Page 27 of The Treasure Hunt Hookup

So. Much. Lust.

I know Mary-Alice would tell me to just work out all my frustrations by taking Reeve up on his date invitation – and then taking him straight to bed. But I know that would never end well. Reeve is still dazzled by the memory of his night with Lola; he doesn’t realize that the real me couldn’t be further from that bar-hopping, wild, brazen woman.

And I don’t want to be gazing breathlessly into his eyes … only to see the disappointment creep in when he finally figures out the truth.

No, what I really I need is to decompress, and get away from all the men determined to raise my blood pressure in ways both fun, and infuriating. So, instead of heading home, I detour to one of my favorite hideaways: the old movie theater a couple of towns over, which shows classic films on weekday nights for five bucks a ticket, and serves the best buttered popcorn around.

Luckily, I’m in time for the showing ofThe Philadelphia Story, but I’ve just picked up my snacks and an extra-large Diet Coke, when I hear my name across the deserted lobby.

I turn. Reeve’s standing there, holding a box of Raisinets and looking maddeningly handsome in a soft gray t-shirt and jeans.

Of course he is.

“Are you following me?” I blurt, thrown by the unexpected sight of him – and just how good he looks in those worn Levi’s.

“Nope. Areyoufollowing me?” he shoots back with a grin.

I shake my head, wishing I’d dropped home first to change clothing. “I guess it’s just a coincidence,” I say, trying to subtly smooth down my wayward curls.

“Or fate,” Reeve suggests.

I give him a wry look. “Yes, it’s fate that the movie buff is at the only theater in a fifty-mile radius of town.”

“True, that was a given. The fated part is that you’re here, too.”

He strolls over, and steals a handful of my popcorn. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m already smiling. I can’t help it. Something about this guy relaxes me – at the same time as he sends all my nerves haywire.Damn him.

“Straight-up buttered?” he asks, tasting it. “I would have taken you for a sweet-and-salty kind of woman.”

“No, I’m classic,” I reply airily, “Getting all the toppings? That’s just having your cake and eating it too.”

“I never understood that phrase,” Reeve muses, as we make our way towards the screen. “Isn’t that the whole point of cake: to have it, then eat it? Who wants to have cake theycan’teat?”

I pause. “You’re right, I always want to eat all the cake.”

When we’re inside the dim theater, Reeve hangs back. “Want me to choose my seat first, to prove I’m not following you? You can sit as far away as you like,” he adds, with that irresistible grin. “But that means you can’t share my candy.”

I smile back. “Well, since you already know I’m a sucker for a sweet treat …”

I flash back to the ice cream parlor, and I can tell, Reeve does too. His eyes go to my mouth, and I could swear, they darken with a sensual gleam.

Hello.

My stomach twists, and I have to gulp a breath. “The movie’s going to start soon,” I blurt, looking away. “We should probably get seated.”

“You mean, before all the good ones are taken?” Reeve asks, looking amused.

We’re the only two people in the theater.

“I guess the good people of Yancey County aren’t classic movie fans,” I say, leading us to the best seats in the house: middle row, middle seats.

“Their loss,” Reeve agrees. He takes a seat, and gets comfortable: stripping off his jacket, arranging his candy, and sprawling out. He even kicks off his boots, revealing …

“Are those socks with E.T. on it?” I ask.

He lifts a foot, and wriggles his toes. “Yup,” he says cheerfully. “My niece gets them for me for the holidays, every year. She’s a little space geek,” he adds, obviously proud. “She just got accepted for a space camp program in the spring. I swear, she’ll be walking on Mars before any idiot billionaire gets around to it.”

All this, and he’s a devoted family man, too?

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