Acting Up (35 page)

“It was fun,” Addison said, attempting to work her way out of her funk. “Besides, seeing Aaron's face when Lori walked down the stairs was thanks enough. I only wish I could have been a fly on the wall at Michelle's house when Luke Mitchell showed up.”

“Seeing the look on everyone's face here was enough for me,” Elizabeth said. “I can't believe her transformation. She's like a different person.”

Addison didn't need to talk herself into smiling now. An almost maternal pride flooded her when she thought about Michelle. It was weird and a little unsettling how much she'd come to care about the girl in such a short time. How much she'd come to care about all of them.

“I've never chaperoned anything,” Addison said. “What are we supposed to do exactly? Swoop in if a guy's hand strays off course or someone tries to spike the punch?”

“Pretty much,” Elizabeth said. “There are some other parents here. We can join them.”

They started across the crowded room but hadn't gone more than a few steps when Lord Byron, aka British Lit teacher Andrew Laughton, appeared in front of them. He wore black slacks, a black turtleneck sweater, and a black blazer. Like he'd stepped out of the latest film reincarnation of a Jane Austen movie. At any moment, Addison expected Mr. Darcy to swan into the gymnasium.

“Mr. Laughton, it's nice to see you again,” Addison said.

“The pleasure is mine,” Andrew said, placing a hand over his heart and making an elegant little bow. “May I say how exquisite you look tonight?”

“I never object to compliments.”

He winked, and Addison marveled again at the incredible good fortune bestowed upon the girls at Covington Falls High.

“Mrs. Thomas, if you don't mind, I'd like to steal your companion for a dance.” Andrew said, with another bow in Elizabeth's direction.

She grinned. “Why would I mind?”

“I'm not sure I can keep up with this tempo,” Addison said as he led her onto the dance floor.

The man held up a finger in a wait-and-see gesture, and like magic, a bluesy saxophone replaced the teeth-rattling beat. He waggled one eyebrow, looking very satisfied with himself.

Oh, he was smooth.
“Nice touch, Mr. Laughton.”

Andrew's hand came to rest on her back as he guided her smoothly across the floor.

“You're good at this,” Addison said, though she shouldn't be surprised.

“You can thank my mother, who forced me to attend what she termed
how-to-be-a-gentleman
classes. Lessons in comportment, manners, and dancing.”

Addison gave a mock gasp. “Cruel, cruel woman.”

“It meant touching girls, so I didn't object too much,” he said, with a teasing smile. Under any other circumstances, her toes curl would have curled.

“You were a charmer even then, I'm sure.”

“Oh, no. I was a clumsy toe-stomper and tended toward sweaty palms,” Andrew said. “Not the most attractive qualities in a dance partner, I can assure you.”

“My hands are dry as toast, and my toes undamaged. You've obviously improved.”

“The lessons did eventually pay off. And my mother was right. Knowing how to dance opens up all avenues of persuasion with the ladies.”

Addison's heart lightened at the gentle teasing, and suddenly she didn't have to try so hard to have a good time. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

He dipped his head in agreement.

“How did you ever wind up in this sleepy little burb anyway? You don't exactly scream small-town guy to me.”

For a moment the glint in his eyes faded. “Perhaps I needed a sleepy little burb.”

Ah, so Byron had a mysterious past. If Addison knew him better, she might have pressed, but something about his shuttered expression stopped her from probing. In the next instant the twinkle returned to Andrew's eyes. The hand at her back tightened as he spun her around, ending in a dip that would have made even the most stoic of girls melt.

Laughter bubbled up from her chest as he brought her back upright, and heads turned. She waved to their audience as several of them clapped. Then her eyes snagged on a figure in khaki pants and a dark blue blazer. Even from across the room, she could see Ethan didn't look happy. Addison flashed him a bright smile, waved, and turned back to her companion.

****

Ethan felt sure he'd grind his teeth into dust at any moment. Watching Addison dance with Andrew Laughton was a special kind of torture. The guy moved like Fred Astaire, and Addison sure seemed to enjoy the attention. Each time she laughed or tossed her head, Ethan had to resist the urge to march across the gym and pound the guy to a bloody pulp.

“Instead of standing here smoldering at them, you could just cut in,” Elizabeth said.

Ethan tensed and eyed his sister-in-law out of the corner of his eye. “Don't know what you're talking about.”

“Of course not,” Elizabeth said. “Isn't it time you got your head out of your rear and started acting like a man?”

Holding on to his temper, Ethan faced her. “Maybe I'm acting like a concerned father who doesn't want his sons hurt when Addison leaves. I have to do what's right for them.”

If the massive eye roll served as any indication, Elizabeth didn't buy the argument. “I'd say what I thought of such a pathetic excuse, but the word I'd choose might get me thrown out of this gymnasium. That's nothing more than your own fear or guilt or whatever doubts have been rolling around your head the last couple weeks.”

“Elizabeth, listen—”

“No, you listen.” She cut him off. “You of all people know how rare it is to find real love. You know it should be guarded and nurtured. To have a second chance at it is a gift from God, and if you don't accept it, I will personally kick your butt from here to eternity.”

So saying, Elizabeth walked away. Ethan stared after her in amazement. His sister-in-law had threatened him. He didn't have any doubt she'd carry through with her violent oath, either. He swung his attention back to Addison and her dance partner. He thought of what Seth had said the other day. That maybe Addison had come into their lives to teach him, and his sons, it was possible to survive tragedy and find happiness.

Could Seth be right?

Across the gym, the British Lit teacher twirled Addison around and dipped her over his arm. He heard her delighted laughter even over the thumping of the music.

Enough…

Ethan marched toward the dancing couple, ignoring Elizabeth's triumphant gaze as he passed. For a moment, he felt like a bull bearing down on a red cape.

Stopping behind Addison's shoulder, Ethan glared at the man who, up until this moment, he'd counted as one of his favorite teachers. Andrew Laughton's gaze shifted. Whatever he saw in Ethan's gaze had the teacher raising his hands in a
don't-shoot
gesture. He spared one more amused glance at Addison before striding away.

Addison faced Ethan, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Why didn't you simply challenge him to pistols at dawn?”

“Too much blood.”

“What was that anyway?”

Ethan ignored her outraged expression and slipped an arm around her waist. “That was me deciding to stop acting like an idiot.”

“An idiot about what?” she asked, holding herself rigid in his grasp.

Ethan gazed down at her, all his doubts and insecurities melting away. “You. I figured if we didn't spend time together, I could go back to the way my life was before you came. I used my kids as an excuse, but I was really protecting myself. I'm through running from my feelings for you, though.”

At his admission, Addison seemed to melt into him. “Oh…”

The corners of his mouth kicked up. “Nothing to add? I haven't had a decent night's sleep since you arrived in town. Plus, I've been on the other side of the room thinking up all sorts of devious ways to rid the earth of my British Lit teacher for the better part of an hour. And all I get is ‘oh'?”

Then — right in front of the entire student body — Addison tugged his head down and kissed him.

A blinding flash ripped across Ethan's eyelids. When he turned to look, a skinny, freckle-faced boy grinned at them, even as he shot several more pictures.

“For the school paper, you know.” The kid waggled his eyebrows at Ethan. “Way to go, Mr. Thomas.”

“Get out of here, Stanley,” he returned.

Stanley did as he was told.

“What do we do now?” Addison asked as soon as the budding journalist had departed.

Ethan executed a turn every bit as smooth as Andrew Laughton's and dipped her back over his arm. She clung to him as he pulled her back up.

“Right now I'm going to dance with you and not think about what happens tomorrow or even in an hour,” he said. “I'm going to be grateful to have this moment when you could be in Paris or Tahiti or anywhere else in the world.”

He turned once more and her steps echoed in perfect tandem.

Two days after the dance, Stanley's photo of Addison and Ethan kissing wound up in papers all across the country. Along with the subsequent shots of her looking as though she'd been caught
in flagrante
as she gaped in surprise.

Sydney tipped Addison off.

“Addison, I could almost hate you,” she said. “You take yourself off to the middle of nowhere and still manage to find a gorgeous man.”

“What are you talking about?” Addison asked, shifting the phone to her other ear as she scanned the grocery store shelves for a bag of brown rice for whatever Aunt Ruth planned to make for dinner.

“You haven't seen it yet?” Sydney asked.

Why are there so many kinds of brown rice? Who needs twenty different varieties anyway?
“Seen what?”

“Do you even read the papers in no-man's land?”

Long-grain rice, wild rice, two-minute rice, microwave rice, rice with spices, rice without.
“I'm doing my best to avoid papers.”

“There's a picture of you and a strapping blond man in my morning paper,” Sydney said

Addison's contemplation on the vagaries of the rice industry came to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“There's a picture spread of you in my paper today. Along with a small-town hunk. Is that Ethan? If so, you'd better make sure you hang on to him.”

Addison hurried toward the newspaper stand at the front of the store. Covington Falls might be small, but they still liked to keep up with the outside world. They didn't have a copy of the
Los Angeles Times
, but they did have the
Atlanta Journal
, the
Washington Post
, the
New York Times,
and the
New York Post
. The pictures were in every issue.

Addison groaned. “How did this get into the paper?”

“No clue. Outstanding dress, though. Where did you get it?”

“Syd, now is not the time to be focusing on clothes. This is a disaster.”

“I thought the whole point of you agreeing to direct the musical was so you could get good publicity. You've got the publicity part in any case.”

“Not like this,” she said, ready to wail in despair. “I was going to control the story.”

“Did you think you could stay hidden forever? Probably some paparazzi managed to track you down.”

“And snuck into a high school dance? I should think a creep with a balding head and a telephoto lens might have attracted some attention. I'd have noticed him at least.”

“A dance?” Sydney laughed. “Were you a chaperone or something?”

“Yes.”

The laughter ceased. “Seriously? The Addison I know is allergic to kids.”

“Things change. Syd, I remember these pictures were taken by a student. He snuck up on us.”

“Maybe he sold the pictures for some quick cash.”

“No, I can't imagine that.”

“Maybe you should ask this budding photojournalist then.”

“Right. Good idea. I'll call you back.” She started to click off.

“Hey…” Syd said, before Addison could hang up.

“What?”

“The man in the picture? He is Ethan, right?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on to him. He's yummy.”

Addison started for her car, remembered the brown rice, and raced back to the aisle. She picked up five different boxes and six bags and hustled to the cashier. She made the drive home in record time.

Racing inside, she called out. “Aunt Ruth, you'll never believe what happ—”

She skidded to a halt when she reached the den. Her aunt and Aaron sat staring at the television. They both pointed toward the screen.

Stanley's pictures were displayed in live color. The twenty-four-hour news stations had already picked up the story. Addison gulped.

“This has been going on all afternoon,” Aaron said.

Addison sank onto the couch.

A female news anchor reported the story as if she was covering the latest Middle East peace talks.
“For those of you just joining us, we're covering a breaking story out of a small town in Georgia where Addison Covington, disgraced actress from House of Fashion, has apparently been holed up for weeks. We obtained these pictures earlier today from the AP Newswire, and they show Addison has clearly gotten over her rocky divorce to producer Merrick Carmichael. The identity of her companion is not yet known.”