Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“You own this place?” I asked, more than a little in awe as I climbed out of the Range Rover. “This was a really good idea, by the way.”
“No,” said Patrick. “We’re just borrowing it.”
“It’s magnificent.”
One of the bodyguards who’d followed us had already entered the house while the second waited nearby. Being shadowed was weird. I kept feeling like someone was watching me. Might have something to do with the fact that someone was indeed watching me. They both had military bearing, their spines rigid and gazes alert. And they never, ever smiled.
We retrieved our bags from the back of the car and waited for the house to be declared safe. Then they’d settle into the guardhouse up at the gate and patrol the property. Sometimes it seemed like overkill, having them with us. All it took was a flashback to the woman and her knife, however, to accept that bodyguards were an unfortunate new part of this reality.
With every mile we put between us and West Hollywood, Patrick’s shoulders had eased a little more. The frown had faded too. Worried glances were replaced with a smile as he watched me enjoying the trip up the coastline and its magnificent view. It had been years since I’d taken a vacation. And Patrick was no better, with his oversized work ethic. But there we were, racing up the highway, heading to the beach all happy like. It felt like a bonding moment. I’d had the strangest urge to touch him. To reach out and . . . I don’t know, just make contact. But unless a photographer was around, that wasn’t something we did. So I kept my hands to myself.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” said Patrick. “You’re safe. I promise.”
“I’m not nervous.”
He nodded toward where I was busy picking at the seam of my flowy white blouse. I’d changed out of the sweats and tank top and tied my hair back in a neat ponytail before we left. No way would I be caught looking like a broken-down mess. Quite a few of the paparazzi followed us through the city, though most lost interest the farther north we traveled. Only a couple of intrepid assholes tailed us the whole way here. But this place had been built for privacy, with high fences blocking any and all views of the house from the street.
“Maybe I’m a little nervous,” I allowed. “But it’s not that I don’t feel safe. Getting away for a few days was a good idea. And with our two new stern-faced friends, I doubt we could be better protected.”
“What, then?”
“It’s just . . .” I hesitated and then some. Because telling him I was nervous about spending vast amounts of unscripted time alone with him did not appeal. We had, however, promised not to lie. So I settled for giving him some of the truth. “What are we going to do here, just you and me?”
He blew out a breath. “I honestly have no idea. Why don’t we figure it out as we go?”
It sounded reasonable in theory. But a diary of events preapproved by Angie would have been safer. Left less room for inconvenient feelings.
“Miss Peers, Mr. Walsh, you’re welcome to go inside,” said the first bodyguard.
“Thanks, Tim.” Patrick picked the two overnight bags back up and nodded for me to go first.
Inside was even more spectacular than outside. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls, decorative antiques, and comfy plush white furniture in a large open-plan living space. If a romantic French farmhouse and a modern contemporary had a baby, that’s what this place would be. God only knew what it all cost.
A dapper middle-aged man with an impressive mustache came forward. “Hello. I’m Felix, the housekeeper.”
“Hi,” I said.
“I live on the property, so anytime you need anything, just let me know.”
Patrick gave him a brisk nod before heading up the stairs. Because of course he was used to people popping up out of nowhere to wait on him hand and foot. Spoiled brat.
“Would you like a tour of the house?” asked Felix.
“That’s okay.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’ve prepared a lunch of spicy shrimp noodle salad. But I can fix something else if you’d prefer.”
“The salad sounds wonderful.”
“Would you like me to serve it on the patio, perhaps?” he asked. “It’s a lovely day.”
What with Patrick having disappeared upstairs, I put myself in charge. “That would be great.”
Felix smiled and headed back into the kitchen.
I headed up the floating wooden stairs to the second level. The hallway ran in both directions, with lots of open doorways lining the way. This place was not small. “Sprawling” was a good work. “Magnificent” worked too.
“Paddy?”
“Turn right,” he answered from the far room. When I entered, I found him staring out the window at the sea. “I put your bag in the first wardrobe.”