Lucky for me, I had a shower this morning, so I don’t have to worry about being stinky. I let out my second giggle of the morning. I feel like a woman going on an unexpected date. Next, I’ll be dry shaving my legs in the basin.
I shake my head and go back to the wardrobe in search of shoes. It takes me longer to choose shoes than it did to choose clothes. Maybe he prefers no footwear in the house, in which case I’ll need clean socks and a slip-on pair. I make an appropriate selection, then find myself back at the front door. My keys hang on the hook next to my handbag and my fingers are already on the doorknob when reality intrudes.
What am I doing?
Leaving the house without taking any precautions, that’s what. For a few minutes I let my excitement at talking to my neighbour block out everything I know I should do. Lucky for me, my brain engaged before I waltzed out into the sunshine.
My phone rings as I look around for what I need. “Hello?” A giant sunhat hangs near the door and I shove it onto my head while my agent informs me, I’ll have a visitor next month. “Absolutely not, Hannah. I cannot risk the press following her to the house.” I dig in my handbag, looking for my sunglasses. “No. It will have to be in your office. I don’t care how much she wants to be friends. This is business and we meet in business surrounds. I don’t have to remind you why. Fine. Thanks.”
Charlotte Shipton wants to work with me.
I let out the tiniest of squeals, then look around, as though someone might see. I take a deep breath and get my excitement under control. She’ll be a new challenge. I’ve heard she likes to be best friends with everyone she works with, and that phone call is proof. I sigh and push the thought aside. We’ll start at the record label’s office and see where it goes. I promised myself I wouldn’t worry about things ahead of time, and this qualifies as one of those things. The new, positive me I’m trying to be chooses to press on, even when there’s the worry of a pack of photographers descending on me and printing my address in the newspaper. I shake the thought away before it can take hold.
I’ve been careful. I go out of my way to stay out of sight and live a quiet existence. No way will those vultures find me and upend my life.
Not again.
I shove the oversize sunglasses up my nose, drop my mobile phone into my pocket and slip out the door, locking it securely behind me.
My eyes skate left and right, a habit I’m sure I’ll never lose, and when I’m satisfied no one else is around, I pick my way across the grass, and step over the garden bed that separates our properties. The front door is wide open, a giant box just inside the door. I ring the bell, conscious of being outside and I have to force myself not to turn around to scan the street.
“Hey, come in.” He appears from a room to the left and waves his hand at me. He’s as beautiful close up as he seems from a distance. I lean down to take off my shoes, but he shakes his head. “Leave them on. No ceremony here.” His smile is wide, and the effect on me is immediate. My face heats up just like it did when I opened my door. His voice is smooth, and holds the promise of fun, as does the smile he graces me with. My knees almost turn to water as I step into his home, and I have to will my breathing to slow down.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had any fun. Especially with a man.
Again, what am I doing? Hyperventilating in a stranger’s front room, blushing, and imagining laughing with him well into the night. This is not sensible behaviour, considering my situation.
I don’t even know if this man is single.
Chapter Three - Danny
Who is this beautiful creature who hides next door with her secret cat? And why is she dressed like she’s trying to avoid a government drone intent on implanting a microchip into her neck?
Giant dark glasses hide her eyes, which is a major disappointment. The one eye that stared at me behind her door a few minutes ago was spectacular. Deep blue. I can tell her eyes are piercing, even from the short exchange where she hid in the darkened doorway. I’d hoped to see more of those eyes while we hunted for the cat. I haven’t seen him since I returned to the house, so we could be in for a long search if the little beast doesn’t respond to her calls.
The crazy hat she’s wearing would be at home in a Mexican cantina as a decoration on the wall. All it needs is some green and red stripes and it could be a costume. If this is her idea of incognito, she’s wide of the mark. If it’s to stop her facial features being detected via remote satellite, she could be onto something. I’m surprised she’s not wearing gloves.
She doesn’t say anything as she steps up to the giant box containing the chair. My stomach turns over and I’m thankful the stupid thing is hidden. What kind of impression would it make for her to see it right here? Maybe she wouldn’t know what it was, but just maybe she would. At least I don’t have to worry about that.
As if to test my theory she pulls off the hat and the glasses and drops them onto the box. “These okay here?” she asks, her gaze sliding down the box to read the print on the side.
I stare at my side, seeing only unloading instructions, and praying the same is printed on the opposite end. If there are any kind of identifying marks on the outside of this box, I’ll be sending a strongly worded email to the manufacturer. Some things should be private.
I blink as I realise three things at once—I didn’t answer, I’m behaving like a dick, and the cat is still here.
“Sorry. Shall we see if we can find Mr. Biggles?” I smile and she does the same. “I don’t know where he went but last I saw he was running up the stairs.”
“I’m really sorry,” she says. “I don’t think he’s ever invited himself into someone’s house.” She takes two steps forward, then stops as she looks around. “Wow. You have a lot of furniture. My house is bare by comparison.”
“I’m a bit of a collector.”
“What do you collect? Is there a theme to,” she pauses and frowns, still gazing around, “all this?”
“Nope. I just buy things that I like.” I turn and walk toward the stairs and after a moment she follows.
“You like sheepskin on the floors?”
“Sometimes.” I start up the stairs.
“And on the walls?”
My lips compress at the words she’s leaving unsaid. The same things Sayer says every time he visits. Your house is so odd with all this stuff crammed in here. Your bad taste shows when you pile loads of expensive items into the one space, just because they’re expensive.
I just say, “Sometimes,” and continue up the stairs. I’m not about to explain myself to a stranger. Even a mysterious one with perfect eyes. One who drives a car with the darkest tinted windows I’ve ever seen, and only ever comes and goes at night.
“Hmm.”
She follows me up to the landing without another word and I turn my attention to figuring out where the cat could be hiding. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the first idea where to look.
“Any idea where he might be?”
“Not really. He doesn’t hide at home. He just lays around and sleeps a lot.”
“Is he likely to go to the toilet inside?”
“I doubt it. Unless.” She stops and peers into one of my spare bedrooms.
“Unless?” I look over her shoulder, worried she’s spotted a steaming pile I won’t want to know about.
“Unless you have clothes set out on the bed. He’s been known to do bad things to those.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Nope. I only have clothes in the laundry and the wardrobe. Fingers crossed he keeps his ablutions to himself.”
She laughs and we move on to the next room. I hear a snicker as she peers into what was once my office—before I started storing extra purchases in there. “This room is quite full, too.” Her tone is diplomatic, like she wants to say a whole lot more.
I consider ignoring the comment, but I’m compelled to try to explain this time. “I like mirrors.”
“I can see that. Mr. Biggles,” she calls. “Here, puss.
” We both listen, but there’s only silence. “Are you sure he’s still inside?”
“As far as I know. I didn’t see him leave while I was knocking on your door.”
“Hmm.” The last door on the left is my bedroom and I’m suddenly self-conscious about her seeing inside. Critical eyes don’t usually get this far into my home. When she looks around the door, she glances at me, and I know what she’s going to say before she says it. “Okay, why mirrors? Do you like to look at yourself all the time?” A smile plays around her lips and she turns back to the room, crossing the open space to the bed.
My answer dies on my lips when I see Mr. Biggles stretched out on my pillows. Lucy must have made my bed at some point and he’s tucked himself into the gap where the pillow meets the bed covers. His eyes are closed, and I swear he’s snoring.
“Hey there, sweetie,” she coos, picking him up and tucking him under her chin. “What are you doing in here, buddy? It’s vewy wude to come into someone’s house.” She baby talks him some more before looking at me. “Sorry. I have such a soft spot for him.”
“As you should for a pet.”
“Do you have any?” She walks slowly to the door and with a jolt I realise she’ll be gone in a moment. Out the door and back to her place before I’ve even got her name.
I screw up my face. “Eww, no. I hate hair all over the house. I’m sure Lucy would hate vacuuming it, too.”
“It’s not so bad. You just need to get a short haired animal. Or one that doesn’t shed too much. Mr. Biggles looks fluffy, but he doesn’t lose too much fur. And his cuddles more than make up for any mess.”
“Then there’s barking, and clawing. All things that are guaranteed to ruin the lounge, and your relationship with your neighbours.” I laugh when she gives me a funny look. “Maybe not with you. I imagine you’d cope pretty well with a barking dog.”
“Probably.” She agrees with a smile and a hand held out. “I’m Tina, by the way.”
“Oh, sorry. Danny. I’m normally a lot more hospitable than this. Would you like a cold drink? To celebrate Mr. Biggles returning to captivity next door.”
“Sure. How about I put him inside first?”
“Sounds good.” I lead the way down the stairs, ignoring Lucy’s interested gaze as we pass. “Come back when you’re ready. I’ll leave the door open and hopefully won’t have to evict any other intruders in the meantime.”
“You’re so brave, risking another insurgence.” Tina snickers to herself as she moves toward the door. I expect her to disappear straight through it, but she takes the time to don the sunglasses and hat before she goes. “Back soon,” she says, her voice more measured than before. She peers out the door, glancing left and right before she disappears to the left, the cat’s green eyes peering at me over her shoulder.
“Wow,” Lucy says. “She’s… quirky. I think you’ll be very happy together.” She hoists her handbag onto her shoulder and picks up her coat while I stare at her.
“Meaning?”
“I saw you watching her just now.”
“She was walking to the door. Where was I supposed to look? At the ceiling until she was out of view?”
Lucy winks at me and moves toward the garage door. “I think the time for that has passed. Don’t think I haven’t seen you gazing out that top landing window every day. Sometimes twice a day. I left dinner in the fridge for you. There’s enough for several serves, and she strikes me as someone who likes to eat in.”
Chapter Four - Danny
“Want to sit in the yard?” Tina is back, sans hat and sunglasses and I pour her a glass of wine. “It’s a gorgeous day.”
She frowns and stares at the glass I hand her. “Are you sure it’s not a little early for wine?”
I glance at my watch and shrug. “It could be. But we’re celebrating the capture of a dangerous beast and I have a bottle that’s already open from last night. It’s begging to be finished.”
“Okay.” She crinkles her nose and takes a sip of wine. “It’s not like anyone will know. Would you mind if we stayed inside?”
“No problem. Come and sit.” We move from the kitchen and I hear a chuckle behind me. “What?” I turn to see her surveying the room.
“Which one should I sit on, Danny? The leather lounge that looks like it came from a castle? Or the princess pink one that looks handmade, and soft as a baby’s bottom? I bet your favourite is the sofa bed.”
“How can you tell it folds out?” I stare at the offending item, confused that the only practical choice in the room looks like exactly what it is. I thought it fit in perfectly.
“It’s obvious isn’t it?” She chooses the pink one and runs her hand across the fabric once she’s settled. “This really is super soft.” She looks up at me and laughs as I fold myself into the comfortable sofa. “Told you. I’ve never seen a room with four lounges before. Do you throw lots of parties, or something? I’ve lived next door for four months and I haven’t seen you have any visitors except for a couple of guys occasionally.” Those blue eyes widen and stare at me, her fingers lingering over her lips. Then she holds her glass up and looks at it, bringing it close to her nose. “What did you put in here? Truth serum?”
I laugh and sip my own drink. “You’re kind of weird.”
“I am?” She looks surprised. “Well, if I’m kind of weird, then you’re all the way weird.”
Our laughter is comfortable, and it confuses me. I met this woman less than an hour ago—the peeking through the window when she comes and goes doesn’t count. We’ve discussed her cat, and she’s insulted my choice in furniture. We haven’t had a single conversation about anything personal, and yet…
Yet, what? I’m not even sure what I’m thinking. She’s so familiar, like she’s always been here. Like we’ve always known each other. That’s fanciful, at best, but it doesn’t mean I can’t change it and get to know her now.
“So, what do you do, Tina?”
“I’m in the entertainment industry.”
“Is that why all the secrecy?”
She shakes her head and shifts in her seat. There’s a silence until she clears her throat and says, “Secrecy?” She lifts her chin and meets my gaze, the challenge unmistakeable.
I nod at her props, still sitting on the giant cardboard box. “The hat. The glasses. The way you scan the street before you go out. A chain on the door of your house that the last person who lived there didn’t have.” I shrug. “All of that makes it seem like you’re worried about something. Or hiding. What do you actually do?”
She’s completely still, as though she’s schooling herself to be careful with her words. Her eyes flick to the door and I worry I’ve pushed too much. She fiddles with the chain around her neck and finally says, “I’m a songwriter. I write. It’s nothing.” She smiles and raises her glass to me, breaking the tension in the room. “So, you don’t have to worry, Detective Danny. No hit squad will be filing into the street today.”
She holds my gaze and I sense a sizzle in the air between us. For someone who hides herself away, there’s a definite sauciness to her. It makes me want to ask more questions. To grill her. Get to know her before she slips away and locks herself next door, again. I wish I’d sat next to her on the soft pink furnishing, so I could drink her in. As it is, I use the excuse of retrieving the wine to give myself a time out.
In the kitchen I berate myself for what I’m about to do.
I know I shouldn’t. I know it might seem creepy, or forward. I know she isn’t being entirely truthful about what she does, but that’s her business. Her eyes are clear, but her body language gives her away. She’s hiding something and whatever that secret is, it draws me to her like a moth to a flame.
Maybe it’s because I have my own secrets. Maybe I see a kindred spirit. Maybe I’m just horny and feel an attraction to my mysterious neighbour. Whatever it is, I want to explore it more, and I plan to do so with the help of alcohol. Even if that makes me a coward.
I return with th
e remains of the first bottle, and a second tucked under my arm. Instead of the sofa, I settle on the opposite end of the pink lounge. Tina meets my eye and leans in, holding out her glass. I concentrate on pouring, careful to keep my gaze away from the unbuttoned top of her sweater. She watches me fumble with the bottle as I place it on the coffee table before she says, “I have a question.”
“Shoot.” Yes, you can stay.
“What is in that enormous box? I thought you might have unpacked it while I was gone.”
My eyes slide to the box that still blocks the doorway. Even with the false bravery instilled by the wine we won’t be discussing my newest late-night purchase.
“It’s just a chair.” I shrug, doing my best to look uninterested. “I haven’t decided where to put it yet, so it can stay in the box until I do.”
“Does it match this room?”
“It could, but there are other places it could go. It’s heavy so I want to decide first.”
“I’ll help you lift it.” She smiles at me and tips her glass before draining it. I finish mine and try to remember if that’s two glasses I’ve had now, or three. She holds her glass out, and as I reach for the wine, she slides across the seat forcing our legs to touch. “I’d hate for you to get red wine on this fabric.” She grins as she holds the glass up to the bottle. “Better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it?”
“It is.” I give her the requested refill and pour myself half. The temperature has risen in the last thirty minutes. I feel it and I know she does, too. Right now, it’s like she’s responsible for most of it. I’m definitely warmer than I was before, especially as our legs are now pressed together.
Tina runs her hand along my arm. “So, the chair. Where should we put it? Let’s choose a spot and do the unboxing and lead it to its new home. Oooh,” she breathes. “We should make an unboxing video like all those You Tubers do. You could go viral, especially if that chair is as ugly as I suspect it’s going to be.”
The Billionaire’s Treat: The Secret Billionaire’s Club Page 2
