic later,” Fletcher told Lily lazily and smiled as her cheeks pinkened all the more. “I’ll introduce you to your new best friend,” he promised.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Fletcher merely kept smiling and didn’t elaborate. If there was one thing he knew about Lily, she loved a good mystery, just like her grandmother Rose.

IT WAS JUST CURIOSITY, Lily told herself. That and the fact she had an order for a sumptuous bouquet to be delivered to the Holly Springs Animal Clinic reception desk at 6:00 p.m. The flowers were for the “staff” but none of the staff was there. Only the founding veterinarian, Fletcher Hart, who was looking mighty fine in a sage-green work shirt that nicely outlined his shoulders and powerful chest, and faded boot-cut jeans that did the same thing for his legs.

Fletcher came around the reception desk and took the bouquet from her with a smile of thanks. “They’ve all gone home.”

Aware her pulse had picked up at the thought of spending time alone with Fletcher—again—Lily leaned against the counter and adapted the same lazy insouciance he demonstrated. She watched him make a big show of setting the flowers in a prominent place on the large U-shaped desktop that fronted the reception area. “You placed this order, not Mr. N. L. Spartacus.”

“Well, he wanted to, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t contact the shop himself so I arranged it for him.”

“And sent that teenager in with a sealed envelope of cash and instructions.”

“What can I say?” Fletcher lifted his hands in a mock gesture of helplessness. “The kid owed me a favor.”

“You are shameless,” Lily accused sternly. And sexy as could be, standing there, smelling of aftershave, his shaggy honey-brown hair all rumpled, and the hint of evening beard on his masculine face. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was getting ready to go on a weeknight date, instead of merely ending a workday.

His expressive lips tilted up in a playful half smile. “I prefer to think of myself as a facilitator,” he told her wryly.

“I’ll bet.” Lily sighed, wishing she didn’t recall quite so acutely just how much fun it had been to kiss him, even when the proud part of her said she should have been slugging him a good one. She tilted her head, wishing he didn’t have a good eight inches on her in height. The disparity in their bodies made him seem all the more overwhelming. And she did not want to be taken over by Fletcher Hart, D.V.M. Setting her jaw, she forced herself to focus on the reason for her being there. “Why did Mr. N. L. Spartacus want to send the staff flowers, anyway?”

Fletcher appeared just as distracted as she was as he let his gaze rove over her hair, face and lips, before returning with laser accuracy to her eyes. “The usual,” he said seriously. “N. L. Spartacus was grateful for the care he received here and wanted to show it.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Lily wasn’t sure whether she was buying any of this or not. She narrowed her eyes at Fletcher. “And then you set it up so I had no choice but to bring the arrangement over myself.” Thereby keeping her from pursuing her bet about Carson McRue. Not that she had been able to get anywhere near the actor that day, even when she wasn’t working. Production company security had the area well blocked off. And Carson McRue, it seemed, was not acknowledging anyone but show personnel. At least for now….

“Hey!” Fletcher palmed his chest, caveman-style. “How was I to know you’d show up in person?”

“Because it’s a well-known fact around town that all my part-time help goes home at 5:00 p.m. to cook dinner for their families. I always close.”

“Okay. I admit N. L. Spartacus and I had an ulterior motive, getting you over here. And I’ll show you what it is.”

She looked at him blankly. He took her by the hand and led her into the room adjacent to the reception area. At the end in a big wire cage was the yellow Labrador retriever she had seen the previous day. He was lying down when they entered, but thumped his tail in greeting and looked up at them with hopeful eyes. It would have been enough to break Lily’s heart, had she been a dog person. But she wasn’t, she reassured herself firmly. And furthermore, didn’t intend to be.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to his owner?” she demanded crisply. She desperately did not want this to be her problem and she was afraid if she stayed here any longer it might very well be.

Fletcher reported in a flat, matter-of-fact voice, “His owner died four weeks ago. Spartacus—we’ve dubbed him N.L. because he Needs Love—was with the old guy when it happened. His owner was in his nineties and Spartacus stayed with him from the time he had the heart attack until he was found by a neighbor, three days later.”

Lily caught her breath at the horror of the circumstances. “Oh, no.” The poor thing….

“Anyway,” Fletcher continued, his voice a little more gravelly, “Spartacus just went nuts when they tried to take the old guy away. He just wasn’t going to let it happen. So the animal control people were summoned. Spartacus got one whiff of the truck that was going to take him to the pound and knew it wasn’t for him, so he broke loose and ran off.”

Lily pressed a hand to her heart. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Then what happened?” she asked, the tragedy of the situation almost overwhelming her.

Fletcher shook his head, a brooding look coming into his eyes. “No one really knows. Three days ago, Spartacus showed up again at the house where he used to live, vomiting and so weak he could barely stand. This time the neighbors called my clinic, asked me to treat him. So I got in my pickup and went out to get him.”

Lily looked back at Spartacus. “Needs Love” was certainly appropriate. She had never seen a dog with such a sad and lonely expression. If only he weren’t so big. And strong looking. If only he were a cat. Cats, she knew. And yet he had his own appeal in that handsome big-dog way. His thick short fur was a pale, almost white-gold, and there was a stripe of darker gold down the center of his back that matched the color of his ears. On impulse, Lily hunkered down and reached out to touch him through the wires on the cage. She could feel his ribs sticking out prominently as she stroked his belly. She wondered how he had survived on his own for four weeks. She looked up at Fletcher as Spartacus leaned over to nuzzle the back of her palm affectionately with his black nose. “What was wrong with him?” she asked, still trying like heck not to get emotionally involved here, as his whiskers tickled her skin.

Fletcher shrugged, his emotions as tightly under wraps as hers were on the surface. “My guess is the canine equivalent of severe food poisoning. I think he’d been eating out of garbage cans while he was on the lam and got something particularly nasty, which isn’t surprising in the summer heat. Bacteria grows like wildfire. Anyway, he’s on the mend now, and I’ve got to find a new home for him.” The playful grin was back on Fletcher’s face as their eyes meshed again. “I spoke to him about it this morning and he told me he kind of fancied the pretty blonde who had been in here hassling me yesterday, so I promised N.L. I’d propose pet adoption to you.”

Very funny. And designed to pull on my heartstrings. “He can’t talk,” Lily pointed out.

“Come on.” Fletcher assumed the boldly enthusiastic tone of an aggressive salesperson. “Look at those big brown eyes and tell me you don’t know what he’s thinking.”

That was the problem—Lily did. And it was breaking her heart to admit she was not the person for the job. A dog like Spartacus needed someone knowledgeable in canine care. Telling herself it was for the best, Lily turned away. “Have you talked to his previous neighbors?” she asked.

Frustration tightened the corners of Fletcher’s mouth. “They’re all in their golden years. None of them can handle a three-year-old Labrador retriever who is going to have plenty of energy as soon as he recovers all the way.”

Lily nodded in understanding, even as she forced herself to harden her heart. “I’m sorry about his owner,” she said sincerely.

“So is N.L.” Fletcher knelt down and opened the cage. The Lab struggled to his feet, and clamored out on wobbly legs. Spartacus’s tail wagged, then stopped as he caught the wary expression on Lily’s face.

“But I can’t help you with this, Fletcher,” Lily continued firmly as the Lab sat down in front of them and looked up. “But maybe you could take him,” Lily suggested as Spartacus continued to gaze at them woefully.

“Can’t,” Fletcher said, his attitude every bit as stubbornly resistant as her own. “I live in an apartment. This dog needs a house and a yard.”

Lily crossed her arms in front of her. Spartacus’s well-being aside, she resented the way Fletcher was trying to make this her problem. “Like the one I live in, I suppose,” she said dryly.

Fletcher’s golden-brown eyes gleamed. “It is big.”

“It’s huge.” And way too much for one person, Lily thought. But the property, which had been in her family for generations, had been entrusted to her, so she couldn’t sell it any more than she could get rid of Madsen’s Flower Shoppe. But none of that had anything whatsoever to do with what was going on here. “And I still don’t buy your excuse for not taking him since there are walking trails that lead to the park that start right across the square.” Fletcher could manage if he wanted.

“Only one problem with that,” Fletcher shot back while Spartacus sat patiently at their feet, his head moving back and forth like that of a person watching a tennis game. “When I’m not here at the clinic working, I’m out on ranches and farms, taking care of large animals.”

“So get Spartacus obedience trained to the highest level by your cousin Susan Hart—” who was famous for her work with search-and-rescue dogs “—and take him literally everywhere you go. You’re certainly in a business conducive to it.”

Fletcher rejected her suggestion with the same fervor he attached to her desire to date Carson McRue. “A good vet knows better than to get emotionally attached to his patients.”

“So, adopt Spartacus and get another vet to take care of him,” Lily said.

“N.L. is relying on me to get him well.” Fletcher reached down to pet his head, and was rewarded with a single but heartfelt thump of tail. Fletcher straightened and stepped forward slightly, further invading her space. “Besides, there is no room in my life for a dog,” he told her, looking deep into her eyes, his smile widening once again. “You, on the other hand, could use the company and protection a big handsome dog like Spartacus offers. He’s been through a lot, losing his owner and all. So he’s going to need a lot of TLC, especially for the first few weeks.”

Lily stepped back a pace, putting a necessary distance between them. “Thereby putting the kibosh on my pursuit of Carson McRue?” she volleyed right back.

Fletcher nodded solemnly. “You know what they say. For all worthwhile endeavors, sacrifices must be made.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “You’re shameless. You know that?”

Fletcher grinned but didn’t deny it as the phone rang in the other room. Abruptly sobering, he said, “Look, just stay with him for a few minutes, will you?” Fletcher rushed off to answer it.

Spartacus scooted closer. He looked up at Lily with those big sad eyes, silently beseeching her, and wreaking havoc on her tender heart.

“I really have to go,” Lily called after him. She was not going to do this. She was not….

Hadn’t she promised herself she wouldn’t let anyone or anything else tie her down, or distract her from having fun, fun, fun? She did not need to be sitting home babysitting a traumatized dog, no matter how lovable…. She needed to be out, fancy-free, kicking up her heels, recovering her lost youth….

“I mean it, Fletcher Hart!” Lily continued.

Fletcher stuck his head back in the room, the still ringing cordless clutched in his hand, his expression reproving. “Really, Lily. What’s two minutes petting Spartacus going to cost you?”

“I KNOW WHAT he’s doing,” Lily told Spartacus as the door shut behind Fletcher, and she heard him start talking on the phone. Unable to help herself, she bent down and gently petted the silky soft back of Spartacus’s blond head. “He’s trying to get me to bond with you so I’ll want to adopt you and take you home with me. That might be a good idea in theory because the old mausoleum I live in could use a little livening up. But the truth is that I’m not sure I still have any love left to give.”

Lily swallowed hard around the ache that rose in her throat. “Losing Grandmother Rose was so hard. I kept thinking I’d feel better.” But instead she had remained so numb inside. So depressed and alone and hopeless, all at once. Lily stroked him behind the ears, and heard him give a little moan in the back of his throat, not so very different from a cat’s purr. But unlike a cat, a species known for its aloofness, Spartacus seemed to want desperately to attach himself to her. And Lily understood that, too. She desperately missed having a family to call her own; the party at Helen Hart’s the night before had reminded her of that. “But then I guess you know a lot about that, too, don’t you?” Lily continued softly, still petting the extremely gentle-natured dog. “Having lost the only family in your own life.”

“Okay—” Fletcher burst back in, abruptly all business “—you can go now.”

The only problem, Lily thought, was that she didn’t want to go, since she and Spartacus were just starting to get acquainted.

“I mean it.” Fletcher shooed her toward the door. “Hasta la vista, baby. Vamoose. See you around.”

Lily straightened with as much dignity as she could manage, wishing she were a lot taller than five foot five inches. She propped both her hands on her hips and demanded indignantly, “Where did you learn your manners?”

“Didn’t,” Fletcher retorted briskly. “Can’t you tell?”

Lily blew out an exasperated breath, unsure whether she wanted to kiss him again or kick him in the shin. “Some things are glaringly apparent.” To her frustration, he looked pleased—instead of annoyed—by her insult, as if there was nothing he would rather do than work her into a temper and stand there trading insults with her. Spartacus, however, just looked upset to see her leaving. Her heart clenching, despite her efforts to stay emotionally uninvolved, Lily paused at the door. She swallowed hard around the ache in her throat. “Seriously, Fletcher, what is going to happen to N. L. Spartacus?”

The mirth left Fletcher’s expression. “I can keep him here another day or so.”

Lily’s heartbeat sped up another notch. “And then what?” she demanded.

He regarded her steadily. “Like you said, it’s really not your problem, Lily.”

Silence fell between them, more poignant than ever.

“I’m hoping to find a family for him,” Fletcher continued seriously.

“And if you don’t?”

He regarded her brusquely. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”

“Then why did you introduce me to him, bring me over here, have me pet him?” Lily demanded.

Abruptly, the artifice, the teasing fell away. Lily thought she got a glimpse of the real, unguarded man behind his customary mask of cynicism and what-the-hell playfulness. “Because I thought—” A shadow passed over Fletcher’s eyes. His expression tightened as he swept a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter what I thought,” he told her in a gruff voice, as Spartacus went back to sit on Fletcher’s foot. “I was wrong.”

AN HOUR AND A HALF later, Lily discussed the situation with the other bridesmaids as they congregated at a department store in Crabtree Mall in Raleigh, trying on shoes for Janey’s wedding. “He’s trying to get me to fall in love with N. L. Spartacus.”

Janey eyed her. “Seems to be working.”

“He thinks if I have a dog I can’t continue to try and win my bet with you-all.” Lily turned to Susan Hart, Janey’s cousin. “Which is why I was thinking…maybe you could take him?” Susan not only operated her own kennels on her farm outside Holly Springs, she headed up the North Carolina Labrador Retriever Rescue Association.

Susan, a voluptuous thirtysomething with champagne blond hair, shook her head wistfully. “I wish I could. But I’m at capacity and then some right now, with dogs that are coming into Labrador Retriever Rescue. You know how it is. Everyone wants their kid to have a puppy at Christmas. Six to nine months later they realize maybe this is too much work after all, and they just take the dog to the pound.”

Emma sucked in a breath. “That’s terrible.”

“I know,” Susan agreed. “But a lot of the dogs I get are able to be either adopted out to good homes, or trained to work with police and fire departments around the state. But it takes time to make a placement. Dogs that have been abandoned—like Spartacus—have issues, and require an awful lot of tender loving care, to feel secure again. That’s why Fletcher won’t take him—he doesn’t have the time to give Spartacus the TLC he needs.”

“Or so he says,” Lily grumbled, wishing Fletcher hadn’t made it seem to her like she was N. L. Spartacus’s only hope. He had to know—from the way she had let her own needs and desires go unmet when she was taking care of her grandmother—what a soft touch she was. And how very hard it was for her to say no to someone who asked for her help, even when it was for the best. She also wished Spartacus hadn’t looked at her with such sad, lonely eyes.

Misunderstanding the depth of her dilemma, Janey murmured, “You know, you don’t have to go through with the bet you made with us on your birthday, Lily. If you didn’t we would all understand.”

Lily saw the pity in their eyes. She’d had enough of that, too.

“You really didn’t know what you were saying that night,” Emma continued, gently giving Lily the out they all seemed to feel she needed.

What none of them understood was that the night of her birthday was the first time in years she had felt really and truly vibrantly alive. The only other time was when she’d been arguing with—or kissing—Fletcher, and that was just because he was so darn difficult and made her so hot under the collar.

Lily looked at the young women gathered around her as she tried on a pair of strappy black-and-white sandals. “So I wasn’t just foolish, I was stupid, too? Is that it?”

They all frowned in a way that let her know she was overreacting. “Reckless, maybe,” Hannah conceded, as she put the correct-size shoes back in the box for purchase. “That was quite a loser’s penalty you cooked up for yourself.”

“One none of us would ever expect you to follow through with,” Emma—who had made her own share of life’s mistakes—said seriously.

Lily sighed again. They thought she didn’t have it in her to be wild and crazy and fear-free. Because of the circumstances she had found herself in back in college, she’d never had the opportunity to embrace her youth the way other coeds did.

But Lily wasn’t responsible for anyone else now. It wasn’t too late. She could go back, recapture those years, that sense of heady freedom she had always yearned to experience.

“We could even substitute it with something else,” Susan Hart suggested brightly. “Like another bar or an event where you buy us all nachos and margaritas.”

And didn’t that sound dull, Lily thought, even as she absolutely dreaded what lay ahead if she didn’t win her bet. “I’m not going to welsh on my wager,” Lily said stubbornly, refusing to back down on the audacious claims she had made. As the looks of sympathy around her deepened, she continued with a devil-may-care-air she couldn’t begin to really feel. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m going to have to do what I swore I would do if I lost. Because I am going to get a date with Carson McRue before this week is up.” She just knew it.

Hannah Reid looked worried again. “Has he even spoken to you?”

“No,” Lily admitted reluctantly. “But he was eyeing me this morning. And I know that look.”

It was the same look that guys always gave her before they worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. It was only later, when they found out how dull, how prim-and-proper she really was at heart, that they lost interest in her. Just as Carson eventually would. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to do something daring and unexpected that would expand her horizons, herald a new much more interesting way of life. It was an effort to break completely with the heartache of five years that had been filled with illness and grief, as well as the boredom and depression of the last year. It was a way to recast her as sexy and exciting, instead of sweet and hopelessly angelic.

“What’s it to Fletcher anyway who you want to date?” Hannah asked curiously.

Lily shook her head, glad to talk about something other than reconfiguring the bet. Lord only knew. She had been trying to figure out that one herself.

“Could he be jealous?” Janey frowned.

Lily shook her head, protesting, “There’s nothing between Fletcher and me.”

Susan grinned as she slipped off one pair of sandals and tried on another. “The kiss last night says otherwise.”

The heat of embarrassment climbed from Lily’s cheeks. “Nothing besides that,” Lily amended hastily. “And that kiss didn’t mean anything.” Even if it felt like it had, at the time….

“Maybe he wishes the kiss did mean something,” Emma said sagely.

Lily stiffened her shoulders, trying hard not to remember how movie-star handsome Fletcher had looked standing shoulder to shoulder with Carson McRue in the town square that morning. As if Fletcher were the to-die-for sexy celebrity, and Carson McRue, merely average in comparison. It wasn’t as if she had to make a choice between the two of them, anyway. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She scowled at Emma and the others.

Just because Fletcher looked at her as if he wanted to bed her did not mean he ever would. “Fletcher is just being contrary.” Lily continued her argument that nothing was going on between them. “Proving all over again that he is no Sir Galahad. And that romance, or even the hope of it, is for fools.”

Silence fell between them. Fletcher had such a reputation as a mischief-loving cynic, no one could dispute that.

Lily looked at Janey. “Why is your brother like that, anyway?”

Janey’s lips took on a troubled curve. “I don’t know. At some point after our dad died, he just became really cynical and kind of only out for himself, his own ambitions and goals.” She paused, shaking her head in bewilderment and regret. “None of us have been able to get close to him emotionally. I mean, I know Fletcher loves us and would—when it came right down to it—do anything for us. But on a day-to-day basis? He’s definitely got his own agenda and not a one of us is privy to what that might be.”

THE NEXT MORNING, Lily picked up an assortment of fresh doughnuts, four cups of hot coffee and headed over to the barricades. Very little filming had been done the previous day and, judging by the amount of activity going on in front of one of the buildings being used as a backdrop, the cast and crew seemed anxious to make it up.

She had her cover story all prepared—that she was bringing this order by for Carson. But as it turned out, it wasn’t necessary to use hijinks for an introduction. The moment Carson McRue laid eyes on Lily, he headed her way, telling the guard standing watch over the barricades to let Lily on through. As she closed the distance between them, he flashed her the cocky grin he used on TV, gallantly took the breakfast she offered and led her toward his trailer.

“I was hoping I’d get the chance to meet you,” he told her warmly as someone rushed to open the door for them. “I noticed you yesterday.”

He led her inside the incredibly outfitted trailer. It had a living room, a well-equipped kitchen and a bedroom with a king-size bed.

“I wanted to meet you, too, but I couldn’t get close to you,” Lily said shyly. Although she was momentarily mesmerized by Carson’s drop-dead handsomeness, it surprised her that he was just five inches taller than she was and rather slight in build when compared to, say, the six-foot-one, two-hundred-pound, Fletcher Hart.

“I apologize.” Ignoring the breakfast she had brought, Carson went to the fridge and got out bottles of imported spring water. “Our producers are a little nuts about the possibility of anyone getting hurt, and with all the cords, power sources and booms—”

“I understand,” Lily said with a smile, sitting down on the butter-soft leather sofa. She moved over slightly when he sat down a little too close to her. “It’s very responsible of you.”

Okay, she was here. This was her dream come true. So why wasn’t she more excited? Why didn’t she feel the butterflies in her tummy that she felt when she was around Fletcher Hart?

Carson looked her over from head to toe, before returning to laser in on her eyes once again. “So what are you doing tonight?” he asked, drinking deeply.

Cut straight to the chase, why don’t you? Lily thought. But why are you complaining? This will help you win your bet. And you won’t have to… Aware Carson was waiting for her answer, while she was sitting there arguing with herself, Lily said, “I’ve got a fitting for a bridesmaid dress.”

“What about tomorrow night?” he asked, gulping down some more of that designer bottled water.

Lily knew what she would like to be doing—kissing Fletcher Hart again. But since that wasn’t about to happen… She shrugged. “I don’t have anything planned.”

“Perfect, then. It’s a date.” Carson pursed his lips together thoughtfully. “I’d take you out on the town,” he said after a moment, “but we’d be mobbed with my fans.”

Lily didn’t mind. As long as she accomplished what she had set out to do….

“Tell you what. Why don’t you come to my hotel tomorrow evening—the Regency, in Raleigh—and have dinner with me there? Say around nine-thirty?”

Lily was surprised to find she really didn’t want to go, at least not as much as she had initially thought she would if she were ever to get herself in this situation. But a bet was a bet and it would serve Fletcher Hart right if she were to win after all he had done to waylay her. “Sounds great,” Lily fibbed, still coming to terms with the fact she was about to have dinner with a TV star.

A rap sounded on the trailer door. Carson’s young and pretty female assistant stepped in. “Carson? There’s a Dr. Fletcher Hart—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish as Fletcher shouldered his way in. Fletcher looked at Lily and saw her sitting next to Carson on the leather sofa. He was not pleased.

“How are you doing in finding me a horse to use?” Carson demanded.

“No luck—yet. At least not in the hue you want. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to collect my woman,” Fletcher announced with all the audacity of a big-screen hero.

Lily blinked. And just as audaciously tossed a glance behind, to the left and right of her. Nope. No one else standing there.

Hands braced on his hips, Fletcher regarded Lily with exaggerated patience. “What have I told you about chasing other guys?” he demanded, as unamused by her antics as she was by his.

“Nothing,” Lily said, enunciating slowly, as if he were a dunce. And truly Fletcher was behaving like one.

Fletcher gave Carson a man-to-man glance. “What can I say? This is all a game to her. She likes the chase—” Fletcher reached out, grabbed Lily’s hand and tugged her off the sofa “—and I like giving her one.” Behaving as if he had some right to be going all possessive on her, Fletcher tucked one muscular arm behind her knees, the other behind her back.

“You can’t be serious,” Lily groaned, not sure when she had ever felt so shocked and embarrassed, as Carson McRue and his assistant exchanged astonished looks.

Heart racing, she pushed her hands against Fletcher’s chest—for all the good it did her. Fletcher swept her off her feet and cradled against his chest. The assistant held the door for him and Fletcher carried Lily down the steps. While everyone looked on with unbridled interest—including the townspeople gathered to watch the action, cast, and crew, directors and producers— Fletcher paused in the middle of the roped-off area. Still holding her cradled in his arms, he slowly, ardently lowered his head to hers.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Lily warned.