By the time she left her place, in the red dress and the sexy lingerie, gold hoops dangling from her ears, and her feet shod in high-heeled sandals, she almost had herself believing she could have a good time.Almost.She just needed to get rid of the heaviness where her heart was.The party was always held in one of the high-end downtown hotels. Adam Devereaux, who owned the magazine, liked to make a splash. Besides the staff, the guest list would include advertisers, media, and major influential people. Adam always preached that image was all.Parking her car in the hotel garage, she rode the elevator down and took a deep breath before she stepped into the lobby.And walked right into Adam Devereaux."Ah, Stacy. There you are. I need you to come with me for a minute.""I…you…what?""Over here." He took her by the arm and quietly guided her across the lobby to one of the smaller private rooms."What are we doing in here?" There were chairs stacked against the walls, a table a
Part Two: Unnecessary Roughness"Did you see this? Are you actually looking at this?"Ryan McCabe leaned back in his chair, aviator shades covering his eyes, and wished his agent, Walt Alston, would disappear. And take his tablet with its vicious headlines with him.They were sitting on the back patio of Ryan's home on Davis Islands, an archipelagos formed by two small islands at the mouth of Hillsborough Bay and minutes from Tampa's bustling downtown area. The rest of the property sloped down to the bay, a scene that up until today had given him a great deal of pleasure. Today he was wondering how many of the pleasure boats cruising past his house were doing so with their sole purpose being to get a glimpse of a headline-busting football player."Ryan?" Walt's voice increased in volume and frustration. "Will you please open your eyes and take a look at the mess you made?"Ryan lifted his shades enough to see the words leaping off the screen.Shit. No, double shit.RUNNING BACK
"I'm sorry, Ed, but I just can't do it."Kaitlyn Reese faced her editor across his desk, her hands curled into fists, her body vibrating with repressed rage. "You might not have any scruples, but I still have a few.""I think I resent that, Kaitlyn." Ed Middleton stared at her, his eyes like two black weapons boring into her. "Are you saying I have no principles? No morals?"She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, digging for her control. "What I'm saying is, I don't think it's good for our reputation to do a story on someone based on nothing but innuendo that could ruin that person's reputation and destroy his business.""We have a source. I told you that."She bit down hard on her tongue and chose her words carefully. "The source is a disgruntled employee who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar," she reminded him. "I don't consider that person's information very reliable.""James Renzulli does, and that's good enough for me. The man, I might remind you, who ulti
Ryan stretched and blinked his eyes open, squinting. No wonder. Sunlight was pouring in the window over the bed. Apparently he'd forgotten to close the curtains last night. By the time he got to the cottage on Pelican Lane, all he'd wanted to do was strip off his clothes and fall into bed.He lay there, letting his body wake up, revisiting the circumstances of the trip down here. He had to give Walt credit for this. He'd pulled this off like a real superspy. Ryan had certainly felt like he was in a covert ops movie. At five o'clock in the afternoon, a black windowless van had rolled up his driveway and into his garage. The same van had made a trip earlier in the day so the assholes camped out in the street would write it off as nothing newsworthy. But, on the last trip, it delivered Rich McClellan, who Walt referred to as the fake Ryan Calhoun. Then they'd hustled Ryan himself, along with his suitcases, into the van and rolled out of the garage and into the street with the paparazzi
Last night, in the dark, he had not been able to take note of his surroundings. Now he got a better view of the cottages on the short street as he passed them. Colorful, with blooming bushes of all kinds surrounding them. At the end of the street was a park, dotted with benches and tables and more tropical shrubs. And, beyond it, the beach, and the waters of San Carlos Bay.Ryan jogged around the park twice before heading for the beach. By the time he finished, he'd clocked five miles and was ready for that coffee. When he hit the sidewalk of Pelican Lane, he slowed down, taking in more of the environment.Which was how he spotted the woman carrying a trash bag down the stairs of one of the cottages. And stopped to take a look at her. And nearly swallowed his tongue. Cutoff shorts and a very baggy T-shirt should have hidden most of her assets. Not a glamorous outfit at all. But the very nature of them made her look all the sexier. Her golden hair was pulled up in a ponytail and, when
Kaitlyn pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, uncapped it, and leaned against the counter to take a long swallow. With the bottle half empty, she dribbled a little onto her palm and splashed it onto her heated cheeks. She wondered for a moment if she should pour the rest over her entire body, which seemed to be carrying the temperature of a well-stoked furnace.Holy mother!The last thing she ever expected to see when she took her trash out this morning was to see Mr. Sex on a Stick jogging down the sidewalk and pausing to catch his breath in front of her cottage. He certainly was a mouthwatering bit of masculinity. Broad shoulders framed a lean muscled body with narrow hips and long legs. Every muscle was toned and well-defined. Shaggy dark brown hair framed a face with a square jaw, high cheekbones, and dark-chocolate eyes that looked out at the world from beneath lush, thick lashes. And damn! Right at one corner of his mouth, a dimple that winked when he smiled. He was most de
Ryan finished his morning run and dropped onto one of the benches in the little park bordering the beach at the end of his street. He rubbed his hand over his face, gathering the beads of sweat, and wiped them on his shorts.I have to start wearing a T-shirt or bringing a towel.He'd finally remembered to hook a water bottle in the loop on his shorts. Now, as he sat catching his breath, he opened it and drained half of it before stopping. Slowing his breathing, he looked around the little park. It was a beautiful area, with lots of trees and shrubbery, benches for sitting, and places to set up a grill. He was sure people came here on the weekends or even late in the day to picnic. Only by then he was shut up again in his cottage.He sighed.Four days.Ryan looked at his watch, the one with all the bells and whistles, to make sure he was right. Yup, four days since Walt dumped his disgraced self here in Margaritaville and he was already getting bored. He could only spend so much ti
I'm crazy. That's what it is. Certifiable.Kaitlyn had debated with herself all day after Ryan's invitation to join him on his run. Who was this guy? She knew nothing about him. Not only that, he hadn't had one visitor since he'd arrived. Of course, neither had she so what did that say about her? Still, she'd had second, third, and fourth thoughts about this.She'd almost gone next door to tell him she'd changed her mind, except she didn't want to. And that was even crazier. She was out of work, with very slim job prospects. She'd sent her resume out to a few places she'd found on the website but either jobs got filled super fast or Renzulli the rat had a wider sphere of influence than she thought. Nobody was interested in her credentials, her resume, or even talking to her.What does an out of work reporter do when she can't get a job, anyway?Go running with the very hot guy next door, apparently. A man she had to admit she lusted after. Damn! So now, the next morning, she took a