been spending too much time with Mrs. Westerfield.”
“Who’s Mrs. Westerfield?” he asked, looking bewildered.
“My client. She’s seventy-eight and has no filters. Said she’s lived through two husbands and five wars and has earned the right to say whatever she pleases. My parents would be horrified if they could see me right now. Totally horrified. Why aren’t you telling me to shut up?” She was babbling, but there was something about him that made her nervous.
He shook his head and gently grabbed her wrist. “Let’s go see the rest of the house.”
“I came all the way out here. I might as well.” He looked at her strangely, but she ignored it. He was touching her again with his big, callous, rough hand that felt good on her sensitive skin. It made her wonder how his hands would feel grazing over her hips or on the backs of her thighs. She tried to shake off that thought. But it was too good. One day she was going to tell her grandchildren about the day a baseball legend had grabbed her hand and showed her around his house.
“There are two bedrooms down that hallway.” He motioned with his head as he walked. “One’s a suite with a bathroom. There’s another full bathroom down that hall for guests to use.”
He led her into a large open room where one wall was a row of doors that opened onto a lavish pool that overlooked the ocean. There was no other way to describe it but luxurious. With a few changes and some bikini-clad women it could be the setting for a glossy music video. She understood why he’d bought this place. It was fit for a superstar like him.
“This is beautiful,” she told him.
He nodded and led her out of the door, past the pool and onto the path that led to the beach. Away from the lavishness of the house, the land around them was wild, not landscaped, but it was probably one of the most beautiful spots in the country. The other side of the island, where she’d landed, was adorable, with a cute little shops and restaurants and a downtown that had a European feel. It wasn’t as touristy as some of the other islands off the coast. It was quiet. But on this side of the island she felt truly at peace, with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the breeze blowing through her hair. She felt relaxed for the first time since the car showed up at her door that morning. Which was odd, because she was standing next to a gorgeous millionaire, someone she had made a fool out of herself in front of.
“My little sister wants to get married here next year. She wants me to walk her down the aisle. I need the house fixed up before then, so she can impress all of his important friends. It’s very important to me that she is happy.”
“Who’s she marrying?”
“Some older man. He’s a real estate investor from England who wants to take over all of South Florida.”
“You don’t sound as though you’re too fond of him.”
“He spoils the hell out of her and she seems happy. She’s got him opening up a restaurant here on the island next season. But no, I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. He’s forty-nine. She’s twenty-seven. What the hell does he want with her?”
“Aren’t you a hypocrite? Wasn’t the last woman you dated twenty-one?”
He looked at her again, those piercing eyes of his narrowing. “You know that, but you don’t know that I got hurt or what team I played for?”
She shrugged. “I remember being irrationally annoyed at you when I heard that on some entertainment news show. You’re a thirty-six-year-old grown man and she’s barely out of girlhood. Someone who should be studying for her college final instead of spread across the hood of a car in a bathing suit that would fit a toddler. What the hell did you want with her? I’ve seen that girl give an interview. Don’t tell me it was for her sparkling conversation.”
“She was more mature than most her age and I was with her because I know she didn’t want me for my money.”
“No. She wanted you for your status. Every up-and-coming model needs to be seen on the arm of a major athlete.
“Has anyone ever accused you of overstepping? Because you seem to have a knack for it.”
She knew she was wrong. She knew she had crossed a line, but she couldn’t stop herself with him. She couldn’t make herself shut up. He probably didn’t run into too many women like her. He was a mythic figure to most of the world, and she should probably be cowed by him, but for some reason she wasn’t.
“I’m probably never going to see you again. What’s the harm?”
“What do you mean you’re not going to see me again? How are you going to decorate my house?”
“What?” She shook her head, thinking she must be hearing things.
“I want you to decorate my house. I told you I needed it done before my sister’s wedding next year.”
“But—but...are you sure? I’ve never done anything of this size. And you haven’t seen my portfolio. And there is the fact that I’ve acted like a complete crazy person the whole time we’ve been acquainted.”
“But you did Rosecove?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you have the job. I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of bringing you in unless I was going to hire you.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say. This was the job of her dreams. This was the job that would keep her business open and her parents off her back. This was the job that could take her career to the next level, and she was stupidly talking herself out of it.
“You do want the job, don’t you?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Yeah? You don’t sound too sure. If you don’t think you can handle it, I can find someone else.”
“Of course I want this job, Mr. Bradley. I won’t disappoint you.”
“Good. It’s yours.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. She couldn’t believe it. She was on a beautiful island and had just been offered the job that could make her career. It seemed too good to be true. “Could you excuse me for a moment? I just have to make a phone call.”
She walked away from him, back up the path toward the house as she pulled out her cell phone.
Willa picked up on the first ring. “You’re alive?”
“Yes, and I’m walking away from the beach toward the biggest house on the planet. He offered me the job, Wils!”
“Why?” She didn’t sound at all impressed.
“What do you mean, why?”
“You’ve done a couple of beachside inns and you specialize in old-lady condos. Why does he want you? Are you sure he’s not some kind of serial killer who lures interior designers to his secluded estate and then collects their body parts in jars in his basement? That’s a great idea for a book. I’ll call it Designed for Murder.”
“Could you stop being a mystery writer for one moment and be my supportive best friend?” Virginia asked, even though she knew Willa was right. There were a hundred other designers more qualified than she.
“Yeah. I guess I could do that. This is an amazing opportunity that could skyrocket your career. And I think that deserves a happy dance.” Virginia heard Willa switch her phone to speaker. “Come on, girl. I’d better not be dancing alone here. Shake what your mama gave you.”
Virginia laughed, just imagining Willa in front of her desk in her little New York apartment dancing to celebrate her success. They had happy danced when Willa had gotten her first book deal. “I got the job,” she sang as she shook her hips. “I got the job.” Now they were dancing for her.
* * *
Carlos came up behind Virginia only