Rebecca standing out on J. T.’s deck, gazing contemplatively out through the trees, in the manner of a woodland princess. She was clad only in a man’s white dress shirt, open to expose most of her clavicle, and it barely covered her butt. Her long, thin white thighs most decidedly did not touch.
Britt pivoted, prepared to head off in the other direction and concoct a lie for Glenn, but she was a bad liar and apparently she had, much to her dismay, a sense of integrity.
It was too late, anyway. Rebecca gave a start when she saw her.
“Oh! Good morning! You’re that waitress... aren’t you?”
She aimed a Klieg light smile at her. All blinding, uniform teeth and sparkly eyes.
Zero actual human friendliness.
Pretty, but a little unnerving. Quite a bit, in fact, like that billboard out on the highway.
And if Rebecca had said nearlyanythingelse, Britt might have thrust the white bag at her and bolted in the opposite direction.
But that sentence had the ring of a sword unsheathing. And “that waitress” had been delivered gingerly.
And that’s how Britt knew that Rebecca considered her worthy of competition.
Britt’s competitive reflexes kicked in.
“I suppose I am ‘that waitress.’ My name is Britt.”
Britt smiled back at her. Her teeth might not look like piano keys, but her father had paid for orthodontia and she had dutifully worn her retainer every night for years.
And two could play the “don’t blink” game.
They played it for a few seconds more.
“I’m Rebecca Corday, Britt. You might know me from that billboard out on the highway.” She gave a self-deprecating little laugh and a hand flutter in that general direction.
“Oh yeah. I know that billboard. It sure casts a shadow.”
Britt thought she detected an eyebrow twitch.
But Rebecca wasn’t the highest paid actress in the world for no reason.
“I like your top,” Rebecca said brightly, finally. “That’s a great color on you. Walmart sure is making some cute clothes these days.”
“They sure are,” Britt twinkled back at her.
She expected Rebecca meant this as an insult. But it was really the wrong tack to take with her. She could talk forhoursabout her knack for finding a bargain, and she was proud of itandthe top.
“Are you here because you’re looking for John?” Rebecca said, her voice sympathetic. “He’scatnipto women. They were always tracking him down wherever he lived.”
John?She called him John? That seemed all wrong. Very mundane. She wondered if that’s why Rebecca did it—an attempt at domesticating him.
“Tennessee” seemed to be so much a part of him that the ‘T’ at the very least seemed necessary.
“I get the internet, too, MissCorday,” she said evenly. “I’ve read the stories about him. I know him pretty well. And John called me twelve times yesterday.”
This didn’t cause even a ripple over Rebecca Corday’s beautiful features. But she did go rather still.
And then she tilted her head ever so slightly and studied her.
“Is that so? You must not have called him back,” she said. “I can’t blame you. Given his history with me.”
Damn. Rebecca was smart. Smart in a Dr.Evil sort of way. Britt had once seen a cat toying at a wriggling gopher, trying over and over again to find that one place to administer that killing bite. She was reminded of that right now.
