Pants on Fire

Pants on Fire

By
Casia Schreyer

Copyright © 2013

Blue Ribbon Books

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

For questions and comments about this book, please contact us at [email protected]

6 am.

Megan's cellphone rang, and not for the first time that morning. She flipped it open and let her marketing rep, and old friend Bernie, rant for twenty minutes. She finished touching up her make-up, punctuating the one-sided conversation with polite noises of attentiveness and agreement.

There was a roar from down the hall and Megan said, "Bernie, I have to go. They're ready to start the shoot. Can you just e-mail it all to me? Yeah. Yeah. I promise, Bernie, I always read them. Okay. Good-bye."

Bernie had been with her from the start when she'd been working for a local, town-wide, television station. Now her show was internationally syndicated, and she had Bernie's top-notch, cut-throat marketing and negotiating skills to thank for that, as much as her own talent.

Megan adjusted her bright orange wig making sure every strand of black hair was out of sight. With the wig and the make-up, the face in the mirror looked like a complete stranger, and a very odd one at that. Only the eyes remained hers and she wondered how she'd keep the tired haze from showing while the camera was rolling. The director bellowed again and she hurried out of her tiny, cluttered dressing room.

Her shooting schedule had been hell lately. Miss Maizy Daizy and her new cookbook for children was going on a national book signing meet-and-greet tour and she had to shoot enough episodes to keep the network happy while she was away. Being Miss Maizy Daizy was a dream come true. She was proud, most of the time, to say she was a children's entertainer and educator, even if it was through the television. She looked forward to her up-coming tour with wide, starry eyes - meeting the children who watched her show and made her famous. Of course the icing on the cake was the two week vacation she had snagged between the end of shooting and the start of the tour.

Two weeks home with her parents and a neighbourhood of people who still saw her as the skinny brunette who skinned her knees playing street hockey with the boys and not as an international celebrity. Of course most people didn't recognize her on the street and she could shop at any grocery store without being swarmed by children. But any time she dropped her name in front of anyone with children or anyone who worked with children they knew her instantly and the whole relationship changed.

Yes, going home to Kingsbridge and being normal was exactly what she needed before going on tour. She let the anticipation light her face with a real smile as she stepped in front of the camera to film a craft segment on making paper plate masks.

***

9 am.

Tyler stood at the boardroom door with his professional smile plastered to his face. He shook hands with each member of the board of directors, exchanging pleasantries, as they filed out of the room. He'd been running his father's business for two years, ever since his father had died in a car accident. His mother lived in a beautiful 1300 square foot condo half a continent away with his younger sister. He saw them three times a year.

The nationwide chain of hotels and resorts practically ran itself but it was still up to him to make decisions on how to invest profits, how aggressively to market, and how quickly to expand. Standing in front of the board of directors, making decisions that would affect the lives of thousands of people across the country, still gave him all the nauseating symptoms of stage fright.

He had sat in on countless meetings here as a teenager and during his semester breaks in university and his father had always looked poised and confident. But then the board of directors had been his peers, not his elders.

He went back to collect his notes and his secretary, Stephanie, burst in, talking a mile a minute as soon as she'd cleared the threshold. The facts and figures and dates and names flew by him in a blur, even when he tried to concentrate, he let them wash over him knowing it was all written down and on his desk. Stephanie was nothing if not efficient. And bubbly.

Finally she said, "Last but not least, your trip has been booked. I don't know why you won't take the private jet."

"Thanks, Steph. You're the best." He smiled for real.

"I know. Are you sure you gave me the right information. Kingsbridge is a very small place. And if you went ..."

Efficient, bubbly, and unstoppable,
he thought as they walked through the maze of cubicles to his corner office. "Yes, Stephanie, it's correct. I assume you have a mountain of paperwork for me before I leave?"

"You'd better believe it."

He paused by her desk. "How's Matt and AJ?"

"Matt's still painting and AJ is trying to walk." She pointed to her monitor where the desktop picture featured a toothless, grinning boy in pajamas holding onto a coffee table.

"I think he's cuter than you!" Tyler laughed and shut himself in his office where there was a literal mountain of paperwork on his desk.
Okay, maybe only a small hill,
he conceded, but with his long awaited vacation looming he could barely focus.
Two weeks of quiet,
he thought.
I deserve this.

When Stephanie had warned him that it was a small city, Tyler had still imagined something a little larger than this. This was a small town that had grown too big to be a small town, what with two big box stores and two grocery stores, at least that he had seen so far, but in his mind it just wasn't quite a real city.

On the other hand it had everything he'd asked for: a nice hotel that he didn't own, museums and art galleries, casual dining, hiking, public gardens, and the peace of not knowing a single person. And, as he stood by the side of the hotel pool, towel in hand, he had to admit that he'd come at the perfect time. There were nearly a dozen young women lounging around the pool, lined up for the diving board, or actively swimming. They wore an assortment of colour and revealing bathing suits and called back and forth to each other, filling the large room with feminine laughter.

There was a sound from the ladder just in front of him, somewhere between a splash and and whoosh, and a brunette emerged from the water to cling to the rungs. She stared up at him, smiling broadly. Her hair was just long enough to be tied and she had it pulled sharply away from her face, which was fine because it was a very nice face.

Of course his view down the front of her bathing suit was very nice too and he had trouble focusing on her eyes.

"Hello," she said, pulling herself up the ladder. He couldn't see directly down her bikini top any more but now he had a full view of the rest of her lean curves and miles of legs. She squeezed excess water from her hair and flashed him a smile. "Ladder's all yours."

He shamelessly watched the swing of her hips, admiring the way the curve of her ass filled out the bottom of her bikini in a way that left only the most interesting of details to the imagination. Slinging his towel and shirt over a nearby lounge chair he dropped into the pool to cool off with a few laps.

Megan toweled off and looked over her shoulder in time to catch a glimpse of tanned skin and a hint of abs before the new arrival dropped into the water. She spread her towel over her chair and stretched out with her book. Opening the book to the ear marked page, she paused to glance over the top for a quick peek at the handsome stranger. He was slicing through the water like a pro, and in straight lines too, which was better than most of the locals could boast. She watched him for several laps, enjoying the sight of his lightly muscled, glistening back, before pulling her attention back to her book.

By the end of the chapter she was debating reading on or taking another peek at the guy swimming laps in the pool. The scrape of chair on concrete made her head snap up and she smiled.
That was the easiest decision I ever made,
she thought and closed her book.

Tyler stood beside his chair, towel over his shoulders, looking down at the brunette. At this angle he could see the perfect curve of her breasts and he fought to keep his eyes on her face long enough that she wouldn't dismiss him as a creep. "
I'm new in town. Could you give me directions to your hotel room?
"

She stared at him, incredulous. "Did you really just use a cheesy pick up line on me?"

He grinned. "A friend of mine tried it at a bar once, I just had to try it."

"Did it work for him?"

"No. But I still had to try it." He sat. "I'm Tyler."

"I'm Megan. Do you always start conversations with cheesy pick-up lines?"

"Sometimes I start them with classy pick-up lines."

She laughed and gave her head a shake. "How long are you in town, Tyler?"

"Two whole wonderful weeks." He sighed and relaxed, content to make small talk with this pretty woman, and ecstatic that no one would be quizzing him on stock options or profit margins.

"What a coincidence. Me too. Do you believe in fate, Tyler?"

He turned to look at her, took a minute to study her. She was fit but not skinny like so many of the girls he'd dated.
What is it with girls and wanting to be rail-thin super models anyway? And why do they always think I'll fund their insane dreams?
He realized Megan was staring at him and he cleared his throat. "I don't usually, no. I believe in hard work."

"You sound like a man in desperate need of that two week vacation." She was still smiling and he took that as a good sign. "I don't believe in fate, either. But I do believe that relaxing by the pool can invite all sorts of lucky happenings to occur."

"As a man who believes in neither fate nor luck I would be tempted to argue with you, unless perhaps you can prove these lucky happenings do occur."

She stretched her golden arms over her head, her back arching slightly. He licked his lips, enjoying the way her still damp bikini clung to her breasts. She picked up her book and angled her whole body towards him giving him the chance to look her over again. "Perhaps I can. I'm probably already running late, but I could take you out for dinner."

"That would definitely make me a lucky man."

"Then my point is proven. Maybe next I'll prove to you that a nice dinner can lead to all sorts of lucky happenings." She grabbed her towel but didn't bother wrapping herself in it. "I'll meet you at the front doors at seven, if that's alright."

"I'll be there, Megan." He smiled.

She winked at him and sauntered towards the change room, putting a little extra swing in her hips for his benefit. He watched for a moment then leaned back and closed his eyes.
Yup, I deserve this.

"One more question."

He jumped, his heart pounding, and looked up to see Megan peering over the back of the chair again. "Am I having a heart attack? Yes, I think so."

Her smile widened. "You don't believe in fate or luck, right? What about love at first sight?"

"What?"

"Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?"

He laughed. "I've heard that one before."

"Front doors at seven!" she called over her shoulder and this time he watched her ass until it disappeared into the change room.

***

As Megan drove to her parents' house her mind wandered back to Tyler. He had that air of city folk, the same way she could tell which people had grown up in Kingsbridge and which ones were from the miles and miles of surrounding farms. If the cheesy pick-up line and constant staring was anything to go by he was definitely looking for a casual fling. Of course she was desperate for a casual fling to unwind the sexual tension in her life and that had been known to colour her judgment.

“It’s not like my judgment’s ever been good before,” she muttered, turning onto the tree-lined residential street. She didn’t want to think about the men she’d dated since her career had taken off. She’d run into two types of guys, the ones who blew her off because she was the star of a children’s show, and the ones who wanted her to wear the calico dress and wig to the bedroom. After dozens of disasters she’d taken to casual flings on her trips to Kingsbridge – no strings attached, no personal details needed, no follow-up.

She parked and got out of the car in front of a single story bungalow with navy trim. Her parents were proper and conservative, to say the least, but she was eternally grateful the house wasn't trimmed with tacky 1970s orange or rebellious neon anything.

Her mother was kneeling next to the flower bed, dutifully weeding around her beloved rose bush. Her hair was a few inches shorter than Megan's and usually dyed the same rich brown to hide any evidence of the early greys - but that was what Megan was late for, her salon appointment with her mother.

Deborah looked up at the slamming of the car door. “Oh, you’re home. Let me wash my hands.”

“No problem,” Megan said, following her mom into the house. “I have to toss my bag in the closet.”

“Honey, how are you going to get a haircut with your hair soaked like that?”

“They wash it before the cut it anyway!” Megan called from her room.

“But the tangles …”

Megan threw her mom a hand towel. “I combed it at the pool. Come on. Maria hates it when we’re late!”

***

Maria whisked them in as soon as they arrived and got Deborah’s hair dye in before starting on Megan. “Chlorine will ruin your hair,” she chided.

“I told her the same thing,” Deborah put in, flipping through the latest Hollywood gossip magazine. “And she nearly made us late today.”

“Oh thanks, gang up on me, why don’t you?” Megan rolled her eyes. “I got caught up in my book.”

“And here I thought you’d have gotten caught up with a boy.”

Megan glanced at Maria and whispered, very loudly, “Do mothers ever stop calling them boys and refer to them as men?”

Maria laughed. “I doubt it. My girl’s twelve and firmly interested in boys. I’ll be a few years before I have to deal with ‘men’ too, more than a few if I’m lucky.”

“Oh, and I won’t be home for supper,” Megan added.

“So there was a boy.”

“A man, yes, there was.”

Deborah sighed and set aside the magazine. “I worry about you, Megan. These flings could hurt your career. You entertain children! If you don’t uphold child friendly values …”

“Mom, it’s dinner. Come on, you didn’t see this guy. He used a pick up line, and an old one at that. It’s just dinner, nothing else.”
Not yet, anyway, but it’s hard to resist a man with a sexy chest and perfect abs.

“Just be careful.”

“I keep my private life very private, Mom. Don’t worry. Hey, Maria, do you have time to put just a little twist in my hair?”

***

Megan pulled up in front of the hotel in her car and raced up the steps. Halfway up the valet, a local kid named Murray, intersected her with his hand outstretched.

"Murray, I don't need the car parked, I'm just picking up a dinner date."

"I thought it was a little late for a swim," Murray replied with a wink.

"Speaking of late, that's what I am. He's probably pacing around the lobby waiting for me."

"Excuse me," said a familiar voice, two steps up. "Do I know you? Oh yeah, you're the girl with the beautiful smile."

The smile she shot him was rueful. "You mean beautiful bikini because you weren't staring at my smile earlier."

Tyler flushed as Murray grinned at him. "Have a nice dinner, Megan," Murray said and jogged back up the stairs to his station.

"At least that was a classier pick up line," Megan added.

Tyler shrugged. "I try my best," he said, following her down the steps. "You look good."