Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  The place wasn’t overly big, but then a single guy with a demanding job didn’t need much room when he spent most of his downtime at the beach, swimming, surfing or playing volleyball. He liked his little house that backed up against the Pacific Ocean, where he could play on the surf on the weekends if he wanted, roller blade with the neighborhood kids, or just walk out his back door in the evening to watch the sunset or the waves on the water.

  He had a fifteen-mile commute through the canyons to work in Westlake Village, a commute that sometimes might take as long as forty-five minutes to an hour depending on the traffic, which he utilized well enough by listening to his favorite CDs. On the days the trip grew wearisome, he’d remind himself how much he loved waking up to the sound of the surf, and somehow the amount of time he had to spend in the car didn’t seem so bad.

  As he wandered from the kitchen to the living room, making sure the doors were locked, something that was definitely out of the ordinary for him to do, Dylan considered how much his life had changed in the span of a few hours.

  She was here in his house, a mother with a baby.

  He couldn’t help wondering what in the world had made him offer Baylee a place to stay. He was a nice enough guy, a man his friends could count on when the going got tough, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d known how much work a baby could be from his sister’s kid, who was just about ready to turn the big one. Even though the little guy was a real cutie, the baby took a lot of effort and commitment.

  What in the world had he been thinking?

  But then, one look at Baylee’s face, one look into those aqua eyes, had answered that question in a heartbeat. He was starting to wonder what was wrong with him. He hadn’t gone all in over a woman since Sherry Ann Connelly in his freshman year of high school. And that probably had more to do with pheromones and the fact that he’d just discovered firsthand what caused Sherry Ann’s cheerleader uniform to poke out so nicely, rather than the depth of his fourteen-year-old infatuation.

  But Baylee had him feeling―different. It had been that way from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her standing in that hospital waiting room, surrounded by at least fifty other people crowded in around them. Throw in the fact that she’d been standing there holding a baby, a fact that hadn’t deterred him in the least, and he knew for certain this was unlike the way he’d felt about anyone else.

  Right now, she slept right down the hallway, steps away from where he stood.

  Earlier that evening, he and Jake had gone back to Gloria’s guest cottage, parked her Range Rover in the driveway, and switched the car seat to Jake’s boxy G500 Benz, before loading both of their belongings inside.

  For a woman who had been raised in Beverly Hills, the daughter of William Scott, one of the most successful action-film directors in Hollywood, Baylee didn’t seem to have all that much stuff. Her clothes had barely taken up half a small closet. This was a fact Dylan had a hard time understanding. He was hardly an expert on women, but the one thing he knew for sure was that most women collected clothes and shoes and accessories, those little baubles that rounded out the outfit, like prized art. At least the women he’d known did, and that included his mother and sister.

  But what Baylee lacked in material possessions for herself, the baby made up for twofold. Sarah seemed to have every baby gadget available on the market, everything from an infant carrier, a state-of-the-art car seat, a swing that played music, a fancy stroller, a high chair, right down to a very classy, cherry wood baby bed, which had taken him almost a damn hour to put together. And if it hadn’t been for Jake’s help, he would have had a bitch of a time trying to install the high-tech car seat into the backseat of his vehicle.

  But despite having second thoughts for the better part of the evening, the move had gone fairly smoothly. Sarah was fast asleep.

  All seemed quiet on the western front.

  As he turned out the living room light and headed to bed, he passed by the hall bathroom. And came to an abrupt stop.

  He backed up a few steps when he thought he heard soft weeping coming from inside. He waited several long minutes listening at the door to see if she settled down. When it didn’t seem like that was going to happen any time soon, he knocked lightly on the wood. “You okay in there?” He heard a low moan, and then serious sniffing, before he heard Baylee blowing her nose. Then silence. Then the crying started up again.

  “Baylee, can I come in?”

  He heard her groan again and the crying grew even louder.

  He cracked open the door an inch, just in case she wasn’t decent. But she was wearing a low-rise pair of purple flannel pajamas with a black-and-white dog pattern design that looked a lot like mini Snoopy characters. He got an eyeful of skin and belly button as the wild-eyed woman sat on the lid of the toilet, clutching a very thin roll of toilet paper in her hand as if the cardboard cylinder were her only lifeline. A pile of used, wadded up tissue several inches deep covered her feet.

  Step carefully into this quagmire, Dylan thought, as he made a tentative move further inside the small space. “What’s wrong, Baylee?”

  She blew her nose again. “I…I…I’m such a ter-rible mo-ther.”

  That was the last thing he expected her to say. Dylan took a cautious step further into the room, went over, and sat down on the ledge of the bathtub, letting his hands drape from his knees.

  “Now why would you say something like that?”

  “You. Don’t. Know. Me.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But from what I’ve seen I think you’re a good mom.”

  “Oh no. No, I…I’m absolutely hor-rible.” She sobbed louder.

  He hadn’t considered when he’d offered her a place to stay that he’d be sharing his house with a hysterical female. But he needed to say or do something now; he just wasn’t sure what. He scratched the side of his face, thinking. Finally, he decided on the direct approach. “Okay, tell me why you’re so horrible.”

  “Since Sarah…was born, since she got here, I…I…I’ve moved…a lot. I can’t seem to stop moving.”

  “That doesn’t sound so horrible to me.”

  “You don’t under-stand. I…I’ve moved fi…fi…five times. She’s only fi…fi…five months old. She’s had fi…fi…five different places to sleep. That’s…just…unacceptable.”

  “Baylee…”

  “No, it’s true. We started out in Denver, and then we came back to L.A. and stayed with K…K…Kit for a while…and then…I moved in with my Da…Dad and Tanya…and…then we moved into Glo-ria’s little house…and now…we’re…we’re living here with you. That’s fi…fi…five moves.” She held up five fingers on one trembling hand. “I…I feel like such a trans…” She sniffled. “Like such a trans…”

  She hiccupped before she sniffled again.

  “Transvestite?” Dylan teased.

  “Tran-sient.” She surveyed the heap of tissues hiding her feet. With her shoulders slumped, she kept her head bowed, staring at the mess on the tile floor.

  “Baylee, you’ve had a lot going on in the last six months, more like a year, more than most new mothers. Stop beating yourself up for trying to keep Boyd from knowing Sarah exists. Your moves were necessary.”

  “Oh, Dylan, it isn’t just that. When I found out I was pregnant I left L.A. I gave up my apartment. So when I came back, I didn’t have a place to stay and I moved in with my father and that was a terrible mistake and I’ve been moving around just like a trans…”

  “Transvestite,” Dylan grinned.

  “Noooo. I…I…I can’t keep moving around so much. Don’t you see, I’m such a bad…mo-ther.”

  “Hey, stop that. Hush now.” He moved closer to her just to see if she’d let him. He knew she was upset when she didn’t inch back the way she usually did. He put a hand under her chin and brought her head up to make her look at him. Her red nose looked like Rudolph’s. Her crystal blue eyes were red-rimmed. Her face was flushed. But to him she still looked beautiful.

 
“You’re a great mother. Fantastic even. These last five months with Sarah, you’ve been carrying around the weight of the world on your shoulders. I think it’s time you cut yourself some slack.”

  “I’m…so…scared. What if Connor…”

  “Well, don’t be. If Connor comes looking for you here, he’ll see a man and a woman living together with a baby and move on with his nice tidy life.” At least Dylan hoped that’s what would happen. He took the almost-empty roll of toilet paper from her and twirled off the last of several sheets. “Now dry those eyes.”

  She sniffled. “I’m a mess.”

  “You are. But you’re such a beautiful one,” he agreed lightly.

  Through bleary eyes, she looked up. His blue eyes speared hers. A fleck of need kindled. But only for a second until Baylee’s dimmer switch clicked on. It wasn’t hard to picture this man with his surfer good looks keeping a bevy of women dangling on his own personal string.

  “Won’t the fact that we’re staying here put a major crimp in your social life?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll live. Maybe I’ll take Sarah out in that stroller thing, walk her around the neighborhood, show her off, cruise around the beach some, pick me up a couple of new women. That baby’s probably a real chick magnet.”

  Baylee’s mouth fell open. She looked appalled.

  Dylan laughed. “God, woman, you are so easy.”

  But Baylee’s sense of humor was a bit out of whack. She still had that solemn look on her face when she offered, “I’ll help with the cooking and cleaning…and…”

  “Baylee, I don’t expect you to be my damn housekeeper.”

  “But I want to carry my weight around here, Dylan. Kit says I can’t even go back to the Book & Bean. I have to do something.”

  He grinned and tried to lighten the mood. “Baylee, are you nervous because we’re attracted to each other?” He saw her swallow…tremble a little at the idea. Always a good sign.

  “Not nervous. Surprised maybe?” Baylee answered.

  “Surprised. Why?”

  “Why would you be attracted to me of all people? Right now, I’m in this mess. It’s not my best moment.” She laughed. “Not only that, but I don’t feel very attractive. Look at me.”

  “I have.” His tone turned serious when he realized she wasn’t playing a game with him or fishing for a compliment. It was time to level with each other. He tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear and went from the gut. “Well, for starters, you’re beautiful.”

  Dylan thought she was beautiful, what a concept. “But I have a baby. I thought you single guys avoided all women with kids like we were some kind of combined pestilence better left alone.”

  He laughed. “I admit I’ve given some thought to that. Sarah definitely changes things.”

  “And?”

  “And I think it’s doable. We’re doable.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I admit it’s awkward, you living here now. But we can take it slow. Get to know each other first. That’s the part I haven’t done…for quite some time, maybe never. Usually…”

  Baylee nodded in understanding. “Usually, it’s hop in the sack first. I get it. But I can’t do that with Sarah. I have to be careful.”

  “I know. This is definitely not the norm.”

  She sniffled. “I’ll say. Thanks for letting us stay here, Dylan.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” She blew her nose again on a soggy piece of tissue that came apart in her hand. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “You’ve had a rough day.”

  “Thanks for pretending to be Sarah’s father.” She sniffled again. “You’re a nice person.”

  “Yeah. I’m a saint.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” She smiled weakly.

  He smiled too and picked up one of her hands, stood up. “Now, what do you say I walk you to your door? You’ll feel better about things after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  Baylee stood up. “Dylan?”

  He angled his head and looked down at her. At six-one he was a good eight inches taller, toned and athletic, but the woman looking up at him was just as fit, just as toned. Probably from hauling around Sarah in that infant seat thing, he thought, as he waited for her to go on.

  “Tanya called. She’s my… she’s the woman who raised me.” She was actually the closest thing to a mother Baylee had, but Dylan didn’t need to know that. “She takes good care of Dad. Apparently, he isn’t doing too well. I need to go…see him. ”

  He noted the guilty look on her face. He remembered what she’d said at the Book & Bean about her alcoholic father being verbally abusive. Never known as reticent, he wanted to know more. “Talk to me, Baylee.”

  She bit her lip. “I have some issues with my father.” That was an understatement, but at least it was an honest first step. What would Dylan think when he actually met the man? “He’s difficult.”

  “You want to tell me about it?” He couldn’t imagine what it was like for her to grow up with an abusive father.

  She shook her head. “Maybe some other time.”

  “Okay, no problem. Just let me know when you’re ready to see him.” The visit would be their first foray into this fictional scene they’d created. And he would see what the legendary William Scott was like for himself.

  “Look, Dylan, I know you have a job, work to do. I can go over there by myself.”

  He let out a weary sigh. “We’ve been all over this. For this to work, we need to make sure people see us together, see us as a couple, that is until we’re comfortable being one. And Jake is onboard with this.

  “I’ll work from the house and do whatever it takes, for however long. Until Jordan Donovan puts a team together that will keep an eye on the Boyd brothers, the job falls to Jake and me to keep an eye on the two of you. So forget it, Baylee, we stick together…like superglue. Your Range Rover’s back at Gloria’s. If you need to go anywhere, any place at all, we go together. And stop acting like you’re a visitor here, like you’re intruding.”

  She’d been doing it all evening, asking if she could use this or use that, hesitant about settling in.

  “I want you to feel at home here, be comfortable with the situation, and be comfortable with me. I know you’re bummed about not going back to the Book & Bean, but if you’re working at the store, you’re more vulnerable now that he knows you’re there. Next time he could zero in on the baby. If it means that much I suppose you could work at the store without taking Sarah with you, and leave her with a sitter. Is that what you want?”

  “I was upset at first. But after I thought it through, I understand. It’s better this way until things calm down.” She wiped her nose. “You have a lovely home here, Dylan. I can’t help it if I feel like I’m intruding.” She was intruding. Then she looked up into his blue eyes. Even though he towered over her, she felt no fear, not like she had with Connor.

  She was so petite, thought Dylan, and so close. He tipped her chin up slightly just before he stepped into her body and brought her up against his chest. Touching his mouth to hers, lip to lip, the kiss started slow, gentle. In an instant it began to build hotter. A tender touch of lips became open-mouthed tongues bursting with flare and heat. Baylee angled her head for better access, allowing Dylan to taste and sample while she began to climb.

  Her body was on fire. She felt slick and warm, heated from head to toe. She had no idea why the small space was suddenly so hot. She was burning up. And she wasn’t the only one; she could feel Dylan’s body vibrating with the in and out, the give and take of the kiss.

  And what a kiss.

  They came up for air.

  Immediately missing the contact, Baylee muttered, “That was…” Incredible, she thought.

  He continued to hold her as her body clung to his. He finished her thought in a hoarse whisper.

  “Hot. Somehow I knew it would be like that.”

  “You did?”

&
nbsp; “Yeah.”

  “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

  “We just agreed to take it slow. And yeah, thrilled, I’m not. But I’ll live.”

  CHAPTER 3 Book 2

  Since watching the sun sink into the water, Connor had downed an entire bottle of Rey Sol Anejo along with snorting several lines of coke. Outside on the terrace of his Malibu beach house, he’d been sitting alone for hours casting an occasional glance out to sea into the black night trying to feel—something, anything at all.

  The tequila hadn’t helped, nor had the drug. They never did, at least not the way they once had. The only emotions he mustered these days began and ended with blind rage. Today had been no different. He thought about Baylee, tried to conjure up a sense of caring. Instead, anger bubbled up. Lately, he couldn’t seem to control it like the old days. Rage, anger, there was no mellow. He wanted to hit something, preferably that little bitch Baylee.

  The image of them that night at the hotel blurred with so many images of other women. Baylee should have felt glad to be included in his own personal private club of sorts. She should be grateful he had kept himself under control in that backwater little coffee shop today. She’d been lucky. If Kit and Boston hadn’t come in when they did he might have had to teach her another lesson… The Connor Boyd life lesson.

  When he heard footsteps behind him, he glanced up to see his uncle, Frank Geller, walking toward him. He turned, catching the smug look on the man’s face. It pissed him off. Connor took a deliberate puff on his Cuban cigar and bellowed, “It’s about goddamned time you showed up.”

  He’d been expecting Frank two weeks ago. But then he’d been conveniently out of touch on yet another honeymoon, somewhere on the Riviera with his fifth wife, a busty blond tart half his age.

  Connor intended to give Frank as much grief as he could for it. “Just now getting back into town, Frank? Took your sweet goddamned time about it, didn’t you? We buried the only two sisters you’ll ever have last week along with my father, your business partner, you dumb fuck. We couldn’t very well put off having three funerals long enough for you to decide to show back up again, now could we? Three goddamned funerals in two weeks. Why the hell didn’t you answer your cell phone?”