Silver Screen Romance

She nodded. “This was several years after the movie originally premiered. Tella’s family was known for doing theme weekends. That weekend all the films were dedicated to the infamous Count and it rained the whole time. The theater had such a cozy old-world style. It was the perfect venue to screen a period piece like that, not to mention all the others we saw. It was a fun trip. My aunt had the best time getting to know Tella’s family and I had the best time getting to know Tella a little better.”

Again, Davia felt tears pressuring for release. Again, she willed them back before she turned to Kale. “Why didn’t you ever say what really happened instead of letting folks believe you—?”

“Because letting them believe that bile was better than the true filth of it. At least, what I saw as being filth.”

“You tried to help.”

Kale snorted. “I’ve wondered about that over the years. Wondered if it was all about me trying to make myself feel better in the moment. Like I’d come to the rescue and been the kind of gentleman my uncle always swore a real man should aspire to be.”

He rolled his eyes. “That was someone I had no interest in being. Women always gave me what I wanted without me ever having to play the gentleman’s role.”

“Gave? Past tense?”

Thoughtful listener indeed, Kale mused. “They still do. I guess somewhere along the way I started having a problem with it.” Suddenly he laughed. The gesture held no amusement. “Had I thought more about what Martella really needed—”

The phone’s shrill buzz filled the room and Davia didn’t know whether to celebrate or curse the interruption. Moreover, she didn’t know what to do with the sudden empathy she was feeling for a man she’d practically loathed for the past several years.

Pushing up from the chair, she leaned over the desk to grab the phone. It was her assistant. “Hey, Maggie.”

“Davia, sorry for the interruption.” Maggie Phelps’s airy voice breezed through the receiver. “Leslie told me you were in there with Kale Asante. Is he as sweet and sexy as she claims?”

In her own sly manner, Davia surveyed her guest, who had turned to stare out at the view. “A definite yes to the second and a possible yes to the first.”

“Well, I’m sorry to take you away from your meeting, but I figured this concerned you both.”

“How so?”

“I’ve got an Estelle Waverly on the line. She’s calling from Mullins, Iowa.”

“A call from Mullins?” Davia said for Kale’s benefit.

He turned, curiosity alive in the chocolaty pools of his deep stare.

“Put it through, Maggie,” Davia instructed and then put the phone on speaker. She waited a beat before greeting the caller. “Mrs. Waverly? This is Davia Sands. I’m here with Kale Asante.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad I caught you both together.” The woman’s voice surged into the room.

Kale reclaimed his preferred spot at the edge of Davia’s desk. “Mrs. Waverly, is there a problem?” he asked.

“Will the two of you be able to make it to the town council meeting? Did your attorneys tell you about it?” the woman asked.

Kale and Davia traded looks.

“We know about it,” Davia said.

“Are we expected to attend?” Kale picked up on the anxious quality in the woman’s voice.

Estelle Waverly chortled. “It depends on who you ask. My husband’s uncle—Chase Waverly—was the original owner of the property. The story of how you two came to own it is an involved one best saved for when you arrive. Can we count on you to be here?”

“You’ve got us curious, Mrs. Waverly,” Davia replied. “I can’t help but say that curiosity does include a fair amount of suspicion.”

“Sounds like this is about more than Ms. Sands and I coming to take a look at property we’ve inherited,” Kale tacked on.

Estelle Waverly released another of her delicate laughs. “Oh, Mr. Asante, it’s definitely about more than that. Please tell me you’ll be here for the meeting.”

Kale and Davia exchanged another look before she accepted the invite. “We’ll be there, Mrs. Waverly.”

“Fantastic! Thank you both so much!” The smile was evident in the woman’s voice. “There’s no need to make hotel arrangements,” she was saying. “My husband and I own the town bed-and-breakfast, and your rooms are already prepared. Pack warmly, it’s January and this is Iowa, after all.” She sighed. “Our apologies for this all sounding so unorthodox, but I think you’ll have a better understanding of things once we’ve had the chance to speak in person. Thank you both again.”

The connection broke. Kale and Davia stared at the dead phone for several silent seconds.

“What is it we’re considering exactly?” Davia queried finally.

Kale was shaking his head slowly. “Guess we’ll find out when we get to Mullins.”

“Why do I get the feeling we’re going to be there for more than a few days?” Davia tapped her nails along the top of her desk.

Kale grinned. “At least we know our rooms are ready.”

Davia wasn’t feeling so at ease. “Did you come to San Francisco on your own, Kale, or is your lawyer here?”

“I’m alone. I hadn’t actually planned to go any farther.”

“Well, it looks like we’re both heading out there without anyone to watch our backs, then. I kind of left my lawyer hanging on whether I wanted her along on this first trip. Now I’m regretting I didn’t ask her to join me.”

Kale nodded. “You know, some might argue if I claim I’m not a sexist, but I’m perfectly fine with you watching my back.”

Davia had to smile.

“I won’t take offense if you don’t feel comfortable saying the same, but I’ll watch your back, anyway.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Her smile held. “So why do you think Estelle Waverly wouldn’t say more over the phone?” Though she honestly wanted to hear his answer, Davia was more interested in avoiding answers about where she stood on the subject of his true involvement with Martella Friedman.

Kale got to his feet. “At least she told us our coming there is about more than just looking at property we inherited.”

“I feel like I should be exercising some sense of precaution, but my curiosity is winning out.”

“Mine, too.” Kale was heading for the bar but paused midstep to gesture toward it instead. “That offer for a drink still stand?” he asked.

Davia gave a consenting wave and began to pace the perimeter of her office. Moments later she was dialing her assistant.

“Maggie, have you printed my tickets to Iowa yet?” Davia felt a hand at her elbow while Maggie’s voice filled her ear.

“Have her cancel the tickets,” Kale was saying.

Frowning, Davia slowly tuned into Maggie telling her the task was next on her list. “Hey, Mag, hold off on that, will you? I’ll call you back in a sec.” She hung up and looked at Kale. “Cancel the tickets?”

He gave her a look of phony discomfort. “Would telling you that I own a jet make you hate me even more?”