Free Really Something by Shirley Jump Page B

want is his property.” Uh-huh.
    â€œHis property? Is that some kinky thing I haven’t seen on HBO yet?”
    Allie laughed. “No, it’s a cool Victorian house, a farm, actually, that he owns.”
    â€œDuncan Henry owns a farm? Geez. And here I didn’t think Tempest had any secrets.”
    Allie grinned. “Apparently, there are a few.”
    â€œI don’t see Duncan as the Mr. Green Jeans type. Maybe more the Mr. Tight Jeans.” Vanessa wiggled one of her brows.
    â€œHe is that. And a bag of Doritos.”
    â€œSo, what’s it like? Is he growing corn or something?”
    â€œNope. It’s run down as all hell. I don’t think anyone has lived there in years. Dusty, overgrown.” Allie didn’t go into the details about the woman’s clothing in the wardrobe. There was a piece missing to the house’s puzzle and to Duncan—and until Allie knew what it was, she’d leave those details out.
    Vanessa shuddered. “Sounds awful.”
    â€œIt only sounds awful if you’re a Realtor. To Jerry, that’s the sound of money at a box office. It’s exactly the right location for the next Chicken Flicks movie. But—” At this, Allie sighed. “Duncan refuses to talk about leasing it to the production company. My boss called twice last night to find out if I’d gotten permission yet. He wants to move up filming and get started in a couple of weeks at most. So, I need to find a way to convince Duncan that renting it to Jerry is a good idea.”
    Vanessa rose and refilled her coffee, doing the whole sugar/cream ritual again. Allie shook her head at the offer of a refill. One was about all she could stomach—literally. “Once you get your hands on Duncan’s ‘property,’ are you still going to stick to your plan?”
    â€œYou mean dump Duncan, just like he did me?” Allie steeled her resolve again with a flash of memory of her standing outside the prom, crying, her heart broken by the callous football player who’d had no idea what going into that room with him had meant to her, what any of it had meant—four years of sitting beside him, hanging on his every word, hoping, believing he’d seen past her chubby face. “Of course. I won’t fall for him. Not again.”
    â€œEven if he kisses better than any man you’ve ever met?” Vanessa smirked. “Hey, I’ve heard the rumors about Duncan. He’s known for more than just his forecasts, believe me.”
    A surge of jealousy sparked in Allie. She pushed it away, refusing to allow the feeling any room. She didn’t own him, didn’t want to own him. She only wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.
    Regardless of that momentary lapse of judgment back at the farmhouse.
    â€œWell, he won’t win me over with his mouth, that’s for sure.” Uh, yeah. Right.
    â€œAnd if he uses another part of his anatomy?” Vanessa lowered her voice below SpongeBob’s nasal tittering so the children wouldn’t hear the innuendo.
    â€œI’m not so easily swayed.” Yet even as she said the words, Allie knew her truth was as diluted as Vanessa’s coffee. She needed to reorder her priorities. Get the house. Make the movie. Get the hell out of Tempest.
    Heart and soul intact.
    The problem? If Duncan had proposed a little swaying, heck, even whispered the hint in her ear, she would have done a lot more than kissed him yesterday.
    And that, she knew, was the one bug in an otherwise perfect plan.

Chapter 8
    â€œMr. H.?” Wally Messerschmitt stuck his head into Duncan’s office on Monday morning, his face as flushed as a marathoner’s. Every time Duncan saw him, the twenty-year-old kid brimmed with eagerness. His reed-thin body practically quivered, making his spiked red hair dance. “I have the forecast ready. Do you want it now? I hope it’s accurate. I mean, I’m still