“Might be, yeah. I get what I go after.”
The smokiness in his voice made her turn in time to see his gaze on the gap in her robe. Slowly, she stood, tightening the robe, her stomach plummeting like she was on a roller coaster.
“And apparently you have a fondness for…sports equipment.” She attempted a lightness despite the blood singing in her head.
“I have my weaknesses.”
“Like most rich men,” she muttered, turning away.
“Excuse me?”
She froze in midstep on her way out of the tiny laundry room, already feeling breathless from the lack of space and the growing heat from the dryer. “Never mind, I’m...I guess I’ll...”
“What? Clean in your bathrobe?” He stayed leaning against the counter, his arms still crossed, amusement tugging at the corners of his eyes. “What did that comment mean, exactly?”
“It was me being a little bitchy,” she admitted. “Which is totally out of line considering how easily you could get me fired for this.”
His face softened. “I would never do that.”
“Thank you. And, anyway, I seem to be well on my way to doing that all by myself.”
“Because you had a little run-in with the shower hose? You don’t give yourself enough credit, Mandy.”
She smiled at the sound of her name on his lips, so sweet it actually made her next breath come out shakily. Or maybe that was the size and closeness of him and the way his whole face shifted from handsome to heartbreaking when he smiled.
“I give myself plenty of credit,” she said. “In fact,” she added with a dry laugh, “I’m basically living on the stuff now.”
He lifted an eyebrow in interest.
“Not that someone like you could appreciate that, but...” Why had she told him this? Because she wanted pity? Help? A loan? A little disgusted with herself, she started to turn, but he reached out and snagged her elbow.
“Don’t leave.”
“I...can’t really, well, go anywhere,” she said. “But maybe I could dust.”
He laughed, still holding her elbow and inching her closer. “There’s no dust. Tell me about how you are getting yourself fired.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.” He let go and propped his hands on the counter at his back, the knuckles nearly white, she noticed, as if he were forcing himself to hang on and not touch her.
Oh, Amanda Lockhart, what an imagination you have.
“Well, it looks like we’re having a management change, and I’m not going to make the first staffing cut when we do.”
His features shifted to a concerned frown. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“I’ll give you a good recommendation. Will that help?”
She let out a breath of surprise and gratitude at the offer. “That’s so sweet. I’d love to read that letter, too. ‘Amanda’s strengths include pest control, eavesdropping, and water management.’ ”
He laughed. “But she looks damn fine in my bathrobe.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but whatever she was going to say got stuck in her throat. Because...that wasn’t true. “I thought I heard you tell your mother you don’t lie.”
“I don’t.” His eyes grew darker blue, all mirth disappearing as his expression shifted to dead serious. “I really never lie. I deal in numbers and facts for a living, and numbers and facts never lie.”
She waited for him to continue, lost in the way he spoke with authority and the shape of his mouth every time it moved. His lips were...perfect. Under the soft velveteen of the robe, she burned with a slow, tingling heat that was definitely not caused by the dryer.
“Well, you’re lying now,” she said, her voice surprisingly gruff. “Because I don’t look fine. I look wet and...tired. And...” Broken. “I’ve had some tough years.”
“They don’t show,” he said, as factually as if he’d added two plus two. “In fact, I can’t take my eyes off you.”
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, but tried to swallow, her throat tight and dry. Was he being honest, this man who claimed to never lie? It sure seemed that way, but—
“And there was a time,” he said, slowly taking his hands off the counter as though he trusted himself to be steady now, “when I couldn’t look right at you.”
She blinked at him.
“It was like looking at the sun,” he whispered, taking one step closer. “So bright and so blinding that it hurt.” In front of her, he gently put his hands on her shoulders, holding her perfectly still in the doorway. “And you know how when you look at the sun, you can’t see straight for an hour? You have spots in your eyes and everything else in the world is gray?”
It sounded honest. It sounded…lovely. Somehow, she managed to nod, any hope of a reply trapped in her hammering chest.
“Looking right at you used to do that to me.” His thumbs grazed her collarbone, the touch so light she almost had to close her eyes and let the electrical impulses rock her. “It still does.”
“Now I know you’re...” Lying. He had to be lying. Saying whatever he thought he had to say to get this robe off. “Different.”
“From high school?” He lifted a brow. “Yeah. I’m different. Back then I couldn’t talk to you without wanting to fold in half. Now I can’t talk to you without...” He lowered his head, inches from her face. “Mandy.”
She closed her eyes then, the sound of her name on those beautiful lips like music and rainfall and thunder and...
Softness. His kiss was so soft, it shocked her. His grip grew tighter, his lips hungrier, and a low, masculine catch in his throat was as seductive as a stroke of his fingertips.
He flicked his tongue, she angled her head. He eased her closer, she bowed her back. He pressed against her, and she—
Shoved him away with a grunt. “Don’t!” Fury and fear clutched at her, twisting with way more force than desire had. What the hell was wrong with her?
He blinked, jerking his hands in the air like a caught criminal. “I’m...shit, Mandy, I’m...” He swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry, but I really didn’t mean to...”
“To what? Kiss me? Undress me? Sweet-talk me with some...some bullshit about the sun?”
His eyes darkened. “I told you I don’t lie.”
“Well, I don’t generally make out with the guests.” Except the ones who make me lose my mind. “I feel like some kind of...I don’t know.” But she did know. There was a word for women who did what she’d been thinking about since she’d laid eyes on him. An ugly word.
“God, I’m so sorry.” And he looked it, too. His brows drawn together, his eyes raw with self-disgust, his hands dropping to his sides.
“That’s what you guys do,” she said, old but certainly not dead emotions bubbling up inside. “You make a woman think she’s special and then you want to...destroy her.”
His eyes widened. “Mandy—”
She held up both hands. “Nobody calls me that anymore.” She pivoted and marched out, not sure where she was going, but she couldn’t take that tiny space and giant man anymore. Everything vibrated—her head, her body, her heart, her memories.
He wasn’t like Doug—or was he?
She crossed the living room, heading to the other side of the house. She’d hide in the bedroom until her clothes were—
“Amanda.” He snagged the robe sleeve. “Please, let me talk to—”
She jerked her arm so hard she slipped right out of the sleeve, but he held on and the robe fell open, revealing her nakedness and pulling a soft shriek from her mouth.
The click of the front door reverberated, like a bullet shot underwater. In slow, shocked motion, they both turned, speechless as the door flew open and hit the wall.
“Housekeep—” Tori froze in the doorway, her eyes wide. “Well, would you look at that?”
Before Amanda could scramble back into the robe, a bald head appeared behind Tori and JT’s eyes damn ne
ar sprang out of his head, too. “Whoa, Amanda. That’s probably a little more customer service than we generally offer.”
Chapter Four
In one lightning-fast move, Zeke slipped Mandy back into her robe, getting close enough to feel her whole body trembling. What an idiot he was! He couldn’t keep his hands off her for five minutes? Now she was as white as that robe.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded of the morons who’d just barged in. “Can’t a guest expect privacy?”
The woman sauntered in, appraising him up and down like some kind of hungry hooker. “We’re with housekeeping doing a room check. You’re supposed to be at lunch.”
“Guess Amanda’s dessert.” The meathead behind her loped in and grinned. “Sorry for the inter—”
Zeke took two steps and had the guy’s collar before he could take his next breath. “What did you say?”
“Hey, hey, sorry, sir.” He held up his hands and shook his head, fear in his eyes. He should have been afraid for that comment. “We’re were told to check on this villa because Amanda isn’t exactly the best house—”
Zeke tightened his grip and lifted the guy a half inch off the ground.
“Zeke, please.” Mandy’s voice cracked with the plea.
Slowly, he let the guy drop but continued to slice him with a look that he knew communicated exactly how much pleasure he’d get from throwing him against the wall. “You can leave now.”
The other woman put her hands on her hips and shook her head at Mandy. “Honey, you know we gotta tell Lacey about this.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Mandy said.
The woman gave a sharp laugh. “Well, it sure doesn’t look like cleaning to me.”
Zeke whipped around and glared at her, but she looked up and smiled. “Not that I can blame the girl.”
“Hey,” the other man said harshly. “Let’s go, T.”
“And leave her here?” She tsked. “I am certain there are legal ramifications and employee guidelines and every other manner of professional misbehavior being displayed. Amanda, dear, why don’t you find your clothes from wherever you dropped them, and we’ll ride you back to the management office?”
Zeke was in her face in one second. “Why don’t you shut your mouth and get your skinny ass out of this villa before I call the cops?”
She flinched a little, then shot a look at Mandy. “Got yourself a hothead, darlin’. I heard you like them with a little fire in the belly.”
Zeke inhaled so hard he felt his nostrils quiver, and the woman had the good sense to slink away.
“We’ll see you in Lacey’s office,” she said, backing out of the door just before Zeke slammed it in her face and flipped the deadbolt and guest lock. Only then did he turn to survey the damage.
But Mandy was gone.
He shot through the kitchen and stopped cold at the laundry room door at the sight of her back to him, naked but for pink underpants, as she tried to hook her bra.
“Go away,” she said.
He stepped into the kitchen to give her privacy. “I feel like shit,” he said.
“You got Tori to leave.”
Tori? “Tori Drake?” He knew she looked vaguely familiar.
“The one and only. And she’s made a career out of getting back at me for being on the homecoming court when she was the one servicing the football players.”
Damn, it was like a high school reunion around here. “I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t have touched you.”
She didn’t answer, and he banged his head against the wall behind him, squeezing his eyes shut. Son of a bitch! “I don’t suppose I could make this up to you.”
“Five thousand would do the trick.”
His eyes popped open. “What?”
“Never mind, I’m making a joke in a very unfunny situation.” He heard a zipper slide and the rustle of more clothes. “I told you I was on the way out of this job anyway.”
He stepped into the doorway as she buttoned the top button. “That may or may not be true, but I’ll be damned if you are going to lose your job because I acted like an asshole.”
“You weren’t an asshole,” she said softly. “You’re just a man.”
Which was obviously one and the same to her. Damn it, he was such a moron. “Mandy.”
She looked up from the button, adding a punch to his gut when he saw the dampness of her eyes. “Sorry, I’m a little bitter. I left my sneakers in the bathroom. Excuse me.” She brushed by him and left him standing like a helpless, hopeless idiot.
He heard her in the living room and pushed off the wall, refusing to let her leave without saying goodbye. She was sitting on the sofa, tying her shoes, her blonde hair, dry now, hanging like corn silk in front of her face.
He took a slow step closer. “I told you I am honest, probably to a fault.”
She didn’t look up.
“So you should know that what I’m about to say is true and not some asshole guy spouting bullshit because he wants to get laid.”
She knotted the lace, silent.
“I had a crush on you in high school that pretty much crippled me at the sound of your name.”
Her hands stilled.
“I couldn’t...” He gave a dry laugh. “I couldn’t breathe when you were in the room.”
Very slowly, she lifted her face to him.
“I know you were...like royalty. And I was not. And I know now, as a man, that none of that matters. But I want to tell you this.”
She stared at him, waiting as he walked up to her and got down on one knee so they were face to face.
“Once, when we were freshmen, some kid mowed me down in the hall and knocked all my books and my sixteen different calculators and protractors to the floor. You stopped and got down, like this, and helped me pick up every single thing. And when that kid laughed at you, do you know what you said?”
Her green eyes still swam in tears as she shook her head.
“You stood up and flattened him with a look and said, ‘Get to class because you obviously have none.’ ”
She started to smile. “I could be a real—”
He held up a hand, silencing her. “Angel. I thought you were an angel. I thought you were...” He swallowed. “Obviously too good for me.”
“Zeke, I...”
He looked down and took the laces of the other shoe, slowly tying them for her. When he’d knotted them, he looked into her eyes again. “You told me a few minutes ago that I was relentless.”
She nodded.
“Wait until you see the power of that.”
He heard her suck in a quiet breath. That was good. He wanted to take her breath away. And he would. She just didn’t know that yet.
* * *
The sun spilled into the Gulf that evening, turning the water a thousand shades of gold and pink, tinged with violet, topped with twilight. As Zeke walked barefoot over the sand of Barefoot Bay, he barely noticed nature’s artwork. His head down, he turned the hard piece of plastic hanging on a yellow lanyard over in his hand and read the name for the hundredth time.
Amanda Lockhart.
She’d left her ID and master key in his bathroom, which would probably be yet another transgression against her. His trip to the management offices found them closed for the evening, but he wasn’t about to give this key up to some lackey at the front desk. Whoever “Lacey” was, he was going to find her, and finally, he’d bumped into a talkative, friendly, and quite attractive young woman who’d identified herself as the owner of the resort’s hot-air-balloon business.
Zoe Bradbury had had an enchanting personality, and when she’d found out he was the guest staying in Bay Laurel, she’d made one call, and sent him up the beach to the owners’ house. He appreciated people who could get things done and had told her so.
The Walkers, who evidently designed, built, owned, and managed the resort, lived in a two-story stucco home covered with ivy and facing the water at the very northernmost end of the bay. A strol
ler was parked next to a truck and a golf cart in the circular drive, and as he reached the property, the front door opened and a red-haired woman in a crisp white shirt and jeans stepped out to greet him.
“Mr. Nicholas?” Concern tinged her voice, and her brows pulled over amber eyes, confirming that most resort guests weren’t typically given this kind of access to the owners. Good. He wasn’t most resort guests.
“Mrs. Walker?” Holding the badge in his left hand, he reached out his right and they shook. “Please call me Zeke.”
“I’m Lacey. I understand we had an incident in your villa today. Would you like to come in?”
He heard the playful squeal of a baby behind her and shook his head. “I don’t need to invade your home, ma’am. I merely want to clear a few things up, and I can do that right here.”
She crossed her arms and nodded, the breeze picking up a strawberry-colored curl from her shoulder. “Please do.”
“Mand...Amanda left this.” He handed her the ID and card key, and she closed her eyes, obviously not happy. “After she nearly killed herself trying to get a dragonfly out of the shower and accidentally turned on the water and got soaked through to the bone.”
She looked up, a question in her eyes.
“I don’t lie.”
A smile flickered. “I believe you.”
“I hope you do and not the two people who stormed my rented villa—without announcing themselves, I might add—and assumed the worst, which was completely wrong.”
She swallowed, processing this. “You have to admit it was an extremely awkward situation.”
“Awkward, but not what it appeared.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ve talked to Amanda.”
“And?”
“I had to let her go,” she said unapologetically. “No matter how or why her uniform was wet, wearing a guest’s robe and staying in the villa is unacceptable behavior for a housekeeper.” Her eyes tapered, and he caught the accusation.
“I persuaded her to stay. We knew each other at Mimosa High.”
“You went to Mimosa High?”
“Class of ’02.”
A warm smile, the first he’d seen, lit her face. “Well, I’m a few years older than you, but I’m a Scorpion, too.” Then she frowned, shaking her head. “I didn’t know Amanda was an alum, but then, I really have only talked to her at length one other time.”