“What are you doing here?” Casey asked as soon as she entered the kitchen and saw Tate sitting on a stool at her island—the stool she’d already come to think of as belonging to Jack.

“Olivia let me in, fed me, and now I’m trying to think what I can say to get you to cook for me this summer. Any suggestions?”

Casey went to the dishwasher to unload it, but it was empty. “Did Olivia clean up the kitchen?”

“I guess so.” He was watching her, waiting for her to make a decision. “It wasn’t me, but I would have done it. Although if Olivia hadn’t been here I would have been too terrified to enter your house. She grabbed me by the shirt collar and pulled me inside. She is extraordinarily strong.”

Casey didn’t smile at his joke. Turning, she glared at him. “So it’s true that you’re spending the summer here?”

“Looks like I am. Jack’s director is sending a trainer for him so he’ll be in top shape for his next movie. I thought I’d use him too. The garage is being converted to a gym. If you want to join in, you’re welcome.”

“No thanks.” She took a breath. “Has Kit found someone to play Elizabeth?”

“I think he means for you to do it.”

“No!” Casey said. “Absolutely not.” She started for the door. “I will tell him that I’m not going to be in his play.”

“Please?” Tate asked loudly.

Casey hesitated, her back to him.

“I know you don’t like me and I’m sorry for that, but I promised Kit I’d help out. You were the only one in those auditions with me who had any talent. If one of those girls who think I’m some fairy-tale hero from my movies takes the role, the play will be a flop. Critics will come and butcher it all. Sales will fall off and it will be the charities that suffer. Maybe they’re impersonal, faceless organizations, but they still—”

“No, they’re not.” She looked at him. “The charities aren’t impersonal or faceless to me. A third of those proceeds will go to my mother’s clinic.”

“I hadn’t heard that. What kind of clinic is it?”

“Medical. In Appalachia.”

“That’s great,” Tate said. “The more tickets we sell, the more money your mother gets, right?”

Casey tightened her lips.

“Does your mom know how good an actor you are?”

Casey stepped away from the door. “I’m not good. It was an angry scene and I was furious. At you.”

“I know,” he said, “and I’d be sorry for that if it hadn’t been some of the most powerful acting I’ve ever seen.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you piling praise on me?”

Tate started to give a little smile and lower his lashes at her. It was a trick he’d been using since he reached his full height and women began really looking at him. But then he thought of Olivia’s words and stopped. His head came up. “Because I want a good summer. I haven’t had even two weeks off in years. My sister and her daughter are coming here and I want to spend time with them. I had no plans to be in some local play, but Kit…” Tate threw up his hands. “I honestly don’t know how I got rooked into doing this and I already regret it, but on the other hand, if I don’t do something while I’m here I’ll go nuts with boredom. So what about it?”

“What part?” Casey asked.

“Cook for Jack and me and when Nina and Emmie get here, add them to the list. And play Elizabeth. But only if you swear that you won’t look at me like I’m some chocolate statue you want to devour.”

At that, Casey had to turn away to cover the tiny smile that came to her. “You want me to play Elizabeth because I don’t like you?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “But then, in my last three movies the lead actresses couldn’t stand me.”

“Understandable,” Casey muttered.

“Ouch! Can I give Kit your answer?”

“I will,” Casey said. “Next time I see him—”

“He’s here. Everyone is here.”

“Who is everyone and where is here?”

“At Tattwell. The whole cast is here, and the property is being fenced in. Guards have been hired to patrol the place. That guy Josh has half a dozen workmen putting the old gazebo back together. He and Jack have developed some kind of rivalry. Do you know what that’s about?”

Casey was scrubbing the sink. “I have no idea.”

“I was afraid it had something to do with the girl playing Jane. What’s her name? Glenda?”

“Gisele, but we all call her Gizzy.”

“Jack’s really taken with her.”

“It won’t last,” Casey said as she folded her cloth. “I have to ask Kit how he’s planning to feed the cast and whether he needs me for cooking.” She went to the door, but Tate stayed where he was. She could see that he was waiting for her to answer his questions. “All right, I’ll cook for you. I’ll deliver three meals a day.”

Tate didn’t move.

“And I’ll talk to Kit about being in the play.”

Tate smiled but he still didn’t get off the stool.

“What else?”

“It’s my niece, Emmie. My sister doesn’t cook. Never has. The last time she tried to scramble some eggs, she set the skillet on fire. Emmie thinks a Pop-Tart is a good breakfast.”

For the first time since seeing Tate Landers in her kitchen, Casey’s eyes came alive. “Pop-Tart? You start a child’s day with processed flour and pure sugar?”

“Not me. My sister. Emmie is a very picky eater. Think you could get her to eat something that didn’t come out of a delivery box?”

“Yes,” Casey said as she opened the screen door. “I’d like to go now and see what’s being done. But I guess you don’t have to leave since you own this house.”

Tate got off the stool and went to stand near her. “How about if I swear that I’ll never again enter this house unless you invite me in? No one else, just you.”

“You mean like a vampire?”

Tate gave a laugh that was part groan. “If they remake Dracula, think I should try out for the part? I’d bite beautiful necks right there.” Reaching out, he lightly touched the side of her neck with his fingertip—and an electrical current shot up his arm and ran through his chest.

Casey jumped away from him. “What the hell was that?”

“Static electricity, I guess. You okay?”

“Fine. But from now on, keep your hands to yourself.”

“Sure,” he said, then held the door open for her. “No touching, no trespassing, no anything. I got it.” He followed her through the gardens toward the big gazebo—and he was smiling. Static electricity, like hell! That was pure sexual desire in its most basic form.