“Thanks. It was… um… a new experience.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Oh?”
I felt myself blush. “I mean the cameras. Not being in bed with a man. I’ve done that lots of times before.”
There went the eyebrow again.
I paused. “I mean, not a lot of times before. Some. A few. A perfectly respectable amount.”
Blake grinned, obviously enjoying this. “Uh huh.”
“I’m just digging the hole deeper, aren’t I?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Yep. Quit while you’re ahead, kid.”
“Am I ahead?” I asked, biting my lip.
His grin went from amusement to wicked in seconds flat. But instead of answering, he leaned in and planted a soft, long kiss on my lower lip. “It’s adorable when you do that,” he murmured.
“Do what?”
His mouth traveled down, nipping at my pulse. “Bite your lip like that.”
A laugh bubbled up in my throat. “My ex hated it.”
“Then he was an idiot.”
I had to agree with him there. “Blake?”
“Uh huh?” he mumbled, his mouth opening to let his tongue tickle the hollow of my throat.
I let out a long sigh. “R.J. told me about Angel.”
He froze.
Shit. Why had I brought that up?
Blake pulled back, his eyes unreadable, his expression suddenly guarded. “He did.”
I nodded. “He told me what happened. I- I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.” He looked out at the ocean, not meeting my eyes. “Me too.”
“Listen, I understand if you don’t want to talk about her, but… well… I just wanted to let you know that if you do, it’s okay. I mean… I’m here.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at the sun casting perfect crystal shimmers on the cresting waves. He sat that way so long I was beginning to worry. Finally he just said a simple, “Thanks.”
I reached a hand out and gingerly took his, squeezing when he responded to my touch. Finally he turned his gaze back to me, any trace of his thoughts gone, his genial smile replaced. “You hungry?” He nodded toward the picnic basket.
“Famished. Posing is more of a workout than I thought.”
He laughed deep in his throat. “No kidding.” Then he winked at me. “Especially with a raging hard-on.”
* * *
It was late before Blake and I finally left the beach, the sun long melted into a dusky purple glow on the horizon as he gave me a goodnight kiss that ended in me letting him round second base. The entire drive back to the freeway I had a goofy grin pasted on my face as I followed his taillights. I was two exits from my turnoff when my cell rang out from my purse.
“Hello?” I answered, popping in my Bluetooth.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Blake. If it was possible, my grin grew wider. Damn I had it bad for this guy.
“Hey, you.”
“Listen, I hope this doesn’t sound too presumptuous, but I really don’t want this day to end yet.”
I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror and I think I smirked. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“Interested in coming back to my place for a nightcap?”
Oh yeah, that was definitely a smirk. “Are you trying to get me in my skivvies, Mr. Stone?” I teased, flirting shamelessly. Though I passed my turnoff, continuing to follow his BMW.
He chuckled on the other end. “Nope. I’ve already seen those.”
“Good, as long as we’re clear.”
“Follow me home?”
“Yes,” I said. Then quickly hung up before he could change his mind.
I followed as he surged into the next lane over, a ball of anticipation building in my stomach. I tried to remember the last time a guy had invited me over for a "nightcap." I couldn’t. Probably because it had never happened before. Not that I’d never been with a man. As I’d so eloquently put it on the beach, I was no a virgin. I just didn’t get out all that much. And when I did, it wasn’t like this, for romantic picnics and nightcaps. The last guy I’d been with, I realized as I search that cobweb ridden section of my brain, was the rebound guy after Ex. He’d been living with his mom at the time so we’d had to do it in the back of his car. Something I hadn’t done since I was sixteen. And it hadn’t gotten any more comfortable with age, let me tell you.
But I had a feeling tonight would be different.
By the time Bake turned off into a tree lined street just south of the City, the anticipation was so high I was fairly floating off my seat. And, man, did I have to pee. Nerves did that to me. I pulled in behind him in front of a one story bungalow on a modest sized lot. It was a nice neighborhood, set up on a hill, obviously well cared for. Cosmopolitan without being too flashy. It suited him. The house was all glass on one side, capitalizing on the view of the valley. And probably the swimming pool.
I shoved that thought to the back of my brain as Blake got out of his car and walked over to open my door.
“Home sweet home,” he said, gesturing to the place.
“It’s nice.”
“Thanks. I like it here.”
He led me inside where simple, tasteful furnishings filled the modest space. Wood and leather dominated, with small glass accents here and there. Overall, a peaceful, homey feeling. Beyond the living area sat a kitchen fitted with stainless appliances and pale, smooth cabinets. A pair of glass doors led out to a backyard where a small stretch of patio surrounding a brilliant blue swimming pool that overlooked the valley. I quickly turned my gaze away, my skin shuddering as if I could almost feel that cold water washing over me.
“Mind if I use your restroom?” I asked.
“First door on the left.”
“Thanks,” I called over my shoulder.
Once I’d tinkled in an amazingly clean bathroom for a bachelor, I walked out to find Blake in the kitchen.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, pulling a bottle of wine from a wrought iron rack on the counter.
I nodded. If I didn’t watch it, I was going to become a lush.
“Merlot alright?”
“Fine.”
“Good. This is from a new winery up the coast I’ve been meaning to try. I think you’ll like it. It’s a little more mellow than most. Could you hand me a couple of glasses?” Blake asked, his back to me as he rummaged in a drawer for a corkscrew.
I pulled open the cupboard on my right and grabbed a pair of long stemmed, blue glasses.
“They’re in the first cupboard down the…” He trailed off, turning around to give me an odd look.
I looked at the glasses. “What?”
“How did you know where they were?”
I blinked, looking from the glasses to the cupboard I’d just pulled them from. I shrugged. “Lucky guess?”
Blake gave a little shake of his head. “Very.” He poured merlot for us both, then corked the bottle and set it on the counter.
“You live here alone?” I asked.
“Yep, just me and Rufus.”
“Rufus?”
He shot me a grin over his glass. “My dog. He’s next door with the neighbors. He hates being alone too long, so they watch him if I’m going to be out all day. They’ve got three kids and Rufus just loves them.”
“So, you’re a dog person?”
“Yeah. Why?” He paused. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re a cat person?”
I nodded. “Tabby. An orange striped monster that doubles as my therapist.”
Blake made a tisking sound as he sipped his drink. “That’s it, this is never going to work then,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.
I couldn’t help the corners of my mouth jerking up. “No?”
He set his glass down. Then slowly advanced on me until his lips were inches from mine. “Nope,” he whispered. Then he kissed me. Softly. Tenderly. I responded instantly, my body going loose, my lips parting to meet his until our movements esc
alated into hot and needy. His hands snaked up my back, my arms went around his neck, and he danced me backward toward the bedroom shedding clothing as we went.
I never did get to try the merlot.
* * *
It was dark when I woke up. At first I couldn’t remember where I was, then I heard Blake’s soft, even breath beside me. His arms were still twined around my waist, our limbs tangled up in each other. I smiled in the dark. Wow. I didn’t know what I did to deserve this night, but, man, I hoped I kept doing it.
I slowly slipped from his grasp, careful not to wake him, and stood back, admiring his bare body. A more perfect specimen I could not imagine. I felt myself go all tingly again as I reached for his discarded shirt and slipped it over my head, padding out to the kitchen on bare feet.
I went to the sink and poured myself a glass of water, looking out the back door at the perfect picture of the valley of twinkling lights laid out before me. Like thousands of stars fallen down to earth. The sight was so alluring, I slipped open the back door and stepped out on the patio.
The stone was cool beneath my feet, the air hitting me like a sudden refrigerated blast, causing little goosebumps to rise on my arms. I looked out at the stunning view.
Then down at the swimming pool in front of me.
It lay uncovered, the surface a glassy dark blue, appearing almost like a shimmering mirror reflecting the sparse moonlight. I walked over to the edge and looked down at my reflection.
And that’s when I felt him.
Hands on me from behind, shoving me forward as I watched my horrified reflection stare back at me. A scream hit my lips, but before it could get out, water covered me, the sound lost in the waves of the perfect blue swimming pool. I tried to push upward, to reach the surface, but something was holding me down. Someone. I thrashed my legs back and forth, my arms lashing out, my vision blurred by the water, everything growing darker and darker as I felt my lungs slowly losing air, screaming for the surface of the pool I could see just inches above me. I tried to reach it, but couldn’t move. The hands. They still held me from behind, firm, strong, menacing. Pushing me under as my vision went black, as I tried to scream one last time.
“Jesus, Kya, what’s wrong?”
I jumped as Blake materialized in the doorway, clad only in his boxers.
I looked down. I was dry. I was alive. I was sitting at the edge of the pool, my knees tucked up under me, cold sweat pouring down my back. I was shivering, my teeth chattering together.
“What are you doing out here? God, you scared me half to death. Why were you screaming?”
In one quick stride Blake was crouched at my side, his warm arms wrapping around me, chasing away the chill.
“I… I don’t know.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. I shook my head trying to remember what had happened. I’d gone to the kitchen for water, went outside. I was standing at the edge of the pool when someone pushed me in. Only… I looked down. My clothes were still perfectly dry. Obviously I hadn’t been in the water. A dream?
“I… I came out to look at the pool,” I said, lamely.
Blake’s face was a deathly shade of white under the moonlight. “Why?” he asked, his voice shaky.
“I… I don’t know.” I shivered again despite his arms around me as I remembered the feel of those hands pushing me under the water. It couldn’t have been a dream. I’d been wide awake. A hallucination? But it had felt so real. Even as I grasped Blake’s arms in a death grip, I could almost taste the chlorine on my tongue, feel the burn in my lungs, the desperation bubbling up in my throat again.
“Hey, you’re shivering,” Blake said, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get you back inside.”
I nodded and let him lead me through the glass doors and back to bed.
Though both of us curled up into silent little balls as soon as we got there, each lost in our own thoughts.
Chapter Six
Blake had an early shoot, something out in Half Moon Bay for a fitness magazine. He slipped out at dawn with a chaste kiss to my forehead, telling me to make myself at home and promising to call me later. Which was fine. After the midnight interlude at the swimming pool, I could tell some of the magic of last night had worn off for both of us.
As soon as he left, I got dressed and went to the kitchen in search of coffee, pausing just a moment at the back door to look out at the pool.
The odd thing was that I’d never thought of drowning before. I’d learned to swim at my cousin’s pool when I was five, practically lived at the water park in the summers, and grew up just minutes from the ocean. I’d never feared the water before, never given a second thought outside of basic safety to the idea of being sucked under the surface. But now, suddenly, I was consumed by it. First the dream, then last night… that. Whatever that was. Can you even call it a dream when you’re wide awake? Part of me wondered if the stress of being 'Kya Star' wasn’t getting the better of me. Who knows, maybe the wine on the beach had been too much, maybe my never-before-abused liver had been tipped over the balance last night.
Had Angel been afraid of the water? R.J. had said she’d gone out for a midnight swim. I took a step closer to the pool. People who were afraid of the water didn’t usually go swimming by themselves at night. She must have known how to swim.
So what had happened to her?
I glanced across the room at Blake’s laptop, set on a slim, pine computer desk in the corner. I crossed the room without even thinking and turned it on, feeling just the tiniest bit intrusive using it without asking. But he had said to make myself at home. And I wasn’t sure I could survive the entire ride back to Sunnyvale without knowing.
So, telling that guilty niggle at the back of my mind to shut up, I opened a Google window and typed in Angel’s name. Again, the images of the perfect model filled the screen. I couldn’t help staring just a little, that same feeling of awe that I’d first had when I’d seen her on the Maddie Springer website rushing over me. Only this time it was colored with a profound sense of loss.
I tried to shake it off, amending my search to include the word “death.” Fewer hits this time. Apparently she hadn’t yet reached the celebrity status of the Kate Mosses of the world. A few articles in the local papers and a short mention in the NY Times. I started with the SF Gate. The archives held a series of three articles, none longer than a few paragraphs, about the tragic death of the young model.
Angel Cressley was born in Indiana, then moved out to California after high school to earn a degree in accounting from UCLA. That’s where the acting bug bit her, and she’d landed a minor part on a soap opera. After which she abandoned her studies for stardom and moved north where she’d signed on with Parker Models almost immediately. She’d started working the local fashion shows and quickly landed her first big account, becoming the face of the High Heels Seduction line.
I felt a lump form in my throat, remembering just how powerful that image of her in the red heels had been. If everyone else responded to her photos that way, it was obvious she’d been destined for big things.
I skimmed the next paragraph about her other accounts and skipped ahead to the part about the night she’d died. According to her boyfriend at the time, Blake Stone, he and Angel had gone out to a local club, then come back to his place where they’d both fallen asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, Angel had gotten up for a dip in the pool. Blake claimed he’d had too much to drink that night and didn’t hear a thing. The next morning, he’d awakened to find Angel floating face down in the swimming pool.
I bit my lip, doing everything I could not to look out the window. Instead, I clicked on the next article.
This one detailed the police’s findings the following week. Angel had died of suffocation and water in her lungs - drowning. At first the police hadn’t been sure whether they were looking at a suicide, homicide, or accidental death. My heart clenched as I read that Blake had initially been questioned by the police but let go due to lack of evidence. Eventually the co
roner had ruled accidental death by drowning, and the case had been dropped.
An accident.
I closed my eyes and immediately felt those strong hands on my shoulders again. My breath froze in my throat. The report had said there was no sign of trauma, she hadn’t hit her head going into the water and Blake had told police that she was a strong swimmer.
No matter what the coroner said, it didn’t feel like an accident.
I got up and walked to the sliding door, watching the morning sunlight shimmer off the pool’s surface. Blake had been home alone with Angel. He claimed he hadn’t heard a thing. I glanced at the bedroom door. It was only a few feet away. An ugly thought entered my head: How well did I really know Blake?
I bit my lip. I’d like to think I got to know a guy pretty well before falling into bed with him, but the reality was that I’d only just met him a few days ago. He seemed normal enough, but, as I well knew, a person could fake anything for a few days. Could it be that Blake had been pulling off a charade of his own? Playing the normal, attentive man while underneath lurked a cold blooded killer?
I shivered despite the sunlight pouring in the wall of glass and grabbed my keys from my purse. Even though I was ninety percent sure I was letting an overactive imagination run away with me, I was suddenly eager to escape the bright sunny bungalow.
* * *
It was Monday and, while I should have gone to work, I called Peterman and told him I needed an extra week away. He wasn’t quite as happy with it this time, saying he’d have to give the Sholtzkie Plumbing account to Danielle, who was already working on the Olsen’s Bakery site. But considering I had about three years worth of vacation days saved up, there wasn’t much more he could do about it than whine. Besides, I figured with all the times I’d covered for her, Danielle owed me this one. Instead I took a long, hot shower, fed Tabby a can of Seafood Delight, and dressed in a light cotton sundress I’d picked out at the mall the week before. White, sleeveless, with little eyelet details along the neckline. Very soft, very feminine. Very unlike anything I’d ever owned before. But, as I looked at myself in the full length mirror, it kind of suited me. Even better when I added the red heels.
A High Heels Haunting Page 5