Thrill Me

“But there’s no room service.”

He glanced at her, one brow raised. “You think I can’t cook?”

It had been ten years, she thought. “I guess I don’t know that much about you.” Anymore. She didn’t say the last word, but she thought it. Because there had been a time when she’d known everything about Del. Not just his hopes and dreams, but how he laughed and kissed and tasted.

First love was usually intense. For her it had been that and more. With Del, for the first time in her life she’d allowed herself to hope she might not have to go it alone. That maybe, just maybe she could believe that someone else would be there for her. To look out for her. To give a damn.

“To start with, I can cook,” he said, drawing her back to the present. “There was a last-minute cancellation so I got the cabin.”

A couple of little boys played down by the water. Their mother watched from a blanket on the grass. Their shrieks and laughter carried over to them.

“It’s going to be noisy,” she said.

“That’s okay. I like being around kids. They don’t know who I am, and if they do, they don’t care.”

Some people would care, she thought, wondering how difficult his version of fame had become.

He’d made a name for himself on the extreme sports circuit. Crazy downhill snowboarding stunts had morphed into skysurfing. He’d become the face of a growing sport with the press clamoring to know why anyone would jump out of a plane with a board attached to their feet and deliberately spin and turn the whole way down.

After a few years of being a media darling, he’d made yet another change, designing a better board, and then starting the company that built them. That move had made him more mainstream—at least for the business crowd—and he’d become a popular guest on business shows. When he’d sold the company—walking away with cash and not announcing what he would do—he’d become the stuff of legends. A daredevil willing to take life on his own terms.

She’d wanted that once. Not the danger, but the being famous part. It would have been one of the perks of being in front of the camera instead of behind it. For her it hadn’t been about money or getting a reservation at a popular restaurant. It had been about belonging. That if others cared about her, she must have value. Be worthy, in some small way.

Time and maturity had helped her see the fallacy of that argument, but the hollowness of needing it had never completely gone away. With that dream over, she would have to find another way to make peace with her past.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m getting way too philosophical for this early in the morning.” She sipped her coffee. “So you’re back for the rest of summer and you’re going to be helping me with the promo videos. I appreciate that.”

He gave her a look that implied he wasn’t buying that.

“I do,” she repeated. “You’ll be a great host.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

He studied her. “I’m back because my dad’s turning sixty and I haven’t seen my family in a while. What are you doing here?”

A direct question. She decided on a direct answer. “I was tired of what I was doing. I’d made my third and what will be my final attempt at a network job.” She drew in a breath. “The truth is I don’t translate well on camera. On paper, I should be exactly right. I’m attractive enough and intelligent enough and warm enough, and yet it simply doesn’t work. Going back to producing hard news was an option, but I couldn’t get excited about it. I was visiting my stepbrothers and while I was here, Mayor Marsha approached me about the job. I said yes.”

The offer had been unexpected, but she hadn’t taken long to accept. Getting out of LA had been appealing and being close to family had felt right. She’d never considered that Del would be coming back.

She glanced at him from under her lashes. Would that have made a difference? She told herself it wouldn’t have. He was only home for a few weeks. She could manage to hold it together for that long. Besides, the tingling was probably a onetime thing. A knee-jerk reaction to an unexpected visit from her past.

Del had been her first love. Of course there would be residual emotions. Knowing him, caring about him, had changed her forever.

“About the videos,” she said.

“You have lots of ideas.”

“How did you know?”

He looked at her, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “You always did and you were forceful with your opinions.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“I agree. You told me what they were, then explained why I was an idiot if I didn’t listen to you.”

She sipped her coffee. “I doubt I said idiot,” she murmured.

“You were thinking it.”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

She had been forceful and determined. Instead of finding her annoying, Del had encouraged her to explain herself. He’d wanted to know what she was thinking.

“You had some good ideas to improve the tours,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll have good ideas about the videos. Of course, I have some experience with the medium myself.”

He could have acted like a bastard, she thought, remembering how things had ended. Of course, if he’d still been angry, he would have refused to work with her.

“Challenging my authority?” she asked lightly.

“We’ll see.”

She glanced at her watch. “I need to get to work.” She suggested a day and time for their first official meeting, then stood and walked back toward town.

Partway down the path, she had the urge to turn back. To see if Del was watching her. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw he wasn’t. He’d gone inside.

Foolishness, she told herself. Just like the tingles. If she ignored it, it would go away. At least that was the plan.

* * *

DEL FINISHED HIS COFFEE, then accepted the inevitable and drove to his parents’ house. As he pulled into the long driveway, he braced himself for the inescapable drama. Because this was his family and nothing was ever easy.

He parked and walked toward the front door. The huge rambler looked as it always had—sprawling with a large garden front and back. Beyond the rear yard was the workshop his father used. Two stories of windows in a steel frame, because of the light. Ceallach also had a studio on the far side of town for when he needed to get away.

His father was a famous glass artist. World famous. When he was good, he was the best. But when he drank...

Del tried to shake off the memories, but they were persistent. His father had been sober several years now. He no longer destroyed a year’s worth of work in a single afternoon’s drunken tantrum and left the family desperate and destitute. It was better now. But for Ceallach’s five sons, better had come too late.

A happy bark drew him back to the present. A brown, black and white beagle raced around the side of the house and headed for him. Sophie bayed her pleasure as she rushed at him.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, scooping her up and standing. She wriggled in his arms, trying to get closer and give kisses at the same time.

“You probably don’t remember me,” he told the dog. “You’d be this happy to greet a serial killer.”

Sophie gave a doggie grin in agreement. He put her on the ground and followed her to the front door. His mother opened it before he could knock and shook her head.