No Foolin' (Willowdale Romance Novel) Read Free

cheeks burned and she looked away. “It is. But I figure we’re safe here on a Tuesday afternoon.” Unconsciously, she checked to see that her seatbelt was fastened. It was. Of course it was.
    He set one hand against the back of her seat and leaned toward her. “Or maybe you’re just trying to take advantage of me, find out if my reputation is true.” He put his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, really.” Then he pressed the latch on her seatbelt and smiled. “But I’ll get over it.” His breath was hot and inviting on her skin like a warm breeze at the beach. A nudie beach, she thought, probably turning five kinds of red .
    She slapped away his hand and clenched her teeth. “I could always drop you off back in town.”
    Both his hands shot up. “No, no. I’m kidding. We can sit here and play twenty questions. Rock, paper, scissors. Truth or dare. Whatever you want.”
    She refastened her seatbelt and flicked on the radio. “Or we could sit here and ignore each other.” Which was the best thing to do with a guy like Teague Reynolds—the triple fudge brownie sundae of men: hot, irresistible, and gone before you know it. Totally bad for a girl’s heart. She was smart enough to recognize his kind.
    He turned the radio off. “So, what kind of job are you looking for?”
    She turned the radio back on. Her heart quickened as she glanced at the patch of silky brown hair peeking above the neckline of his shirt. Most actors waxed their chests. She hated that; real men had chest hair. Every inch of Teague Reynolds looked like a real man. And every inch of her wanted to find out for sure.
    His lids lowered, watching her eyes take him in. “Well?” One eyebrow perked up, ever so slightly.
    She felt her face turn red. “What?”
    He smirked. “I asked what kind of job you were looking for.”
    She looked past him, out the window. Now that she knew who he was, she was not interested. At least that’s what her brain was telling her; other parts were disagreeing. But no. No, no, no. He might have ten million women drooling over him, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being number ten-million-and-one. She’d managed to salvage a little bit of self-respect through all the heartbreak she’d suffered. “I have a job.”
    “I thought you said you were going to see about a job back on Main Street?”
    Kate drew in a deep breath and got a whiff of warm, sexy male. How could someone so appealing be so annoying? No wonder Kimmie Cameron needed counseling. “Yes. I’m a school nurse, which pays squat, and I need something for the summer this year.”
    He rubbed his stubbly chin. “This year? But not usually?”
    “I never agreed to twenty questions.” She pointed a finger at him. “You’ve played a few too many cop roles.”
    He turned the radio down. “I’ve only asked you three questions.”
    She pinched the bridge of her nose and prayed for a dose of patience. She did not want to get to know this man; he might turn out to be even more enticing. “No, you asked me four.”
    “Fine. Ask me four questions.” He shifted in his seat to face her, his arms crossed, mouth smirking, and hair curling around his shirt collar.
    Kate exhaled, wishing the tight quarters in her Jeep weren’t forcing her to be so darn close to this guy. “Fine. Question one. What are you doing here in Willowdale?”
    He shook his head. “No comment.”
    “Hey, that’s not an answer,” Kate protested.
    Teague shrugged. “I didn’t say I’d answer, I only said you could ask. Next?”
    “Cheater!”
    He dropped his smile. “I am not a cheater. Those rumors aren’t true.”
    Trying to suppress a dramatic eye roll, she drummed the steering wheel. “Where are you going after here?”
    “L.A., then the Sunshine Film Festival.” He held up two fingers. “Two more.”
    “Did you really tattoo Simone Peters’ name on your butt?” She held her breath.
    He leaned toward her. “I’ll let you check to find out for