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No one paid a bit of attention as she stood watching. They were all, it appeared, engaged in a room-wide debate over some poor soul they kept calling shameless and shocking.
Things hadn’t changed here at all.
Knowing there was absolutely nothing in this place for her, Kate turned to leave. Before she could walk back out the door, however, she heard the only word that could have stopped her.
Tremaine.
2
AS HARRY BILLINGSLEY, the town’s ancient barber, engaged him in conversation, Jack watched every step the brunette took. She walked quickly, almost tripping once on an uneven brick, as if she wanted to escape the rain. He knew better. She wasn’t running from the rain. When she peeked over her shoulder at him, he knew she was avoiding him.
Something downright electric had happened a few moments ago when their stares had met across Magnolia Avenue. There’d been an instant connection, a shared intimacy though they were complete strangers. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Obviously she had been just as affected. Only instead of intriguing her, as it had him, their silent, thirty-second exchange had bothered her, scared her even. Her feet had turned cold and she’d run off.
No matter, he’d be able to find her again. The woman stood out here like a bloodred rose in a bouquet of daisies.
A few months ago he might not have let the charged stare across a deserted street affect him. His new attitude toward life, however, made finding the brunette and talking to her a must. No more letting opportunities slide. Now, when Jack Winfield saw a good thing, he was going to go after it. He somehow knew the stranger could be a very good thing indeed.
Jack tried to brush off Harry as politely as he could. “Yes, but I really have to go now. Maybe we can talk in July when I come back for a longer stay.”
Harry continued. “Your father made some mistakes. Stirred up a lot of gossip around here with his will and Edie Jones.”
Gossip. His least favorite word, and it was used as currency in this town. Jack had never listened to it and never would. So his father had left his maid a small bequest. Only in a town like this could that be considered gossip-worthy.
Watching as the dark-haired stranger in the sexy green blouse went into the Tea Room, he cringed. Of all the places she could have picked, why did she have to go into that hen’s nest?
“I’m sorry, I really have to go,” Jack said, finally simply walking away in the middle of Harry’s long-winded monologue. He didn’t care to hear about any old town scandals, especially not if they involved his father, the former mayor.
Following a stranger down a public street wasn’t Jack’s M.O. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever done it. But something about this stranger…this perfectly delightful stranger…made him certain he could follow her anywhere. He simply had to see her, up close. To determine if her face was really as delicate and perfect as it had appeared from across the street. If her eyes were possibly the same dark, rich brown as her long hair.
Shrugging, he walked to the entrance of the Tea Room and stood outside the door. For a second he wondered if old lady McIntyre would come out and shoo him away. She used to shout at all the boys who’d plant themselves on the stoop, hoping a customer with a take-out bag would hand over some free sweets.
Never happened, as far as he recalled. The snob set of Pleasantville was notoriously tight-fisted with their sweets.
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he proceeded to wait. “You’ve got to come out sooner or later.”
It took less time than he expected. Before he even realized what was happening, the door to the Tea Room opened and she barreled out, crashing straight into his arms.
Just as if she belonged there.
“OH, I’M SO SORRY!” Before Kate could step away from the person she’d crashed into, she quickly reached up to dash away some angry tears blurring her vision.
That these people could make her cry infuriated her. Somehow, though, anger and sharp hurt for her mother had combined to bring moisture to her eyes while she stood in the Tea Room listening to her family being torn apart yet again by a bunch of small-minded, small-town witches. It was either turn and hurry out or throw a big screaming hissy fit telling them all to jump on their broomsticks and fly straight to the devil.
