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