catch a cold,” Knox says from behind me, stirring me from my teenage memories.
Normally, when someone surprises you, you jump, but I think I’m too emotionally spent to be surprised he found me—again!
“Go away,” I say, resting my head on my knees, abandoning my plan to act unfazed by him, which clearly hadn’t worked. “Don’t you have some movie to star in? Some red carpet to walk?”
He kneels down beside me, not caring that it’s raining. “I’m in-between projects right now. I have a premiere next month, but until then . . .”
I get to my feet. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you on the radio,” he says, like that’s some sort of explanation.
“And what? You thought you’d just pop in to see me? Call my show? Put my identity at risk? You even used your own name,” I say, heading back toward my house.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” he says, following me. “What name should I have used?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Don’t celebrities use aliases all the time, like Scooby Doo?”
“You wanted me to say I was Scooby Doo?”
“You’re missing the point!” I say, throwing my hands up.
His eyes soften. “I heard your voice and wanted to get in touch.”
I turn around to face him, and his steps falter slightly. He’s over six feet, and I’m five-five on a good day, so I cock my chin up to be extra intimating. “Did you think about me at all when you made that decision? Or was it just about what you wanted?” I don’t give him time to respond. “Of course you didn’t think about me, what I wanted, whether I wanted to see you. Nope! As usual, it’s all about Knox Merrick,” I say, continuing to walk through the grass to the safety of my back porch.
His hand lands on my waist. No, it doesn’t land there, he grabs me, not hard or rough, but with just enough tension to let me know he’s not going anywhere. “Don’t call me that.”
I push his hands off me. “Your name?”
“My full name. It makes me sound like I’m not a real person.”
“How did you imagine this would go?” I ask. “Honestly? What did you think my response would be to seeing you again after all this time?”
“I guess, I hoped you’d be as happy to see me as I am to see you.”
That sounds like one of those perfect movie lines that are designed to make a woman’s heart melt. Let’s just say it’s not achieving the desired goal.
He reaches for my hand, touching my fingers just briefly. My goosebumps triple in size with that one small gesture. A slideshow of memories flash through my mind, like one of those classic red View-Masters you have as a kid. Each click of the button shows you a new image.
Snap! His hand brushing my hair back.
Snap! His fingers sliding down my thigh.
Snap! His hands holding my hips.
“You’re cold,” he says. “Let’s go inside.”
Shaking my head, I say, “You’re not coming inside.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and I know exactly what his dirty mind is thinking. He’s remembering the time we were having sex from behind, and he pulled out and released on my butt because he didn’t have a condom. I was on the pill, but we usually doubled up on protection.
“I seem to recall you not liking it when I come . . .”
Yep, that’s it. I do my best not to smile, but a little one sneaks out. “Be quiet.”
“That’s better,” he says.
“You’re still not coming in.”
His dirty mind is working overtime today, his grin growing. “Not yet.”
“Goodbye, Knox,” I say, opening the door, slamming it for good measure, and disappearing inside.
*
Gently, I pull back the curtain on my front porch window to make sure he’s gone. What the hell? The rain has stopped, and I see him leaning against his car, his cell phone to his ear. He’s the complete picture of a movie star, sexy and cute, with a devilish little grin.
Does he plan on staying here all night? Should I just talk to him and get it over with? Maybe he just wants to talk about old times.
A stroll down memory lane can be dangerous.
If you only go down the paths with good memories, it’s too easy to get lost there, to want to take a trip back there. I can’t let myself fall into that trap. I have to remember the bad roads. That’s the problem with Knox and me. There really