Almost Famous Page 8

  He said it as if those words had been stuck in his mind ever since he’d heard them.

  “He wasn’t exactly holding the gun to my head,” she said. “He was just sort of waving it around. While he had an arm around my neck.”

  “Friend of yours?” he asked, his tone a little too bland.

  She smiled fleetingly. “Hardly. More like me being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “And where was that wrong place, exactly?”

  “At a courthouse in Little Rock. I’d gone there to fight a traffic ticket—”

  His eyebrows shot up as if that surprised him, but he didn’t interrupt.

  “I was ticketed for speeding, even though I wasn’t,” she added, growing indignant just at the memory. “There were several white cars on the road at the time, and I’m quite sure the officer pulled me over by accident after clocking someone else with his radar gun. Then he was too pigheaded to admit he’d made a mistake, so he insisted on ticketing me.”

  “And you went to court to fight it.”

  “Of course. I wasn’t going to pay if I didn’t deserve it.”

  Looking a bit bemused, he nodded. “Okay, go on. The man with the gun?”

  “He was in the courthouse for another reason. He was going to be taken straight from there to jail. Somehow he grabbed an officer’s gun and broke away. I happened to be in his way when he tried to escape and he grabbed me from behind. He planned to hold me hostage and make everyone stay back so he wouldn’t hurt me or anyone else, and it was working. The officers started backing away.”

  “You must have been terrified.”

  “It happened so fast I didn’t have time to panic. I just knew he was out of control and that I’d have to do something immediately before the situation got out of hand.”

  “What did you do?” he asked, his tea forgotten now as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his gaze focused intently on her face.

  “I jerked his arm downward to keep the gun pointed at the floor, and then I landed a solid kick on the side of his knee. It tore his ACL, causing him to collapse.”

  “Tae kwon do,” he murmured, referring again to the conversation at the restaurant.

  She nodded. “Just over three years ago, I won a month of free lessons from a charity raffle. I’d never really won anything before, so I decided to try it out. I enjoyed it so much I kept going to classes.”

  “You’ve been testing for belts?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what’s your rank?”

  “I’m a first-degree black belt.”

  It surprised her when he laughed.

  “You find that amusing?”

  He shook his head. “Just surprising. I’m sure I’m not the first to be startled to learn that you have a black belt in tae kwon do.”

  She knew her petite size gave the initial impression that she was delicate. Maybe a bit fragile. “You aren’t the first,” she admitted.

  “The woman at the restaurant said your attacker was much larger than you.”

  “Over six feet. But the knee is a vulnerable spot for a person of any size. That’s why so many big, strong football players suffer knee injuries. An ACL tear can put an end to a season. A bad-enough knee injury can end a career.”

  He nodded soberly. “So you took his knee out. Then what happened?”

  “Two officers rushed Alvetti, the guy who’d grabbed me, disarmed him and cuffed him. That’s when I hurt my arm. I was wearing heels, and when one of the cops shoved me out of the way, he threw me off balance so that I couldn’t catch myself. He didn’t mean to be so rough, he was just trying to get me out of harm’s way. Alvetti was taken away by ambulance.”

  “And you?”

  “Also left by ambulance,” she admitted reluctantly. “I kept telling everyone I didn’t need that, but they all insisted. By the time I’d been treated for the arm sprain and released, the press descended on the hospital. They made a big deal out of photographing me leaving with the sling on my arm. They turned it into a David-and-Goliath story and embroidered the details to make it sound much more dramatic than it was. And because it was a slow news week, the national press picked up the story. I wasn’t sure whether you’d seen it when we met.”

  “No. But I haven’t been watching the news a lot lately.”

  “That’s what I guessed.”

  “The woman at the restaurant said Alvetti had already shot one man,” Jake said, suddenly remembering.

  She nodded. “He shot the officer whose gun he’d taken. Fortunately, the injury wasn’t life threatening.”

  “Did you know he’d shot someone when he grabbed you?”

  “Yes. He was yelling something about having shot one cop and not being afraid to shoot more people.”

  “And you still kept your cool. I agree with the woman earlier. That’s very heroic.”

  She felt her cheeks warm. “I acted on impulse, using the moves I’ve been practicing for three years. I wasn’t trying to be a hero—I just wanted to get away from him.”

  “Maybe you weren’t trying to be a hero, but I suspect your quick thinking kept the situation from becoming much worse. You may very well have saved lives.”

  “That’s what the press kept saying. But there were several officers on the scene. I’m sure they would have regained control quickly even if I hadn’t been involved.”

  “I take it you don’t enjoy being in the spotlight.”

  She tried not to shudder, but she was only partially successful. “No. I don’t enjoy it.”

  “And that’s why you came here alone. To get away from the press?”

  She nodded. “They were driving me crazy. The phone kept ringing with people asking to interview me. They wanted me to go back down to the courthouse and pose on the steps—and to be sure and wear my sling, by the way. They wanted me to demonstrate tae kwon do moves on morning TV shows. And they wanted to know…”

  “To know what?” he asked quietly.

  She shook her head abruptly, deciding she had told him enough. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, rising to her feet. “More tea? A cookie or something?”

  “I’ve had dessert,” he reminded her.

  “Right. Well, now you know why I’m here. Why I’ve been avoiding attention until it all blows over and someone else does something that makes the press salivate.”

  “You don’t have a high opinion of the press.”

  “I have reason not to.” Carrying her empty teacup toward the kitchen, she said over her shoulder, “Now you know. No big mystery. I kicked a guy in the knee and came here to recuperate from the fall I took in the process. That’s pretty much the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. All in all, I’m pretty ordinary.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  She hadn’t realized he’d followed her until he spoke from the kitchen doorway. After setting her cup in the dishwasher, she turned to take his and add it to the rack.

  He didn’t move out of her way when she walked toward the doorway. She came to a stop a few steps away from him. “Are you waiting for a password?” she asked pointedly.

  Smiling down at her, he shook his head. “I was hoping you’d finish your sentence.”

  “Which sentence?”

  “The press wanted to know…?”

  She sighed. “They wanted to know if Harley Carter’s daughter could generate as many juicy headlines as he did fifteen years ago.”

  JAKE HAD BROUGHT a laptop computer with him to Arkansas, though he’d hardly turned it on while he’d been there. He sat in front of it late Friday night, staring blankly at the NASCAR screen saver flashing on the screen.

  Though it had been several hours since he had parted from her, he was still trying to process the things Stacy had told him about herself. The black belt. The unexpected streak of defiance in fighting a traffic ticket she hadn’t thought she deserved. The terrifying incident at the courthouse. The ensuing media frenzy.

  Just the thought of
her being held at the mercy of a desperate gunman made his blood chill. Despite her training, that situation could have easily turned tragic. She had been extremely fortunate not to have been injured more badly than she was.

  He was dismayed, and then rather concerned, by the way his chest clenched in response to the thought that he might never have met her.

  He focused on the computer again. It would be so easy to type in the name Harley Carter and see what popped up. A little digging, and he would have a few more answers about the rather mysterious young woman in the cabin next door. Probably wouldn’t even be very difficult, if her father had made headlines fifteen years ago.

  But something kept him from typing in that name. It wasn’t only consideration for her privacy, though that was certainly part of his hesitation. But there was also a part of him that wanted the answers to come from her, not from a computer. He would like to know that he had earned her trust enough for her to tell him about herself.

  He was not unaware of the irony that there was still so much he hadn’t told her about himself. It wasn’t really an excuse that he’d started to tell her several times and had been interrupted. He was well aware that he’d had plenty of deliberately missed opportunities to open up to her.

  He could completely understand why she had been reluctant to talk about her recent brush with fame. She had been tired of the questions and the gawking, being treated like a victim and a heroine, both of which made her uncomfortable. She must have been relieved to spend time with someone who had no idea what she’d gone through, just as he had enjoyed being with someone who knew him only as Jake, and not Jake Hinson, NASCAR star.

  The difference was, he thought, that it wasn’t so much a matter of trust on his part. For him, it had been the novelty of anonymity. But for her, there was a lot more to it. She would have to trust before she revealed more of herself. And he realized now that he wanted to know everything about her. And he wanted her to be the one to tell him.

  He closed the computer.

  She had rushed him out of her cabin almost immediately after she’d revealed her father’s name. Politely, for the most part. Claiming weariness, she had walked him to the door without explaining what she’d meant about her father making headlines.

  He had wanted to kiss her good-night. Pausing in the doorway, his gaze on her lips, he had wanted so badly to kiss her that he could almost taste her. She would taste of apple-chamomile tea, he’d mused. Touched with her own natural sweetness.

  The strength of that sudden rush of desire had taken him aback. She hadn’t had to push him out the door. He’d darned near bolted. And now here he sat, alone in his borrowed cabin in the middle of the night, thinking about her—and nervously wondering if he was falling for her.

  He had known her less than a week. He had just learned her last name. As far as he knew, she still didn’t know his. So there was no logical reason to think he was developing strong feelings for her. Lasting feelings.

  He was just bored, he assured himself. A little lonely. She was attractive. Likable. Combined with the unanswered questions about her, it was only natural that he would be so intrigued by her. For now.

  For some reason, he found himself thinking about his friend and teammate, Ronnie Short. Ronnie had been signing autographs at a car dealership when a little boy had spilled a Sno-Kone on him. The boy’s cute, flustered, red-haired aunt, a kindergarten teacher named Katie, had apologized profusely and tried to clean his shirt with her hands. He claimed to have fallen in love with her before the ice melted. They had married less than a year later and were now anticipating their first child.

  Love at first sight, Ronnie had called it, though many of his teammates had expressed doubt that such a thing existed. But it was hard to argue with how happy Ronnie and Katie were together, how strong the bond was between them.

  Jake had envied them, but he’d never expected anything like that to happen to him. He’d figured when he was ready to settle down, he would start looking around for a suitable mate. Date a few qualified candidates. Interview them, in a way. Find someone who knew his business, accepted the demands of his job, fit in well with the other racing wives.

  He had never even considered the possibility that he could be blindsided by feelings for someone who had no clue who he was. Someone who had a great deal of baggage of her own. Someone who had come along at absolutely the worst time in his life, career-wise.

  So there was no need to get too carried away here, he cautioned himself. This was just a…well, he couldn’t even call it a fling, since he hadn’t even kissed her. Yet.

  In a week, maybe two, he’d be headed back to North Carolina, ready to throw himself into whatever remained of the season. He wouldn’t have time to think about anything except getting back in the forefront of his sport and preparing for next year’s restart. Stacy probably wouldn’t even cross his mind, except in passing, maybe. Probably.

  He rubbed his chin, aware that he was trying just a little too hard to convince himself.

  OSCAR WANTED to go out early Saturday morning. Maybe he was tired of watching Stacy pace aimlessly through the cabin, which she had been doing since dawn. After a very restless night, she’d finally given up on sleep. She had been wandering through the cabin ever since.

  Apparently deciding she might as well put all that energy to use taking him for a walk, Oscar stood by the door and yapped until she finally gave in and clipped his leash to his collar. It was barely eight o’clock when they stepped outside, and the ground still glistened with dew in the shade. Oscar immediately started sniffing the ground, his tail wagging as he took in the scents of a fresh, new morning.

  Stacy wore a short-sleeved, scoop-neck, purple T-shirt with blue jeans and sneakers. The faintest of breezes brushed her bare arms, but it was warm enough that she didn’t even shiver. Though it was clear now, gathering clouds in the west warned her that rain was headed this way later that morning. It would be a good day to close herself into the cabin and concentrate on work.

  She had bundled her dark hair into a loose ponytail, the curly ends of which tickled her nape as it swung with her steps. She wore no makeup, just a thin layer of moisturizer with sunscreen. She wasn’t concerned about her appearance. Chances were, she wouldn’t run into anyone—and if she did, she wasn’t trying to impress him. Whoever it might be.

  She glanced at Jake’s cabin as she stepped onto the path into the woods. Seeing no signs of activity, she assumed he was still in bed. No reason for him to be up this early on his vacation.

  Memories of the evening before flitted through her mind as she and Oscar made their way leisurely through the trees. She and Jake had been having such a good time before that woman stopped by their table. Sharing their likes and dislikes, getting to know each other, flirting a little. Just like a real date. The type with the potential to lead somewhere.

  The woman’s intrusion—well-intentioned as it might have been—had changed Stacy’s mood. It wasn’t just the reminder of the incident in the courthouse that had brought her mood down. Rather it had been the inevitable connection to the reason she was so publicity shy in the first place. Which had led to some painful memories of several past disappointments and disillusionments, most having to do with charming and ultimately untrustworthy men. Two of whom she had loved deeply before they shattered her heart.

  She had spent most of the night reminding herself that there was no reason to worry about Jake breaking what was left of her heart. They barely knew each other, after all.

  Even if he was every bit as nice and honorable as he seemed to be, their time together would be fleeting. She wouldn’t have to worry about his reaction to her family history because there was really no good reason to tell him. All in all, it was simply better if they left their relationship exactly where it was now—friendly, casual, superficial.

  Temporary.

  Maybe it would be best if she avoided seeing him today, she mused, tugging slightly at Oscar’s leash to keep him moving when he stoppe
d to paw at a soft patch of ground. Things had gotten uncomfortably personal last night. It was time to put some safe distance between them again.

  When her walk with Oscar ended, she would close herself into the cabin and concentrate on work. If Jake should knock at the door, she would politely tell him she had a lot to do and needed time alone to do it. She was sure he would take the hint.

  Pushing a low-hanging branch out of her way, she edged around a large boulder toward a pretty little creek she had found on previous outings. She had discovered a grassy nook in a curve of the creek with a flat boulder that made a perfect spot to sit and watch the water flow by.

  She certainly hadn’t expected to find Jake sitting on her rock.

  His head was down, his face hidden in his hands. As she came closer, she saw that both his hair and the back of his gray T-shirt were damp with sweat, despite the mild temperature.

  “Jake?” she said quietly, concerned by the slump of his shoulders.

  He straightened immediately, turning his head to look at her. His smile was strained, and did not lighten his dark eyes. “Good morning. You’re out early.”

  Oscar bounded toward him, ears perked for attention. Jake reached down to scratch the dog’s head, causing the feathery tail to beat blissfully.

  Following her pet, Stacy studied the hollows beneath Jake’s eyes. “You’re out early, too. Are you okay?”

  He shrugged and spoke lightly. “Oh, sure. I’ve been hiking the path. I just stopped for a rest.”

  He had pushed himself too hard, she concluded, lowering herself to sit on another large rock near his. She could see signs of pain around the corners of his mouth. And his thoughts, when she had interrupted him, had not been happy ones.

  He wore a pair of charcoal-gray running shorts with his lighter gray T-shirt and an expensive pair of running shoes. Her gaze drifted downward to his sturdy, well-shaped legs—then lingered on the scars that marred his left calf. “You had surgery on that leg?”

  He nodded, glancing downward at the evidence of his injuries. “Yeah. I had a pretty deep cut down my leg. Lost a lot of blood from that and some other wounds. Apparently my friends were told that my condition was serious when I was taken into surgery. Scared them pretty badly, they said.”