Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Even as she scolded herself for being so foolish, she felt fluttery with nerves. She’d had a crush on Archer Davenport ever since she’d seen him in his first movie, a teen surfing flick back when he’d been a teenager himself and she’d been twelve. In all her life, she’d still never experienced a celebrity crush like it. She’d seen every movie he’d ever made. So, to meet him in person, to be in his family home, was almost more than she could handle.
She’d have to keep a tight rein on her emotions. She didn’t want him to think she was like those silly, giggling girls on the beach, drooling over him and grabbing selfies. No. She’d be cool, professional. He’d never know that being close to him made her dizzy.
A dog came bounding up and looked so delighted to see Tessa and Margaret that he could barely contain himself. “Buster, how did you get back inside?” Betsy said, trying to push the eager pup away.
Buster was no breed that Tessa could recognize. Shaggy, with straw-colored curly hair, big ears, and bright, intelligent eyes, he was a medium-sized dog with a tail that swept back and forth as he pushed against Betsy’s restraining arms.
“Hello, Buster,” Tessa said, squatting to accept both a shaggy paw and a lick on her chin.
“Finn, call the dog, please!” Betsy called, and at the sound of a single whistle, Buster tore away again. “Everybody’s in the great room and spilling out into the backyard,” Betsy continued. “One of the boys will get you a drink. Have a good time.”
Margaret twinkled at her. “I always do.”
Tessa accompanied Margaret through the tastefully decorated home, checking ahead to see if there were any obstacles, changing levels, or cords she might trip over, but there was nothing to cause her alarm. They walked into a great room that immediately impressed her with its air of comfort. It wasn’t fancy, but it was large and well designed. A peaked roof gave the ceiling height, and there were couches and chairs that looked made for comfort rather than design. It was the kind of room you just wanted to hang out in. And plenty of people were doing just that. Margaret was immediately pulled into a group of older people, all clearly golfers, who wanted to know when she’d next be on the course. Tessa stood slightly behind her while Margaret promised she’d be good as new in a couple of months. Knowing Margaret, it was probably true.
A tall man came over with a tray of drinks—white wine, red wine, and sparkling water with chunks of lemon. Margaret reached for a glass of red wine, and Tessa chose sparkling water. Maybe later she’d have a small glass of wine, but for now she felt she ought to keep her wits about her. Although Margaret had insisted that this was a night off, she intended to keep an eye on her client. And a sober one at that.
As she wrapped her hand around the glass, she glanced up at the man holding the tray and actually blinked as though her eyes might be playing tricks on her. Archer was movie-star gorgeous, but this guy was in a whole different league. Eyes that were dark and smoldering, with a black rim around the iris. Wavy dark hair that he clearly hadn’t brushed, but seemed even more glorious for being messy. Beneath his can’t-be-bothered-to-shave stubble, she saw the sculpted jaw, the perfectly bladed cheekbones. He wore jeans so old they’d worn through at the knees and were clearly too big, but somehow that only enhanced his build. Beneath an old gray T-shirt, she was aware of powerful muscles.
Margaret said, “Finn, good to see you. I see your dad’s got you working as usual.”
Finn chuckled. “I think that’s why Dad wanted so many kids. He needed the free labor.”
“Tessa, this is Finn Davenport. He’s the good-looking one.”
He flinched at the words, but Margaret had only spoken the truth. If she’d ever seen a more beautiful man, she couldn’t remember where. Finn ducked his head, mumbled something that might have been pleased to meet you, and walked to the next chatting group with his tray of drinks.
Poor guy, he wore his looks like they were a curse.
People were ebbing and flowing, and while she recognized a few who’d either come by to see Margaret during her convalescence or had bumped into them on the beach, there wasn’t anyone she really knew to talk to. She sensed, though, that Archer Davenport wasn’t in the crowd.
She stood beside Margaret, listening to golf stories, noting how a couple of the older men seemed particularly attentive to her, and then she felt the air change. So slightly that only she noticed.
She glanced toward the patio doors that were wide open to the garden and watched as Archer Davenport came in. He was holding a beer in one hand and laughing, his arm slung around the shoulders of an older man who had to be his father. They were of a similar height, and one day she thought Archer would look very much like Howard Davenport.