Secrets on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #1)(11)
Author: Roxanne St. Claire

“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 stroller 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.”

“Then you don’t know that she’s not at all like what those other employees assumed.”

She toyed with the card key, sighing. “They’re not only employees,” she said. “They are actually the winners of a bid I put out a few months ago. I’m planning to outsource my housekeeping function to one company, and they’ve got the job. I need to trust them.”

Realization dawned. “So that’s why Amanda told me she’d be fired shortly.”

Lacey’s eyes flashed. “Why would she assume…really?” She tapped the plastic key against her hand, thinking. “I didn’t know this situation was brewing,” she admitted. “And it makes me all the sorrier I couldn’t help Amanda when she came to me.”

“Instead, you fired her.”

“No, no. Not today. Awhile back. She wanted the outsourcing business,” she said. “And she seems to have the brains and ambition, so I told her she’d be in the running if she could get a business off the ground. But, sadly, it does take working capital to start something like that, and she couldn’t—”

“How much?”

She lifted her brows and gave a shrug. “I’m not sure, but the proposal she’d put together looked like she’d need a cash infusion of about five thousand dollars, so more than she has, I’m afraid.”

Five thousand would do the trick.