The Trouble with Andrew by Heather Graham Page A

Hey, he’s got lots of neat stuff. All of the Alien movies. The complete Star Wars. Horror movies— The Raven. That’s great. Vincent Price was really neat.”
    â€œHe still is,” Katie murmured. Drew Cunningham certainly did have quite a selection. One whole corner of the bookshelves was taken up by stacks of tapes. Horror, sci-fi, action-adventure, Shakespeare, romance.
    She decided at last on Arsenic and Old Lace.
    She turned around. Jordan shrugged at her choice. “It’s one of my favorites,” she told him.
    â€œIt’s not all that romantic,” he told her.
    Katie paused. “It was supposed to be?”
    Jordan innocently lay down. “Hey, Mom. Watch whatever you want.”
    She kissed his forehead. “I will. Sleep tight.”
    â€œYou, too,” he told her. “And don’t stay up too late, remember, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
    â€œYes, sir!” she told him.
    She carried her movie downstairs. Drew did seem to like her choice. “One of my favorites,” he said, slipping it into the slot on the small television. “It’s not exactly wide screen or letter box,” he apologized.
    â€œIt’s a great movie,” she said, “without any enhancement. Besides—it’s a break from the storm.”
    He didn’t argue that. “There’s no popcorn,” he said after a moment. “Well, I could build a fire and we could pop some, but we’d die of the heat.”
    â€œI can live without the popcorn.”
    â€œWant some lukewarm once-iced tea?” he asked.
    â€œI’ll get it.”
    â€œAnd we do have chips,” he called.
    It was really an amazing night. They set the bowl of chips between them and munched away, sipping the tea. They talked about Cary Grant and tried to recall all his movies. They lamented his loss, and they laughed at Peter Lorre. They sat close on the sofa, only the bowl of chips between them.
    Then the movie ended, and the room seemed filled with silence.
    â€œI’ll pick this up—” Katie began.
    â€œNo, I will. Go to bed. You’re hard to get up in the morning.”
    â€œI am not!”
    â€œYou were this morning.”
    â€œI was very tried.”
    â€œThen go get some more sleep now,” he told her.
    Katie nodded. “Good night,” she told him. She paused. “Thank you again.”
    â€œKatie, do me two favors. Quit picking up, and quit thanking me.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œI owe you, believe me.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?”
    â€œI’ll explain—sometime,” he told her. “Go get some sleep. We’ll have to start early because I do have to work.”
    She nodded and turned. She paused on the stairway, but he had already gone into the kitchen.
    She went upstairs and had a cold shower. Due to the heat, it wasn’t at all terrible.
    She curled up in bed again. His bed. Well, at least a bed in his house.
    And she thought that the evening she’d spent with him had been better than anything she had done in a long time. It was easy to be with him. He was everything she might have imagined in a man…
    She still knew nothing about him. He could be so cryptic, and so brooding.
    The roofers had all been willing to just about bow down to him. Maybe he had paid them well. Maybe people were just extraordinarily helpful because of the storm.
    Maybe…
    She didn’t know anything about him, but she knew him. The scent of him, his smile, the sound of his voice. The way he talked, the way he laughed…
    She rolled over, worried. He was very attractive. He was awakening things within her that had slept peacefully for a long time.
    All right, so she was almost dying to touch him…
    And be touched.
    After so short an acquaintance.
    It was dangerous. She was setting herself up.
    Yet…
    What else could she do?
    She rolled over and pounded her pillow with that thought. Then