Rumor Has It (Limelight) (2 page)

The turn-off leading to the beach house came into view. A drunk must have run over the street sign. The metal pole lay almost perpendicular to the ground. Thank God it wasn’t far now. Sweat began to drip down the middle of my back, making my blouse stick to my spine. Was it possible for this day to get any more annoying?

I pulled into the driveway of the beach house and got out of the car. The sun’s rays glistened off the predominantly glass structure. I held my arm across my brow as I approached, then took the steps leading up to the wraparound deck at a frantic pace—keenly aware of the clock ticking down to the client’s arrival. I reached the top and bent at the waist, trying to suck in some oxygen. Because of my quick metabolism I didn’t pack any extra weight. That didn’t mean shit when you couldn’t go up a flight of stairs without feeling like you’d run a marathon.

After a minute or two the light-headedness subsided enough that I stood upright. I followed the deck around the house to find the main door. Indeed, the lockbox hung open on the handle, empty. I reached into my purse for the key and put it into the lock. It wouldn’t budge. I tried and tried but the metal just dug into my finger. Desperate, I snatched the key out, thrust it back in, and gave it another go.

Katie must have given me the wrong key, or maybe it wasn’t cut properly. Who knew if they’d ever used this one before? If I didn’t get this door opened before the client showed up the situation would become
my
fault. Not the housekeeper’s, mine. I’d worked for Jeff long enough to see his temper lead to impromptu firings. That would only set me further back. Not an option. I was getting in this house somehow.

I followed the deck around to the back where the house faced the ocean. The Atlantic looked fairly peaceful. No whitecaps, just the sound of waves gently lapping at the shore where water met white sand. A couple of patio sets and chaise lounges sat before the pool and spa overlooking the beach. Apparently the rich didn’t like getting sand on their feet and preferred to sit in a sterile pool with a beach view. There were several sets of French doors along the back of the house. I tried them all. Locked.

That left only one choice. There was a small window on the side of the house. I dragged a chair across the deck and placed it below the small rectangular window, praying that since it was high no one had thought to lock it. Setting my purse down, I removed my heels and stood on top of the chair. Of course I’d chosen to wear a pencil skirt today. How perfect. I hiked the beige fabric up my thighs and stretched up to the window. At first it didn’t move but when I put more force into it, it finally gave.

“Yes, thank God.” I removed the screen and grimaced. Now the fun part. I wasn’t a big girl but it’d be a tight squeeze. Still, I was confident I’d make it. I didn’t have any other choice.

It took several tries before I managed to get my arms onto the window ledge. I was sweating profusely and cursing the fact that I never found the time to work out. My biceps shook with fatigue but my waist was resting on the window lip. Halfway there.

The window was barely wide enough for me to fit through; maneuvering around enough to get in the house feet first wasn’t going to happen. The ceramic tile floor was directly below me and the toilet was to the left.

I’d have to go head first, hoping to break the fall with my hands and not my neck.

Breathing was difficult with the window sill jammed into my midsection, but I gulped one breath down and used my hands to push off. Nothing happened. I didn’t have enough upper body strength to propel my bottom half up. The second time I used my feet on the outside wall to get some leverage.

It worked a little too well. I fell forward. My skirt caught on something, and I heard the audible rip as I hurled to the floor below. I bashed my head off the toilet and lay sprawled on the bathroom floor.

All I could think of was how pissed Jeff was going to be if I didn’t get that key in the lockbox and scram before the client arrived. I remained on the floor for a minute. My wrist was sore, and my head was pounding but I was inside.

I lifted my forehead off the cold ceramic tile and my vision blurred. I blinked a few times to clear the curious image before me. Eventually my vision focused. A pair of men’s sandals were still in front of me.

CHAPTER TWO

I’d been in the beach house I’d rented for all of ten minutes and already a crazy fangirl had found me. How’d she even know I’d be here? Maybe she didn’t know. I’d parked my rental car in the garage. Either way, if my manager booked the rental under my real name he’d fucking hear about it.

I took in the sight of the girl sprawled on the bathroom tiles. It was clear she’d broken in through the window and somehow lost the lower half of her outfit in the process. I was okay with that. Her yellow thong left little to the imagination. She groaned and attempted to see through the mass of a brown ponytail.

Dealing with an overzealous groupie was nothing new to me. I’d never had an actual crazy chick pursue me, but I suppose there was bound to be a first time. My manager always warned me I needed to take my personal security more seriously. “Better safe than sorry” he’d say, and I guess he was right.

“You okay?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything but slowly moved into a sitting position. She wore a fitted blouse so I could see she wasn’t packing any weapons. Unless a pair of full C cups counted. She lifted her head and her long ponytail swung out of her face, revealing a set of doe-brown eyes. They didn’t appear to be fully focused.

“The cops are on their way,” I said.

That got her attention. Her eyes widened and she scrambled to use the lid on the toilet to hoist herself upright. On her feet, she gripped the marble counter beside her. Her orange toenail polish practically glowed. My gaze traveled up the olive skin of her legs to the apex of her thighs. Her entire body stiffened. The show was over.

“Oh god,” she said. She whirled to grab at the skirt hanging from the window and gave it a few good yanks. It didn’t budge. She must have realized she was on display because she whipped around. I guess she didn’t like me taking in the view. She eyed the towel rack and hastily grabbed one of the plush towels, wrapping it around her waist.

“Maybe you should worry less about your skirt and more about what’s gonna happen when the cops get here.” I don’t know why she was being so modest. What was the point of breaking into my place if she hadn’t planned on letting me in her pants? Hell, if it was a few years ago I would’ve been happy to see her.

The color drained from her face and for a moment I felt bad. But as cute as she was I didn’t want to give this chick any reason to think she’d be welcome during my stay. I didn’t need an obsessive groupie trying to insert herself into my life. I was here for one reason only. Relax before my next tour began and find out why the hell a guy who supposedly had it all wasn’t content with his life.

“You called the cops?” she asked sounding panicked.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t break in. Honest!”

I looked from her, to the open window and back and raised a brow.

“No really! I’m from Beachside Realty,” she said.

“Sure you are.”

“The housekeeper was here earlier and she locked the key inside. My boss told me you wouldn’t be here yet and I was trying to get the key so I could put it back in the lockbox for you.”

“Well, if you’re a Realtor, show me your card.”

She blanched. “I didn’t say I was a Realtor. I said I’m from the real estate office. I’m a secretary.”

“You expect me to believe you don’t know who I am?”

She appeared genuinely confused. Maybe she was for real. “Should I? My boss didn’t give me a name, unless your real name is client.”

I laughed. She had balls. I’d give her that. “Give me your boss’s number and we’ll see if you’re telling the truth.”

Her eyes widened even more. “You can’t call him.”

“Can and will.” I crossed my arms across my bare chest. “You’d rather face the police than your boss?”

“Yes. He’ll fire me. Let me prove it. That key’s got to be in here somewhere. We can find it and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

I probably outweighed her by seventy pounds and towered over her by at least six inches; she was no real threat to me. She really didn’t seem to know who I was so I decided to indulge her in the effort to prove herself innocent.

“All right then. Find the key.”

She let out a rush of breath. “Thank you.” She took a step forward and then stopped. “Wait a minute…how did you get in?” she asked.

“I used one of the French doors on the deck. Why?”

She looked confused. “I checked those and they were all locked.”

“Are you going to find that key or not?” It was force of habit to lock the door behind me. Whenever my mom would leave me alone as a kid she’d make sure I’d lock the door after she left. I wasn’t about to tell this girl that though.

I motioned for her to go in front of me. At this point I didn’t think she meant any harm but I still didn’t want my back to her. She scurried past me, and I got a whiff of her perfume. I usually didn’t give a shit one way or the other what perfume a girl wore. Something about hers though... I liked it. The slight vanilla and citrus scent left trailing behind her had my thoughts moving in a southerly direction.

She trekked into the great room with its wall of glass and French doors every few feet—a woman on a mission. I’d picked this rental because of the contemporary design on the outside, and more traditional beach decor inside. It featured the expected pale wood floors, white couches and blue accents. The pool on the deck didn’t hurt either. I could still go for a swim and maintain privacy if the beach was crowded.

“It’s gotta be here somewhere,” she said. She scampered around back of the couch and checked the coffee and end tables. When she came up empty she made her way over to the kitchen, searching the black granite counter for the key in question. Her brows drew together after she moved over to the white-washed kitchen table and came up empty-handed.

Those doe eyes of hers darted over to me and panic set in.

“Maybe it’s in the bedroom. I’ll go check there,” she said.

Hell, if this was a ruse to get me into the bedroom with her, it was the most creative I’d seen thus far. And in the past five years I’d seen a lot of shit. I followed her. My suitcases were in there and on the remote chance she did know who I was, I didn’t want her stealing my shit to sell on EBay.

I rushed in to find her bent over the nightstand. Before I could imagine what she’d look like in that position
without
the towel wrapped around her waist, she spun around.

“Aha.” Her hand flew up in front of her, displaying the key. She winced and dropped her prize, grabbing her right wrist.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, and made my way over to her.

“I’ll be okay. I told you I was telling the truth.” The smile on her face was triumphant.

“I can see that.” Now that I was closer, I noticed a good-sized goose egg forming on her forehead. “Here, sit down on the bed so I can take a look at your wrist and your head.”

She stood in place. “What’s wrong with my head?”

“You’ve got a big bump. Do you feel dizzy or anything?”

“I did earlier. I’ve got a headache, but I’m fine.” She glanced warily at the bed, “I’m going to get out of here.”

“Sit.” My tone brooked no argument and from her swift intake of breath, she knew I meant it. I wasn’t trying to scare her but I knew if she had suffered a concussion it could be serious. Experience had been a great teacher. Having a drunk for a mom meant I’d dealt with enough falls to know my way around a first-aid kit.

“I’m fine,” she said, but sat down on the edge of the bed anyway.

I liked seeing her on my bed. She was gorgeous in a way that wasn’t totally obvious at first. Her appeal didn’t scream “look at me” the way most of the women in my world did. At first glance she reminded me of the girl next door, but her lips were a little too plump, her eyes a little too sultry.

She broke eye contact and looked down. When she realized she was looking at my crotch her gaze darted to the floor and a pink flush crept into her cheeks. I felt the stirrings of desire again.

“Wait right here. I’ll be back.”

*****

Now that he was gone I let out the breath I’d been holding. Holy crap. I’d never been in close proximity with such a stunning piece of male. When I’d first raised my head off the bathroom floor I figured I’d hit it harder than I thought.

He’d been shirtless and on display was a set of muscular arms and a rock-hard six pack. It could have been an eight-pack for all I knew. I
had
been a little woozy at the time. I’d have a closer look when he came back out. My best friend Skye would want details when I relayed this story later, and I was nothing if not a good friend. To push him even higher on the hot meter, tattoos covered both arms from his wrist to his shoulders. When he’d gone into the bathroom I’d seen a huge eagle spread across the rippling muscles of his upper back. His face was chiseled and his green eyes were surrounded by a full set of dark lashes that matched the cropped, dark hair on his head. I’d never seen a guy rock a five-o’clock shadow so well. His look was intense, but he came off as more of a laid-back surfer guy.