Mr. Playboy: A Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (Shine Series Book 2)

by Trisha Grace

  She laughed. “Wow.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, you know what? You should give up everything and go back with me.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “Stay,” she said after a moment. “I really want to see the rest of the movies in this series. You can’t ruin that for me.”

  “After this franchise then.”

  “Do what makes you happy. I can always find a teaching position here.”

  “Really?”

  She grinned and nodded. “You do need someone to shoot a glare at you whenever you’re being idiotic.”

  “Idiotic?” He shrugged. “Whatever makes you stay.” He leaned over and kissed her, and they lay back on the bed.

  But Sarah immediately sprang up. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I know your no sex before marriage policy.”

  “Were you thinking we were going to have sex?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I just don’t really want to lean back on the bed while the image of my blood all over it is still in my head.”

  He laughed and stood, pulling her to her feet before looking at the wounds on her hand. “You should get a doctor to look at that.”

  She waved it off. “It isn’t a big deal.”

  “Let’s get you back to Elena’s place.”

  Sarah was staring at her phone, considering if she should return her mother’s missed calls, when Keith stopped the car.

  “We’re here.”

  She looked over at him.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “It’s my mom. Sixty-eight missed calls.” She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled through her mouth. “I think I’ll just text her to let her know I’m all right.”

  “You should call her.”

  “After sixty-eight missed calls? I’m too afraid to call back.”

  He laughed. “You have no problem confronting an unstable drug addict, but you don't dare call your mom back.”

  “This is different.” She opened the door and stepped out. “She doesn't do things like this. She was never a helicopter mom.”

  “So she just really hates me.” Keith joined her after getting her bag from the trunk, and he keyed in the passcode on the security pad when they got to the door.

  Sarah sighed silently. “Maybe we should ring the bell.”

  “I’m sure she’s expecting us.” He took her hand and entered the house. “I found her,” he said and stopped. “Hi, Samantha and stranger.”

  “Samantha?” Sarah broke into a grin. “What are you doing here?”

  Samantha glanced over at the woman next to her. “The producer for my show, Jean Morton.” The woman next to her waved.

  “Lia told her what’s been going on, and Jean flew here. She managed to make me a consultant on the Miriam Ricci case, and now she wants me to do an exclusive on it for my show.”

  “They want us on camera,” Elena added.

  “Is that a good idea?” Keith asked.

  “Could we have a minute?” Elena smiled politely at Samantha and Jean before heading over to Keith and Sarah. “Let’s put your bag back in your room first.”

  The three of them headed upstairs. No one spoke until Elena closed the door of the guest room behind them.

  “Sally thinks it’s a bad idea.” Elena pursed and released her lips. “Especially when there’s so many unknowns in your timeline.”

  “Sally?” Sarah asked.

  “My manager,” Elena said.

  “It isn’t just my timeline.” Keith looked over at Sarah. “She was drunk last night.”

  Elena rolled her head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Shaking her head, Elena said, “It’s just bad timing.” She sighed and shrugged. “But I’ve spoken to Samantha privately as well. I told her that there must be more to things, that you couldn’t have done it.”

  “And?” Keith asked.

  “We should do it,” Sarah interjected before Elena could answer. She turned to Keith. “I’ve watched her show. She’s fair; she follows the evidence.”

  Elena shared a glance with Keith. “What if she follows the evidence to a conclusion we don’t want?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Keith didn’t hurt Miriam. He wouldn’t.”

  “But he doesn’t remember.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Elena opened it after looking at Keith and Sarah. “Samantha.”

  “Can we talk for a minute? Off the record. I have no camera on me, and my phone is right here.” Samantha lifted her phone and angled it toward them, showing them that she didn’t have any applications running.

  Elena glanced over her shoulder at Keith and Sarah, and stepped aside after they nodded.

  “I know—” Samantha stopped, her eyes looking at Sarah’s hand. “You’ve got a cut on your hand.”

  “She was in a hotel room all night.” Keith pulled Sarah behind her.

  Samantha raised her hands in peace. “It was just an observation. I’m not here to accuse anyone.” She pursed her lips. “For what’s worth, I don’t think Miriam died from her stab wounds.”

  Keith frowned. “But the detectives—”

  “I know.” Samantha shrugged. “We’re still waiting on the autopsy, but there’s way too little blood in the room. I believe she was stabbed after she was dead.”

  “Huh,” Elena said. “That must be why the detectives didn’t take you in yesterday.” She turned to Samantha. “Hypothetically, say someone was drugged and couldn’t remember a thing in the morning. Then the said person got a drug test after nearly twenty-four hours.”

  “Then it’s basically pointless. Whatever the drug was, it’s probably long gone.” Samantha squinted, her eyes on Keith. “You have a history of drinking.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “How bad were your blackouts?”

  “I drank a lot. I had a pretty good handle on liquor.”

  “So not often.” Samantha nodded. “Do you take drugs?”

  “No.”

  “Sleeping pills?”

  “I’ve always slept pretty well at night.”

  “So there’s no way to prove he’s been drugged?” Sarah asked.

  “It may not be in his system, but if you can find the source …”

  Sarah turned to Keith. “What did you eat or drink?”

  “I had a soda at home, spilled half of it onto my shirt.”

  Elena shook her head. “You were fine when you were talking to Spencer and me. You were articulate. You were present. It must have happened after your conversation with us.”

  “I didn’t … Water. I drank the bottle of water in my dressing room.”

  “Was it sealed?” Samantha asked.

  Keith shrugged. “I … I’m not sure. I just grabbed it and drank.”

  Samantha’s head bobbed up and down in a slow rhythm. “Did you eat or drink anything else?”

  “No. Not that I remember.”

  “Then it probably was in the water. Do you still have the bottle?”

  “It was in Elena’s car, but her assistant already got someone to tow the car.”

  Elena pursed her lips. “Hypothetically, if my assistant had found the bottle and kept it, and we didn’t tell the detectives about it … Would that be considered tampering with evidence?”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “You have the bottle?”

  “Hypothetically,” Elena said.

  Samantha laughed. “You people are—never mind. Did the detectives specifically ask about the bottle?”

  Elena shook her head.

  “So your assistant didn’t know it was important and thought it was yours.”

  “Exactly.”

  Samantha grinned while her head rocked side to side. “Since you didn’t know it was evidence …” She shrugged. “You should be fine.”

  “So you have the bottle?” Sarah asked again.

  “G
ina has it. Along with the tissue she wiped off the blood with. She asked me what she should do with them and I said to just hang on to them for a while.”

  “When this whole thing is over, Keith will take you out shopping,” Sarah said. “Or whatever you want. He says he can afford a private island.”

  Elena laughed. “I just understand how it feels to be accused of something you didn’t do.”

  “So do I.” Samantha cracked a smile. “But it doesn’t mean I agree with what you guys have done or are doing. At the end of the day, you’re just making it more difficult for the case to be solved.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Get the water tested. Then let me know if you guys are comfortable with being on camera with me.”

  “Thanks,” Keith said. “But why are you helping us?”

  Sarah nudged him in the chest.

  “My grandmother is a huge fan. She says someone as yummy as you couldn’t commit murder.” Samantha rolled her eyes while Sarah laughed. “So I really hope you didn’t kill Miriam.”

  “If you can prove my innocence, I’ll fly your grandmother down and give her a kiss.”

  “I don’t work that way,” Samantha said. “I follow the evidence.”

  “We didn’t do it.”

  “I really hope so.” Samantha paused. “Can I take a photo of your wound?” she asked Sarah.

  “No.” Keith pulled Sarah back again.

  “Keith.” Sarah took a step to the side.

  “No. I know you love her show, but no.”

  “It’s okay. What about you?” Samantha asked Keith. “I don’t see any wounds on your hands. Can I take a photo of that?”

  Keith’s brows drew together.

  “Let her take it,” Sarah said. “Killers often get knife wounds on their own hands when they stab their victims.”

  Samantha’s lips curled, and she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “It’ll get my producer off my back while you guys think about it. And perhaps give you a breather with the detectives.”

  Keith put his hands out, palms up.

  Samantha took two photos. “Turn your hands over.” She snapped another photo. “Can I take photos of your arms?”

  “Go ahead,” Sarah said. “And mine, too.”

  “Sarah.” Keith shook his head.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Samantha took a photo of Keith’s arms, then turned to Sarah. “Take a photo of your wounds and keep it. If your wound doesn’t match the wound on Miriam, then you’re off the hook. But I’m sure the detectives can just check the keycard system in the hotel. Most hotels log when the cards are used. If you were in your room all night, there’ll be a record of it.”

  “It sounds like you’re investigating us,” Keith said.

  “That’s the only way to prove you’re innocent. We’re not in court. When investigating a case, everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise. Like Elena and Spencer.” Samantha turned to Elena who was standing by the foot of the bed. “The restaurant you and Spencer were at has footage of the two of you entering the premises around eight and leaving around eleven.”

  “That was a long dinner,” Keith said.

  “So we’re off the hook.”

  Samantha nodded and looked at her phone. “I have to go. Looks like the autopsy result is in.”

  “Was she pregnant?” Sarah asked when Samantha opened the door.

  With one foot out of the room, Samantha turned back to Sarah. “I don’t know.”

  “Will you be able to find out if it was mine?”

  “If you’re willing to provide a DNA sample.”

  Keith hesitated for a moment. “The detectives will probably ask me for it again anyway.”

  “Do you have a cotton swab and a Ziploc bag?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Hi, Hillary,” Keith said and waved from the couch.

  “Now you’re arranging for people to meet you at my place?” Elena stepped aside and closed the door after the woman entered. “Does my house look like an office?”

  The woman in a white sleeveless chiffon top tucked in her sleek black pants sauntered forward. “Nora told me what happened.”

  “Nora?” Sarah asked Keith.

  “My manager.” He cocked his head to the side. “And this is Hillary Griff. She’s my publicist.”

  “Publicist.” Sarah looked over at Elena. “Do you have a publicist?”

  “I’m not in the habit of getting myself into trouble.” Elena continued into the kitchen, leaving them alone.

  Despite the situation, Sarah grinned.

  “Well, as usual, you don’t have to worry about anything. I just dropped by to let you know that my team is already taking care of the situation.”

  Keith shrugged. “Thanks.”

  “What exactly does a publicist do?”

  Hillary smiled at her. “In this situation: damage control.”

  “And how do you do that?”

  Hillary’s brows drew together.

  “I’m sorry.” Sarah smiled and glanced over at Keith.

  “She’s just curious,” Keith said and stroked her hair.

  “Well, my team is already digging up whatever they can on Miriam. We’ll flood the Internet, tabloids, and news with her scandals.”

  “Why?” Sarah asked.

  “So no one will care that she’s dead.”

  Hillary’s reply was so nonchalant that Sarah thought she might’ve heard her wrong.

  “I’m sorry.” Sarah shook her head. “I thought you said ‘no one will care that she’s dead.’”

  “I did.”

  She frowned then—if she wasn’t already frowning. “How is that okay? And how’s that going to help Keith?”

  Hillary’s lips curled. “If the worst case scenario happens, the jury won’t have any sympathy for Miriam, and that will definitely help Keith.”

  Sarah wasn’t sure how to react and ended up making a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “Do you hear yourself? How can you be so callous about this whole thing?”

  “Sarah.” Keith took her hand.

  “You can’t do this, Keith. This isn’t you.”

  “It isn’t him,” Hillary said matter-of-factly. “I’m doing it. My team’s doing it.” She gave Sarah a professional smile. “It will never go back to him.”

  “That isn’t what I’m worried about.” Sarah turned to Keith. “Samantha is helping us. You didn’t do anything, and we’ll find a way to prove that. It isn’t right to destroy a dead woman’s reputation to protect yourself in case the worst case scenario happens.”

  Keith nodded. “I’m sure there’s another way to handle this situation,” he said to Hillary.

  “You’ve never questioned what we do.”

  Sarah shook her head again and got up. “Excuse me.” She didn’t want to be anywhere near Hillary and her callous plans. Neither did she want to put Keith on the spot. “Do you know what Hillary was suggesting?” she said when she saw Elena.

  “Nothing good, I suppose.”

  “She and her team are trying to find news that would destroy Miriam’s reputation.”

  “That’s how publicists work.” Elena continued chopping her apples into small cubes. “They either release information that’s good for their clients or they do the opposite.”

  “You’ve done it, too.” Sarah sighed. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “I’ve never had a publicist, and I never will.” Elena transferred the chopped-up apples onto a large white plate with grapes and strawberries, then took the plate over to the dining table. “Thing is” —she jerked her chin forward, gesturing for Sarah to take a seat by the dining table— “most stars work with a publicist. My manager always brings up the need for one whenever negative news about me gets out.”

  “You’re asking me to be considerate of Keith.”

  Elena shrugged. “That’s for you to decide. I’m just letting you know that it’s pretty normal.”

  “But you don’t have a publicist.”

&n
bsp; “As I said, I’m not in the habit of getting myself into trouble. And I’ve been pretty blessed. Negative news about me never really sticks.”

  Sarah picked up a grape and popped it into her mouth. “It just doesn’t seem right.”

  Elena gave her a small smile before taking a cube of apple.

  “I trust Samantha way more than Hillary.”

  “To be fair, that’s because you like Samantha.”

  “Because she does the right thing.”

  Elena nodded slowly.

  “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

  “I don’t know,” Elena said after swallowing the apple. “Keith and I are different.”

  “As in you don’t get into trouble?”

  “There’s that.” Elena paused. “Also I have a lot of people around me to keep me in check, to help me stay grounded, while he has friends like Spencer.”

  Sarah laughed softly.

  “But he has you now. If you’re really against him doing this, then tell him. I’m sure he’ll listen.”

  “And I have.” Keith strode toward them. “Hillary’s gone. I told Hillary to stop what she and her team are doing.”

  Elena took the plate. “Do you want some more?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “I’ll leave you guys to talk.” She slapped Keith’s hand away when he tried to take a piece of fruit. “Stop asking people to come over to my place.”

  One of Keith’s shoulders twitched, and Elena shot him a glare before walking away.

  “You guys behave like squabbling siblings,” Sarah said as Keith pulled out a chair and sat next to her.

  “Are we okay?”

  She gave him a small smile. “We are. I just don’t agree with Hillary.” She pulled in her lower lip. “Did you know what Hillary was doing for you?”

  “I’ve never asked her what she and her team do.”

  “She just solves your problems.”

  He nodded. “Nora usually calls her when I’m in trouble, and the two of them sort things out.”

  “Now you know.”

  “And I’ve told her to stop.”

  “Because of me?”

  Keith leaned back in the chair. “Yes.” He shifted forward and took her hand. “Because I wouldn’t have cared about doing the right thing if it weren’t for you. I’m selfish—or I was. At least I hope I can use the past tense.”