“It’s beautiful,” Libby said after they’d traveled several feet into the garden. The path dumped them out next to the in-ground pool, and she stopped to stare. “Wow.”
Jude also paused to take in the view, remembering his own similar reaction when, fresh out of Officer Candidates School, he’d first visited this place. The pool was long enough to swim laps and glowed an inviting blue from the underwater lighting tucked along the edges. An overhang of tropical trees provided shade during the day and gave it the feel of a hidden oasis.
Tons of fond memories here. Seth’s house had been the hotspot whenever he and his Marine buddies got an extended leave. Lots of barbecues, all-nighter parties, women, and drunken good times had happened here over the years.
Part of him missed it all.
Jude crossed the concrete pool deck to the open-air seating area, passed the covered pool table and comfortably padded wicker furniture arranged around a slate fire pit, and opened the French doors into the kitchen.
Libby followed and sucked in a surprised breath. “This is not what I expected when you said ‘safe house.’ Does Seth live here by himself?”
“Yeah.” He set their bags down by the island counter and studied the house’s open floor plan. The place looked less like the bachelor pad it used to be and more like a showroom example of snazzy Key West real estate. Seth had bought new furniture in a creamy off-white leather and had painted the living room walls a bright red-orange. For christssakes, the striped pillows on the couches even matched the color of the walls exactly.
Man, Seth had way too much time on his hands.
“He must be wealthy to afford a place like this in Key West,” Libby said and ran her hand over a baby grand piano, which matched the color of the furniture.
“Inheritance,” Jude said. “His father’s a big wig in the agricultural industry in Iowa. Seth’s always had money to burn. This used to be his family’s vacation house until his father bought a place in the Virgin Islands. Then Seth took it over and used it as a crash pad when he was on leave.”
“I love the windows, the colors… It’s all so cheerful.”
Jude didn’t mention that if she had spent a year as a prisoner of war, she’d need to surround herself with light and color. Instead, he just picked up their bags again and stifled a groan. He needed to get into the bedroom and change into his swim trunks. That hot tub was all but screaming his name.
“Well, this is it,” he said. “Kitchen here, living room there. That little room by the piano’s an office area. Bedroom’s down this hallway, first door. Second door’s a gym. Third is the laundry room.” He hitched a thumb behind him at the short hallway beside the galley kitchen. “Bedroom has an en suite, and there’s a half bath off the living room.” As he spoke, he headed toward the bedroom, moving as fast as he dared. “Home sweet home for a while.”
In the master suite, he tossed the bags on the king-size bed, which took up most of the available space, and started to strip off his shirt. A ball of orange fur yowled and scampered out from under the bed and between his legs, nearly knocking him over.
Cat.
Christ, why didn’t Seth mention a cat? Not that he had anything against the animal, but a little warning would have been nice. Feeling bad for scaring the poor thing, he squatted down. Except how did you call a cat?
He snapped his fingers. “Here kitty, kitty.”
Libby appeared in the doorway, the enormous animal purring like a motorboat in her arms as she scratched at its head. “That doesn’t work. Besides, his name is Sam.”
“How do you know?”
“Seth left a note on the counter in the kitchen. Plus, it says so on his collar. Uncle Sam.”
Right. ‘Cuz what else would Seth name his cat?
Jude stood, unzipped his bag, and dug around until he found his swim trunks. “You know how to take care of that beast?”
“It’s not rocket science. Cats are mostly self-sufficient.”
“Good. Then he’s your responsibility. I have enough to worry about.”
“Humph.” Scratching the fur ball under its chin, she wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pool and garden, and damn, he liked the way those yoga pants she was wearing clung to her curves, highlighting every sway of her hips. He could imagine peeling her out of them, exposing all the soft female skin of her thighs. Sometimes, in his weaker moments, he could still feel that skin, those thighs wrapped around his hips as he surged into her body and—
“Is this the only bedroom?” she asked.
Oh fuck. This was going to be a long mission if he kept up this kind of reminiscing. He made himself look away from her ass. “Yup.”
“So…where I am supposed to sleep?”
“You have two choices. We share the bed or you can have the couch.”