The Girl From Summer Hill (Summer Hill 1)

Putting on a smile, she turned back to the door. Would he welcome her or call the sheriff?

She shifted the container to free a hand so she could knock, but then she froze. Walking into the room was the actor Jack Worth, and all he had on was a pair of very low-riding sweatpants.

Casey flattened herself against the wall, and for the second time that morning her heart started pounding in her ears. She’d seen Jack Worth on the big screen, blown up to epic proportions as he tore through streets on a motorcycle, ran across buildings, rappelled down mountains—and saved the girl while doing it. His movies were nonstop action.

Whatever could be imagined, Jack Worth had done it onscreen—and usually while wearing the bare minimum of clothing. And she was one of his biggest fans! Meeting him had always been a dream of hers.

I must get myself under control, Casey thought. Calm down. No gushing or staring, or making a fool of myself.

But she wasn’t succeeding at being calm. Two nude, or nearly so, drop-dead-gorgeous men in one day. Was the angel who’d been assigned to look over her a sweetheart or a sadistic devil?

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, then turned toward the door.

But then Jack spoke. His voice seemed as familiar to her as her own. He was no smooth James Bond. Jack’s voice was deep and gravelly, rough. Kind of dangerous-sounding.

She crept back against the wall. He really sounded like that! No sound adjustments—that was his actual voice.

“What are you so grumpy about?” She heard Jack’s voice fade as he went toward the kitchen.

“Kit put some girl in my guesthouse.”

Casey froze, her breath held. She was now going to hear her fate.

“That’s good,” Jack said as he returned to the breakfast room. “You need somebody to look after the place when you’re not here. This refrigerator is empty.”

“That’s what happens when you leave your cook at home.”

“Any hope for delivery?”

“In rural Virginia before full daylight?” Tate said. “Quit dreaming. There’s coffee, so have some.”

Jack poured himself a cup from the pot on the table and took a drink. “This is good. Who made it?” He glanced back at Tate. “What’s on for today?”

“I made the coffee. Kit wants me to…” When Tate looked up, his eyes were bleak. “He’s going to put on a play, even bought a big building and built a stage.” Tate paused. “His first production is Pride and Prejudice, and he wants me to read with the women who audition for the role of Elizabeth.”

Jack laughed. “Since you’re the only Darcy who’s been able to knock Colin Firth off his pedestal, I’m sure you’ll attract a lot of would-be Lizzys, Janes, and all the others.”

“I guess so. Kit said he wants to boost town spirit and to bring the people who have houses on the lake back to town. Seems they’ve started driving to Richmond to do their shopping, and local sales are falling. Since the proceeds from the play go to charity, I couldn’t say no.”

Outside, Casey suddenly realized that she was again spying. What was wrong with her today? She started to leave but then Jack said, “Think they’ll have food at the auditions?”

“Yeah, and I think it’s being cooked by that girl in my guesthouse.”

Casey could no more walk away than she could have flown.

Jack gave a grunt. “What in the world happened to turn you into something like one of your characters? You look like you’re about to draw a sword on somebody.”

“She was spying on me.”

Casey’s heart leaped back into her throat.

“Oh. That’s bad,” Jack said. “Was she hiding in the bushes? Did you take her camera away from her?”

“No bushes,” Tate said. “And no hiding. I don’t think she took photos. But I believe she watched me take a shower.”

Jack drew in his breath in horror. “She sneaked inside your house? We need to call the police. She can’t—”

“No!” Tate said. “She was in the guesthouse and I used the shower on the porch. But I wouldn’t have done it if Kit had told me someone was staying there.”