Page 45 of A Whim and a Prayer

“Good.” Beck put the car in gear and eased away from the curb in what felt like slow motion, obviously taking his sweet time just to get on her last nerve.

Without one word between Abby’s house and hers, Beck pulled up to her curb and put it into gear, killing the engine. The upholstery of the jalopy creaked as he apparently turned her way, one arm resting on the back of the seat as always, no doubt. “So … what’s wrong with you, Winnie?” he asked quietly in that calm Beckett voice always meant to soothe.

She grunted. Yeah, well not tonight, buster.

Whirling to face him, she scorched him with a glare. “Me? What’s wrong with you, Campbell?”

He shrugged, a ghost of a smile on those perilous lips. “Nothing. I thought it was a great rehearsal, didn’t you?”

“Yes, of course, but …” She paused, not wanting to even utter the word “kiss,” much less experience it.

“But what, Pooh?” He reached to tease a lock of her hair like always with that calm and patient smile of his, unleashing another shock of heat straight to her middle.

She slapped his hand away. “But what in the devil was that kiss all about?”

He gave a light shrug. “Frank Butler kissing Annie Oakley, Win”—he ducked to peer at her with a twinkle in his eyes, one thick blond brow arched high. “It’s a play, Dennehy, or did you forget that?”

Apparently. A gulp wobbled in her throat as she looked away, clutching her arms to ward off the attraction she suddenly felt for her best friend—a big brother and protector.

Until now.

“It’s just that …”—she chafed her arms for the umpteenth time, certain she would have rub burn come morning. “It … it just felt so … so real …” A shiver rattled through her.

Beck took off his jacket and put it around her before she could object, immediately enveloping her in the warmth and spicy scent of his Bay Rum. “Well, isn’t that what acting’s all about?”

Ha! You could have fooled me. “I mean”—she scraped her lip with her teeth, desperate to get her point across without further embarrassment, which was already too late—“it just felt too real, you know?”

“In what way?” He squinted at her as if trying to decipher what she was trying to say, which irritated her all over again because Beck always knew every thought in her head whether she liked it or not.

“In what way?” Her eyes swelled to saucers, palms digging into the seat as she leaned in. “In what way?! You know what way—holding me too close, kissing me too long, just like we were actual lovers.”

It was his turn to lean in, the fire in her eyes apparently lighting a spark in his. “We-were-lovers, Winnie—on-stage, and if you were my lover for real, that’s how I would kiss you and way more.”

A hot flood of something she didn’t understand gushed through her like a fountain, making her faint. “I … I … have to go,” she whispered, panicked by these strange feelings he evoked. Because they were wrong. This … was wrong. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the handle.

“Winnie, no!” Before she could even open the door, he had her bundled in his arms, the powerful and protective male essence she’d always known both soothing and frightening her.

He bent his head against hers. “Don’t go yet, please. I need to know. Did those kisses affect you, Winnie … physically?”

Tears welled in her eyes. More than you’ll ever know, Beck. She nodded against his chest, the strong and rapid beat of his heart in sync with hers. Because I’m not about to ever tell you.

“How?” His voice was suddenly hoarse.

She couldn’t tell him. Because she couldn’t lose him—she couldn’t. And she would, when the fire died like it always did with boys that she dated. And then she’d not only lose a boyfriend, but the best friend that had been her solid rock since she was a child.

“Winnie? How did those kisses make you feel?” he repeated, and when he punctuated it with a kiss to her hair, she wanted to melt into him forever.

But she wouldn’t.

“It scared me, Beck. And it made me want to run away.”

“Why?” He hesitated, his voice low and edged with challenge. “Because you’re attracted to me?”

She pulled away and cupped his stubbled jaw with all the tenderness she carried inside for this man who loved and protected her like no other. “No, Beck, not attracted—ever. Petrified—to lose the best friend I’ve ever had.”

His jaw hardened the slightest bit. “You know, Winnie, you can fall in love with a best friend.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, Beck, not me, so please don’t go there ...”