Secrets on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #1)(2)
Author: Roxanne St. Claire

There was no way Amanda could clean that villa and finish this floor by noon. “Come on, Tori. It’s one guy in a huge villa. Can’t you run over there and do a quick job before you go to lunch? Or maybe pick up one of my rooms?”

Tori never looked away from the mirror, dabbing at her mascara. “You know what your problem is, Mandy?”

She had a feeling she was about to find out.

“You’re not driven enough. You think you can get by on your good looks, but, honey girl, have you looked at yourself lately?” She turned from the mirror to stare down at Amanda, tsking softly. “It’s like you forgot who you once were.” Very slowly, Tori crouched down, getting face to face with her. “But the rest of the nothings and nobodies in your royal court haven’t forgotten a thing.”

Despite the assault of sour breath and mean spirit, Amanda refused to cower. “You better go, Tori. Jared’s waiting. It’s time for you and your husband…oh, I mean fiancé. Oh, wait.” She couldn’t resist. “He hasn’t given you a ring yet, has he?”

Tori stood quickly. “At least I didn’t get dumped and end up living with my parents. And, oh, I’m not four rooms behind on my morning work.” She lifted her foot and tapped the side of the toilet with her sneaker’s toe. “You missed a spot, angel.”

* * *

The fastest way to the beachfront villas was via a golf cart up the stone walkway that led from the main resort through the entire Casa Blanca property, but, of course, no carts were available when Amanda needed one. She didn’t relish walking the path, but not because of the hot sun or tropical heat. In January, the Florida barrier island’s humidity was tempered with lovely Gulf breezes, and the view of Barefoot Bay usually lifted her mood. But walking the path generally meant rubbing elbows with the well-heeled resort guests, as they meandered from the exclusive villas to the private beach.

Not so long ago, Amanda had at least felt at home with the beautiful people strolling through resorts like this one, wondering which four-hundred-dollar cover-up to wear to the beach or whether she should have champagne or chilled vodka after her oxygen facial. Now? She couldn’t remember the last time she tasted champagne or did more than wash her face before falling into bed, bone-tired from cleaning toilets and scrubbing showers.

Honey girl, have you looked at yourself lately?

Tori’s words stung, even though Amanda didn’t need to worry about how she looked. She needed to worry about how to pay debts on a maid’s income without depending on…on anyone. Amanda Lockhart would never again depend on a man, a friend, a parent, or a gift.

Shouldering the weight of a bucket full of supplies in one hand and a long work mop in the other, she held on to that unwavering objective. To erase the ugly conversation she’d had with Tori, she peered through palm fronds and over sea oats to the turquoise Gulf of Mexico sparkling in the sun. But even the splash of yellow beach umbrellas and the squawks of seagulls and terns didn’t cheer her.

If J&T Housekeeping became a reality and got the business to provide all of the cleaning services for this small but upscale resort, she’d have to leave this slice of paradise. And she’d have to find something to do for work, because she wasn’t going to be able to stay at her parents’ house much longer. Their round-the-country RV adventure would be ending soon, and she wasn’t going to live with them. It was too humiliating and suffocating.

Although, she should have been used to humiliation and suffocation. Doug Lockhart had been quite adept at putting her through both.

She arrived at the two-story vacation villa only slightly damp and out of breath. Setting her bucket down, but still holding the mop, she pulled out her master card key from the lanyard around her neck and tapped on the mahogany door.

“Housekeeping!” she called automatically before sliding the key in the lock.

She waited a beat, then tapped again and started to turn the knob, but the door whipped open from the other side, practically yanking her arm with it.

“You’re here now?” A man loomed in silhouette, backlit from the patio well behind him.

“You asked for…” She blinked as he took a step closer and she could see him clearly, losing her train of thought as she met Gulf-blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. Straight ebony hair brushed the collar of an expensive shirt. He was all black and blue…which was probably the shape this man left every heart he encountered. “I’m here to clean.”

But he seemed speechless, too, holding her gaze for a heartbeat or two, a frown pulling at his thick brows as he studied her—hard—then glanced at her mop. “I see that.” His eyes back on her face again, he searched every inch, from brow to chin and back again.

The scrutiny lasted one second too long, so she lifted the card key, flipping it to show her ID. “I’m with the resort.” Because he looked like he didn’t believe her. Or at least he didn’t believe…something. “You asked for your villa to be cleaned?”

“Uh, yeah, but later.”

Damn it! Tori had lied to her to throw off her schedule. Now she’d have to trudge all the way back down to the hotel. “All right, sorry for the incon—”

“No, wait.” He almost reached for her, then caught himself. “Stay and…clean.” He nearly swallowed the last word, as if it didn’t sound right to him.

“I don’t have—”

“Who are you?” he asked, still staring at her face.

Oh, jeez. Just her luck to get the nutcase. Great-looking, but a guest didn’t care what the maid’s name was unless he had a screw loose.

“I’m Amanda Lockhart from housekeeping.” She bent to scoop up the bucket as if that could prove it. “I was informed the Bay Laurel villa was ready for cleaning, but I can come back at a better time.”

“No, it’s just that…” His voice trailed off. Easily six-two with broad shoulders in a crisp white shirt tucked into pleated khaki pants, he wasn’t simply gorgeous, he oozed that indefinable something that came with money, class, and power. On most men, that revolted her. On him? Had to admit, nothing was revolting. “I have a guest,” he finally said.

She stepped back quickly, imagining some sultry brunette stripping down in his bedroom. Maybe two of them, by the looks of this guy. “I’ll come back. Say, three o’clock?”

Laser-blue eyes sliced her. “Do I know you?” His voice was tinged with something she couldn’t pinpoint in that split second. Hope? Expectation? Something.