“Nothing.” She tried to gather her wits but was as giddy as a hormonal teenage girl. His gaze drifted from her throat to her breasts to her toes, making her cheeks burn. She willed herself back into control. Letting this unfriendly man make her feel this way was just wrong. “Come on, Bella. Time for a walk.”
Bella happily followed, seeming unfazed by the stranger’s disregard. Rose held her tongue. If she didn’t need a pet-friendly place to stay so badly, she’d tell the arrogant grouch a thing or two.
She expelled a cleansing breath and snapped on the leash then hurried to the kitchen door, never happier to get away from anybody. She reached out and twisted the knob, but as a last thought turned to Leo and cleared her throat.
Leo glanced over his broad shoulder and raised his brows.
“Do you think, before I return, you could put on pants?”
The corner of his lip curled, and his toasty caramel eyes shimmered. “Sure.” He returned to making his coffee.
Once outside, she inhaled the morning air to calm the wild beat of her heart. Flustered not out of fear, but because Leo made something else inside her crack.
* * * *
Leo stood at the sink, washing out a mug and waiting for the coffee to percolate. Idiot. He’d been half-asleep coming into the kitchen, forgetting all about the stranger living down the hall. What was her name again? She’d just called the dog Bella.
He stared outside. The morning sun outside the kitchen window made up for last night’s storm. He reached into a cabinet for a glass and filled it with tap water, drinking it in one swoop to soothe his dry mouth. As he lowered it into the sink, he spotted the woman walking along the row of hedges separating his yard from Harry’s property. The dog sniffed with excitement as her long ears dragged the ground. Leo smiled.
The woman’s name, right on the tip of his tongue. It started with a T…no, an E.
She bent over and pointed at something. Despite her baggy gray sweatpants, the position she was in exposed the promise of a very nice behind. The shine in her eyes when he’d caught her staring at him in his underwear had shown some heat, or maybe it was only pure shock.
He examined her military-camouflage-patterned T-shirt, which clung closely to the curves of her hips and breasts, rounding out her petite frame. His urges hopped to life, his libido always begging for attention this time of day.
He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath. How long since he’d been with a woman? Three months? Four? Since he’d ended things with Susan, of course. Pleasant companionship, but nothing more. Around that time he’d become so absorbed in his book problems, he hadn’t missed intimacy. In fact, not until now had he given it much thought. He groaned. Come on, Leo. Control yourself. You want this woman out of here, not in your dirty fantasies.
Yet he kept watching her. She’d surprised him with more than her arrival. She hadn’t taken any guff from him when he’d tried to toss her out. A move like that deserved respect. When she’d asked him to put on pants earlier, he’d almost laughed, but the way she glared, he figured he’d pay a price for anything but a “Yes, ma’am.”
Outside in the backyard, she continued a conversation with the dog and then she laughed, revealing a smile perfect as a crescent moon showcased on a face buried by those silly, oversized glasses. She should find a new optometrist. The haircut almost seemed hasty, the hair color possibly new given the dot of hair dye near her earlobe, and the clothes more suitable for a high school student—not someone who he’d guessed was over thirty. And yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the symmetry of her heart-shaped face or those sharp blue eyes.
Had he closed himself up so tight that he’d forgotten what he found attractive in a woman? Forgotten what made him fall in love with Camille? A raw ache seized his chest, the same ache that stole a little piece of his life every time he thought about his wife.
He breathed in the scent of coffee and waited for it to replace his pain. The scent of waking. Starting a new day. A reminder he was alive and not as dead as he sometimes felt inside. He turned off the burner and got out two mugs, cream, and set the items near the sugar bowl.
The wall phone rang and he walked over and answered. “Hello.”
“Mr. Drake? It’s Meg, from the real estate office. Good news! I just heard from your brother. He’s asked me to draw up a new agreement to allow your tenant to stay in the guest quarters.”
“Good news for who?” Leo mumbled.
“What? You think it’s good news, too? I hope so, because I have some papers that I’ll bring over for you and Emma to sign.”
The dog trotted toward the house, his owner in tow. “Come by when you’re ready. Thank you.”
He hung up and headed for the staircase. Probably better to tell his tenant the so-called good news with his pants on.
How would he ever get this book written with all this activity around him?
God damn his brother! Leo went upstairs. Everett renting the house without telling him once was bad enough, but this second time was deliberate and crossed a…
Leo stopped at the top landing. His anger withered with the realization he did have some power. He’d managed to get one tenant out using this technique. Sure, it was childish, but the last renter had fallen for it rather quickly. And desperation forced extreme measures. Didn’t it?
He weighed the foolishness of committing another fake haunting. The first time he’d done it, he’d been surprised the tenant actually fell for it. Considering the idea again reached an all-time low. Once, he never would have considered the act. But he’d never been faced with an unreachable deadline or horrible reviews from his last release. He could do it one last time, then get the lawyers to write up some paperwork stating Everett could no longer rent without Leo’s approval.
Decision made. More than anything, he wanted to be alone, and right now he’d stop at nothing—no matter how foolish—to make it happen.
* * * *
“Okay, Emma. Put your John Hancock right here.” Meg pointed to a line on the contract lying on the kitchen table.
Rose leaned over and carefully read the reworded document. She made sure it said the dog could stay and the rent was reduced for the smaller living space. Everything seemed in order, so she scribbled her signature, taking care to sign the name Emma Morris. Signing a contract with a fake name probably broke some laws, but she’d pay on time so there were no issues.
She sensed Leo’s stare. Lifting her gaze from the document, she found him watching her from his perch at the threshold. He leaned on the trim, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
She pushed the contract toward Meg. “All signed.”
“Bet you know all about John Hancock.” Meg winked at Rose.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Being from Boston and all.”
“Oh, yes. Of course, John Hancock is quite popular amongst his fellow Bostonians.”
“You don’t sound like you come from Boston.” Leo pushed himself away from the door and took a step closer, his dark eyes assessing her.
His interest made Rose uneasy. “I was a transplant to the area. Just because I don’t pahk my cah at Hahvad Yahd, doesn’t mean I didn’t live there.” She turned to Meg. “Is that all?”
“I’ll need yours, too, Leo. Your brother suggested you sign this time, so everyone is clear on the arrangement.”
He pulled a sour face. On his way over, he took a pair of glasses off the counter and slipped them on. After a quick scan of the agreement, he scribbled an illegible signature. Over the tops of the half-framed reading glasses, he looked at Rose.
“Okay, Eileen. As—”
“Emma,” Rose corrected. “It’s Emma.”
He stared for a long second then removed his glasses. “As a tenant here, there are a few rules. Use what you need from the kitchen; use half the fridge. Keep your dog inside your apartment. And most important, the second level and attic are off limits.” He curled his lips in
to a near-smile. “We wouldn’t want another incident like this morning’s. Right?”
The image of him at the sink sent a wave of heat to her cheeks. “And you’ll stay out of my apartment, too?”
He snorted and shook his head. “If you’ll both excuse me, I have work to do and hope it stays quiet enough for me to get some done.”
Meg and Rose watched him walk out of the kitchen. The second the stairs squeaked from his footsteps, Meg lowered her voice. “What happened this morning?”
“Oh, nothing really.” Rose mentally rehashed every well-muscled, manly inch of detail she’d stumbled upon. “He wasn’t dressed properly for a houseguest, that’s all.”
Meg’s eyes widened and a wicked grin crossed her ruby lips. “Lucky you. I’ve seen pictures of him on the Internet and…well, my-oh-my. He’s dated some real beauties. But I had no idea he’s such a grump.”
“On the Internet? Is he famous?”
“He’s a writer. His books are big bestsellers. What is it you do for a living, hon?”
“I’m a travel agent.” Rose hoped she sounded nonchalant. “I work from my computer at home, too. I’ll be sure to stay out of his way.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” Meg gathered her papers and stuffed them into her leather tote. “Don’t forget. You have a map of town, but it’s pretty easy to find your way to things. Call me if you need anything at all. Oh, and I hope you’re not worried about those silly ghost rumors and the murder Leo mentioned last night.”
Rose laughed, but it didn’t stop a tremor inside her belly. “Trust me. Haven’t given them a second thought.”
Another lie, tossed out like it was a useless penny. Every single time Rose heard a story about a spouse killing the other, her parents flashed in her mind’s eye. She stood and followed Meg to the door, working hard to erase the memory. “Thanks for all your help. My ex, he’s kind of been stalking me lately.”
Meg touched Rose’s arm. “You poor dear.”
“Yeah, well, I’m done with him now. If anybody comes to town looking for me, can you keep my location quiet?”
“I sure will.” She shook her head. “You know, my husband left me last year.” Meg’s cheery disposition faded. “For another woman. Younger, of course.”
“I’m so sorry, Meg. It must be hard.”
Meg nodded. Her eyes watered as she launched into a story about how her high school sweetheart had turned into a womanizing bum. “But every day I get up and put a step forward. I refuse to let him ruin my life.”
“Sounds like you are doing all the right things to get your life back on track.” Rose slipped into psychologist mode automatically. “That’s what’s important.”
“I’m sure trying.” Meg sniffled. “Jumping right back on the horse’s back.”
“Back in the saddle is a great place to be.” Rose smiled and winked. “Just don’t pressure yourself to drive too fast.”
Meg laughed. “I won’t. I’ll touch base in a few days. See how you’re doing. And I hope that ex of yours doesn’t show up.”
“Me too. And thanks.”
As Meg left, a creak sounded on the stairs, followed by footsteps treading on the second level. Rose made a mental note to watch what she said around this place. Leo seemed to be working hard to figure her out, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Chapter 4
Bella’s wild howl sent Rose dashing from her bathroom and into the main room. The apartment door leading to the rest of the house had somehow become wide open and the dog was nowhere in sight. Already she’d broken Leo’s house rules.
Bella let out another distant wail. Rose followed the sounds and found her at the kitchen door, sniffing at the crack near the floor. She peeked outside and spotted Joanne’s black Audi next to Rose’s used car. A second later, Joanne stepped out, bringing Rose relief at the sight of the first familiar face in days.
“No more howling, Bella. You’re going to get me evicted.” Rose gripped the dog’s collar and opened the door. “Hey! Welcome.”
“Boy, am I glad to see you.” Joanne draped a vibrant, patterned scarf over her shoulders and reached into the car, removing a red fedora. She tossed the hat on top of her thick sable hair and headed toward the house.
“Holy altered appearance, Batman!” She took the short flight of steps. “That is you, right?”
Rose let go of Bella and reached for Joanne, hugging her college friend tightly. “Yes. It’s me.” Rose leaned back and lowered her voice. “It’s my disguise.”
Joanne eyed her from top to bottom. “A far cry from the woman I used to know.” Bella squeezed between them and Joanne glanced down. “Well hello there, Bella. I’ve only seen pictures of you.” She patted the dog’s head, all the acknowledgment Bella needed before walking away to check out her water bowl.
Rose motioned Joanne into the kitchen and shut the door behind them. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten away from John without your help.”
Joanne flipped her hand with a dismissive wave. “You, my dear, are a fighter. You’d have been fine.” She removed her hat, which was crooked from the hug. “First things first…I need a bathroom. There wasn’t a single rest stop on these country roads.”
“It’s definitely quiet up here. Far from the crowds. Just what I asked you to help me find.” Rose pointed to the alcove near the kitchen entrance. “The door on the right.”
Rose stared out the window over the sink while she waited. Seeing Joanne brought some relief. As freshmen at a small private school in North Carolina, they’d formed a sisterly bond. Rose had even told Joanne that her parents died, leaving out details like who they were and where she’d come from.
Nobody except John knew that on the day after her eighteenth birthday, Emmaline had legally changed her name to Rose Morris, a combination of her own middle name and mother’s maiden name. She’d registered at a college on the east coast. She’d thanked her aunt for taking care of her the past four years, then split California for the furthest coastline possible.
A switch inside her had flipped that day, shutting off all sentiment for her past. She’d always felt like just another prop in the stage lives of two celebrities with stadium-sized egos. Destroying what they’d created—Emmaline—had been the only way Rose could stop her childhood from guiding her adulthood.
Silence about where she came from had been a necessary choice at first. Years later, there were days she’d wondered if her new friends would care that her parents had regularly appeared on magazine covers and starred in films. Would they judge the not-so-movielike ending that had left Rose orphaned at the age of fourteen? Answers eluded her. Confession carried risk, and fear had driven her to complete silence.
A creak in the house snapped her to attention, but then silence followed. Was Leo around? The bathroom door opened and Joanne swept into the kitchen.
“I still can’t get over how different you look. That hair color, will it come out easily?”
“It says it’s a temporary rinse, so I hope so.”
“Those glasses are, uh, interesting. And when did you start wearing camouflage patterns? Dear God, Rose. Please tell me you haven’t taken up hunting since I last saw you a year ago.”
Rose laughed. “No hunting, I swear.”
“Well, I wouldn’t recognize you if I passed you on the street.”
“That’s the idea. And a reminder not to use my name. Here they know me as Emma.”
“Sorry!” Joanne’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, her well-shaped eyebrows lifting upward. “I’ll be more careful. I still can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me either. I was so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. What John did was wrong.”
Hurt over his actions again took a nasty swipe, but Rose gathered the strength inside that always allowed her to persevere in the face of disaster. “I know. To think he’d hurt me, then allow me to go to prison for something he did. I’ll be damned if I go w
ithout a fight.”
“You know I’m here to help you.” Joanne glanced around. “Where’s the guy who lives here?”
“Not sure. Maybe upstairs.”
“Why did they rent it if someone already lives here?”
“The home is owned by two brothers. One rented the place to me but didn’t know the other one was already living here.”
“I see. Well, remember. My offer to come to my place always stands if this gets to be too much.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. It’s more remote here and nobody knows me.” Sadness and disappointment over having to leave her life behind rolled at her like an unexpected wave. More quietly, she added, “The real me.”
“Won’t being here with a stranger be awkward?”
“Probably. I think he hates me. Oh, he’s a writer, like you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Leo Drake.”
“The Leo Drake? Pulitzer prize-winning Leo Drake?”
“Could be. My real estate agent said he writes bestsellers.”
“Must be the same guy. I’d kill for his sales. Although I don’t think his most recent did too well—at least with the critics.”
“Explains why he’s so miserable.”
Joanne laughed. “I’ve heard he can be the brooding literary type.”
“Just my luck.”
“Do you think it’s safe for you to head into town for lunch?”
“Sure. So far, this disguise is working.”
“Great. I’m starving. You can show me around. This place has some interesting history. Did you know its original Native American name for the lake was twenty-two letters long?”
“No. What was the name?”
“Puttacaw—something or other. Not a word you see every day. Let’s get going and I’ll fill you in on everything else I learned about your temporary home. I think you’ll like it here.”
“I hope so.” She might like it, but she’d never get attached. No place she’d ever lived had settled in her heart as a real home. Lately, though, she could admit something inside of her was the problem. “Let me put Bella in the apartment. My new landlord doesn’t appear to be a fan of dogs or desperate women. In fact he’s kind of grouchy.”
Bella Luna Page 4
