Dangerously Close

by Dee J. Adams

  Wow. “Thanks,” he said, taking the warm plate from her hands. The irresistible aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafted under his nose and his stomach growled. “These smell great.”

  “They taste good too,” Ashley told him. She thumbed behind her to Lizzie. “We had to taste test for you. Make sure we didn’t bring a bad batch.” Her smile stretched wide and Mel smiled back. It was hard not to. Her dog tugged on the leash and Mel stretched his hand out and rubbed behind his soft ear. “This is Roamer,” she continued. “He’s usually really good, but I don’t want him jumping on you. I think he needs a male influence so anytime he gets near a guy…he tends to buddy up.”

  “Ah…too much estrogen in the house, huh?”

  She laughed. “I guess so.” She wasn’t looking at him and Mel felt like an ass for embarrassing her. It was a stupid thing to say to a lesbian.

  So far neither woman seemed to recognize him and he felt a little more self-assured. “It’s nice meeting you. I’m Mel Summers.” He stuck his hand out. “I guess we’re neighbors.”

  Ashley nodded and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Mel.” She extended her hand, but collided with his. She adjusted quickly enough and gave him a solid handshake.

  Lizzie came forward and shook his hand next. “Nice to meet you,” she said. She was …stocky. Her legs were normal-sized in a pair of shorts, but her body was a solid block. She was the physical opposite of Ashley. Her intelligent brown eyes dodged his gaze through black-framed glasses. What did Ashley see in her anyway? Good in bed, maybe?

  “Same here.” Mel nodded. Something seemed a little off and neither woman looked him right in the eye. Not that he was complaining. The more they didn’t look the more they wouldn’t recognize him.

  The dog tugged again and Ashley reined him in. “Roamer, sit.” He did, but it was under duress. His eyes darted back and forth and his tail wagged furiously.

  “Did he get his name because he likes to roam?” Mel asked.

  “You’re close. It’s because we found him roaming.” She patted the dog’s head. “He’s new to the hilltop too. Um, Lizzie and I were just trying to figure out dessert. If you’re not too swamped, you’re welcome to join us.” She gestured to the plate of cookies. “We had dinner when we taste-tested the cookies, so we thought we’d have BLTs for dessert. The perfect moving-in food.”

  BLTs? His mouth watered. When was the last time he’d had a homemade BLT? And he was absolutely starving. Cutting out the booze and cigarettes had given him an appetite to rival Godzilla’s. If he hadn’t started working out, he’d weigh well over two hundred pounds instead of the one-ninety he managed to maintain.

  But he had no desire to tempt fate. So far these women didn’t know him and he wanted to keep it that way. The smartest thing he could do was keep this first meeting short and sweet. Eating with them meant conversation and conversation meant getting to know each other. Getting to know each other wasn’t in his plan at all. There had to be a reason he couldn’t join them. Linda had already made sure most of his stuff had been unpacked, but he needed to unload his duffel bag and arrange the guitars in the music room.

  “Thank you. Any other time, that sounds great, but I’ve got to unpack and I need to walk around and figure out how my house works.”

  Ashley flashed a knowing grin. “I remember those days. You should’ve seen me trying to reprogram the AC when it got so hot this summer. That was miserable. I bought the place over a year ago and it took me all that time to fix it up. I would’ve done more, but… Well, I was nearly finished so the rest will have to wait.”

  Lizzie shoved Ashley’s arm. “Tell him why it has to wait.”

  Ashley rolled her eyes and glanced over her shoulder. “You’re a party pooper.” But she stood up straighter and sighed. “You should probably know that I’m visually impaired.”

  “Oh, Ashley,” Lizzie said around a chuckle. “Just tell him. We’re the only ones up here and he should probably know.”

  “Fine.” Ashley looked at him, but her gaze was still a little off. “I’m mostly blind,” she said. “I lost my central vision and I can hardly see a damn thing. Lizzie is my eyes and my teacher until I get the hang of things or until she sells her book. Whichever comes first.”

  Mel nodded. This was too good to be true. He was halfway home. What were the odds of moving next to two people who wouldn’t figure out his identity? “Okay. Wow.” Roamer nudged his hand and he patted his head. “If Lizzie is your eyes, then what’s Roamer?”

  “Not a guide dog, if that’s what you’re thinking. If anything, he’s more like a guide-me-into-a-post dog.”

  Mel laughed and the dog barked. At least she was funny. Good to know he didn’t have a bitter, depressing lady for a neighbor.

  “Roamer and Lizzie came into my life two weeks ago,” Ashley said. “I have to learn to get along on my own before she becomes a best seller and leaves me.”

  “So, you’re a writer?” Mel asked Lizzie.

  She nodded. “Not yet published, but working on it.”

  “She’s a total recluse,” Ashley told him. “She locks herself in her room for hours at a time, typing away. No television, no radio. Just her computer. It’s only a matter of time before all that pays off.”

  Christmas had come early. Mel couldn’t believe his luck. No wonder they didn’t recognize him. Ashley couldn’t see him and Lizzie wasn’t a fan. God, he wanted to kiss them both. Which he probably could since they most likely weren’t lesbians. On the other hand, just because they were more like teacher/student didn’t mean they weren’t gay. Either way, it didn’t pose a problem. Life was good. It suddenly didn’t matter that this woman talked nonstop because she kept saying things he wanted to hear.

  “Well, it’s nice meeting you,” Ashley said.

  “Yeah. Same here.” If they were expecting an invitation into his place, they’d be waiting a hell of a long time. Mel stepped back and they took the hint and did the same.

  “Let us know if you need anything,” Ashley said, backing up farther. “I’m around. A lot.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” He closed the door and took the cookies into the kitchen, digging in as he went. Damn, they tasted good and his luck hadn’t run out yet. What were the chances that neither lady knew him? Although if Ashley could see, maybe she would have recognized him. He still needed to be careful. Especially with Lizzie. One magazine article could end his whole charade.

  * * *

  Ashley exhaled as she walked with Lizzie back to the house. Aside from family, Lizzie and a handful of medical professionals, Mel was the first real person to see her scar. She’d always been careful to cover it up when going out, but makeup had been a distant thought the last two weeks. When going to appointments, Ashley had simply covered her eyes with sunglasses, tossed on a floppy hat and kept her head high, letting go of the fact that she had no control over people staring at her face and wondering what had happened to her. But that was a load of bull because she couldn’t really let it go. She just pretended to.

  Like she pretended to handle her vision loss and her loneliness. She pretended that living on this hilltop—surrounded by beauty she couldn’t see—was the key to her happiness. Sure, she had expected things to change when she graduated law school and started her own practice, but she never dreamed the turn her life would take when that scaffolding collapsed on her.

  So much for her life plan.

  She closed the front door and took off Roamer’s leash before turning to Lizzie. “Spill. Tell me about him.” She’d caught the scent of clean soap when he’d given her his firm handshake, but she wanted the whole picture.

  “He’s cute,” Lizzie said, heading toward the kitchen as Ashley and Roamer followed. “He’s tall, about six-one or-two, not quite two hundred pounds, dark brown hair cut in a short buzz and a beard.”

  “Really? A beard?” That was disappointing. “I hate beards,” Ashley muttered. She’d never forget Roger Klein from night school. They’d worke
d in a study group with half a dozen other people and he’d asked her out countless times. She’d always refused because she didn’t like his scruffy beard. Inevitably when he’d snack on something, she was equally fascinated and appalled at the amount of food that stuck to the hair around his mouth. She’d never get over that as long as she lived. “What about his eyes?” she asked. She was a sucker for pretty eyes. Ha.

  “Couldn’t tell. He was wearing sunglasses. It’s not a full on Rumpelstiltskin beard, but it’s definitely a beard and covers his face. He’s cute.”

  “I liked his voice,” Ashley said, stopping at the center island. He sounded a little dangerous. A little different. “At least I can imagine him without a beard.”

  “Yep. You can. BLTs for dinner, right?” Lizzie asked. Her voice had that hollow sound that said she was talking into the open fridge. She was all about business, always working to make sure that Ashley learned more and felt more comfortable about taking care of herself.

  “Right.” Ashley moved to the corner of the kitchen, found the bread and pulled out four slices. “What do you think he does for a living? That’s an expensive house for a single guy.” She stuck the slices in the toaster.

  “We don’t know that he’s single,” Lizzie pointed out.

  “Sure we do. He never mentioned a wife or family. Everything was in the singular.”

  “I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t mean there’s not an ex-wife with kids.” The fridge door closed. “I’ve got a tomato and bacon and I’m setting them on the edge of the center island,” Lizzie said. “Get to it.”

  Ashley pulled out a knife from the block and searched for the tomatoes. “You know, sometimes I think I’m your slave,” she muttered. But she didn’t put any malice behind it because Lizzie was really saving her life, giving her life, by teaching her to be self-sufficient.

  “Yeah, I know. That works for me.”

  Chuckling, Ashley washed the tomato and began slicing. After that, she found the microwavable dish under the counter for the bacon and put six slices in. “You won’t know what to do with yourself when there’s no one to cook for you,” she said.

  “That’s okay. I could afford to lose some weight.”

  Ashley put the container in the microwave and punched in the time. Then she depressed the toaster button for the bread. Thanks to Lizzie, she’d learned to cook easy meals. She’d learned to get around her house and accomplish simple tasks. One of these days she’d be able to live on her own.

  One of these days her sight would come back.

  Chapter Seven

  Sun cut through his closed eyelids and Mel dragged a pillow over his head. Good God, what had he been thinking to buy a house with cathedral windows in the fucking bedroom? He pried one eye open and glanced at the clock. 10 a.m. He hadn’t gone to bed much before three. His internal clock still ran on concert-tour time. At least he hadn’t had to be up at the crack of dawn for an early morning radio show or pack for an early departure to the next venue.

  The sound of the ocean whispered outside, and because he had no chance in hell of getting back to sleep, he got up to see the view on his first morning home. White-capped waves hit the shore and rushed out in a captivating rhythm. He hadn’t even explored his private alcove yesterday because he’d been so distracted with setting up the music room and meeting the neighbors.

  The November heat wave hadn’t let up and it seemed like the perfect time to enjoy the beach. Mel threw on a pair of swim shorts, grabbed a towel and his shades and headed out the back door. To his left, an endless pool sparkled in the morning sun. Growing up in the desert, he’d wished for water, so it seemed only fair that he had it all over the place now.

  Walking past the fire pit and the built-in outside grill, he pushed back the high redwood gate and trekked to the second gate that led to the stairway down to the beach. The whole set up was gorgeous. Awed at the tranquility, he stared back at all that belonged to him. Two different balconies faced the ocean, one from his bedroom and one from his music room. Enormous glass windows let the sunshine in along with the calm of the water. He couldn’t believe he owned it.

  He had an apartment in New York, the house in Beverly Hills, a hilltop place in Hawaii and even a flat in London, but this house was already his favorite.

  Mel smiled and started down the steps. He had the ocean to himself. Now this was paradise.

  Two folded-up beach chairs leaned against the rocks near the bottom of the stairs. Obviously, they belonged to the neighbors. Of course, they weren’t here at the moment and he figured they wouldn’t mind sharing… What the hell. He snagged a chair and set it up twenty feet from the water. Oh, yeah, this was living. With the sun beating down, it didn’t feel anywhere near close to Thanksgiving. Not that he ever did much on Turkey Day, but it was nice knowing this year would be quiet.

  He’d just gotten used to the steady rhythm of the tide when he heard something and opened his eyes. A streak of brown fur raced to the water’s edge before Ashley’s dog bounded back in his direction, his tail wagging. Mel glanced toward the stairs but saw no sign of his neighbor. Maybe the dog had gotten loose without her knowing. He should probably take him home, which chalked up another reason he hated having neighbors. He didn’t want to be the good Samaritan. Shit.

  What was the dog’s name again anyway? “Hey, Buddy,” Mel said, putting his hand out. The dog came to him immediately and Mel checked his collar. “Roamer.” The dog woofed. Mel scratched behind the dog’s soft ear. “You look like a Buddy to me.” The dog woofed again.

  Mel had never had a dog. Had never even considered owning a dog, but this guy looked happy, healthy and made for good entertainment as he dove into the sand and squirmed around. Something in Mel softened at the utter innocence and playfulness of the canine.

  “Hey, Buddy, you do any tricks?” Mel asked, taking another glance behind him and still not seeing any sign of the dog’s owner.

  Roamer scrambled out of the sand and shook vigorously, spraying sand in every direction before coming back for another ear scratch.

  “Sit,” Mel told him.

  He sat.

  “Shake.”

  Roamer lifted a paw and barked.

  “Nice.” Mel patted the dog’s sleek side. “What else do you do?” He sat forward in the chair. “Lay down.” He pointed to the sand and Roamer promptly dropped to his stomach, his eyes alert, head cocked to the side. “Roll over.” Mel twirled his finger and the dog rolled twice. “Buddy, you totally rock the beach, dude.” Mel leaned over and patted him again before rising out of the chair. Roamer got up with him, prancing in front of him. “Heel, Buddy.”

  Roamer immediately circled Mel and sat at his left side. “No fucking way,” Mel breathed. He crouched and ruffled the dog’s short fur. Roamer gave him a wet kiss to the chin. “I guess this makes us pals, right?” Roamer sneezed. “Maybe I should take you home. What do you think of that idea?” The dog bolted for the water. “Not so much, huh?”

  Mel stood and looked behind him again, but this time he saw Ashley at the top of the stairs. She wore a ridiculous hat that flapped in the wind and a billowing blue Hawaiian print sarong that covered her from the waist down. A tight T-shirt outlined the outrageous curves of her breasts. Why go outside if you’re going to cover up? Women.

  Now he had a choice to make. Pretend to be invisible and hope she didn’t see him or be the good neighbor and hand over her dog. Goddammit! He’d paid over nine million dollars for this property. This private beach belonged to him!

  Roamer came back from the water and ran two circles around him, his eyes bright with excitement and pure joy.

  “Heel, Buddy,” Mel told him.

  The dog circled and went right to his left side. Mel started for the stairs. “Heel, Bud.” The dog obeyed. “Good boy. Good boy.” An odd zing of happiness crested in Mel’s chest.

  Mel got to the base of the stairs and saw a soft-sided cooler upside-down in the sand. He picked it up by the strap and headed upstair
s. He’d assumed that Ashley had been on her way down looking for the dog, but she had something in her hands as she hovered at the top landing.

  “Hi,” he said, two stairs below her. “If you’re looking for your dog, he’s right here.”

  She turned, a broom in her hand. “Oh, hi. Thanks. I thought I was coming down with him, but I slipped on the stairs and figured I’d better sweep the sand off before anything else.”

  “Did you drop something?” he asked, handing the cooler up to her.

  She looked off to the side then reached out. “Oh, thanks. Yeah, this went flying when I grabbed for the railing.” She set the cooler on the landing next to her beach bag. This close he saw her dark bikini beneath the T-shirt and sarong. No doubt about it, his neighbor rocked the bikini the way her dog had rocked the beach. She definitely planned to get some sun and once she did, she’d discover he’d used her chair without permission.

  “I hope it’s cool I borrowed your chair.”

  Roamer, tired of being ignored for his patience, gave a low bark.

  “Go ahead, Ro. You’re good.” Ashley waved her hand toward the water. “Go on.”

  The dog bolted down the stairs and back to the beach.

  She waved away his concern with the same hand. “No worries. Anytime. I thought Lizzie might join me down here on occasion, but she uses my beach time as her writing time. Feel free to use it whenever you like.” She started sweeping.

  Well, that was neighborly of her. He couldn’t get pissed at that. Damn. She was making it hard not to like her. It would’ve been a hell of lot easier staying away from her if he didn’t like her.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He couldn’t borrow it and not be a little sociable. Besides, it didn’t seem safe for her to be sweeping stairs she’d just slipped on. “Um, are you sure you’re okay to do that? Maybe I should do it for you?” Great. Now he was offering to do work he didn’t want to do.

  “It’s okay. I’ve been doing it the past year. Of course, now that you’ll be trudging sand up the steps, you might have to sweep once in a while, but this mess totally belongs to us.” She looked toward him, a quirk to her pretty mouth. “I may be close to blind, but unfortunately my ability to clean is still fully intact. Kind of sucks if you want to know the truth. I mean really…you’d think there’d be at least one disease that does something for the good of mankind.” She paused and looked down at nothing. “I’m sorry, miss, but we’ve diagnosed you with sweeper’s disease.” She put her hand to her mouth feigning fright. “Oh no, doctor, not sweeper’s disease.” Her eyebrows pulled together in question. “Doctor, what is sweeper’s disease?” She shifted, now playing the doctor. “It’s sweeping the country.” She giggled at her joke then lost the smile. “I’m afraid it’s serious. You’ll never be able to sweep the floor again. You’ll have to have someone else do it for you.” Her hand came back to her mouth. “Say it isn’t so, doctor?” She dropped her hand and grasped her broom. “See what I mean? We need a disease that people would be glad to get.”