Body Language Read Free

shook her head in awe and respect. “Anyway, to make a long story short, he’s running for governor, and I’ve just clinched a deal with his people. I’m going to be making all of his campaign commercials—right now they want five—along with two docu-bios, a ten-minute and a thirty-minute.”
    McCade grinned back at her. “That’s great, Sand. What’s your role? Producer? Director?”
    “Both. In fact, I may even do some of the camera work myself.”
    “I’m between jobs, if you need an extra hand.”
    Sandy stared at him incredulously. “Are you kidding?” But then she shook her head. “I couldn’t even pay you one quarter of what you usually get.”
    He shrugged. “Pay me union scale. It sounds like fun, and—”
    She launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in a friendly hug. Still holding the bottle of beer, McCade wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes and breathing in the clean scent of her hair. Damn, she was so soft, so warm and sweet. Why had he waited so long to realize that everything he’d ever wanted was right here?
    She pulled back slightly to grin at him. “You’re hired,” she said, then frowned. “It’s going to take three or four weeks to get all the footage I’ll need.”
    “I’m not planning on going anywhere.” He gazed into her eyes. God, couldn’t she feel his heart pounding? He swallowed. He had to say it. “Look, Sand—”
    “There’s more I have to tell you.” She pulled free from his arms and settled back into the couch. She smiled at him, a bewitching mixture of amusement and self-consciousness. “McCade, I’m in love.”
    McCade stared at her. “Love?”
    Sandy nodded, her eyes filled with happiness. “I’ve finally met the man of my dreams,” she said. “Last week. His name’s James Vandenberg. James Austin Vandenberg the Fourth, can you believe it? He’s Harcourt’s right-hand man. He’s got a law degree from Harvard, he’s smart and nice and tall, almost as tall as you are. He’s outrageously handsome, with this wavy, black hair and brown eyes you could die for. He’s single, straight, thirty-three years old, and currently unattached….”
    Sandy’s words washed over McCade as he continued to stare at her. She was in love. With someone else. He felt sick to his stomach, sick clear through to his soul. His disappointment was laced with a white-hot anger. Dammit, why hadn’t he come out here a week ago? Why hadn’t he figured out how he’d felt months ago when he was last visiting? He was angry, hurt, and shocked—shocked that the incredible McCade luck had finally seemed to run out. He carefully put the bottle of beer down on the table, amazed that his hand wasn’t shaking uncontrollably.
    “Is he here?” he asked suddenly, interrupting her.
    “What?”
    “Is he here, now?”
    Understanding made her cheeks flush. “No!”
    “Why not?”
    “I just met the man last week—”
    “If it’s really love, Sandy, why are you waiting?”
    Sandy pulled her eyes away from McCade’s piercing gaze, sat up, slumped back down again, then laughed, a short, nonhumorous-sounding burst of air. She shook her head slightly, pushing her hair away from her face. “If you must know the truth, James doesn’t even know I exist, all right? Happy, McCade?”
    No. No, he wasn’t happy. But why not? Why wasn’t he feeling relieved? Sandy wasn’t actually involved with this man yet—this smart, nice lawyer with the long, old-money-sounding name. This man was probably a perfect match for her, and no doubt was easier to get along with, easier to live with than McCade would ever be.
    “Enough about me and James,” she said. “Tell me about the rain forests—”
    “Kirk, can I tell you tomorrow?” McCade asked. “I, um…I’ve got to crash, like, right now. I just, you know, hit the exhaustion wall and…”
    Sandy’s eyes widened with surprise. “Yeah, sure.” She looked at him closely. “Are you really all right, McCade?