Almost Famous Page 2

  If only she could free herself….

  Had she not been hampered by her temporarily weakened left arm, it would have been relatively easy to get back up. As it was, the heavy log really required two hands for leverage. This could take a while.

  She looked at the little dog who stood nearby, barking fiercely at the log as if ordering it to release his companion. “You’re not helping, Oscar. Maybe instead you could run tell Timmy that I’ve fallen into a well?”

  Oscar wasn’t amused by the old Lassie reference—but someone was. A man’s deep chuckle came from behind her, causing her to gasp and twist uncomfortably to see who was approaching. She recognized him immediately, though she had seen him only from a distance before. This was the guy staying in the cabin next door to her brother’s place.

  Up close, she could see a few more details about him. His near black hair was longish around his face and almost touched the collar of the green-and-white-striped polo shirt he wore loose over an old pair of jeans. It looked as though he hadn’t had a trim in a while—nor had he made use of a razor for at least a week. His square-jawed, probably handsome face was covered in stubble and decorated at his right temple with a fresh-looking red scar. He might have appeared somewhat dangerous, had it not been for the dimples that bracketed his smile and the twinkle in his long-lashed brown eyes.

  He limped rather noticeably over the rocky, uneven hillside. Great. Between her sprained arm and his apparent injuries, they made quite an outdoor-adventure team.

  “Did you fall?” he asked as he came closer, ignoring Oscar, who had gone into another round of fevered yapping.

  One of her favorite stand-up comedians had based much of his career on routines about stupid answers to stupid questions. She was tempted to respond with a sarcastic, “Nope. I just sat down for a rest and this big, old log crawled right onto my ankle.”

  Because such rudeness would have been completely out of character for her—at least outwardly, despite the evil little voice that spoke so often in her head—she said, “Yes. My foot’s lodged in a hole under this log. I couldn’t push it off because of the position I landed in and because one of my arms is out of commission.”

  “So I see.” He took another careful step toward her. “I’m a little battered myself, but I think I can help get you out of there.”

  “I would really appreciate it.”

  Still smiling, he took hold of the log and tugged upward. Even as she freed her foot and quickly scooted backward, she could see that the effort caused her rescuer some discomfort.

  A hint of relief crossed his face when he dropped the heavy log. Straightening, he moved toward her again. “You okay? Can you stand?”

  She had already flexed her foot experimentally, grateful to feel no pain when she did so. She would probably have a few new bruises as a result of her carelessness, but on the whole, she’d been fortunate. “I’m okay. My pride stings more than my ankle.”

  He laughed and held out his right hand to give her a boost up. “No reason to be embarrassed. Everyone gets into a jam once in a while—some of us more than others.”

  Studying his devilish smile as she regained her footing, she murmured, “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

  His smile turned wry. “Honey, it takes a whole crew to keep me out of trouble.”

  It sounded as though there was some truth in his statement, which made her wonder what he did for a living, but she was more rattled by that casual “honey.” He seemed like the type to drop such familiarities often and easily.

  Her first impression was that this was a guy who had made an art of lazy charm, probably using it to get him out of more than a few tight spots. Because she was all too painfully familiar with that sort of man, she pulled her hand from his rather abruptly and made a show of brushing crushed leaves from her clothing.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said, then sighed. “Oscar, would you please be quiet?”

  “You’re welcome,” the man replied, glancing at the dog barking up at him. “He is a yapper, isn’t he?”

  “Not usually so bad back at home. He’s just overexcited by being on vacation.”

  The man bent to offer his hand for Oscar to sniff. “You’ve proved that you’re a real tough guy, pup. You take good care of your friend here. But I can assure you I’m not going to give you any trouble.”

  It was no particular surprise to Stacy when her dog stopped barking, sniffed the offered hand, then began to wag his tail and allow himself to be scratched behind his flowing ears. Despite his bluster, Oscar was a very friendly dog who liked people. It didn’t take him long to make a new friend.

  Not that she trusted his instincts entirely. Scratch behind his ears and Oscar would make friends with a cat burglar. She, on the other hand, had learned that even people who offered friendly hands and charming smiles were often quite capable of sticking a knife in an unwittingly turned back.

  She reached down to take firm hold of the baby-blue leash dangling from Oscar’s matching collar. “Again, thank you for your help,” she said, her tone indicating that the encounter was at an end. “I’d better take him back to the cabin now. He’s probably hungry.”

  The man’s smile faded a little, but didn’t disappear completely. “You’re sure you’re okay? You aren’t having any trouble walking?”

  She took a couple of steps away from him to prove she was fine. “I told you, I wasn’t hurt. I was just having trouble getting up. I’m sure I’d have managed eventually, but I appreciate your help.”

  He seemed to be holding his smile with an effort now, but his tone was still friendly when he said, “Glad I could help. My name is Jake, by the way.”

  He watched her closely as he gave his name. She figured he was trying to understand why she was suddenly trying to brush him off.

  Because it was expected of her, she tried to hide her reluctance as she introduced herself in return. “I’m Stacy. Thank you again, Jake. Come on, Oscar, let’s go find something to eat.”

  The dog knew the word eat. His ears perking, he trotted eagerly toward the cabin with such enthusiasm that he would have been dragging her along behind him had he weighed more than a loaf of bread. As it was, she didn’t try to slow him down.

  Aware that Jake watched her rather ignominious retreat, she hurried along behind her pet, grateful that at least her neighbor didn’t seem to have recognized her. Maybe he was visiting from out of state, and hadn’t caught any local news for the past couple of weeks. Maybe he would never realize why she was hiding out alone here in the boonies.

  For some reason, she was particularly relieved she’d never had to have that particular conversation with the disconcertingly intriguing man she knew only as Jake.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JAKE SAT on his back deck again Monday afternoon. Stacy could see him from the kitchen of her brother’s cabin, though she was pretty sure he couldn’t see her in return. Just to be sure, she stood to one side of the window, looking out at him.

  He certainly added to the appeal of the scenery, she thought wryly. The man was undoubtedly attractive. Despite her efforts to keep to herself here, she couldn’t help being curious about him. Why, she wondered, was he over there all alone? He seemed to be the outgoing type. A people person. Yet he hadn’t left his cabin all week, nor had he had any visitors.

  Of course, the same could be said about her. But at least she had Oscar for company. And she had a good reason for wanting to get away from home for a couple of weeks.

  Thinking of the evidence of his own recent injuries, she guessed that he was here for reasons similar to her own. To rest, maybe, and recuperate. If he was anything at all like her, he was tired of being hovered over. Or maybe his was the opposite situation, she mused. Maybe he didn’t have anyone to take care of him, so he’d come here to heal in solitude until he could return to work, whatever it was he did.

  There was something about his posture as he sat in the deck chair. His head was down, his shoulders just a l
ittle slumped. As if his thoughts weren’t happy ones. She couldn’t see his expression from here, but something made her suspect she would see sadness in his dark eyes.

  Sadness. The word lingered in her mind, making her study him more closely. She knew someone back home who claimed to see auras around people, an assertion Stacy had always taken with a large grain of salt. Yet she suspected that if Amelia were here now, she would see a dark aura wrapped around Jake. It didn’t take any special abilities to see that his thoughts were not happy ones.

  Chiding herself for letting her imagination get away from her, she turned away from the window. She doubted that he would appreciate her spying on him.

  She had come into the kitchen because she was restless. Work was piled up in the other room, but she’d been having trouble concentrating. After chatting with her mother and her brother on the phone, assuring them both she was perfectly well and getting lots of work done, she had decided she needed a break. Opening a cabinet, she spotted a boxed brownie mix, and immediately developed a craving for chocolate.

  She frowned at her left arm. She wasn’t wearing the sling now, and she flexed her fingers experimentally. Deciding she could manage if she took a little extra care, she reached for the brownie mix.

  Coddling her sprained arm presented a challenge, but half an hour later she drew the hot pan out of the oven with a sense of satisfaction. The tantalizing aroma of fresh-baked brownies filled the small kitchen. Lying on the wood floor with his favorite squeaky toy, Oscar lifted his head to sniff.

  “Forget it,” Stacy told him with a smile. “Dogs and chocolate don’t mix. But you’ll get your own treat when I have mine.”

  She glanced out the kitchen window again. Jake, she noted, hadn’t moved since the last time she’d looked out. His head was tilted back now, and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

  It was a perfect afternoon for outside dozing, still warm but with a nice breeze to keep the air comfortable. His chair was shaded from the afternoon sun by the large trees surrounding his cabin, so he was in little danger of sunburn. Judging from his tan, he spent quite a bit of time outdoors, which made her wonder again what he did for a living.

  It was only as she stacked brownies neatly on a plate that she acknowledged she had intended all along to take some to him. Ever since they parted yesterday, she’d felt vaguely guilty about her brusqueness to him after he’d been so kind to free her from the log. The exertion had obviously been uncomfortable for him, and she should have been more grateful. It had been unfair of her to take her recent frustrations out on him when it was apparent that he had problems of his own.

  Picking up the sling, she slipped it over her head and nestled her aching arm in it, grateful for the renewed support. Oscar perked up again when she picked up his leash. He hopped around at her feet until she bent to clip it to his collar. He loved his walks, loved being outside, even though it inevitably led to a thorough brushing of his long, silky hair afterward.

  “We’re going to stop for a visit next door,” she said, slipping her good wrist through the loop in his leash to free her hand for the plate of brownies. “Be polite, you hear?”

  He made a sound that resembled a snort, and tugged her toward the door. Wondering if she was letting her Southern manners lead her into a big mistake—which wouldn’t be a first for her—Stacy followed.

  JAKE WASN’T ASLEEP. He was watching a couple of squirrels playing tag. He’d been observing them long enough that he could tell them apart now, and he had named them Duke and Butch. He didn’t have a clue if they were male or female, but they looked like Duke and Butch to him.

  Duke was the bigger one. Faster, too. But Butch had stamina. Didn’t have to stop and rest as often as Duke.

  Jake wondered what would happen if they were pitted against each other in a long-distance race. Would Duke know to bide his time, save his superior speed for the end, when it really counted? Or would he start out too strong and use himself up, creating an opportunity for the patient and steady Butch to dash ahead and win?

  And how pathetic had his life become that he was fantasizing about racing squirrels?

  A sharp bark sent Duke and Butch scampering into the treetops. Jake recognized that bark by now. Stacy must be taking Oscar for another walk. And if she fell into a hole this time, she could just darned well stay there until Oscar figured out a way to free her, he thought with a grumpiness caused by his still stinging ego.

  He hadn’t forgotten the way she had implied that she would have been fine without his help, even though she had offered perfunctory thanks for his assistance. Just before she had made her escape as though she couldn’t wait to get far away from him.

  He really wasn’t accustomed to being treated that way by attractive young women. He couldn’t say he liked it, he thought, glumly rubbing his still unshaven face. Apparently, he had become rather spoiled during the past few years of fame and success. He was going to have to watch out for that. He’d never wanted to become one of those conceited jerks who believed all their own press.

  Staying next door to Stacy, even for a few days, was probably a character-building experience, he thought wryly. The more she ignored and rebuffed him, the better a person he would become for it.

  Which made it all the more startling when she spoke to him from the far side of the deck. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  He rose to his feet, breaking into a smile, despite his earlier resolve not to be so friendly to her. Which was yet another sign of how hungry he was for companionship, he figured. “Not at all. I’m just being lazy.”

  Moving up the short flight of steps onto the deck, she extended a foil-covered plate. “I don’t know if you like brownies, but I made a batch this afternoon. I wanted to offer you some as a thank-you for coming to my assistance yesterday.”

  Pleasantly surprised, he reached for the plate. “As it happens, I love brownies. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  She gazed up at him. She really was tiny, no more than five feet three, compared to his own six feet. And very feminine, with her delicate features and flawless skin and silky curls. The kind of woman who made a man feel more masculine in comparison. Rather protective. A line of thought she probably wouldn’t appreciate from anyone, much less a complete stranger, he reminded himself.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was ungrateful for your help yesterday,” she said with a smile that was almost apologetic. “I was so embarrassed about getting myself into that predicament that I’m not sure I expressed my gratitude very well.”

  He shrugged. “As you pointed out, you’d have managed on your own eventually.”

  A touch of color stained her smooth cheeks at the reminder of her less-than-gracious comment. “Anyway, thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome.” He had the distinct feeling that she was planning to leave now that she’d gotten the obligatory thank-you gift out of the way. And he would be left here to eat brownies alone, with only Duke and Butch for entertainment.

  To detain her just a little longer, he asked, “Can I get you anything? How about some nice cold milk? We can eat brownies. Talk, maybe.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “Just for a little while? Brownies are always better when shared.” He smiled winningly and hefted the plate she’d brought him.

  She almost smiled. Encouraged, he pressed his advantage. “Look at Oscar. He’d like to stay and visit.”

  They both looked down at the dog, who was scratching his ear with his back paw, looking more bored than anything.

  Stacy hesitated a moment longer, then lifted one shoulder. “Maybe just for a few minutes.”

  Pleased, Jake motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll get us some milk.”

  She almost said something, then stopped herself and merely nodded, moving toward the chair he had indicated.

  Maybe it was pride that made him try to minimize his limp as he headed inside. He was walking better with each passing day, he assured himself. Within the next coup
le of weeks, he hoped to be back in good enough shape that no one would notice anything at all out of the ordinary in his gait.

  He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a decorative mirror when he entered the kitchen. The sight was enough to make him wince. He needed a haircut. Badly needed a shave. No wonder Stacy still seemed wary of him. He looked like someone a mother would warn her daughters about and a father would run off with a shotgun.

  Since there wasn’t time to shave now, he ran a hand through his dark hair to tidy it and then took two glasses out of a cabinet. Setting them on a serving tray, he poured the milk, careful not to overfill them. On an impulse, he took out a fried ground-beef patty left over from his dinner the night before, broke half of it off, and wrapped it in a napkin. After adding a few more napkins to the tray, he lifted it carefully and carried it out the door.

  Stacy was sitting at the round patio table when he returned to her, with Oscar lying at her feet, quiet for a change. Jake set the tray on the table and took a seat opposite her. “I brought Oscar half of a hamburger patty left over from last night. Is it okay to give it to him?”

  She smiled and nodded. “He’ll enjoy that.”

  Okay, treats for her dog elicited real smiles from her. He would have to remember that. “Here you go, pup,” he said, tossing the meat to the deck. “Eat up.”

  Feathery tail wagging, Oscar sniffed the meat, then happily began to gulp it down.

  “Wow,” Jake said after swallowing his first big bite of brownie. “These are really good.”

  “They’re just a boxed mix.”

  “They’re still good.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” She finished the one small brownie square she had accepted and washed it down with a dainty sip of milk. At their feet, Oscar had finished his own snack and was busily sniffing the deck to make sure he hadn’t missed any crumbs.

  Making small talk, especially with attractive women, had never been difficult for Jake. He’d been told that he could always be counted on to keep a conversation moving. So what was it about Stacy that had him sitting here like a lump, chewing brownies and trying to come up with something halfway intelligent to say?