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Digging through her briefcase, Colette Campbell snagged her cellular phone in one hand and her contact’s information sheet in the other, while her sister rummaged through her green glitter-embellished duffel bag to grab a bright pink, misshaped vibrator. Both girls were notorious for bringing their work home; tonight was no exception.
“Amy, what the heck is that for?” Colette eyed the odd curve at the end of the oversized contraption. In her opinion, Amy’s current employer had taken its passion line to the extreme, with the most popular products designed by her imaginative sister. But they were shooting for the next must-have sex toy. And Colette had to admit several of Amy’s creations were already must-haves for her own bedroom.
Too bad they were the ones meant for singles.
“This baby will put Adventurous Accessories over the top,” Amy said, grinning with unabashed pride. She made the same claim with each of her toys, though Colette chose not to point that out.
At merely twenty-two, Amy Campbell already had a mind for business. Coupled with an affinity for the intricacies of sex, which she’d obviously acquired from their mother, Amy had a hot combination for today’s boudoir market. Consequently, she fully intended for one of her personally designed products to become the next Jack Rabbit.
Like practically every other female in America, Colette had watched Kim Cattrall’s Samantha lose her senses over the unique vibrator on Sex and the City. And, like practically every other female in America, she’d wasted no time purchasing a set of talented rabbit ears of her own.
Thank God. Lord knows that battery-operated bunny helped her numerous times when Jeff hadn’t got the job done. At least she had one “energize-her” in the apartment during her six months dating Mr. Perfect.
“So what does it do?” Colette asked, accustomed to Amy’s tendency of bringing her sex trinkets home to show off her latest idea.
While Amy played Vanna, running a finger down the smooth length of the toy, Colette scanned her client’s data sheet. My Alibi’s customers were extremely specific regarding when she should make calls. In this case, the woman wanted a message left while the contact was gone. A typical request. For some reason, the lie seemed more believable when heard on an answering machine.
Colette’s eyes ventured to the referral line on the bottom of the front page. “Amy?”
“Yeah?” Amy said, still grinning at the toy.
“What’s up with this?” She pointed to the name scribbled across the page. “Referred by Amy Campbell?” Colette read the annotation made by the My Alibi sales associate.
Client specifically requested Colette Campbell as her sales representative.
“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Amy said, scooting closer to Colette on the couch. She pointed to the data sheet. “That’s a friend of mine. She needed a way to spend a week with her boyfriend, and I told her about My Alibi.”
“You’re helping your friend cheat on her husband?” Colette didn’t like lying for a living, and she didn’t plan to do it much longer, only until she had enough money to start her boutique. “I thought you agreed that what these people do isn’t right.”
“I know it isn’t, but Erika isn’t lying to a husband.”
Colette’s attention moved back to the information sheet, specifically the “Relationship to Client” line. “Her uncle?”
“She’s found the love of her life, but she doesn’t think her uncle will approve,” Amy explained, shrugging as though this were no big deal. “She needs an alibi for a week to spend some alone time with Butch and see if he really is the one.”
“Why does she have to lie to her uncle to spend a week with her boyfriend?” Colette didn’t like the sound of this. What was Amy getting her into?
“He’s her guardian, and he’s a bit overprotective,” Amy explained. Then, at Colette’s raised brows, she continued, “Listen. I knew you wouldn’t help on your own, so I had her go through My Alibi. That way it’s merely another client, right? And besides, she’s my friend and needs help. You won’t let me down here, will you?”
Letting Amy down was something Colette was determined not to do. And Amy knew it. Occasionally, like right now, she used it to her advantage. However, there was no way Colette would help if Erika wasn’t an adult.
“You can’t hire My Alibi unless you’re eighteen. And if she isn’t eighteen, I can’t help her.”
“She is eighteen. Her birthday was last month.”
Sure enough, the client’s date of birth on the application matched Amy’s statement.
“Come on, she’s an adult looking for an alibi, and she isn’t lying to a husband. She simply wants to spend some time with her boyfriend. You’ll help her, right? Give her a chance at true love?” Amy asked. “For me?”
Colette sighed. “All right,” she conceded. “I’ll help her.”
Amy leaned forward and hugged her sister, while her long ponytail smothered Colette’s face and made her smile.
“You’re rotten, you know that, don’t you?” Colette asked.
“Yep,” Amy agreed, moving back to her bag and holding up the new toy. Her mission had been accomplished, so naturally, she turned her focus back to her newest product.
“Tell your friend I’ll help her this one time, but I don’t plan to do it again. She really shouldn’t be lying to her uncle.”
“Got it,” Amy said, punching a finger in the air for emphasis, but her eyes never ventured from the vibrator. “Isn’t it amazing?” She switched her voice to produce infomercial appeal, flicked the switch and started the thing buzzing. “This exclusive curve allows the smooth, pulsing tip to hit the G-spot precisely. Every time. And if that doesn’t pique your interest, feast your eyes on this.” Sounding like a late-night home-shopping host, she pushed a small button on the handle with her index finger. “Ahhh, see? The end lights up like a rainbow.”
Holding the glowing contraption against her forearm, Amy let the pulsating head play against her skin while she giggled. “Cool, huh?”
Okay. Colette failed to see why illuminating like a multicolored strobe light would be of importance, particularly if you considered where those colors would be located if and when they hit the proverbial bull’s-eye. But she humored Amy, nonetheless. “Yeah, sis. Real cool. If you have a spot to find.”
Amy punched the switch and dropped Pinky to the couch, where it rolled like a deformed banana until lodging between the back of the sofa and the cushion. “No way. You haven’t found it? Jeff hasn’t found it? Geez, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Colette merely smirked. From what she could tell, Jeff did good to find his own part, much less hers. But rather than elaborate on how extremely dull those six months had been, she dialed the number listed on the My Alibi fact sheet.
“Seriously? Did he, you know, even look for it?” Amy asked, obviously bewildered at this revelation.
Did he look for it? Hmmm. Let’s think about it. Well, that’d be a definite no. Matter of fact, all he looked for, as far as Colette could tell, was his own satisfaction. Which he obtained. Every time.
And pretty dang quick, at that.
Funny thing was, Jeff looked and acted every part the ladies’ man. Strutted around with his much-too-muscled chest puffed out, his politician’s smile plastered on tight and every wavy hair in place. Oh, and not a single tan line on his body, thank you very much. Or thank his tanning bed, coupled with his ritual to make certain he stayed on each side the same number of minutes.
Colette had mistakenly believed the attention he paid to his looks stemmed from his business, rather than his mega-ego. He’d used his primary asset, his body, to promote a growing chain of health-food stores; therefore, he had to look healthy, right?
Of course, the result was quite phenomenal. Folks saw him as their goal and bought his stuff aplenty. The fact he’d tacked on a couple of Atlanta’s Best Body titles didn’t hurt either. Yep, he was pretty to look at, all right.
But a dud in the sack.
Heck, Colette would’ve bet plenty of money on his ability to please.
She’d have lost that bet.
Shoot, she’d have put money on him staying true too.
Ditto for losing the wager.
“In case you’ve forgotten, Jeff and I have been over for two months. Matter of fact, I heard he put a ring on Emily Smith’s finger last weekend. Just as well, since he was banging her the whole time we were together. Hey, who knows? Maybe he found her G-spot. He sure never found mine.”
That sounded bitter. And she was not bitter. Relieved was more like it. She’d tried to make the whole commitment thing work, in spite of Jeff leaving much to be desired in the bedroom. In her bedroom, anyway. As she learned two months ago, he’d made his way through plenty of other beds during their time together.
“Maybe you should try this out. It’ll find the spot.” Amy picked up the translucent pink vibrator and held it to her cheek. “It’s waterproof too. And you don’t even need a man. Really, you should give it a trial run.”
Don’t need a man. Yep, that’ll fit the bill.
“Maybe I should.” Colette laughed. Heck, maybe a pink, rainbow, light-up G-spot finder was what she needed to get her out of this funk. Twenty-nine-and-knocking-on-thirty, she was still searching for a guy who could carry on an intelligent conversation, had at least some semblance of a career plan and—wonder of wonders—could make her toes curl as much as one of Amy’s toys. She was beginning to think she might have to let go of one of the three qualities. But if anything had to fly out the window, it would not be curling toes.
Amy lowered the vibrator and focused on the phone perched against her sister’s ear. “Hey, Colette, you dialed the number, didn’t you?”
Colette’s laughter lodged in her throat. She hadn’t heard the answering machine pick up. But there’d definitely been a ring on the other end.
Hadn’t there?
Yeah, she’d heard a ring. When had it stopped? More importantly, how much of their sisterly conversation had been recorded?
Dang.
A path of heat blazed from her throat to her face. She’d have to do major damage control at the office tomorrow for this faux pas. How do you explain leaving a message about sex toys on a customer’s voice mail?
But she couldn’t hang up. She’d used the cellular provided by My Alibi, and the fictitious name Amy’s friend had chosen for her company would be displayed on the caller ID.
She gathered her wits. So this wouldn’t be her best performance as a My Alibi representative; it’d be okay. She’d simply apologize and begin her regular spiel.
Taking a deep breath, she prepared to start the process of prevarication via the uncle’s answering machine.
Then she heard a responding exhalation on the other end.
No. Way. There was not a living, breathing person listening to her now. Hearing her discuss G-spots, no less, when she supposedly represented a computer-graphics training company. Certainly Erika’s uncle hadn’t answered the phone, heard her talking and eavesdropped on that steamy little conversation with Amy. Had he?
Only one way to find out. Tossing a wary glance to her sister, she mustered up her courage. “Hello?”
“Well, hello.”
Colette’s eyes bugged at Amy, while Amy mouthed a shocked, “Oh. No.”
Erika had placed a big checkmark beside the best time to call, when her uncle wouldn’t be home. She’d even handwritten that My Alibi could simply leave a message letting him know she’d arrived safely at her destination and be done with it. Simple as pie.
Not. Because the sexy hello sending a shiver down Colette’s spine definitely didn’t come from a machine. Flustered, she couldn’t remember the name of the fake company.
Time to stall...
Scanning the data sheet, Colette fumbled over the conversation. “Please accept my apologies. This is Colette Campbell with”—her eyes struggled to find the name—“Integrated Solutions in Tampa. I was talking to a coworker, and I’m afraid I didn’t hear you pick up.”
“Obviously not.” Muffled laughter echoed through the phone.
“Right. Well, I was calling to inform you that”—she pulled her finger across the page and read the full name— “Erika Collins arrived safely and has already started her training seminars. She asked that I call and inform you everything is going according to schedule. Also, if you need to get in touch with her at any point throughout the week, you can contact her at this number.” Colette recited the toll-free number established by My Alibi, the one that would ring directly to her cellular. If he did call, she would field the message and notify his niece.
“I appreciate your help, but I’ll call her cell phone when I need her.”
A usual response. And one Colette was prepared for. “I’m afraid the conference center rarely picks up cellular signals, but I will be happy to relay your messages, Mr.”—another glance at the form—“Brannon.”
Her brain clicked madly as she read the name again.
Uh-uh. It couldn’t be.
“Bill Brannon?” she questioned.
“Yes.”
“From Sheldon?”
A slight pause echoed from the other end. This wasn’t Bill. Surely not. There were bound to be several Bill Brannons, right? Probably plenty of them in Georgia, in fact. This wouldn’t be—couldn’t be—the Bill Brannon she remembered.
But she did remember that Bill Brannon. She could see him so clearly, black hair cropped close on the sides, longer on top. Thick, dark brows. Eyes the color of mocha. Full lips. Strong jaw. He had the looks of a guy she’d date in a heartbeat back in Sheldon High. But she didn’t. That wasn’t the type of relationship they shared.
Because Bill Brannon also listened to many of her worries throughout middle school and high school. The nervous ramblings of a girl not nearly as confident as she let the remainder of the world believe. A girl who wanted more than what Sheldon offered, who wanted to be a successful businesswoman and have a real family one day, the kind of family she and Amy dreamed of.
Bill Brannon had been the best male friend she’d ever known, and the one she’d left on graduation night, when he confessed his true feelings—and she left Sheldon without looking back.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said.
Oh. My. God. The Bill Brannon she knew—remembered—was on the other end of this line. With a deeper, richer voice than she recalled.
Her hand clenched the receiver.
“What did you say your name was again?” he asked. “Colette?”
Oh boy, she’d dug herself right into a hole. A big wide black one. With, sure enough, no end in sight.
“Colette,” she said, then swallowed. Maybe he wouldn’t remember. And maybe her mother would become a nun. “Colette Campbell.”
“Lettie?” Recognition slammed through both syllables. “Is that you?”
She hadn’t heard that name in twelve years, since the night she graduated from Sheldon High. The same night she’d told him the truth, then witnessed the pain in her friend’s eyes.
Her stomach knotted. “It’s been a long time,” she said, while her sister leaned forward, steadying her palms on the mound of sex toy paraphernalia she’d dumped on the sofa.
“Whoops,” Amy mouthed, her green eyes wide. “You know him?”
Fighting the way her throat closed in, Colette nodded.
“It has been a long time,” he said. “At the ten-year reunion, your last-known address was your house in Sheldon, and we all knew you’d kissed that place good-bye. So you’re in Tampa now?”
How was she supposed to answer his question? No, she wasn’t in Tampa; she was in Atlanta, the same as he was. In fact, she hadn’t moved that far from their small town in the North Georgia Mountains—merely far enough to reach a big city where she could make her mark and achieve her goals.
However, he thought she was in Tampa. Well, of course he did. Because that’s where the fictitious Integrated Solutions was located and that’s where she told him she worked. Heck, not only was Colette not in Tampa, neither was his niece.
Oh God, how could she lie to Bill?
As if on cue, Amy edged closer. “Don’t tell him,” she mouthed. “Please.”
Damnation.
According to the information sheet, Erika was currently on Tybee Island. Undoubtedly having a hot and heated time with her boyfriend while Uncle Bill thought she was working at a training conference. Lettie shook her head in disbelief. This was so not happening. Of all the people she’d never ever want to lie to, the name at the top of that list would be Bill.
Well, close to the top. The very tip-top name, of course, would be Amy. And therein was the problem.
“Yeah, Tampa is nice,” Colette said, while a wave of nausea covered her like a thick black cloud. She’d never even been to the place. Man, why did Erika’s uncle have to be Bill?
Colette had sworn she wouldn’t keep this job long. It was wrong, and she knew it. But it paid a heck of a lot more than a waitress, or a checkout clerk, or a salesperson, or a dog walker—or any of the other bizarre jobs she’d had in the past. And it helped her save the money she needed to get her business started.
She’d been convinced that was a good enough reason for helping cheaters. And she’d promised herself she’d only do it a few months. Half a year, tops.
Unfortunately, lying to Bill Brannon, the one guy who’d treated her better than any other—and the one guy she’d hurt more than any other—hadn’t figured into her equation.
“And you’re working for the company holding the conference?” he continued, aiding her eternal free fall into the black abyss.
“Yeah.” God, she needed to get off the phone. Guilt washed over her like a mudslide down the Appalachians. Any minute now, she’d need to hurl. Violently. With gusto. No, she hadn’t relished lying for cheaters, but all in all, lying to strangers hadn’t seemed so bad. Lying to someone who’d been her best friend as a teenager, on the other hand, was a different story entirely.
“I’m glad to hear it’s a reputable business. When Erika told me she had to spend a week in Tampa to train for her new job, I admit I had my doubts about whether the company was on the up-and-up. She has a tendency to act first and think later.”
I’ll say. She’s definitely not thinking now, or she’d be truthful with you.
“Glad to help,” Colette said, her insides churning miserably. Lying to Bill Brannon hadn’t been on her list of things to do today. Hadn’t been on the list of things to do this lifetime, truth be told, and she was ready for it to be over. And was he going to bring up the last time they saw each other?
Amy touched her hand. “It’s just one week,” she whispered. “And she’s really in love.”
As if that would make Colette feel better.
She decided to keep the charade moving and get off the phone before they traipsed down memory lane. “If you need to contact her, you can call the number I gave you.”
It’s completely bogus, you’ll be talking to me and I’ll be lying through my teeth. But yeah, call it. And pray for me, by the way. I need all the help I can get.
“Wait. Lettie?”
Why the devil wasn’t he hanging up the phone? Probably because they’d been so close before and hadn’t talked in, oh, twelve years. Surely he’d want to play catch-up, even if their last conversation had been less than pleasant.
“I’m leaving Sheldon, Bill. I have to.” She took his hand and held it tightly. “And I—I don’t think of you that way. You’re my friend.”
And his response...
“It’s not enough.” Then he slid his hand from her grasp...and walked away.
“Lettie?” the deep voice on the phone repeated.
She swallowed. “Yeah?”
“How are you?”
How was she? She was making a living lying for frauds, one of which was his niece. In other words, she was pretty dang crummy, thank you very much.
“I’m fine,” she said. Another lie. What was one more now?
“That’s good. I always hoped you’d end up happy, with everything you ever wanted.”
Guilt, a mighty heavy emotion. Right now, she’d estimate its weight at two tons and climbing. She knew the truth. Her years at Sheldon could’ve been sheer hell if Bill hadn’t been there, the shoulder for her to cry on when her mother’s reckless antics had caused those telltale whispers whenever Colette neared. In response, she’d smiled, flirted, acted as though it didn’t matter. But it did. And she had dreamed of the day she could leave. Start a new life and pave the way for her sister.
The day after she graduated, she did. But in following her plan, she left behind the two people she cared about most. Amy...and Bill.
“I guess I’ll let you go now,” she said, while Amy sat beside her with her hand over her mouth.
“Lettie?”
Colette closed her eyes. Why did that name sound so sweet when coming from his mouth? She’d always thought “Lettie” held a hint of sordidness. But with Bill, it sounded almost angelic.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever get to Atlanta? Does your work at Integrated Solutions put you traveling at all?”
Her eyes slowly opened. “Atlanta?”
Well, sure she got to Atlanta. Every day. When she drove down Interstate 85 toward the My Alibi office in Marietta. Or when she bought her groceries. Or when she slept in her apartment. Yep, she sure enough got to Atlanta.
“Right. You ever travel here?” he repeated.
“Sometimes.” Shoot, she was already heading to hell in a handbasket. What was another fabrication filling the lining?
“Next time you’re coming to town, give me a call. We could get together for old times’ sake. You know, go out to dinner or take in a show. The Fox Theater puts on quite a few Broadway productions throughout the year.” He paused, while her heart started a slow, steady thump. Then he exhaled thickly. “We shouldn’t have let things end like that.”
Lettie smiled, recognizing the tone of her teenage friend in the husky male voice. He was right, after all. They shouldn’t have ended things like that. And for her part, she shouldn’t have left town before they worked things out.
“That sounds nice,” she said. It sounded very nice, in fact. She’d cut ties with Sheldon, hadn’t wanted reminders of the people who never saw beneath the facade of the perky cheerleader. They didn’t know her.
But Bill did.
“So...what do you say? Next time you’re coming to Atlanta, look me up.”
She blinked. Could she look him up? Bill Brannon, the one guy who probably knew her better than any other, to this day. And yet she hadn’t tried to find him after high school. Why not?
Simple. Because she’d hurt him, and she hadn’t wanted to look back. But the truth was, she missed that relationship. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a boy—correction, a man now—whom she could connect with, the way she and Bill connected back then? Could they still sit and talk for hours?
Colette glanced at the paper in front of her, the one stating all pertinent information about Bill’s niece. Why did they have to reconnect this way? With a lie? But even so, she relished the idea that she could have a male friend once again. It’d been a long time, and she really hated that they’d lost touch after being so close.
“Okay,” she said, deciding to venture across the point of no return. “I’d love to get together when I come to Atlanta.”
Amy fell over on the couch and smothered her sucking gasps with a pillow.
“Any idea when you might be coming to town?”
He sounded almost...anxious. And—sexy?
Colette blinked. Where did that come from? She’d never looked at Bill that way, never thought of him that way, which had been part of the problem when he’d confessed his feelings. But his voice had sent a shiver down her spine earlier, before she realized it was her old friend on the line. And twelve years had passed since she left Bill at Sheldon. He’d be thirty now. Thirty. Definitely a man.
What had he done in the past twelve years? He’d dreamed of a career in advertising. Had it happened? And had he found love? At thirty, he’d undoubtedly had relationships with women who hadn’t known him as the nice guy of Sheldon High. And hadn’t one of Bill’s dreams been to be a young T-ball dad? Had raising his niece changed his plans? And how had he become her guardian?
So many questions. And Lettie very much wanted the answers. She had missed Bill, more than she realized, until now.
“Lettie? You still there?”
“I’m here.” And suddenly, she was very eager to see him again. Why had she waited so long?
“Do you know when you’re coming to town?”
Amy ventured up from the pillow and flashed a knowing, sinister grin. “You’re going out with him?” she whispered, her eyes growing wide.
Going out with Bill? The thought hadn’t occurred.
No, that wasn’t true. She was interested in connecting with Bill again. What girl wouldn’t want to meet up with the guy who’d been her friend and confidant through those chaotic teenage years? Reconnect for old times’ sake, not as a date or anything.
Amy, misunderstanding Colette’s lack of a response, picked up the pink vibrator and dropped it in the bag. “Maybe you won’t need it, after all,” she mouthed.
Colette fought the urge to laugh. Although she did want to visit with Bill again, she didn’t plan on it being that kind of visit. She simply had a curiosity to know what became of him—that was it. And there was nothing wrong with old friends getting together. Granted, it’d be better if she wasn’t lying to him at the time, but that would only last a week.
“Oddly enough, I’m coming to Atlanta tomorrow,” she said, grinning. It’d be fun to see Bill again. Shoot, after spending six agonizing months with no-words-above-two-syllables Jeff, she would thoroughly enjoy carrying on a decent conversation with a man. And maybe she could figure out a way to keep the lies from entering the dialogue. Somehow.
“Then how about tomorrow night? Are you free?”
“I believe so.” Her stomach fluttered. Lord, what was she doing? And why did it feel more like a date than a simple meeting of old friends?
“Excellent,” he said, a hint of eagerness in the single word. “I’ll make the arrangements. Give me a call when you get in town.”
“Sure.” Colette smiled at Amy. Her sister’s request had inadvertently helped her find Bill again.
“How long will you be here?” he asked.
“Through the weekend,” she said, while Amy nodded her approval.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
Okay. This shouldn’t surprise her. Bill Brannon was the kind of friend who’d offer her a place to stay if she was coming to town. It didn’t mean anything more than that.
“The company provides a hotel typically, but my sister lives in Atlanta, so I usually stay with her when I travel there.”
Amy slapped both hands to her mouth, while her big round eyes bulged and her head did that slow I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-this shake.
What’d she expect? If you lie for a living, you get pretty good. And the truth was, if Colette had been traveling for a company, the arrangements would have been made.
“Amy lives in Atlanta?” he asked.
She grinned, not surprised at all that Bill remembered Amy. He was that kind of guy, the type to notice a fifth grader, even when he was a senior.
“In the Norcross area,” Colette said. “She works there.”
She refrained from telling him the name of Amy’s employer. It wasn’t as if she were ashamed of the way her sister made a living. Designing sex toys was as worthy a job as any, in Colette’s opinion. It beat the heck out of lying, hands down.
But she didn’t want to insinuate Amy hadn’t made the most of her life. She had, and Colette was proud of her for finding her own little niche in the world. Even if that niche involved pink, rainbow, light-up G-spot finders.
“She’s got a great position in product design,” Colette added, while Amy stifled her snort.
“I’m glad for her. She’s a sweet kid.”
Colette eyed the pretty brunette on the other end of the couch, a younger version of their mother, with long limbs, full lips, wide eyes. Much the same as Colette, minus the blond hair. And very much a woman—though if Bill thought of her as a kid, Colette wouldn’t beg to differ. Amy would always be her baby sister, so “kid” fit.
“I’m pretty proud of her myself.”
At that, Amy flicked her tiny nose in the air and smiled triumphantly.
“Tell you what, Lettie. I’ve never been one to beat around the bush,” he said.
Colette sighed. “I remember.” She could always count on Bill’s honesty, his frankness.
“So I want to know. Are you planning to spend your evenings with Amy while you’re here?”
His question sounded...suggestive? Her brows furrowed. Was there more to this reacquainting than she thought? And if there was, was that such a bad thing? What would it be like to have a real date with Bill? Could she even look at him beyond a friend?
Twelve years ago, Colette hadn’t thought so. But things do change over time. Could she think of him that way? Was that even what his question implied?
She decided against asking him for clarification. “That’s what I had planned, but I’d love to see you tomorrow.”
“I’d love more,” he said, erasing any doubts of his meaning and reminding her of his words on graduation night.
“It’s not enough.”
She held her breath, then let it out slowly. Oh man, what had she done?
“You could still see Amy while you’re here. But spend some time with me, Lettie. More than one date.”
Her mouth fell open. He’d called it a date. Plain and simple, no punches held. Pure Bill. Tell it like it is.
A date. With Bill? More than that—a date, with Bill, while lying to him for his niece?
Fighting the increasing tension in her neck, she leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. Had she totally messed up?
“Give me a chance to show you what we missed out on back then,” he said, his voice delving deeper, huskier. “What do you say, Lettie?”
Her eyes flew open. No punches held, indeed. “What we missed out on?”
“By not seeing if there could be more to it than friendship,” he answered. Yeah, he’d always been confident, but this—well, this wasn’t the Bill she knew back when.
Then again, he was older now. And so was she. What would it hurt to see if their potential for a relationship had grown in the past decade too?
What if it had?
A date? With Bill? She still couldn’t quite grasp the concept.
Colette pondered what to say. Sure, she wanted to see Bill again, but a date?
He cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you how much I regretted not trying to find you after you left town. I’ve gotta admit I was mad at first. And that cost me.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, while Amy raised her brows and evidently tried to determine his end of the conversation.
“I didn’t try to find you until after I finished college. I kept waiting for you to find me.”
“I should’ve stayed in touch,” she said, another tinge of guilt pressing heavily on her chest.
“Hell yeah, you should’ve,” he said, then laughed, a richer, deeper laugh than she remembered. But like in high school, an honest-to-goodness Bill Brannon laugh warmed her completely.
“Are you wanting an apology?” she asked teasingly.
“I told you what I’m wanting. A date. For the record, I still believe you made a mistake back then.”
“A mistake?” she asked, intrigued by the surplus of assuredness in his tone.
“By turning me down, of course.”
Her laugh bubbled from her throat. “Modest, aren’t you?”
“Just telling the truth. Admit it. You’re curious, aren’t you? Don’t you want to see how good it could be?”
This was it. Yes or no. Could she even look at Bill Brannon like that? He obviously felt something in high school that she hadn’t shared. What if that was still the case? Or what if, and this was the part that made her even more nervous, what if she did feel something for Bill this time? Wouldn’t that ruin everything? Because she couldn’t start a relationship, a real relationship, based on a lie. So she’d have to tell him the truth about Erika. And hurt Amy. She knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t—do either. Therefore, she should say no.
“I’d like that too,” she said.
So much for self-preservation.
He exhaled, and she knew he was smiling. She couldn’t say how, but she knew.
“Great. Then tomorrow night, we’ll start getting to know each other again.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, truthfully, for once.
“Good. Oh, and Lettie?”
“Yeah?”
“About that spot Jeff couldn’t find...”
Her face flamed. She’d nearly forgotten the conversation he’d overheard. “Yeah?”
“Maybe he didn’t know where to look.”
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