"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
Ryan had just showered—again—and pulled on clean jeans and a T-shirt before heading next door when his cell rang. He looked at the readout. Walt. Of course. Probably more bad news. The man had been calling daily with updates on damage control. He knew agent had the publicity and image people working overtime to spin this and dump all the dirt on Marlo, but it wasn't happening fast enough to suit Ryan."I hope you have something good to tell me for a change," he growled."Working on it.""What does that mean?" Ryan demanded."It means I have a private investigator digging into the episode to see if we can find someone who did or did not see you that day. Then I—""I told you I wasn't there," Ryan interrupted."I know, I know. But my image people tell me it would help their efforts if we had some actual proof."Ryan felt his blood pressure rising. "So my word isn't good enough?""Calm down, will you? Psycho Marlo made a huge splash all over the place so it's taking time to sort t
Kaitlyn turned away from him to test the steaks on the grill. The aroma of the sizzling meat made his mouth water. Okay, good. Something to take his mind off his neighbor and sex, two things that should not go together."We'll be ready to eat in a few," she told him. "Make yourself comfortable."He lowered himself into one of the lounge chairs on the porch, enjoying the scenery. Two ancient trees provided a large canopy over the small patch of yard below, a yard edged with typical Florida shrubbery. The late day sun peeked through the branches casting a golden glow over everything. Including his very sexy hostess.Ryan took a long swallow of beer, hoping the icy liquid would cool his body to a manageable temperature. Otherwise this was going to be a very uncomfortable night for him."So how did you end up here in Ft. Myers on this street?" she asked as she flipped the steaks again. "Are you from around here?""Not really."She laughed, that wonderful musical sound. "Not really? T