Keeping Victoria's Secret

This eBook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.

A naked man was probably the last thing
Victoria expected to find in Nanna’s farmhouse, but at the top of
the stairs when the bedroom door swung open at her touch, there he
was. Tall, dark and handsome. Every woman’s fantasy. Mere inches
away, water dripped from his curls onto some very impressive
shoulders, then trickled down to the hair that spread lightly
across his muscular chest trailing down to...Oh my god.

Behind him, Vicky glimpsed curtains blowing
gently at an open window. Her eyes returned to the man who had no
business being there. This is so not right.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you
staring at?” he barked.

Stunned, Vicky lifted her eyes to his. Man
and woman stood motionless for a beat. Then everything began to
move. Taking two quick steps back, she managed a weak high-pitched
yelp. Then she stumbled sideways grunting in pain as her forehead
slammed into the bedroom door jam. As she careened toward the
stairs, her mind raced. Everything’s all wrong. What’s he doing
here? Am I in the wrong house?

A small old-fashioned throw rug decorated the
upstairs hallway. It looked innocent enough, but when her right
foot landed on it, the rug slid on the polished wood in one
direction while she tumbled, arms flailing, in the other. One shoe
flew from her foot, bouncing and skittering down the steps. As she
fell, she was vaguely aware of someone shouting and her cell phone
ringing from inside her purse. The back of her head hit the
hardwood with a loud “thunk”, before everything went dark.

“What the hell?” Jack Conner stood, hands on
bare hips, frowning down at the strange woman. Her hair was pulled
into a bun and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses lay next to her.

How did this idiot get in the house? I
thought I locked the front door. Maybe she came in the back way? He
couldn’t help smiling at the ridiculous situation. Well, she looks
more like some old maid schoolteacher than a thief. Except old maid
schoolteachers don’t wear sexy panties. When the girl fell, her
long skirt had flown up, revealing red silk panties and some nice
looking legs. She's not bad looking under those awful clothes.

Jack sighed. She may be a trespasser, but
she’s knocked herself out, so I guess I’ll have to call
nine-one-one. Nah. It’ll take too long and I’ll never hear the end
of it from the guys on the rescue squad when I tell them there’s an
unconscious woman outside my bedroom.

“I’d better call Doc Sweeney; he’ll get here
faster anyway.” His friend, a retired doctor, lived less than a
mile down the road. Can’t leave her here. Jack slid one arm beneath
the girl’s knees and the other under her shoulders, gently lifting
her. He certainly didn’t mind running his hands under those silky
smooth legs. Carrying her to a spare bedroom, he carefully placed
her on the bed, took another long look at those legs, and then
sprinted for the phone.

Vaguely she realized the naked guy was
carrying her. She felt his arm slide under her thighs and cool air
on her bare skin. Oh my god. Where’s my skirt? Her eyes flickered
open and she stiffened when she saw a hairy chest, and... What’s
that? Oh, god. The guy’s turned on! Vicky closed her eyes as he
laid her down on a soft bed, and braced herself for the worst. Head
aching, heart pounding she waited, holding her breath. Then the
door closed. He was gone.

Vicky exhaled with relief, as the room spun
in circles. This is so lame. If I were writing this scene, it would
be so hot. Being carried off to bed by a handsome stranger should
be way more fun, but I’m not writing. This is really happening.

Where am I? She looked toward the closed door
and felt a stab of pain. Ouch! Where’s the naked guy? Slowly, she
turned her head to the right and looked outside. Through the open
window was an unending sea of pale pink blossoms. That’s right. I
remember driving here with apple trees in bloom everywhere.

“Where’s Mr. Douglas?” She checked her phone
for the third time and sighed. No calls. “He should’ve been here
almost an hour ago.” Her grandmother’s lawyer had arranged to meet
her at the farm she’d inherited, but he hadn’t shown up.

Impatient, she paced around the front yard
admiring the orchards with their neat rows of flowering trees that
surrounded the house. The day was perfect, cloudless and warm with
a light breeze.

Unwilling to wait any longer, she impulsively
strode to the porch and mounted the steps to the front door and
trying the knob, found it locked. Rattling the handle, she gave a
frustrated stamp of her foot. “I wish he’d get here. I can’t wait
to get inside.” Walking up and down the wide porch, she tried to
peek inside the windows until she remembered the key.

“I know it’s here somewhere.” Digging in her
purse she finally found her grandmother’s key, wondering if it
still fit the lock. To her amazement, the tumblers turned easily
and the old door swung silently open. “No way,” she whispered.

Cautiously stepping inside, she looked around
the foyer as she closed the door. A comfortable living room was on
the right, and dining room on the left. The house was even more
charming than she’d imagined. There was the faint smell of age,
wood and old furniture. To her surprise, it wasn’t very dusty and
the house had a “lived in” look. On the dining room table, old mail
and newspapers were scattered.

Must be the caretaker’s. Mr. Douglas
mentioned that the house was looked after by someone.

Walking into the dining room, she was drawn
to the handsome maple hutch on the back wall. “Oh wow, this is so
nice,” she breathed admiring the wood. Curiously, she peered
through the beveled glass and saw that it was filled with dishes.
She opened the doors carefully and recognized the china. Nanna had
described the delicate rose pattern in detail to her many times.
Her china was still in the hutch. Why did she abandon it here so
many years ago?

Returning to the foyer, Vicky looked up the
staircase admiring the carved banisters and newel posts. What was
it like for Nanna as a young girl growing up here? I wonder what
other memories are tucked away in this place.

At the bottom of the stairs, she hesitated.
Where’s that lawyer anyway? Should I wait for him? She checked her
phone, still no answer to her calls. The house was silent, except
for the wind whispering through the trees outside.

I wonder what the upstairs is like. Why
should I wait for Mr. Douglas? It’s my house now. Right? She
quietly mounted the stairs and at the landing where the stairs
turned, stopped to look around her new house. “This is so cool,”
she whispered. “My own home.”

In the upstairs hallway, she looked at
several closed doors, chose one at random, and opened it. The door
swung inward revealing a tall, dark, good-looking man staring back
at her, without a stitch of clothing on. Totally starkers.

That’s when I tried to run and fell getting
this nasty bump. Vicky touched the back of her head gingerly and
winced. Questions ping ponged inside her aching head as she tried
to figure out what all this meant.

Where’s the naked guy now? Who the hell is he
and what’s he doing in my house? And where’s that damned lawyer who
was supposed to explain everything about the property?

Aware of someone sneaking back into the room
she quickly closed her eyes feigning sleep. Peeking through her
lashes, she saw the naked mad man approaching her. Oh, my god. Oh,
my god. Oh, my god. What’s he going to do! What should I do? Maybe
he’ll leave me alone if he thinks I’m hurt. Vicky tried to breathe
slowly, but her heart was pounding.

Something heavy dropped on the floor. When
she finally dared to open her eyes, she was alone. Feeling the back
of her throbbing head cautiously where there was a growing lump,
she decided, “I can’t just lie here and wait for him to come back
and molest me, or something worse.”

Holding her aching head, she slid off the
bed, lurched to the doorframe, and squinting against the pain,
peeked out. She was just in time to see the naked man stagger
drunkenly to the bottom of the stairs and disappear around the
corner.

Now what do I do? This is not cool. There’s a
really strange, naked guy in my house! Who is he? Maybe he's a
murderer, or rapist, on the run and wanted by the police? Oh my
god! Backing into the room, she turned too fast and held her head,
struggling to fight back the nausea that rose up. Then she noticed
her bag spilled onto the carpet.

“My phone. Thank you, God!” Holding onto the
brass bed frame, she leaned over to dig frantically through the
stuff in her bag. Trying to ignore her roiling stomach and the
pounding in her head, she dug through keys, makeup, tissues,
receipts, and wallet until she found her phone.

With trembling fingers, she pressed the nine,
and the one twice.

The operator answered, “Nine-one-one. What is
your emergency?”

She spoke in a whisper, terrified the naked
man could hear her. “Nine-one-one? There’s a naked man in my house!
I’m injured too.”

“Ma’am, do you need an ambulance?”

“No, I don’t think I’m hurt seriously, but a
little. I hit my head somehow, but that’s not my real problem.
There’s a naked man in my house.”

“Ma’am, what is the nature of your
injury?”

“He’s in the house somewhere, and I’m afraid
he’s going to attack me. Please send help. My name is Victoria
Buonadies and I’m at…”

“Please remain on the line. Ma’am? We’ve been
able to locate you by the GPS in your phone and we’re sending help.
Can you tell me if the man is armed?”

She was digging deep in her aching brain,
trying to remember the address of her grandmother’s house. “It’s in
Pippen’s Grove, the Willet Farm. It’s a white farmhouse, a little
back from the road. I just got here and this crazy guy jumped out
at me. I have no idea who he is. I’m so scared and oh God, I feel
sick. Are you sending police or help?”

“Yes ma’am. They’re on their way now. Please
remain on the line until they arrive. Is the man armed?” the
operator patiently asked again.

“Armed? He’s naked!” Puzzled, she held the
phone in front of her and frowned at it, then added, “Maybe he’s,
god, I don’t know, going to rape me. Why else would he be running
around naked?”

“Yes ma’am. Is he carrying a gun or a
knife?”

Dazed and feeling very sick to her stomach,
she finally answered. “Oh God, I hope not! What should I do if he
has a knife or something? I don’t think he does. The only thing
he’s carrying is...”

Downstairs the doorbell chimed loudly and
someone began pounding on the front door. Startled, she shrieked
and the phone flew across the room and skittered under a
dresser.

Clutching the bedpost Vicky swayed, fighting
for control while she listened to the little squeaking voice of the
nine-one-one operator, coming from under the dresser. For what
seemed an eternity she held on, afraid to move.

Listening to voices from downstairs, she
wondered who was at the door. If the police are here, why don’t
they come up and save me? Maybe they won't get here in time.

The floor creaked and she realized the naked
guy must be coming back. Is there someone else with him? I won’t
just lie here helplessly; I’ll fight for my life. Despite the pain
and nausea, and the drumming in her head, Vicky staggered to her
feet. Off balance, wearing only one shoe, she grabbed a table lamp,
determined to defend herself.

When he realized the crazy girl had actually
lost consciousness, Jack backed away from the bed and quickly left
the room. “I’d better get Doc over here right away,” he mumbled
under his breath, more concerned now that she’d stopped screaming.
Just what I need! Some sort of groupie nut case sneaking into my
house and spying on me in the shower. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved
her. They say you shouldn’t move people who are injured, right? Too
late now.

Hurrying across the landing, his bare foot
caught the woman’s enormous leather bag where she’d dropped it.
“Shit, shit, shit!” he said grabbing his little toe and dancing on
one leg. “I think I broke it. Man! What else is going to happen?”
Sighing with disgust, he bent to pick up her purse. What the hell
does that nut keep in here? This thing weighs a ton. He eased back
into the bedroom and dropped it unceremoniously near the bed.