Chasing Starlight by Teri Bailey Black

Author:Teri Bailey Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

CHAPTER 18

The house smelled delicious. Kate stood still, breathed in, and decided it was pot roast. Every light seemed to be on, and the high notes of an operatic soprano drifted from the living room, with a scratchy quality that suggested a record player.

She moved to the arched opening.

Hugo sat sideways in the wingback chair, wearing a dark blue beret, his head bent over a National Geographic magazine, his legs draped over the arm of the chair. His calves were bare, and for a second, she thought he was wearing green, plaid shorts, then she realized it was a kilt.

“Do ya cool them jumping jacks?” he called over the opera without looking up from the magazine. “Me dog could do better.”

“Your dog can’t even … climb the stairs,” Ollie huffed from a few feet away, his outstretched arms rising and falling in lazy jumping jacks, his feet rooted to the floor. Today’s hat was a wreath of laurel leaves—which explained the white sheet draped over his shoulder, belted at his waist.

“Aye, but me dog ain’t seekin’ fame and glory. So move yer legs, ya lazy cur, or I’ll be addin’ a dozen moor.”

Ollie noticed Kate in the doorway and smiled brightly, his arms still pumping. “Kate! You’re home!”

Hugo’s eyes darted up from the magazine. Their gazes held as she walked closer, full of everything that had passed between them the night before, but all he said was, “Aye, the bonnie lass hay returned.” The kilt looked strangely at home on him, with his Celtic pallor and brooding good looks.

She stopped when she reached the dog at the foot of the chair. “I’m guessing you pulled that beret out of the wheelbarrow.”

“Tisn’t some Frenchie beret, ya daft lassie, tis me Scottish tam.” He pulled it off his head, releasing dark, tousled hair. “Only, I’m a fearin’ I sound a wee bit Irish.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t know.” The green kilt had slid up, revealing nice thighs shaped by muscle.

Hugo smiled dangerously, pulling down the hem. “Mind yer wicked eyes.”

Kate returned his smile, as the soprano’s song peaked in a final high note.

“Twenty,” Ollie huffed, lowering his arms. His state of half-dress wasn’t nearly as intriguing as Hugo’s. “I’m in training, Kate. I decided you were right—I need more exercise. Every hour, Hugo blows the horn, and I walk up and down the staircase twice and do twenty jumping jacks.” He patted his belly. “Two weeks and I’ll be back in my old clothes.”

“Two months if you stop sneaking crackers.” Hugo spun the dark blue tam on one hand.

“I’m going to act again!” Ollie declared. “I quit because the big studios took over, and I refused to work for the likes of Jack Warner and Clive Falcon. But you’ve brought me back to life, Kate! I want to work again!”

“That’s wonderful, Ollie.” It was just the fire she’d hoped to ignite in him.

“I always wanted your mother to get into the business, but she wasn’t interested. Now you’re here and we can work together.

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