Pepper, the Highlander & the Dead Guy

“I am not falling in love,” I argued, knowing what she was thinking. “We just met. I barely know him.”

“Feelings have no timeframe,” Amy said, her laughter having faded. “Free yourself to enjoy and see where it takes you.”

Amy’s words still lingered in my head later that night when I returned home after supper with my family. I may complain about them sometimes, well maybe more than sometimes, but I do love when we get together. It had been thoughtful of Ian to send flowers, actually a gorgeous arrangement, to my mom with a note of apology for having to cancel and hope that the invitation would hold for another time. She had been delighted. I couldn’t help but wonder how it would have been with Ian there and surprisingly I was, once again, sorry he hadn’t been able to make it. Actually, I had found myself missing him.

Though maybe it was that I didn’t like the idea of him spending the evening with that femme fatale. And how long did she plan on staying? Overnight? The thought sparked my jealousy again and I shook my head. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t in a relationship with Ian. He could do as he wished.

I got myself comfortable, red plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a snug, long sleeve red top. With more than a crisp autumn chill in the night air, I got a fire going in the living room fireplace, made myself a cup of tea and took one of the four slices of my mom’s apple pie which she had insisted I take home since I hadn’t eat any dessert while there.

Mo laid spread out in front of the fireplace, apple pie not on his favorites’ list and Roxie was snuggled against him. All was right with the world at the moment, and I settled in to enjoy my tea and pie and an old, funny movie, Arsenic and Old Lace with Cary Grant.

The movie had barely started when Mo raised his head, gave a bark, and laid his head back down. That meant that someone he knew, and approved, was about to come to the door and sure enough a knock followed.

I reluctantly left my pie and went to open the door.

Ian stood there looking much too handsome.

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by without calling, but I felt the need to see you.”

I knew I was in trouble when yet again my heart swooned at his words. I wasn’t thinking right when the only thing that I could get out of my mouth was, “Apple pie?” I realized quick enough how foolish I sounded. “My mom sent me home with some of her homemade apple pie. Want to join me?”

“Apple pie, a favorite of mine,” he said.

And, of course, there was another thing we had in common.

We settled on the couch to enjoy our tea and pie and I realized we resembled a couple long comfortable with each other, ready for a relaxing night in front of the fireplace and television. How had I grown so comfortable, so fast with him?

“I’m really sorry about tonight. My publicist showed up unannounced. She was here to warn me that my old agent, Martin Sands, is making it seem that he’s responsible for a well-known apparel company seeking me out to be their male model for ads for their new line of undergarments. They have a campaign they want me to look at that will target both men and women.”

A lightbulb went off in my head, lights, camera, action, and all I could see was Ian posing half-naked along with half-naked women.

“Is it a good opportunity for you?” I asked, thinking how it would take him away from Willow Lake and me, and almost groaned at the absurd thought. I was pining over this guy, and I never pined over a guy. Did that tell me something?

“It’s more than a substantial offer and I agreed with Cerise, my publicist, that they came to me because of my success with my romance book covers. My image will help them sell their products, which is why Cerise said the offer isn’t near adequate in the least and they know it. She suggested an agent who could negotiate the deal for me, since it’s not the type of contract I could handle on my own. She also told me to watch out for Martin. The apparel company contacted him not knowing he no longer represented me, and he never let on that I was no longer his client.”

I suppose it was a legitimate excuse for her sudden appearance, though a phone call probably would have sufficed. I kept that thought to myself. I did, however, have a question I wanted answered, yet didn’t want to ask directly. “She did say you wouldn’t be staying here and with an offer like that and an apartment in New York City why would you?”