“Look what you did!” Casey said. “You ate an entire pie! The whole thing. Or did you just tear it up for the sport of it?”

Tate stepped away from her. “Ate it,” he said.

“Oh, really? From the look of you, you took a bath in it.”

Tate put his hand to his hair and pulled out a couple of blackberries. Sometimes he felt silly having such long hair, but his contracts called for it. No wig, no extensions, just lots of real hair.

“I guess you did all this because you think you can. You own the place, plus you’re a movie star, so you can walk into someone’s home and steal her food. Is that what was in your mind?”

When Tate backed into a stool, he sat down.

Casey glared at the ruffle-edged pie plate. It was an Emile Henri, and her mother had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday. Last night she’d put her favorite pie in it, but now it was nearly empty. Just a piece of crust clung to the bottom. “I promised Josh and Kit some of that pie, but now it’s gone.” She looked back at him as he sat there in silence, watching her. “This morning I felt really bad about what happened. I should have told you I was there as soon as I saw you strip naked. But I didn’t.”

Tate raised his eyebrows.

“I sat there and watched you and later I was prepared to lie about it. I was so afraid that you’d throw me out of my house that I planned to deny being where I was and seeing what I did.” Her motion included his entire body.

“But I can’t take this,” she said. “I have to have privacy.” She went to a far cabinet and opened an overhead door, but the two big plastic pie carriers were at the top. She stretched but couldn’t reach them.

Tate’s arm went over her head, pulled the containers out, and set them on the counter.

“Thanks,” she said, then corrected herself. “I mean, no thanks. I don’t need your help. Look at these things. They were made to hold six pies. Six! But now I have only five of them.”

Tate went back to sit on the stool.

Casey began putting the pies in the carriers and loudly snapping the clasps. “Okay, I will leave. Since you believe that ownership and your…what? Celebrityship—if that’s a word. No! Entitlement. That’s what it is. Your sense of entitlement allows you to shower on my back porch and wander in and eat what I’ve cooked for other people. Since I cannot live with that, I must leave. Where I’m going to find a house with a decent kitchen so I can cook for Jack, I don’t know.”

“Jack?” Tate asked.

“Yes.” She glared at him. “While you were wandering about the grounds in your birthday suit, Jack and I became friends.” She gave him a look of triumph.

Tate seemed surprised—and very interested.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. Friends! That’s what Jack and I are. Not that it’s any of your business, but Jack is falling for Gisele Nolan. But then, that’s understandable considering that she’s so beautiful.” Casey waved her hand. “Not that anything in Summer Hill interests a big movie star like you, but anyway, your friend is going to spend the summer here so he can play Bingley. And Gizzy will be Jane. Jack is going to live in your big, unused house, and I’m going to cook for him. It would have been perfect since I live close by, but now you’ve ruined everything. Can you drive?”

Tate’s eyebrows were high on his forehead as he gave a single nod.

She took the truck keys off the counter and tossed them to him. “Good. Get what’s left of the pies and put them in the truck, then drive us to the auditions. I don’t know why he’d want you, but Kit expects you to be there.”

Casey, still so angry she could hardly see, got into the passenger seat and slammed the door. When Tate got in beside her, she said, “I’d ride in the back but it’s illegal.” She looked out the windshield. “Please tell me that isn’t your shirt hanging from my roof!”

Tate bent forward to look up. His blue plaid shirt was still caught in the gutter, waving in the breeze. He got out, grabbed the tip of it, pulled it down, and got back into the truck.

Casey’s teeth were clamped together. “Were you in my bedroom?”

Tate was looking at his shirt. There was a big hole in the front. “Do you know how to sew on a button?”

That made Casey so angry her hands went into fists. She started to go after his throat, but what sounded like a child’s laughter stopped her. “What was that?”

“Emmie. She’s my six-year-old niece.” Tate put his arm across the seat, backed the truck up, and headed toward the big gate. “Emmie truly loves it when someone yells at me. Her mother—my sister—does it all the time.” He gave Casey the smile he used onscreen to make the heroine say she loved him. It was the one the fan mags said made women start removing their clothes.

But it did nothing for Casey. She glared at him. “You’re an egotistical jerk, and turn off your phone.”

She didn’t say another word all the way to the auditions.

When they got to the warehouse, Casey started to get out of the truck, but Tate pushed the button to lock her in. She didn’t look at him, just crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the front window.

“I want to say I’m sorry,” Tate said. “I never meant to invade your privacy. I was wrong to get angry at you this morning, and you are right. Even though I own the place, I should not run around in my birthday suit.”

Casey didn’t meet his eyes. His apology didn’t sound real. It was as though it had been scripted and rehearsed—and he was saying it all with a touch of humor. But worse was that his tone seemed smugly certain that she would immediately forgive him for whatever he’d done.

“I’m going to leave tomorrow.” He sounded sad. “I’m going back to L.A., where…well, I’m going home. Please remain in the house. If Jack stays here—”

She glared at him. “What do you mean? If Jack stays?”

Tate gave her a little smile. “I don’t want to disparage anyone. I’m sure the girl he’s attracted to is beautiful, but Jack has many obligations and people who depend on him.”

“Ooooooh,” Casey said. “Important people, who no doubt have barrels full of money. Jack can’t possibly stay in little Summer Hill, Virginia, and be in a tiny local production and—”

“That isn’t what I meant!” Tate said. “I just think that Jack won’t stay. His agent will call and he’ll—”

“Fly out on the next jet? For what? So he can spend more time with people like you? If you don’t unlock this door and let me out of here, I’m going to start screaming.”

Right then Josh came out of the building and Casey started pounding on the window.

Frowning, he came over, and as Josh touched the handle, Tate unlocked the door. “Everything all right here?”

“It is now.” Casey slid to the ground.

Josh was glaring at Tate as though trying to figure out what was going on.

“Hi, I’m—” Tate began.

“I know who you are,” Josh said. “Why was Casey hitting on the glass to get my attention? Did you lock her in the truck?”

“Josh!” Casey said. “The door stuck, just let it go. Besides, he’s leaving our town tomorrow. Help me with the pies, will you?”

It took Josh a moment, but he turned back to Casey. “Kit and I saved room for your berry custard.”

Casey gave a sound that was like a growl. “It’s gone. Every bit of it was eaten!” She took a breath. “What happened while I was away?”

Josh got the pie carriers out of the back. “No surprise: Kit gave Jack the Bingley role, and Gizzy will be Jane.”

The truck door was still open, and Casey knew Tate was sitting inside. She raised her voice so he could hear. “Has Kit persuaded you to be Darcy?”

“He’s tried, but I’m not sure I can do it,” Josh said.

She put her arm in his. “You’d be the best-looking man to ever play him—even better than any man in the movies.” Casey spoke so loudly she was nearly shouting. She walked with Josh back into the warehouse.