“Your kitchen?” she questioned.
“That’s right,” he said. The kitchen had been his for the past two weeks, so he wasn’t sure it could be viewed as an outright lie.
Some of the apprehension she’d displayed moments earlier faded, and she seemed surer of things now, more relaxed.
“And you are?” she asked. Her tone no longer shaky; instead, confident.
Obviously, the hoodie did a great job of masking his identity, which was perfect. No one needed to know he was here, especially the media. Another reason why getting rid of her was urgently necessary. The second she discovered who he was, she’d sell him out to the highest bidder. Just like his ex. He’d learned the hard way; women couldn’t be trusted.
“A friend of Thad’s.” It was all she needed to know.
Keeping her distance, she eyed him as if trying to decide whether or not to believe him. “I’m Zahra Hart. A friend of Leona’s.”
Zahra. A friend of Thad’s wife. Was that why she looked so familiar? Had he seen her at one of Thad’s functions? He bet that was it. Why was he wasting his time trying to figure it out? It didn’t matter who she was or how he recognized her. The only thing of importance was how to get her gone. Having her here was too risky.
“Leona offered me the place for the next couple of weeks. However, she’d stated I would have the place to myself,” she said.
The same thing Thad had told him. Had this been some kind of setup? No. Thad would have never done this to him, especially with everything he was going through because of a woman. In a hard tone, he said, “Thad gave me exclusive use of the house.”
Her full, glossy lips curled into a smile. “Welp, it seems as if we have a problem.”
“No, we don’t, since you’re leaving,” he said. “Problem solved.”
Her expression turned to a look of disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“I was here first,” he said.
She gave a single humorless laugh. “Really? What are you, five?”
Gregor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Mainly because he had sounded a bit childish. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to be left alone to wallow in self-pity for the remainder of his time here.
With all pleasantries clearly exhausted between them, Zahra pulled her hands to her hips and eyed him sternly. “I have just as much right to be here as you, Thad’s friend. And I’m staying.” Her arms spread wide. “This house is large enough that we never have to lay eyes on each other again. And you can’t even begin to fathom how grateful that makes me.”
Well, he could say one thing about her. She had balls. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll leave,” he said, turning to walk away.
She snickered. “Good luck at that,” she muttered.
The statement felt like impending doom. Facing her again, he grumbled, “What is that supposed to mean?”
Zahra scowled at him in silence as if debating whether or not to offer him an explanation. “Captain Skip says there’s a storm coming,” she finally said.
“Well, it’s not here now, is it?”
As if he’d wronged the universe in some severe manner, and it chose this very moment to seek revenge, rumbling sounded in the distance.
Not passing up the opportunity to rub it in his face, she said, “Hmm, did you hear that? Sounded a lot like thunder. Must be a storm rolling in.”
That condescending smirk she flashed before turning and heading toward the back door revealed just how much pleasure she’d gotten out of this moment. Anger didn’t bar him from copping another look at her butt. Damn. Another time, another place. The sound of her voice snapped him from his appraisal.
Over her shoulder, she said, “You could always swim. It’s only, what, ten miles to the mainland? Give or take. I’m confident you’d make it. I’m sure your swollen ego will act as the perfect flotation device.”
That mischievous glint in her eyes suggested she rooted less for him and more for the lake to open up and swallow him whole.
Chapter 2
Zahra was determined to get a cell phone signal. She desperately needed to talk to Leona and straighten this debacle out. How had she and the cloaked bandit both been granted access to the lake house at the same time? Especially when she was supposed to have the entire place to herself. But according to Mr. Crabby, so was he.
No, we don’t, since you’re leaving. “Arrogant bastard.” Who did he think he was? And what the heck was up with the hoodie? Creepy. It was like he hadn’t wanted her to see his face. Mission accomplished. Then it dawned on her. If he was a friend of Thad’s, maybe he was an athlete or something. An A-lister, if he hadn’t wanted her to recognize him. Her brain raked over the possibility.
The gray clouds that now filled the sky had gobbled up the sun, noticeably dropping the temperature several degrees. Pacing the backyard in nothing but a thin sweater made her wish she’d bothered to grab the coat she’d left inside. Too bad she’d been more concerned with putting distance between her and Mr. Crabby than with warmth.
Three bars popped up on the screen, and she hurriedly dialed Leona. Zahra folded her arms across her body to generate more heat, shivering when a gusty wind kicked up.
“Zahra, I’ve been—”
“There’s a man—a rather rude and arrogant man—wearing a creepy, oversize hoodie to hide his face standing in the kitchen,” Zahra said in a whisper, as if he were within earshot.
“Oh, God, Zah, I’m so sorry. I tried to call and warn you. I had no idea my husband had offered up the place to one of his clients, as well. I’m so sorry.”
So, did that make Mr. Crabby an athlete? Basketball, she’d bet. While she hadn’t seen his face—other than the thick beard jutting from the hoodie—his body had been quite impressive and built for dunking a ball. Tall, solid—she dissolved the thoughts abruptly. No, no, no, no, no. She was not lusting over this rude, obnoxious stranger. A really delicious smelling stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Ugh. She was stuck on an island with an arrogant athlete. Just great.
There was only one professional athlete she would even entertain being stranded with. And her luck was definitely not that good. The roar of thunder snagged Zahra from her fantasies. It sounded much closer now. Her eyes moved heavenward. Judging by the nasty rain clouds, it wouldn’t be long before the sky opened up.
“It’s not your fault. Your heart was in the right place.” Zahra sighed. “He’s right. He was here first. I should be the one who leaves,” she said, more to herself than to Leona.
“Clearly, there’s just one teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy additional thing I should tell you,” Leona said.
“I know already.”
“You do?”
Zahra ignored the hint of surprise in Leona’s tone.
“Yes.”
“So why aren’t you freaking out?”
“I mean, is that even necessary at this point? There’s nothing I can do about it. Captain Skip said he wouldn’t be able to get back until it passes. I think I can tolerate Mr. Crabby for twenty-four hours.” Surely, she could ignore him for that long. She chose not to accept the fact that the storm could linger three to four days as Captain Skip had mentioned was a possibility.
Zahra glanced out over the water. She’d actually been looking forward to settling in here for a while. Something about the place felt right. That was, of course, before encountering Mr. Crabby. Oh, well. She’d just have to get as much writing done as she could before the boat returned to take her back to the mainland. Maybe she’d check into the cute lavender B&B she’d admired.
Zahra felt the first raindrop and cringed. “Leo, it’s starting to rain, and I’m standing outside. Can you contact Captain Skip and let him know I’d like to be picked up as soon as safely possible?”
“Your housemate is Gregor Carter,” Leona rattled off. “Your Gregor Carter.”
Zahra wen
t corpse still. Had Leona just said what she thought she’d said? The man she’d sparred with was Gregor freaking Carter. She shook her head in disbelief. Nope. The man she’d encountered couldn’t have been her Gregor Carter. Her ultimate fantasy.
Heat coursed through her at the mention of the bad-boy quarterback who played for her favorite team, the Carolina Thoroughbreds. The man who’d been character inspiration for many of her books—including the one she was currently penning. The heartthrob who’d held real estate in her fantasies since Leona had arranged for him to grace the cover of her very first novel several years ago. Four-time Super Bowl champion. The best quarterback in the league. And of late, Thoroughbred fans’ number one enemy.
No. Whomever she’d come toe to toe with in the house wasn’t her Gregor. While he did have a reputation for being rash, the Gregor she’d fashioned in her head was kind, gentle, loving. Nothing like the grump she’d encountered.
She had questions, like a thousand and one of them, but her brain wouldn’t send the command to speak. Instead, she turned and eyed the house. The curtains in one of the lower-level windows swayed as if Gregor had been peering out at her.
Well, at least now she understood the hoodie thing. He really hadn’t wanted to reveal his identity. After that horrible motorcycle accident, a month or so ago, he’d vanished from the public eye. Since his disappearance, the media had made all kinds of speculations concerning his whereabouts: rehab, on sabbatical, in hiding. The list went on.
In a million years they never would have guessed Lake Lamont, which was probably why he was here. In another million years, she never would have imagined winding up here with him. What were the odds? At least now she understood why he’d seemed so eager to get rid of her. He probably thought she would expose him. There was no need to worry about that. His secret location was safe with her.
Zahra couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized she’d been bickering with Gregor freaking Carter. Even without seeing his face, she should have recognized him by his body alone. God knows she’d fantasized about it enough.
Leona’s garbled voice sounded over the line, drawing Zahra’s attention back to the conversation. Zahra returned to her original position in hopes of regaining a stronger signal.
It worked.
“Zahra, are you there?”
“I’m here. What were you saying?”
“According to the forecast, it’ll be storming for at least the next couple of days. But this could still work.”
Still work?
Was Leona serious? What the woman wasn’t taking into consideration was the fact that there was a huge difference between avoiding someone for a couple of days and steering clear of them for two weeks. And not only that. The real-life Gregor had completely shattered the beautiful image she’d painted in her head of fantasy Gregor. That made her even less compelled to be near the man for any length of time.
* * *
Gregor stabbed Thad’s telephone number into his cell phone and waited. Pulling back the curtain in his bedroom, he glared out at Zahra, chatting away on her phone. He didn’t trust her. Narrowing his eyes, he pinned her with a glare. Who was she on the phone with?
When Thad’s gleeful voice danced over the line, Gregor skipped a customary greeting. “Who is she?”
Several seconds of silence lingered before Thad spoke. “Ahhh, who is whom?”
Gregor gave it to him, he sounded genuinely confused. “The woman I found standing in my kitchen—your kitchen, the kitchen—guzzling my tea.”
“I...don’t know anything about any woman. Did she say who she was?”
Gregor released a heavy sigh. “Zahra something. Hoggard, Holden. Something with an H.”
“Hart,” Thad said plainly.
Why hadn’t the man sounded surprised? “So, you do know her?” Gregor’s face scrunched. “Wait. Did you—”
Thad cut in before Gregor could finish his thought. “No. Hell, no. I didn’t set you up.”
“Good. So, what’s she doing here, man? You know my situation. If she—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,” Thad said. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”
That was all Gregor needed to hear. He’d worked with Thad long enough to know if he said he would handle it, he would. And in a speedy and thorough manner. The notion put Gregor at slight ease.
“No one can know I’m here. I just need room to breathe,” Gregor said more to himself than to Thad.
The men chatted a couple minutes more before ending the call. Gregor tossed the device aside. He needed a drink. Hazarding another glance out the window to make sure Zahra was still there—lessening his chances of running into her again—he headed back to the kitchen. He was stuck there with her, but it didn’t mean they had to interact. As long as they stayed in their respective corners, avoiding each other shouldn’t be a problem.
Removing the bottle of Silver Swan Vodka from the freezer and a shot glass from the cabinet, he poured himself two fingers, downed it in one gulp and winced at the burn as the smooth liquid went down. Waiting for it to settle, the black camera bag sitting on the table caught his eye. His jaw tightened at the possible threat it posed. There were some sites that would pay thousands for a photo of him right now.
The door creaked behind him. Without bothering to acknowledge her, he poured himself another drink.
“Look... I know we got off to a rocky start, but we’re kind of stuck together whether either of us like it or not.”
“Not,” he muttered to himself and poured another shot.
Apparently, she had the hearing of a moth because she said, “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you do. But we are here. Can we just please...?” Her words trailed. “Maybe we can just pretend to like each other for the next two weeks.”
Next two weeks? Oh, he didn’t plan to stay here a day longer than he had to. With his back still to her, he said, “I’m too old to pretend I like you. But do whatever works for you.”
Zahra sighed heavily behind him. Why wasn’t she tearing into him? Before she’d gone outside, she’d been poised to sever his jugular with her teeth. So why was she being so cordial now? What was she up to? He lifted his glass.
“I don’t like all of this animosity,” she said. “We’re both—”
Gregor slammed the glass onto the counter before it reached his lips. Finally turning to face her, he said, “I have an idea. I’ll pretend you don’t exist, and you can do the same.”
Chapter 3
Zahra was determined day two at the lake house would go far better than the day before had gone. If she encountered Gregor, she would just kill him with kindness. She had this. No way would she let a man, especially this man, get under her skin. Oh, she wasn’t unsympathetic to him. She knew of his recent troubles, the accident, and she had a soft spot for those kicked in the gut by life. But she wouldn’t let pity shift her equilibrium.
A boom of thunder shook the house, causing her to yelp. Staring out of the window, she shivered at the sight of the dark skies. Torrential rain had started to fall yesterday, and hadn’t let up one bit. Now she understood why no boats could operate during this mess. And it was only supposed to get worse, according to the news report she’d watched that morning.
Before heading downstairs, she checked her cell phone to see if she had any bars. Nothing. Releasing a heavy sigh, she tossed the device onto the bed and made a mental note to look into switching carriers. It made no sense that she had to trek around the yard in a hundred different directions just to locate a signal.
She recalled Captain Skip saying reception was spotty, but this was ridiculous. Especially when she desperately needed to call her sister and vent. Wow. How the tables had turned.
Zahra came to a screeching halt when she entered the kitchen. Gregor was there, the entire jug of milk pressed to his lips. While he wore the same creepy ho
odie as the day before, it was no longer cloaking his face.
On television she’d only ever seen him with close-cropped hair. Now, he sported a head full of glossy, dark curls. The kind you wanted to run your fingers through. Gathering her common sense—and jaw off the floor from his display of poor etiquette—she said, “Oh, my God. What are you doing?”
Gregor pulled the milk jug from his full lips. Turning his back on her, he snapped the hood over his head. “Tending to my business. You should try it. It works well if you do it right.”
Asshole. “You’re drinking from the entire jug of milk?” Her face scrunched. “That’s disgusting. You do know there are plenty of glasses in the cabinet, right? I can get you one, if you’d like.”
As if for spite, Gregor tipped the jug to his lips again and took a long swig, lowered it, dragged the back of his large hand across his mouth and released a satisfying, “Ahhh.”
“No need,” he said, returning the container to the fridge. “I’m done.”
Kill him with kindness. Kill him with... Just kill him. “What if at some point I’d wanted to drink milk?”
“There’s plenty left.” He brushed past her. “Knock yourself out.”
More like, knock you out. She swung around. “I don’t want any of it now. I have no idea where your mouth’s been.”
Gregor backtracked, moving dangerously too close for comfort, but she didn’t let it rattle her. Dang, he smelled good. Ugh. No, he didn’t. He smelled horrible...in the best way imaginable. This proved it. She was insane.
“I’ll tell you where my mouth’s been if you really want to know.”
All kinds of mischief danced in his eyes, causing her cheeks to heat. “Spare me the raunchy details. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t stomach them.”
Gregor eyed her long and hard. Still, she didn’t waver. His eyes glinted with what she translated as distaste. A moment later, he smirked, rolled his eyes and moved away.
Self-absorbed bastard. With an apparent obsession with hoodies.
Then Came You ; Written with Love Page 17