Page 29 of Mending Fences
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Part of Mandy wondered exactly what number she was on DC’s list. In the past few years, she had replaced Candace’s three-date rule with her own ten-date law. No one ever stayed around long. She longed to tell Daniel she wasn’t that kind of girl.
She shivered.
His arm came around her. “We don’t have jackets. I think I should take you home. I need to get back to Chicago. I fly to New York in the morning for the paparazzi and Vandemark trials.”
“I’ve read about them.” Mandy didn’t want to think about the gorgeous socialite Daniel had dated for more than a year. “Do you have to be there for both trials?”
“Unfortunately. I hope they can be resolved quickly.”
A lone duck swam across the pond, its quacking answered from the far bank.
“Whatever you do, please promise to leave this pond here.” She would have asked for more, but shared memories of a single summer gave her little right.
Daniel nodded against Mandy’s head and pulled her closer.
Neither of them moved for several minutes. Mandy wished the fireflies were out. It would be an excuse to sit there longer.
When Hank’s great-grandson quacked, breaking the silence, Mandy forced herself to shift away from Daniel’s side. He stood and helped her to her feet. For a second she thought he would kiss her again, but he stepped back and grabbed the crutches.
He handed her the flashlight. “Can you turn it on?”
Holding the light awkwardly against her crutch, Mandy kept it aimed at the ground to not blind either of them and hopped off the blanket.
Daniel shook the blanket and folded it in half before wrapping it around her shoulders. “You’re still shivering.” He took the flashlight from her hand. Mandy tucked the blanket more tightly around herself to prevent it from sliding as she maneuvered on her crutches. Daniel guided her to the truck.
Mandy wondered if her shivering had more to do with the man than it did the dropping temperatures. Several yards from the truck, Daniel stopped and turned off the flashlight. He stepped into her space, set his hands on her waist, pulled her close, then rested his chin on her head for a moment before he spoke. “Amanda, I am not going to say I am sorry for the kiss, because I am not.”
Mandy felt thebuthanging in the air.
“But I am sorry for the timing. I have some things I committed to attend to in New York with various women. Some of it is for publicity, and I can’t explain more. I don’t want you to think I am using you or—” He let the sentence hang.
“Do you usually kiss on the first date?” Mandy would have covered her mouth, but Daniel stood too close.
“Regardless of what the tabloids say, or will say, I am not a player. Back when I was at college, maybe, but not as bad as I might have been. Mr. Morgan saw to that.” He paused to lift his face to the stars. “But no, I don’t normally kiss on the first date, and I suspect you don’t either.”
Mandy hoped that didn’t call for an answer.
“But if we stand here much longer, I will probably kiss you again, and I don’t know if that is wise.”
She felt him shift away as the flashlight came back to life.
No, it wouldn’t be wise at all.
Stupid.
Double stupid.
Wonderful.
Daniel turned on the radio, hoping to find something to distract his thoughts during the nearly three-hour drive to Chicago. Love song, love ballad, polka music. Seriously?
Mandy was not some Hollywood A-lister who had grown immune to the power of a kiss, or a socialite who expected such was her due. At dinner, he’d admitted to becoming jaded, but when he kissed her tonight, he realized it was more than that. He had forgotten what real felt like.
And real was a dangerous thing. Especially when the next two weeks required he act as if he were vying for an Oscar. Why had he agreed to his legal team’s plan? At the time, the high-profile social life seemed like a good idea. But that was before Amanda had fallen back into his life. The worst part was, he couldn’t explain why he was going to spend as much time trying to get in the gossip columns as he would be sitting in the courtroom.
Not only had the DA subpoenaed his testimony for the criminal trial of the paparazzi, but Summerset’s lawyers’—or her father’s—had planned the civil suit against the hotel to coincide with the state’s prosecution of the paparazzi. It was a media frenzy in the making, and he had managed to land himself in the middle of it, as vulnerable as a bleeding diver in a shark cage.
