Thrill Me (3 page)

A happy bark drew him back to the present. A brown, black and white beagle raced around the side of the house and headed for him. Sophie bayed her pleasure as she rushed at him.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, scooping her up and standing. She wriggled in his arms, trying to get closer and give kisses at the same time.

“You probably don't remember me,” he told the dog. “You'd be this happy to greet a serial killer.”

Sophie gave a doggie grin in agreement. He put her on the ground and followed her to the front door. His mother opened it before he could knock and shook her head.

“You couldn't shave?”

He chuckled, then hugged her. “Hey, Mom.”

She held on tight, then drew back and shook her head. “Seriously. Would it kill you to use a razor?”

He rubbed his jaw. “Most mothers want to talk grandchildren.”

“That would work for me, too. Come on.” She held open the door.

He stepped into the house and back into the past. Very little had changed. The living room had different sofas, but in the same spot. His father's glasswork was everywhere, all carefully mounted or secured so Sophie or her wagging tail didn't do any damage.

Del turned his attention back to his mother. Elaine had met Ceallach Mitchell when she'd been twenty. According to her, it had been love at first sight. His father had never told his side of the story. They'd married four months later and Del had been born a year after that. Four more sons had followed, each about a year apart until the twins.

His mom looked as she always had, with dark, shoulder-length hair and an easy smile. But as he studied her, he saw that there were a few differences. She was older, but it was more than that. She seemed tired, maybe.

“You okay, Mom?”

“I'm fine. I don't sleep as well as I used to.” She shrugged. “The change.”

He wasn't sure exactly which change she was referring to, but he wasn't going there. Rather than take a safe step back and escape, he moved to the sofa. Sophie jumped up next to him and immediately settled in for a nap.

His mother sat across from him. “How long are you in town?”

“The rest of the summer. You said to be home for Dad's birthday. I came back early.”

“Your father will be pleased.”

Del was less sure about that. Ceallach might be brilliant, but he was also temperamental. In his mind what mattered was art. Everything else was a far second. A lesser kind of living. He had no patience for or interest in mere mortal lives or pursuits.

“You're here by yourself?” his mother asked.

Del nodded. Last time he'd been home he'd brought Hyacinth. He'd been so sure they were going to make it. But they hadn't. She'd been unable to promise herself to a single man and he'd been unable to accept the string of what she swore were insignificant lovers that moved in and out of her bed. While he'd loathed the cheating, the dishonesty had been just as bad.

“Traveling light,” he told his mother.

“Del, you need to settle down.”

“I've never wanted to settle.”

“You know what I mean. Don't you want a family?”

“Finally playing the grandkid card?”

She smiled. “Yes. It's time. Your father and I have been married thirty-five years and yet none of my boys has ever gotten married. Why is that?”

He couldn't speak for his brothers. He'd been in love twice in his life, first with Maya and then with Hyacinth. Both relationships had ended badly. And the common denominator? Him.

His father strolled into the living room. Ceallach Mitchell was tall and broad-shouldered. Despite being weeks away from turning sixty, he was still strong, with the muscles required to wrestle large pieces of molten glass into submission. Del acknowledged his father's genius—there was no denying brilliance. But he also knew it came at a price.

“Del's home,” Elaine said, motioning to the sofa.

Ceallach stared at his son. For a second Del wondered if his father was trying to figure out which of his offspring he was.

“He came back for your birthday,” his mother added.

“Good to know. What are you doing these days? Surfing?”

Del thought about the board he'd created, the company he'd started, how much he'd sold it for and the impressive amount sitting in his bank account.

“Most days,” he said, dropping his hand to rub Sophie's tummy. The beagle shifted onto her back and sighed.

“You seen Nick?” his father asked. “He's still working in that bar, wasting his talent. No one can get through to him. I'm done trying.”

With that, Ceallach walked out of the room.

Del stared after him. “Good to see you, too, Dad.”

His mother pressed her lips together. “Don't be like that,” she said. “You know how he gets. It's just his way. He's glad you're back.”

Del was less sure about that, but didn't want to start a fight. Nothing had changed. Ceallach only cared about his art and other people with the potential to create art, and Elaine still stood between him and the world, acting as both buffer and defender.

“What
are
you up to these days?” she asked. “I know you sold your company. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I'm still deciding what's next. I've been offered some design work.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“No. I came up with my board on my own. I'm not a designer. There are a couple of venture capitalists who want to fund my next big idea.” Which would be great if he had one. What he most wanted to do— Well, that wasn't going the way he'd hoped.

“You have time to decide what's important.”

The right words, but again he had the sense she was hiding something. Not that he was going to ask again. Secrets were an ongoing part of life in the Mitchell family. He'd learned early to wait until they were shared.

“You could go to work for your brother,” she said.

“Aidan?” Del laughed. “At the family business? No thanks. And I doubt he'd appreciate you offering my help.”

“He's busy all the time. Especially in summer.”

He couldn't imagine what his brother would have to say about his advice. These days they barely kept in touch. Del remembered when they'd been close and wondered what had happened. Sure he'd been gone, but he emailed and texted.

Another problem for another day, he told himself and rose.

“Good to see you, Mom,” he said as he crossed to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“You, too. I expect to see a lot of you while you're in town.”

“You will.”

“And shave.”

CHAPTER THREE

M
AYA
'
S
OFFICE
WAS
in the same building as the Fool's Gold cable access studio. The local news had its own location on the other side of town. Until this minute she'd enjoyed the separation. Having to see “real” reporters on a daily basis would have been depressing. It wasn't that she wanted to be one anymore. It was just having to look into the eyes of her abandoned dream, as it were, could have been difficult. Although at this second, facing down a wild, hungry bear would have been preferable to what she was doing.

“I don't understand,” Eddie Carberry said stubbornly. “People
like
our show. Did one of the Gionni sisters say something to you? Because I know they're pissed that we're getting better ratings than they are. Who wants to watch a TV show about hair when there are naked butts to be seen? Plus, they each have a show because of their feud, so it's twice as much of the same.”

“The shows are about styling hair,” her friend Gladys pointed out. “Not that watching someone work a curling iron is all that interesting.”

Eddie and Gladys had to be in their seventies. They were spry enough and certainly determined, Maya thought grimly. Had Mayor Marsha realized the impossibility of the task when she'd hired Maya? Because Maya had always thought she and the mayor were friends. Maybe she'd been imagining the connection.

“Styling or talking, hair is hair. What we do is more interesting and Bella and Julia can't stand that.” Eddie put her hands on her hips. As she was wearing a bright yellow velour tracksuit, she looked a bit more comical than intimidating, but there was a gleam in her eye that had Maya keeping a safe distance.

She continued to hold out the piece of paper. “I've cut and pasted the exact language from the government website,” she said firmly. “It's very clear. The FCC has defined broadcast indecency as ‘language or material that, in context, depicts or describes, in terms patently offensive as measured by contemporary community standards for the broadcast medium, sexual or excretory organs or activities.'“

“What's
excretory
?” Gladys asked.

“What does it sound like?” Eddie gave her a pointed look.

Gladys wrinkled her nose. “Yuck. We'd never do that. What about free speech? We claim the First Amendment.”

“What she said,” Eddie added. “We have the right to free speech.”

Maya looked at her notes. “The court says that you can't show naked butts when children might be watching.”

Gladys and Eddie exchanged a look.

“So not on our five o'clock broadcast but we can show them at eleven?” Eddie asked.

Maya held in a groan. “I'd rather you didn't show them at all.”

“But you're not the boss of us,” Eddie pointed out. “And what about all those TV dramas that show butts?”

“They're on at ten,” Gladys added. “So we'll show butts at eleven. It's an excellent compromise.”

One Maya hoped Mayor Marsha could live with.

“But not at five,” she clarified. “You don't want the FCC shutting you down or fining the station. If we had to pay a fine, we'd lose our budget and then you wouldn't have a show at all.”

“Your job is to make sure that doesn't happen,” Eddie told her.

“No, my job is to manage the cable access shows.
Your
job is to follow the rules.”

Eddie gave her a smile. “You have backbone. I like that. I remember when you were a teenager, waiting to go off to college. Look at you now—all grown-up.”

“Ladies.”

The male voice had them all turning. Maya caught sight of Del and nearly threw herself in his arms. Not that she wasn't thrilled to see him, but the distraction was even better.

“Del!” Gladys hurried toward him. “You're back.”

“You know it.”

He caught the old lady in his arms and hugged her, then turned to Eddie. After kissing them both on the cheek, he winked.

“Are you two making trouble?”

“Always,” Eddie said proudly.

Maya shook her head. “No more trouble. They both just agreed not to show naked butts before eleven. It's a victory for decency standards.”

Eddie sniffed. “But after eleven, we're all butts, all the time. Del, give us a picture of yours. We hold a contest for people to guess whose butt belongs to whom. No one's seen yours in ages. It would be fun.”

He laughed and hugged them. “I've missed you two. There's no one like you anywhere I've traveled.”

“If you think we're all that,” Gladys said, “why don't you come back and sleep with us? Seventy is the new thirty-five.”

Del's amusement didn't waver. “Let's not ruin the promise of what can never be,” he told them.

“He's turning us down,” Eddie said with a sigh. “Men are idiots.”

Gladys patted his cheek. “She's right, but you can't help it.”

The old ladies waved and walked out of Maya's office. She sank into her chair and wondered if she'd actually escaped so easily or if there were more early-afternoon butt issues in her future.

Del took the empty chair across from hers. “They're really doing a butt contest?”

“Yes, and I'd rather not talk about it. Mayor Marsha is worried about the FCC getting involved. I had to look up the definitions and everything. Not my favorite part of the job.”

He glanced toward the door. “I missed them a lot. They're one of the best parts of this town.”

“Seriously? They frighten a lot of guys.”

“No way. They're fun.”

“I wonder if we should redefine our terms,” she murmured.

He leaned back in his chair. “Relax. They like you. They'll listen.”

“I hope you're right. What brings you here?” Their appointment wasn't for a couple of days.

He shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Easy enough to be
, she thought. Fool's Gold was hardly a big place. But still. “Everything okay?”

He hesitated just long enough for her to wonder what wasn't going well before saying, “It's great. I saw my mom. You can't hold that over me anymore.”

“Because you were so worried I would. Do you want to talk business while you're here?”

“Sure.”

She pulled out the two folders she'd started on their projects.

“Mayor Marsha and the City Council want a two-part campaign. Part one will support local tourism efforts. I'm working with several city officials on that. The goal is pretty simple. Make videos that entice people to visit the area.”

She thought about the format discussed. “You'll be hosting and starring in those.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You're saying I'm the talent?”

“You wish.”

He was dressed much as he had been the past two times she'd seen him. In jeans and a casual shirt. He looked at ease, as if comfortable in any environment. The beard was a little thicker, the hair a tad longer. The word
scruffy
came to mind, as it had before. But the sexy version.

She forced her attention back to the conversation. “The second part is a campaign celebrating the town's new slogan.
A destination for romance.
”

“Interviewing people in love?” he asked.

“Easy enough,” she agreed. “I have a list of potential couples, including one that has been together for over seventy years.”

“Impressive. On the tourism videos, what do you want to do? Go film different locations with me talking about them?”

“Yes, but I'm hoping we can do something more inspired. If the clips are interesting, we can use them in advertising.”

“Or get them picked up by local news.”

“I'm less sure about that. Local news stories average forty-one seconds. National news stories average two minutes and twenty-three seconds. I'd rather get
Good Morning America
interested.”

“There are a lot of people trying to get noticed on GMA,” he said. “We'll have to be innovative.”

She liked that he hadn't dismissed her idea outright. How strange that they were working together like this, she thought. Until moving back to Fool's Gold a few weeks ago, she hadn't thought of Del much at all. Since returning, he'd been on her mind, but that had been a proximity thing. Hard to ignore the only man she'd ever loved when she was returning to the scene of the heartbreak. Then, out of the blue—thanks to Mayor Marsha—he was back in her life.

She wondered if he ever thought about the past. Before meeting him, she would have guessed they had to clear the air. But he didn't seem to be upset about what had happened between them. Nor could she figure out a good way to broach the subject.

“Hey, Del, sorry I was such a bitch when I broke up with you.”
No, that wasn't going to happen. Maybe she would wait and see if there was a more organic way to have the conversation.

“Any celebrity contacts you can use?” he asked.

“I did the studio work in LA,” she told him. “The celebrities don't know me.”

“Sorry you didn't get to meet Ryan Gosling?”

“The pain keeps me up at night, but I'm dealing.”

He chuckled, then the humor faded. “How'd you get away from news?”

A question she'd asked herself a thousand times. “I was tempted by the devil and gave in,” she admitted, knowing it was true. “I'd been working my way up in local news, producing more and more segments. The gossip show gave me a chance to be in front of the camera.” Sadly, her lack of chemistry had made that a short-lived solution. “When that didn't work, they offered me a promotion working behind the scenes. With the wisdom of hindsight, I'm pretty sure that was their plan all along. But they knew I would never have left the job I had to take the producer job.”

“Hard feelings?”

“No. I made the choices. I get to live with the consequences.”

“And now you're here.”

She smiled. “So far, so good.”

“Except for Eddie and Gladys,” he teased.

“I'll figure out how to get them to toe the line. Just in a way that doesn't break their spirit. I like that they push boundaries.”

“You're taking their side?”

“I'm saying creativity should always be encouraged.”

His shirt pocket beeped. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. “Mayor Marsha. She said to ask you about the videos you did of me.” Both eyebrows rose. “Did I make it onto your celebrity show?”

“No,” she said, lying before she could stop herself. “Strange. I have no idea what she's talking about.”

His dark eyes gave nothing away. “She must have you confused with someone else.”

“I'm sure that's it.” She glanced down at her open folder. “I thought we could do a segment on Priscilla, the elephant, and her pony, Reno.”

“Who and who?”

She wasn't sure if the distraction worked, but if he was willing to pretend, then she was, as well. Before she showed Del any videos she'd done, she needed to have someone else look at them. Someone she could trust to have her back. The last thing she wanted was for her ex-boyfriend/fiancé to think she'd spent the past ten years unable to get over him.

* * *

D
EL
HEADED
ACROSS
TOWN
. He and Maya had plans to work on the videos starting in a few days. She still had preproduction schedules to work out, including renting equipment. While the camera was important, the right lenses could make or break a shoot. She would be renting the ones they needed.

Until then, he was on his own. As he'd already started down memory lane with his family, he might as well continue. He crossed the street and headed into The Man Cave.

While the sign out front said the sports bar was closed, the door was propped open. He stepped inside and looked around.

The overhead lights were on, illuminating the big, open space. The ceilings were high with a second-story balcony wrapping around like a catwalk. Tables and chairs had been pushed out of the way for cleaning. There were dartboards, pool tables and a big stage at one end. The long bar dominated the room at the other end.

Sports memorabilia covered the walls. There were sports posters, along with a Tour de France jersey, and signed footballs and helmets.

His brother walked out from a back room and grinned.

“I heard you were dead,” Nick said cheerfully.

“You wish.”

“Naw. I like being the middle brother. It adds symmetry.”

They hugged briefly. Del studied his sibling. Nick looked good. Older and comfortable in his surroundings. Whatever Ceallach had going on about Nick's chosen profession, Nick wasn't equally troubled.

“Have a seat,” Nick said, pulling a table out from the cluster by the wall, then grabbing two chairs. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

Nick went behind the bar and pulled a bottle out of a refrigerator. He poured himself a soda. Del was about to ask why, then told himself Nick worked in a bar. Probably best if he wasn't sampling product in the middle of the afternoon.

Nick returned with the drinks and they sat across from each other.

His brother was about his size. All the Mitchell sons were within an inch or so of their father's height. Nick was more muscled than Aidan or Del. Some of that was genetic and some of it came from the heavy materials he worked with.
Or it had
, Del thought, wondering when his brother had stopped working with glass and started managing a bar.

“How's business?” he asked.

“Good.” Nick grinned. “We had a bit of a rough start, but we're busy now. We get a good crowd. A nice mix of tourists and locals. The karaoke is popular.” He nodded at the stage. “You should come sing sometime.”