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  Allie had become a celebrity of sorts, an odd feeling for the woman who had once been as invisible as wind. She was hailed all over town, offered coffee at Margie’s, the tab waved off; given a jar of jam from Aunt Ruby Mae’s; a box of chocolates from a group of teen girls who wanted to ensure their place as extras.

  Allie tried to avoid the extra attention, knowing drawing too much to herself risked exposing her identity. Allie Dean had made a name for herself in Tempest. Accomplished a lot. Allie Dean was commanding respect, making things happen.

  If her real identity was exposed, how far would Allison Gray get?

  Not very far, she knew. So Allie tried to stay out of the fawning Tempest limelight and stuck to the set—to her job—far from the barricades that Jerry had paid a local carpenter to erect. “It’ll keep out the damned riffraff,” he said. “Not to mention the hillbillies.”

  Allie had taken umbrage at the second comment, but bit her tongue. Undoubtedly, the people of Tempest looked like backward hicks compared to the sleek hipness of L.A. Still, the echo of Jerry’s laughter ringing in her head rankled.

  Besides, she had much bigger problems to contain than Jerry’s mouth, Earl’s growing ire—he’d already called her three times on her cell to complain about the disruption to Tempest’s traffic patterns—and the town’s incessant gossiping about who had what role in the film.

  She was really starting to care about Duncan Henry.

  In three weeks—because Jerry had made it clear he was on an accelerated shooting schedule to get this sequel into theaters for the Christmas season—she’d be heading back to L.A., leaving Duncan, Katie, and this town behind.

  Trouble was, she didn’t want to leave anymore. Sure, she wanted to leave Tempest—she hadn’t fallen in love with the town—but she didn’t want to leave Duncan.

  Or go through with her plan.

  Making love to him had changed the equation and all of a sudden she couldn’t make two and two add up to that nice even four she’d arrived with weeks earlier.

  “Allie, what do you think?”

  “Huh?” She shook herself back to the reality of Sorority Slumber Party Slaughter, answered the director’s question about a good location for the first exterior shot, took a few minutes to help round up a couple of extras who seemed to have gone missing, then headed off the set.

  As she rounded the corner of the costumes trailer, she nearly collided with a five-foot-five female werewolf.

  Covered from head to toe in thick, coarse bright pink-tipped hair, Lisa Connelly had been transformed. She had a long, bushy tail, thick, molded breasts, and narrow, pointed teeth. Her claws on all four paws had been painted red, all part of the character’s normal look—a sort of beauty school student gone wild, with fuchsia hair and crimson nails.

  It looked as though it had been designed for her—and it had, though Lisa didn’t know it. Allie had worked behind the scenes with Natasha, the costume designer, to tweak the character to fit Lisa’s real life persona. And boy, did it fit her. Perfectly.

  “Thanks for the part,” Lisa said, her voice muffled by the heavy, doglike head, but her excitement clear.

  “You’re welcome. You’re a really convincing werewolf.”

  Lisa leaned down, placing one paw on Allie’s shoulder. “I’ve got Wanda Wolfie’s motivation totally down, too. Her PMS drives her crazy and when the moon comes up, the claws come out. You can’t blame her for wanting to take out all those evil sorority sisters who teased her so badly because her cramps made her miss the pledging ceremonies.”

  “Revenge,” Allie said with a smile, “it’ll drive some people to murder.”

  “Yes, it will.” Lisa leaned back and nodded, the wolf head nearly bonking Allie in the process. “I gotta go. I have to practice howling. See you around the set.”

  Perfect. Everything was going exactly as she’d planned.

  Everything except for Duncan Henry. She’d seen him last night again, even though she kept vowing to stop. But still, she was drawn back as easily as a moth to a flame, to the very man who had been so bad for her before.

  The man she’d been unable to forget because he’d shattered her heart. It was like an addiction she couldn’t break.

  He’d won their little Truth or Dare game. She hadn’t been able to make love to him and walk away.

  She’d kept coming back, returning as easily as a yo-yo on a string. They’d found odd moments to steal away, for quick kisses, and longer moments in bed, and every time she told herself this would be the last time.

  Hah. She might as well join Duncanholics Anonymous because she certainly wasn’t giving up this one very easily.

  As Allie left the set, her cell phone vibrated against her hip. Before she answered it, she knew who it would be and found a smile curving across her face before she said hello.

  “What are you wearing?”

  Her pulse raced, fire ran through her body. “More than the last time you saw me.”

  Duncan tsk-tsked. “Hopefully you won’t have that on tonight. Do you have dinner plans?”

  “Depends,” she said. “What’s the weather going to be like?”

  “Why don’t you ask your friendly neighborhood weatherman to do a personal forecast?”

  Damn, she wanted him, more every second. Even when she knew better, knew she should be thinking about work, he consumed her thoughts. “Oh, I would, if I could find him.”

  “Look behind the oak tree.”

  She paused, then did as he said, peering around the tree to the right of her. Beside it stood Duncan, tall and handsome. The fire in her gut erupted into a full-out five-alarm blaze.

  “What are you doing here?” She lowered her phone and clicked it shut.

  He did the same. “Stopping by to see you.” He bent down and gave her a quick kiss, then pulled her behind the tree to give her an even better one.

  “Just for that?”

  “Mmm. I wish, but I have an ulterior motive. You promised me an interview. And every time I ask about it…well, we seem to get distracted.” As though to prove his point, he nuzzled her neck.

  Oh damn, that was right. The interview. Bright lights, camera lenses directed on Allie’s face, then blasting that countenance into every Tempest living room. How long would it be before someone recognized her?

  After all, if Ira could, how implausible was it that someone else wouldn’t?

  “Ah, let me check Jerry’s schedule and get back to you,” Allie said, stalling again.

  “How about this afternoon? Come down to the studio around three, that way I can fit it in between news reports. We put it off any longer and believe me, the Indy stations will be on this like flies on roadkill and I’ll lose my exclusive.” He slipped his hand into hers.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s going anywhere.” She agreed to the time and figured she could hang in the shadows of the studio and let Jerry do all the talking.

  Since it was morning yet, Duncan had plenty of time until he had to be at the station. They started walking the perimeter of the property, avoiding the gawkers, heading to the quieter rear area, where a thick copse of fragrant sumac had formed a natural fence.

  “What’s it like doing the weather?” she asked, searching for a topic that didn’t have anything to do with sex. And failing pretty miserably, considering the mention of weather sent her mind down a making love under warm sun rays path.

  He shrugged. “It’s a job.”

  “But it must be good to get a forecast right? I mean, people love the weatherman when he’s right.”

  “Yeah, and I have this great record, too.”

  But he said the words with no excitement, no hint of pride. “And that’s bad, because…why?”

  “It’s not me predicting the weather.”

  She stopped walking and glanced over at him. “What do you mean, not you? I see you myself on Channel Eleven every night.”

  “I mean…” At this, he let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, displacing the waves
, giving him a tousled, vulnerable look.

  The kind that clutched at her heart and made her start to care even more.

  “What?” she prompted when he didn’t finish.

  “I’m not the one doing the predicting. Hell, I can’t even read half the software and data they’ve got over there at WTMT-TV.”

  A mourning dove flew over them, its wings rustling as it settled into the lush greenery of the sumac. “What? How can you do the weather if you don’t know how to read the programs?”

  “Exactly.” He turned to her, his gaze earnest. “No one knows this, Allie. And hell, I shouldn’t even be telling you, but you’re from L.A. and before I know it, you’ll be back there, right?”

  She nodded, ignoring the sudden burst of disappointment at the thought of leaving. It was a crazy feeling. She didn’t want or need Duncan Henry, or anyone in Tempest for that matter.

  But she did. And the mere thought of leaving him now filled her with a pang so sharp, she had to draw in a breath to make it go away.

  “And,” Duncan went on, “this may sound crazy, but you remind me of someone. Someone I knew a long time ago. I could tell her things, and trust that it would go no further than her ears.”

  His gaze went off to some far-off spot and Allie’s breath caught, held. Did he mean her, Allison Gray? Was he talking about those early morning conversations around the hard plastic desks in Mr. Benoit’s room?

  She opened her mouth to ask, then shut it again, afraid to hear another woman’s name. Afraid he’d say no, that he’d mention someone else.

  And break her heart one more time.

  “Anyway,” he said, returning his attention to her, “that’s in the past. She no longer lives here, and now, I have you, right?”

  “Yeah.” Allie tried to work up a smile. What would happen if he found out she’d been lying to him? That she was Allison Gray, the girl everyone had called Allison the Whale? The Gray Whale? Would he turn away in disgust? Hate her for keeping the secret?

  Or worse, tell her it all had been a big joke? That he had guessed long ago, and had just been stringing her along?

  Allie pushed the thoughts away. “How are you predicting the weather then?”

  “With my secret weather weapon.” Duncan paused. A lopsided grin took over his face. “A Magic 8 Ball.”

  “A what?”

  “That’s what I use to predict the weather. Your average, run-of-the-mill, kids’ toy. I mean, I get the basic forecast information from NOAA. They send us literally a book of faxes every day, but I use the Magic 8 Ball to fine-tune because I honestly have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

  She couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d hit her in the head with a Monopoly board. “You’re kidding me.”

  “I’m not. It works.” He threw up his hands. “God knows how, but the silly thing is more accurate than Al Roker.”

  “And no one knows?”

  “Hell, no. They all think I’m some kind of weather god. Even my intern thinks I can make the sun rise all on my own. If people found out…Well, let’s just say I’d be unemployed faster than you could sneeze.”

  “And that would leave Katie in a lurch.”

  He nodded, sober as a judge. “I’m all she has.”

  Allie’s heartstrings tightened. She hadn’t wanted Duncan to be vulnerable. To open up to her. To show her a man that she could like…heck, even love, not with the wild infatuation of a teenager but with the deep, multidimensional love of an adult.

  This man she was lying to was also living a few lies of his own. And every time she tried to untangle herself, the mess she was in only got messier.

  Her plan had veered way off course. She could get revenge on all the Lisa Connellys in the world, and yet, Allie knew, there was no way she would forget the way Duncan’s shoulders had been weighted down by the life that had changed him, the soft tones of regret in his voice, the vulnerability that had changed the football captain into a man who needed someone to care.

  And make him remember that he, too, needed a life.

  In a few weeks, she was supposed to leave Tempest. Go back to L.A. and put this town behind her, probably forever. But the chances of doing that without a backward glance were getting slimmer by the second.

  Because she had fallen in love with Duncan Henry all over again.

  Chapter 19

  “Sugar-pie, it’s about damned time you were here to save my ass,” Jerry said later that morning. Clearly, reuniting with his right-hand girl had Jerry Wiggs in a good mood. Or what passed for a good mood in Jerry Land.

  For the first time since she’d started working for the despot-in-training, she was glad to be with Jerry, too. Because he kept her too busy to think about Duncan. And the chaos her heart had her in. In nearby towns, she’d found a dry cleaner, a shoe polisher, a tailor, and an organic grocer, not for Jerry, but for Brock Dudley, the star of Sorority Slumber Party Slaughter, who had yet to come out of his trailer.

  He was having his auras read, Jerry told her. “Apparently his colors are off. Either that, or he left his brain back in California. Actors.” Jerry cursed. “Remind me again why I work with these Hollywood loonies.”

  “Because you’re a director. And that’s your job.”

  “Oh yeah. I should have listened to my mother and gone into podiatry like my Uncle Lenny.” Jerry ran a hand through his short white hair and cursed again. He’d expanded his off-color vocabulary by several new words today. “With Brock’s aura in the wrong rainbow, I don’t think we’re going to get a single inch of film shot today.”

  “Sky’s kinda gray anyway,” Allie soothed. “So call the shoot off early. We’re supposed to go down to the WTMT-TV studios and film that promo piece at three anyway.” Jerry stared at her, openmouthed, as she rattled off instructions. “Then you and Scotty can come back here, map out the plan for tomorrow. I’ll have a chat with Brock’s psychic and make sure she and you are on the same color wavelength for tomorrow.”

  He was silent for a second, but Allie was done worrying whether Jerry would fire her for speaking up.

  “You are a freakin’ godsend,” Jerry said, grabbing her arms so tight, for a second she thought he might kiss her. Then he let her go and stalked away, screaming at the top of his lungs for Scotty and Leath, looking almost…happy.

  Or as happy as Jerry Wiggs got.

  One career disaster averted. If only her personal life were so easy to clean up.

  A glint of metal caught Allie’s eye. She broke away from the set crew and strode down the sidewalk, then onto the grassy area beside the house. “Hi, Katie.”

  “Hi.” Katie raised the leash with the calm, patient dog on the other end. “Ranger here needed a walk and well, I thought I’d come down. You know, see you at work.”

  Allie bent down and gathered the young girl into a tight hug. Allie could only imagine what it had taken for Katie to leave the house and come down here, especially considering how much of the town had gathered at this particular spot. “It’s good to see you. Really good.”

  She grinned. “It’s good to be outside. You were right, it was time for me to get out of that house.”

  Allie noticed, though, that Katie had parked her chair on the side of a tree, out of view of most of the people standing across the street. “Why don’t you come on over to the set? I’ll introduce you around. You can meet our star, if I can get him out of his trailer. He’s having aura issues.”

  For a moment, an excited light shone in Katie’s eyes. Then, just as quickly, it dimmed. She gripped the armrests of the chair—her security blanket—and shook her head. “Maybe…another time.”

  Allie decided not to push it. Katie had made great strides in the last few days. Forcing her to go too far out of her comfort zone could send her scurrying back to the safety of that bedroom. That, Allie knew, from her high school years. Knew far too well. “Okay. One step at a time.”

  “Or in my case,” Katie replied, with a small smile, “one roll at a time.”


  They shared a laugh, then Katie sobered and toyed with the brake on the side of her chair. “I also came down here to ask you something.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Will you come to dinner tonight?”

  “Of course. I’ve basically been there every night.”

  “I know, but…” Katie paused. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

  Allie heard her name called, and she glanced back to the set, signaling to Jerry that she’d be there in a second. “What’s special about tonight?”

  “Nothing. I just…” Katie drew in a breath, gave Ranger a pat, then met Allie’s gaze. “My brother is really happy with you and it means a lot to me to see him happy.”

  “He’s happy with me?”

  “I may be crippled, but I’m not blind, Allie. He’s falling head over heels for you. You’re the only thing he ever talks about. ‘Allie said this. Allie did that.’” Katie gave her a good-natured, teasing smile.

  Joy soared through Allie, then was just as quickly chased back to the ground by a dose of reality. Duncan might be interested now, but she knew better than anyone how fickle his heart could be.

  And how quickly it would change if he found out her real identity. How fast would he back away, run into another woman’s arms, as he had that night?

  How quickly would he turn away, once he realized she’d been lying to him all this time? She’d woven a web of deceit, and untangling it would surely cost her the very thing that she now wanted.

  “Well, that’s sweet, Katie,” Allie said, swallowing the dose of reality that had hit her hard. “Maybe we’ll keep in touch after I go back to L.A.”

  Hurt flickered across Katie’s features. Allie cursed the decisions she’d made, but she couldn’t go back and undo them. It was far too late. “Go back to L.A.?”

  “That’s where I live.” But it didn’t feel like home, not anymore.

  “Well, duh, I knew that.” Katie scowled, the easy mood gone, Katie’s defenses back in place. “Anyway, I don’t blame you. I’d leave this town in my dust, too. If I could. I used to have plans to do that, you know.”