subject.
Maggie frowned. “How did you get here?”
He lifted his eyebrows and pointed to his shoes. “Most fascinating thing—I walked. You have that ability too, you know.”
Her frown turned into a scowl when Lance laughed.
“How did you get to my house this morning?” she asked suspiciously.
“Did you know Dubuque has a taxi service? Oddest thing.” Half of his mouth lifted mockingly.
“Well, I’m going now,” Maggie said lamely, waiting for him to move away from the car before getting inside.
“See you soon,” he taunted, waving with exaggerated cheerfulness.
She drove off, sure he was laughing at her when she glanced in the rearview mirror.
LANCE—1996
L ANCE KNOCKED ON the apartment door and waited for it to open, restless energy not letting him stand still. He knew she was home—he’d watched her walk inside the apartment about fifteen minutes ago from where he sat in the sand. He also knew Judith, her designated guardian while filming in Virginia Beach, was not.
He heard movement on the other side of the door, imagined her checking the peephole, and then the door slowly opened. Lance put on a fake smile, but when he focused on her, it became real. She looked nervous, cheeks red and eyes shifting to him and away. Reddish-brown hair waving around her face and shoulders, dressed in the white sundress as she was, Maggie looked sweet. Pretty.
“Hi, Maggie.”
“Hi.”
He’d been warned to stay away from her. By Judith, by Herman. By just about everyone who knew him and Maggie. That only made him want to be near her more.
She bit her lower lip, causing an embarrassing reaction in him, and asked, “What are you doing here, Lance?”
“I . . .” He swiped a hand through his hair, unsure why his pulse thrummed so fast. “I thought maybe we could hang out? Practice some lines for next week’s episode?” Lance held up the papers he’d brought along to make his visit seem authentic. He didn’t need to go over his lines. He’d had them memorized since the day they got them.
Maggie’s eyes flew to his face. “Why?”
It wasn’t a demand. She sounded like she genuinely wanted to know why he sought her out. He understood the basis of her question. They’d been working on the show for over a month and that was the first time he’d initiated interaction with her outside of the set. He wasn’t really sure why, but the more he was around her, the more interesting she became.
Lance shrugged and turned to face the beach. It was getting dark, the sky painted in tones of purple, red, and blue, but there were still people in the sand and water. Facing her, he said, “My dad is out of the state for the month, and Mitch, the guy I’m rooming with? He’s gone for the night. It’s . . . really quiet in the apartment.”
She heard something in his voice or words that caused her expression to soften. The door opened wider. “Come on in. I’ve actually been having trouble with some of my lines. Judith’s been trying to help me, but it might be better to hear your lines from your voice instead of hers.”
He caught her smile as he stepped inside, the sweet scent of oranges teasing his senses. Lance stopped beside her. She was looking at him, eyes alight with innocent warmth. He could kiss her. She’d let him. Maybe she’d let him, he corrected, continuing into the living room.
“How do you like staying here?” Lance looked around the room, noting the lack of electronics. He dropped the papers on an end table near a recliner.
The room was decorated in whites and grays with a wall of windows facing the beach. He had the same view, one floor up. The furniture was light gray, the carpet white. Maggie’s clean scent was faint, whereas Judith’s floral one was overpowering the space. He preferred Maggie’s.
“Here, or in Virginia Beach?” Maggie stood near the opening to the small kitchen area.
“Both.”
She shrugged, disappearing around the corner. “It’s different from Iowa.
Maggie frowned. “How did you get here?”
He lifted his eyebrows and pointed to his shoes. “Most fascinating thing—I walked. You have that ability too, you know.”
Her frown turned into a scowl when Lance laughed.
“How did you get to my house this morning?” she asked suspiciously.
“Did you know Dubuque has a taxi service? Oddest thing.” Half of his mouth lifted mockingly.
“Well, I’m going now,” Maggie said lamely, waiting for him to move away from the car before getting inside.
“See you soon,” he taunted, waving with exaggerated cheerfulness.
She drove off, sure he was laughing at her when she glanced in the rearview mirror.
LANCE—1996
L ANCE KNOCKED ON the apartment door and waited for it to open, restless energy not letting him stand still. He knew she was home—he’d watched her walk inside the apartment about fifteen minutes ago from where he sat in the sand. He also knew Judith, her designated guardian while filming in Virginia Beach, was not.
He heard movement on the other side of the door, imagined her checking the peephole, and then the door slowly opened. Lance put on a fake smile, but when he focused on her, it became real. She looked nervous, cheeks red and eyes shifting to him and away. Reddish-brown hair waving around her face and shoulders, dressed in the white sundress as she was, Maggie looked sweet. Pretty.
“Hi, Maggie.”
“Hi.”
He’d been warned to stay away from her. By Judith, by Herman. By just about everyone who knew him and Maggie. That only made him want to be near her more.
She bit her lower lip, causing an embarrassing reaction in him, and asked, “What are you doing here, Lance?”
“I . . .” He swiped a hand through his hair, unsure why his pulse thrummed so fast. “I thought maybe we could hang out? Practice some lines for next week’s episode?” Lance held up the papers he’d brought along to make his visit seem authentic. He didn’t need to go over his lines. He’d had them memorized since the day they got them.
Maggie’s eyes flew to his face. “Why?”
It wasn’t a demand. She sounded like she genuinely wanted to know why he sought her out. He understood the basis of her question. They’d been working on the show for over a month and that was the first time he’d initiated interaction with her outside of the set. He wasn’t really sure why, but the more he was around her, the more interesting she became.
Lance shrugged and turned to face the beach. It was getting dark, the sky painted in tones of purple, red, and blue, but there were still people in the sand and water. Facing her, he said, “My dad is out of the state for the month, and Mitch, the guy I’m rooming with? He’s gone for the night. It’s . . . really quiet in the apartment.”
She heard something in his voice or words that caused her expression to soften. The door opened wider. “Come on in. I’ve actually been having trouble with some of my lines. Judith’s been trying to help me, but it might be better to hear your lines from your voice instead of hers.”
He caught her smile as he stepped inside, the sweet scent of oranges teasing his senses. Lance stopped beside her. She was looking at him, eyes alight with innocent warmth. He could kiss her. She’d let him. Maybe she’d let him, he corrected, continuing into the living room.
“How do you like staying here?” Lance looked around the room, noting the lack of electronics. He dropped the papers on an end table near a recliner.
The room was decorated in whites and grays with a wall of windows facing the beach. He had the same view, one floor up. The furniture was light gray, the carpet white. Maggie’s clean scent was faint, whereas Judith’s floral one was overpowering the space. He preferred Maggie’s.
“Here, or in Virginia Beach?” Maggie stood near the opening to the small kitchen area.
“Both.”
She shrugged, disappearing around the corner. “It’s different from Iowa.
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