Cat 'N Mouse

By

Yvonne Harriott

Copyright @ 2012 Yvonne Harriott. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without prior permission by the author.

This book is a work of fiction, the names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design:
www.bdsdesigns.net

Edited by:
http://www.wordeffects.ca/

A big thank you to my family for their continuous love and support. I cannot forget my beta readers. You ladies rock!

To my readers, thank you for your support! I hope you enjoy reading about Alexandria and Sam as much as I loved writing about them.

Short Story Collections

THE WEDDING AND OTHER SHORT ROMANTIC STORIES

THE INVITATION AND OTHER SHORT STORIES

Romantic Suspense

HIDE ‘
N
SEEK

CAT
‘N
MOUSE

S
amuel O’Malley’s car rolled to a stop in front of a seven-foot high wrought iron gate constructed to keep uninvited guests out. Warren Prescott, a corporate tycoon owned the estate nestled on the backdrop of a lake.

He pressed the intercom button located on a curved metal pole sticking up out of the ground, and waited. He reached for his coffee in the cup holder and removed the plastic lid from the cup, blowing on the hot liquid.

Sunshine State my eye, Sam grumbled, as he drank his coffee. There were too many people and some of them shouldn’t be wearing swimsuits. It didn’t matter if it was a hundred degrees in the shade.

He should’ve stayed put in Boston and not let Matt Landrin talk him into uprooting his life. Then again it’s not like his high school buddy had to twist his arm. A move had been on his mind since he’d lost his job. Most of the severance package he’d gotten from his job went under the hood of his ‘72 Corvette. Smart move? The jury was still out deliberating on that.

“Prescott residence,” a cool crisp voice answered. “Can I help you?”

“It’s Sam O’Malley. I’ve an appointment with Warren Prescott,” Sam said, checking his watch. If he didn’t have this ‘must keep appointment’ Matt had set up for him, he wouldn’t be anywhere near Winter Park, a city in Orange County. He had to pull the map out for that. Staring at the sprawling estate, he was already regretting his decision.

“One moment please,” the voice on the intercom said.

Sam could never afford anything on this side of town. Then again, why would he? Rich people were all the same. It didn’t matter how much money they had, they wanted more. They would destroy or step on anyone’s neck that got in their way. He had experienced that first hand.

Why was he here? Because he wanted a fresh start, he reminded himself. For that he needed money. “Easy money” Matt had said and threw him a bone. He’d set up the meeting with Prescott. With the money he would earn from shadowing Prescott’s daughter, Alexandria, he could finish his car. He stared at the picture Matt had given him. She had skin the color of soft caramel. Hair, a mass of black curls, red lips curled into a pouty smile with hot hazel eyes staring right back at him. Definitely pin up material. He tore his eyes away from the picture and shoved it back into the glove compartment.

Sam raised the coffee to his lips, the one he paid almost six bucks for. It wasn’t coffee by his standard. The stuff he was used to woke you up and stained the bottom of a good mug. This was a latté grande something, a watered down—

Suddenly the car jolted forward with a bang right into the gate and a wailing noise that could’ve woken the dead went off.

“What the hell…”

The cup slipped out of his hands and he fumbled to catch it. It hit the steering wheel and he grabbed a handful of napkins quickly mopping up the liquid that landed on his lap trying to protect the family jewels. Working feverishly to prevent the coffee from disappearing into the dashboard was a futile effort for the liquid disappeared like a sponge soaking up water.

Coffee soaked his shirt, and wouldn’t you know it, he had a nice big wet mark right in the middle of his lap. He looked through the rearview mirror. A red Porsche had crashed into the back of his car.

Sam threw the soiled napkins on the seat, shoved the door open and got out of the car. To his amazement, the woman behind the wheel was on the phone while her car was wedged into the back of his. Whether she was on the phone before the crash or after, he couldn’t tell. She was lucky her air bag hadn’t deployed.

She pushed the door open, stepped out on to the asphalt, stumbled then grabbed onto the car door.

“Sorry.”

Sam didn’t know if the apology was meant for him or the person whom she was talking with on the phone because she continued her conversation without so much of a glance in his direction.

“
Sorry?!
Your car is in my trunk and all you can say is
sorry!
”

Her forefinger went up to silence him, and she turned her back to him and continued with her phone call. She was decked out in a white halter-top getup. It looked like a dress, but there wasn’t enough material to classify it as one.

“That’s it.” He reached over her shoulder and snatched the phone out of her hand.

“Give me back my phone!” She whirled around on him and grabbed at the gadget encased in a pink-jeweled case. He held it from her reach above his head.

“You just wrecked my car,” he stated calmly.

“I apologized, didn’t I?” She held out her hand and started tapping her right foot. “Can I have my phone back?”

Sam drew in a breath, trying to control the anger bubbling up inside. He stared at the woman who looked like she wanted to scratch his eyes out with her long red claws.

“Let’s try this again,” Sam said because he was sure she was under the influence of some form of narcotic. He spoke slowly annunciating every word “You…” he pointed to her, “wrecked….my…car.” He pointed to the broken taillights and the chrome bumper pushed into the metal of the trunk.

“Give the bill to daddy and he’ll pay to fix it. He’ll buy you a new car if you’d like. She stared at his car as if it belonged in the junk heap. “
Let’s try this again.
” Cold hazel eyes bored into his. “Give…me…back…my…phone.”

Hell, no! Give the bill to daddy?
He had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation that crossed his mind. He shook his head as if that would wake him up. Yeah, that’s right. He must be asleep because things like this…this crazy woman with a sports car, didn’t happen to him.

The iron gate opened and a white-haired man accompanied by a security guard, he assumed came barreling down the driveway in a golf cart.

“Princess, what have you done?”

“Oh daddy, it’s just a little scratch.”

‘Daddy’,
who Sam recognized right off the bat as, Warren Prescott of The Prescott Corporation, stepped out of the golf cart and walked toward them. His goatee was nearly trimmed. The designer black suit he wore was tailor made for him, complimented with the white shirt and the red silk day cravat at his neck.

Prescott was on the front page of the newspaper Sam had picked up at Matt’s door earlier that morning. He was one of Florida’s most eligible bachelors at sixty-five years old. The article went on to talk about some big acquisition he was currently negotiating. What Prescott did was gobbled up helpless companies, split them up and sold them off.

‘
Princess’
ran into his open arms and hugged him. It was as though she was a child looking for reassurance after doing something wrong and she got it. She had Prescott wrapped around her little finger. Sam wanted no part of the
Princess
or her rich daddy.

The security guard, an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-a-like he pegged as an ex-cop or ex-military asked for ID as he emerged from the golf cart. Sam waited until Arnie peeled his eyes off
Princess
for he was sure there was an unrequited love thing there, but that was none of his business. Sam gave him his driver’s license. He stared at the picture then back at Sam.

“What
Princess
has done is wreck my car,” Sam stated flatly, trying to suppress his anger. He didn’t want a confrontation with Arnie. The man looked liked he wanted to hit somebody, and it wasn’t going to be him.

“The front bumper is barely scratched.” Prescott said walking toward the Porsche, brows wrinkled, inspecting the two cars.

Sam waited with his arms folded across his chest for Prescott’s assessment of the damages because that’s what he was gearing up to do. Along with being an expert in corporate takeovers, it appeared he was also an expert in collision damages. Princess looked on saying nothing because Daddy was taking care of everything.

“The damage is minimal. If anything her car will cost more money to repair than yours. I’m sure your car can easily be fixed, Mr. O’Malley,” Prescott said with an air of arrogance that snapped the control Sam held on his anger. Minimal damage, my eye. Well, he couldn’t care less what His Royal Highness had to say.

“Whether it can easily be repaired or not, is not the issue.”

“There’s no reason to get upset,” Prescott said looking at his Rolex. “Colt,” he pointed to the Arnie look-at-like, “will take care of it.”

He pulled a neatly pressed handkerchief from his inside breast pocket and dabbed at his forehead. “I expected you half an hour ago. I see no point in standing out here in the sun arguing about trivial matters.”

I expected you half an hour ago
. That was code for: this little mess was his fault. For had he arrived earlier, his daughter’s car wouldn’t have ended up in his trunk. What Prescott failed to remember was that he was the one who had changed their meeting time to 9:30 a.m. to accommodate a business call.

The man spoke with the same disregard for his property as his daughter. There was no way in hell he was going to baby sit Alexandria “
Princess”
Prescott.

“You’re right,” Sam said when Arnie returned his ID. “We’re done here.”

“Mr. O’Malley,” Prescott called as Sam turned away.

Sam ignored him moving swiftly toward the Porsche. The keys were still dangling in the ignition. He slid into the driver’s seat and the steering wheel ended up between his legs. Adjusting the seat, which barely gave him enough room to move, he turned on the engine. The car roared to life. It was a spitfire like its owner. He reversed the Porsche slowly dislodging it from his car.

Prescott and Arnie watched him in silence. He guessed they weren’t quite sure what to do since no one had probably ever walked away from the great Warren Prescott. Princess was another story. Her mouth was wide open. Where was a fly when you needed one?

What he should’ve done was call the police and get Princess arrested. She was probably drunk. But none of that mattered. The more distance he put between him and the Prescotts the better.

He unfolded himself out of the car and pulled the key from the ignition. “I’ll leave you to your castle with your
Princess
.” He dropped the keys in Mr. Prescott’s hand. “As for my car, since you’ll be paying for the damages I’ll be in touch.”

•  •  •

“Are you okay, Princess?”

“I’m fine,” Alexandria said still clutching her chest. The accident had shaken her up and the little shouting match with Mr. O’Malley didn’t help any to calm her frayed nerves. She was trembling and wasn’t quite sure if it was from the accident or the man himself.

He was tall and muscular with skin the color of rich dark chocolate. His black, wavy hair was cut short neatly around his face. It was the indifference that she’d seen in his dark eyes when he looked at her that had gotten under her skin. She’d watched as he reversed his car, kicking up the gravel, and left the gateway at lightning speed.