His eyes trail down my bikini and he puts his hand on my hip. “Why, Miss Douglas, you’re being awfully forward.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t mean for me. I meant that’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? You’re looking to get lucky.”
“Like I said. I wanted to celebrate. I also have big news for you.”
“What’s that?”
“The script is done.”
“Really? That’s awesome! When do I get to read it? Can you, like, messenger it to my house? Have you started auditions yet?”
“Not yet. I want to get you locked in first.”
“You wanna lock me in, huh? Then what would you do with me?” I tease.
A look crosses his face. I’m pretty sure he just pictured me in handcuffs. And after reading that hot S&M novel on the plane ride home, I have to admit that thought kinda turns me on. I could play the young, naive girl, and he could play the older, dominant man.
He’s still staring at me, but then he finally chuckles. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’re just saying that because you want me to do your movie.”
“Well, maybe. What did you say before? I need to seduce you?” The words roll off his tongue like silk.
I visibly melt and look at him dreamily.
“The way you said that was pretty sexy. I bet you won’t have any trouble finding company this afternoon. So, hey, thanks for the beers. I better get back to my friends.” Then I remember the house he was trying to buy. “Did you get the house yet?”
“That’s my other good news. We signed a deal and I close next month.”
“Very cool.”
He pulls me into his arms. “Why don’t you come to my room for a little while? We can celebrate, and I can tell you all about the script,” he says in a velvety voice.
“I’m already here celebrating with my friends.”
“And just what are you celebrating?”
“My birthday is this week.”
“Well, happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” I tease him before I walk away. “You know, I’m totally going to be watching you in action. Good luck with finding a uh, roommate.”
When I lie back in my chaise, RiAnne says, “Who is that guy? Is he an actor? Ohmigawd, he is so hot.”
Vanessa says, “He is hot, but isn’t he a bit old for you?”
“You dated that twenty-six year old. He’s not that much older. Um, I never asked you at the time, but was it, like, good with him? Was his being older, like, a benefit in any way?”
She laughs. “If that’s your way of asking if the sex was good, the answer is yes. It was amazing. He knew way more than any high school boy and a lot more than the college guy. Plus, he had way more stamina.”
“Stamina?”
“Yeah, like he could do it for a really long time. Sometimes, he’d go so long, I’d almost get bored. Almost,” she says with a pleased smirk.
“He’s going to be my neighbor,” I tell her with a grin.
“Let me know when he moves in.” She arches a perfect eyebrow at me. “I’d like to give him a special housewarming gift.” Then she nudges me. “Or maybe we can share. He looks like he’d be into that.”
“You’re naughty,” I say with a laugh. Then I take a drink of beer and let my eyes wander back to the bar.
I’ve moved on.
9:30pm
We hung by the pool, had some drinks, had dinner in the bar, then I headed home.
I’m looking forward to taking a long, hot bath and going to sleep early.
I wander into the kitchen to see who’s home. James and my mom are sitting at the kitchen table shaking their heads at each other.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing, honey,” Mom says, but I know she’s lying.
“Abby, I think she needs to know about this. We don’t know what this guy is doing, and this doesn’t make sense. She needs to be on alert too.”
“On alert about what? Is this about the creeper again?”
“Yes,” James says grimly. “Your mom found a letter in her purse. It happened while we were at a cocktail party tonight.”
“Weren’t you there, James? Aren’t you supposed to be watching out for stuff like that?”
“I was there. I don’t know how it happened. She only spoke to people she knew.”
“So does that mean the stalker is someone she knows?” I ask. “I thought it was that weird pale guy?”
“We’ve pretty much ruled him out,” James says.
“Okay, so where were you tonight?”
“We were at an industry cocktail party. We spoke to a ton of people, from actors, to producers, to investors, to agents, to the guys that work the cameras. It was a fundraiser,” Mom tells me.
“And I lowered my guard because of it. I can’t do that again,” James says.
“None of you should lower your guard. So you knew the people at the party; big deal. What about all the waiters? The bartenders? Do you know how easy it would be to pretend to be one of them? He also could have paid someone to slip it in her purse. He wouldn’t have even had to do it himself, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“So . . . what did the letter say?”
James slides the letter across the table. I read it.