Secrets on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #1)(7)
Author: Roxanne St. Claire

She eyed him harshly. “Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying,” he denied hotly.

“Well, something has you looking…hungry. Yes, I know that look in your eyes, son. You need some nourishment. I want to go before your father calls me to pick him up at his physical therapy. Let’s go.”

“All right.” Reluctantly, he got up, realizing he was hungry. But not for food.

The question was, how was he going to satisfy that hunger?

Chapter Three

When she heard the front door close, Amanda hustled to the window to see Zeke let his mother in the passenger side of the car, then go round to get behind the wheel and drive away.

Only then did she let out the breath she’d been holding all the while she’d cleaned…and listened.

Hey, the sliders were open right over the patio. The conversation had drifted up. And…

He had a fifty-million-dollar sports memorabilia collection? A yacht? Four homes? And…he wasn’t happy?

No, he hadn’t said that, not once. But anyone with a brain, heart, and an ounce of knowledge about human nature could hear that between the lines. Well, shoot, what did it take to make someone happy, then?

She knew what his mother’s answer would be. It was all Amanda could do not to break into a chorus of “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” after listening to that.

Well, at least he hadn’t married one of his supermodel actress tabloid ladies and tried to bend, fold, and mutilate her into a woman he thought was perfect. Not like some powerful men she knew.

But a guy who looked like that and had cash out the wazoo? “Spare me,” she whispered to herself as she lugged her bucket and mop downstairs. “Trouble with a capital T. So he’s rich, big deal. Money doesn’t buy you happiness.”

It could, however, buy the business that would save her from having to work for Tori.

The thought meandered around her head as she walked down the hall to the master bedroom. Shame she’d been too shortsighted and status-conscious to have become friends with Ezekiel the Geekiel. Now she could have asked him for a loan.

She paused and got down on her knees, spying some dust along the baseboard. A guy with four houses and millions in “old sports equipment”—he wouldn’t miss five grand. Pushing up, she headed into the master, where the plantation shutters remained closed, keeping the oversized room dim and cool.

The bed was unmade, a single leather duffle bag open at the bottom to reveal neat piles of clothes still packed inside. As she stripped the bed, the soft, masculine scent of him drifted up. Unable to resist, she pressed the empty pillowcase to her nose and sniffed, closing her eyes and remembering how he’d looked when he’d admitted his real name.

Shy. Humble. Hot as freaking hell.

She tossed the case onto the pile of sheets and went to the linen closet for a fresh set. Too bad she wasn’t a woman without morals. She could…do him for five grand. The thought made her laugh out loud, but, damn, after it got planted, she couldn’t help thinking about it.

She smoothed the fitted sheet, pulling the fine Egyptian cotton taut over the mattress. She took a second to let her finger caress the creamy linen, closing her eyes to imagine that man in this bed, naked, ready, hard… A completely unexpected and lusty thrill wended through her, giving a sharp jolt of desire she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

Nice to know her bastard husband hadn’t wrung everything out of her.

Finishing the bed, she turned to the bathroom, which should surely cool her inappropriate thoughts. Passing a two-person marble Jacuzzi, she stepped into the massive shower, looking along the wall at the six jets on either side—to accommodate two people, of course—all the way eight or ten feet high where, oh, damn it. Really?

A tiny little dragonfly clung to the tile, fluttering translucent wings. She let out a soft grunt. How did that get up there?

It didn’t matter. Amanda had to get him down. Aiming carefully, she tried tossing her sponge at him and nearly grazed his wing, but he flew around the top of the shower and perched on the rain-shower nozzle in the ceiling.

“Oh, you’re going to be sorry you didn’t cooperate, buddy,” she whispered to him. “This shower ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

She didn’t have her step stool, so Amanda glanced around and spied the bucket she’d brought in. “That’ll work.” Turning it over, she checked the stability, which was good enough for a quick swipe, and placed a sneaker on it to hoist herself higher. “Hey, little guy.” She waved at the dragonfly, hoping that would get him to fly down. “Come here. Come down to Mama.”

On her tiptoes, she reached, but the dragonfly leaped from the wall and buzzed her. Amanda let out a soft cry and nearly toppled, grabbing hold of the wall to prevent a fall.

And DragonBastard flew back to the very top of the shower, ten feet in the air, his buzzy wings laughing at her.

“And now you die,” she said, unhooking the faucet hose that was meant to make showering easy and luxurious but was about to drown an insect. Climbing up on the bucket again, she took aim with one hand, twisted the water on with the other, making the spray shoot forward with so much force it shook her whole body, wobbled the bucket, and all hope of balance.

Like it was happening in slow motion, Amanda felt herself suspended in midair for a split second, then down she went, slamming onto marble and losing hold of the spray hose that danced and twirled and soaked her from head to toe.

Slipping on the wet marble, she reached up to twist off the faucet, accidentally hitting the other knob, and instantly all twelve jets spewed ice-cold water.

“Holy, holy crap!”

“You need some help?”

She squeezed her eyes shut against the water and the horrible possibility that she’d heard a real voice, a human voice, a man’s voice. Unless that flipping dragonfly could talk.

The water stopped. Shit. No dragonfly could do that.

“I call this above and beyond the call of cleaning duty.”

She let out a soft sigh and finally opened her eyes, looking up at the silhouette of a man looming over her. Even blinded by water in her eyes, Amanda recognized the width of his shoulders and the soft lock of black hair that fell near a blue eye. And, of course, a sly smile he couldn’t fight.

As she opened her mouth to reply, the dragonfly buzzed down, right in front of Zeke’s face. He snagged the insect with one quick snap of his wrist, careful not to crush him.

“Normally, I’d take this outside to live another day, but from the sound of things, you have a personal beef with him. Want me to squeeze the life out of him?”