by Cat Johnson
The time and date is what had her leaning forward in her chair as she read the incredible words on the screen. The post was barely an hour old.
OMG! Trent O’Shea was just in the store where I work!
This could be her big break. Where was this store? Laurel’s heart pounded as she clicked on the girl’s name to read more.
Missy Randall. The girl’s profile was an open book. Everything she shouldn’t post for the world to see, she had. Birthdate. Hometown. High School. College. And place of employment.
Bingo!
Le Bebe Boutique in Key West, Florida.
She only took long enough to search for the address to enter into her car’s GPS before she was out the door. Laurel had to talk to Missy before the girl got off her shift at the shop. It was about a hundred and twenty miles to drive to Key West from her Homestead office.
Laurel realized she might be stuck there overnight or even for a few days if she got a hot lead as to where Trent was staying. She’d need to pack a bag, which would take up time she didn’t have.
Panicking she’d miss this window of opportunity, she reminded herself that at least now she knew he wasn’t in Miami. Chances were good he was at a hotel in Key West, although he could have rented a private cottage. Even so, her investigation had just taken one giant step closer to finding him.
Prioritizing her To Do list, she knew she needed to grab supplies and an overnight bag, but she also had to question Missy Randall. Laurel dialed the number for the shop that she’d written down along with the directions. She didn’t exactly have a plan, except to play it by ear once she got Missy talking on the phone.
“Le Bebe Boutique. Missy speaking.”
“Hi. I’m wondering what your hours are today?”
“We’re open until nine tonight.”
“Oh, that’s great. You see I’m driving from a distance on my way to visit a friend who’s staying in Key West and I wanted to pick up a gift. Will you be there or somebody else?”
“I’ll be here until closing.” Luckily, Missy didn’t seem to be concerned with why an unknown customer on the phone would care who was working in the shop this evening. The overly trusting nature of today’s youth could be disturbing for a person in Laurel’s business who’d seen so much bad in the world.
“Wonderful.” Laurel searched for a way to get Missy talking. “So funny story. I was searching on the web for stores in the area and I saw a post that said Trent O’Shea shops there.”
“Oh my God! He was here today. I couldn’t believe it. He just walked right in and I almost didn’t recognize him because he had on a baseball hat and sunglasses.” Missy was bubbling over. That one tiny prompt from Laurel had opened the floodgates of information it seemed Missy couldn’t wait to spill.
“Wow. Are you sure it was really him?”
“Oh, yeah. Totally. First off, he’s having us ship the gift to Cole Taylor.” The way Missy emphasized the name told Laurel she should know who this man was. Unfortunately, she didn’t.
“Um, Cole Taylor?”
“Yeah, his teammate on the Outlaws. It was all over the web that Cole and his wife had their baby yesterday. So it totally makes sense Trent would send them a baby gift.”
“Of course. Total sense. And Trent’s name was probably on his credit card when he paid too.”
“Nah, he paid in cash. Hundred dollar bills and the gift wasn’t cheap either. But I know it was him. I mean I’d know Trent O’Shea anywhere. Ever since he did that ad campaign with his shirt off. Phew, so hot. David Beckham, move over. Right?”
“Um, right.” What ad campaign? Laurel obviously needed to do more research but whatever product he’d endorsed shirtless was of less interest to her than where he was renting a room tonight. “So I guess he’s staying near there then.”
“Uh, huh. He was driven here by the Little Palm’s car.”
“Little Palms? I’m not sure I’m familiar with that hotel.”
“Oh my God! It’s like so expensive that no one I know has ever actually stayed there, but I mean everyone who’s from around here knows Little Palm Resort on Little Torch Key.”
Laurel began to shake as she pulled her car to a stop in her driveway. She knew where he was staying. She could get there in two hours. All she had to do was search Little Palm Resort and she’d have Trent O’Shea’s location nailed down.
She had to grab her things quick. She had to get there before he checked out. The rational side of her said he wouldn’t fly across the country to stay in a resort for just one night. The irrational side of her began to panic that she might miss her only chance to nab him.
“All right. Well, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” The girl had no idea how helpful.
“No problem. See you later.”
“Uh, yup. See you later.” Hopefully Laurel wouldn’t need to go to the shop to question Missy further. With any luck, Trent was right where she said he’d be.
The adrenaline pumped through her as she threw a few things into a bag. How in the world she’d ever be able to sit still in the car for two entire hours, she had no clue. Laurel prayed there’d be no speed traps because she seriously doubted she’d be staying under the legal limit. She added another prayer for a traffic-free drive as she decided what to pack.
She had plenty of room in the car so she took more than she should. Bathing suits, hats, dresses both casual and fancy, bags and purses of every size, high heels, flip-flops, even tennis clothes. Who knew where she’d have to blend in to observe him?
Everything went into a big roller bag, along with a makeup case and toiletry kit and the wad of emergency cash she kept in a plastic bag hidden behind the ice cream in the freezer.
Forcing herself to sit still long enough to find out where she was going, Laurel opened her laptop.
One web search told Laurel she needed a game plan if she was going to pull off surveillance on Trent at Little Palm. Missy hadn’t been kidding that the place was expensive. So much so that Laurel was going to consider booking herself a room there to be close to Trent her very last resort. The damn rooms started at nearly a thousand bucks a night.
She was sure Becky didn’t have that kind of money to spend on Laurel’s expenses, on top of her usual fee. But there was more than one way to skin a cat.
Laurel had a few tricks up her sleeve and a long car ride to formulate a plan. She could pretend to be a wedding planner checking out honeymoon accommodations so she could recommend the place to her clients. That should yield her at least a tour of the facilities, if not a free day at the spa or overnight stay.
Maybe she could pretend to be a travel reporter who was working on a story about the hidden gems of the Florida Keys. Or perhaps she’d just waltz in like she was already a guest, plant herself at the bar and order a drink. Chat up the bartender and see who was around. If she looked as if she belonged there, it was doubtful the staff would question her.
The possibility of Trent hanging out at the bar looking for a woman to woo seemed pretty high. Now that she had this new lead, thanks to Missy’s wealth of information and love of gossip, Laurel liked her odds of catching her prey. She liked them a lot.
CHAPTER FIVE
Day two in paradise was even better than day one had been.
Trent raised his arms above is head and felt nothing but a good stretch. No aches and pains from a hard workout at practice or a hard hit during a game. No stiffness from a long day of travel. This morning’s eighty-minute message had taken care of any remnants of that and left him feeling boneless and relaxed. So much so that aside from a quick trip into town this morning to choose a gift for Cole and Anna’s new baby, Trent had spent most of the day dozing in a lounge chair by the pool.
As the late afternoon sun warmed his skin, Trent glanced at the paperback on the ground next to his chair. He could read, but turning the pages seemed like too much work at the moment. Besides, he could finish the book on the flight to Texas if he didn’t get to it before then.
He didn’t beat himself up too much about not hitting the gym here, as nice as it was. He didn’t feel guilty he hadn’t taken that jog on the beach yet, even though he’d brought his running shoes. Taking a couple of days off from training wouldn’t kill him. And the reality was he’d probably be itching to work out starting tomorrow anyway.
Trent knew himself and that was the kind of guy he was. He liked to move and stay active. Just not right this second . . . The sun was too warm and he felt too rubbery. He let out a sigh of pure contentment.
“You certainly seem relaxed.” Her voice was like silk brushing across his heated skin.
There wasn’t much that could have roused Trent in his current state but that voice, so soft and sensual, did it. He swiveled his head and cracked one eyelid before the sight of her smile had both eyes opening wide.
“I reckon this is the place to do it.” He managed to answer in spite of the fact he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
His focus moved from the sweep of dark hair held up off a slender neck, down to the curves beneath her sundress that any man would want to run his hands over. Good thing his glasses were dark enough she wouldn’t be able to see his attention stray where it shouldn’t.
“It certainly seems so.” She glanced around them, taking in the beauty before bringing her gaze back to Trent. “I’m Laurel. Laurel McCann.”
As she extended her right hand to him his mind spun.
What should he say?
The logical thing was to give her the name he’d registered under—Tom Warren. That would have made sense, but this woman was making Trent feel anything but sensible. She was making him want to see her naked in his bed in the morning and though he wasn’t opposed to having a one-night stand in theory, he wasn’t the kind of guy to lie about who he was during them.
He clasped her hand and couldn’t help but notice how small, how delicate it felt in his larger one.
“Trent.” He hoped he’d salvaged his cover story by omitting his last name from the introduction.
He didn’t want to lie, but he sure as hell couldn’t tell her the truth. Meeting a beauty—and a talkative one at that—was the last thing he’d planned on for this week. But a closer look told him that his plans could definitely change.
“Nice to meet you, Trent.” Had her eyes widened with interest when he’d told her his name or was he being paranoid? Trent cussed himself for letting his actual name slip, until she smiled and shook her head. “Sorry. I knew a guy in college who was named Trent. You just brought back all sorts of memories.”
He let himself breathe freely again. It was just her personal connection to his name that had her looking overly interested, not that she recognized him. Crisis averted—for now—but he still had to be careful.
“Good memories, I hope.” Returning her smile, Trent dropped his gaze to her left hand and saw that she wasn’t wearing a ring.
Part of him had been hoping she was married or engaged so the temptation he was having trouble resisting would be taken away. This woman at this point in time should be off limits to him. He was a man hiding from his loving but overzealous fans and the relentless press, a fact he seemed to forget as the scent of her perfume tickled his nose.
She wobbled her head back and forth. “Good and bad memories. We dated a bit as freshman, but never made it to sophomore year, so that tells you something.”
“His loss. Would you like to sit?” He was getting a crick in his neck looking up at her, but more importantly, he figured if she was sitting she’d be less likely to wander away as quickly as she’d arrived.
The annoying voice in his head told him this was a bad idea. That he should tell her to enjoy her evening, get up and go inside his bungalow. The need that lived inside him in parts lower was broadcasting its message far louder. It said a vacation fling with this beautiful woman who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him would be the perfect way to round out a week in paradise.
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
“I was fixin’ to get another drink. Can I get you one?”
Her smile broadened. “I’d love one.”
She lowered herself into the lounge chair next to him and pushed the hem of the dress down when it bunched up to reveal more of one toned, suntanned thigh. He saw the definition in her muscles. She worked out, if not in a gym, then she was at least a runner or into some other physical activity that kept her in shape . . . and he shouldn’t be staring at her legs.
He yanked his gaze back up to her face and found her watching, waiting . . . for something.
The drink. He’d forgotten about that for a second. “Uh, what would you like?”
She cocked one brow at his open offer. Bad boy that he was, he interpreted the move as far more suggestive than she’d probably intended.
Then again, maybe not. Her gaze dropped down his body. She took the time to run over his exposed biceps, down his tank top to his bathing suit, then his thighs.
A muscle in his jaw began to twitch beneath the weight of her perusal.
Her sky blue gaze finally landed on the remains of the drink next to him. Her upper teeth latched onto her lower lip before she raised her eyes to look at him. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Trent swallowed hard and wrestled his mind into processing what she’d said and not the seductive way she’d said it. “A’ight. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He hoisted his frame out of the lounge chair and didn’t look back. Not even as she said, “I’ll be waiting.”
Trent could have signaled for the attendant who always seemed to be nearby somewhere even when he couldn’t see him, but instead he opted to get up and go to the bar himself. He needed the break from this woman to get his head on straight.
He’d be sucking on those lips of hers instead of the straw in his drink before either of them knew what was happening if he wasn’t careful. The way she looked at him, he didn’t think she’d have any objection, even as much as he wished she would.
“Yes, Mr. Warren. What can I get for you?” The fake name by which the bartender addressed him rang even more false than usual in Trent’s ears in light of recent events.
“Two more of whatever that is I’ve been drinking please, Rafe.”
The man’s lips twitched. “Thirsty?”
Yes, Trent’s mouth had gone dry the moment Laurel had run her heated gaze over his body, but that wasn’t why he was ordering two drinks. “Actually, there’s a lady who’s joined me at the pool.”
Rafe lifted one dark brow. “How nice for you to have company.”
“Yup.” Trent made a decision to find out more about his surprise companion. “Know anything about her?”
As Rafe blended the drink in a shaker, he glanced at where Trent had been sitting. A crease furrowed his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t even know her name.”
The bartender looked so disturbed by the fact he didn’t know the woman, when from what Trent had seen over the years the staff prided themselves on personally addressing each guest, he felt the need to relieve his worry.
“It’s a’ight. I was just wondering, is all.” When Rafe’s frown didn’t go away, Trent added. “Maybe she just checked in.”
“Perhaps.” The drinks poured and garnished, Rafe slid them onto the bar in front of Trent.
“Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Warren.”
Poor Rafe. Even as Trent was walking away, the man still looked miserable that one guest had slipped by without his knowing her.
That the bartender didn’t know the lovely Ms. Laurel McCann told Trent plenty. It meant Laurel hadn’t stayed here in the years since Rafe had worked for the resort and she was a new arrival this stay.
Concentrating on the path so he didn’t trip and spill the drinks, Trent arrived at the lounge chairs and nearly swallowed his tongue. Sometime while he’d been gone, Laurel had decided to take off her dress. Beneath it was one hell of a body with not much of a bikini covering it.
He
stood for long enough that she turned to look at him. One dark brow cocked up. “Is one of those for me? They look delicious.”
“Uh, yeah. Here you go.”
“Thank you.” She smiled prettily.
“You’re welcome.” Trent moved to sit down as quickly as possible. He needed to cover his groin with a towel or his book or something, because he was about to embarrass himself.
He was a grown man. His body shouldn’t react to seeing an attractive woman in a bathing suit like a teenager looking at his first nudie magazine. Yet here Trent was, trying to hide his arousal.
Not sure if the alcohol was going to help or hurt the situation in his swim trunks, he drew in a long sip of the fruity, but surprisingly potent drink.
This had to be the result of his denying himself female companionship for too long. Since signing that contract that put more zeroes after the amount on his paycheck than he ever imagined existed when he was growing up in Texas, he’d made it a policy to not have sex with any woman he wasn’t in a relationship with.
He’d stuck by that policy for the three seasons he’d been with the Outlaws and over those years the times he’d been in a serious relationship were few and far between. The hard-on from hell currently throbbing in his bathing suit was obviously the result of that.
Nope, he’d never broken his rule or even seriously considered breaking it, until now. As Laurel’s lids narrowed while she looked at him, Trent started to convince himself that this was as good a time as any.
CHAPTER SIX
Laurel’s excitement had her heart pounding so wildly, she’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear it.
Trent O’Shea. Right in front of her. Buying her drinks, no less. She’d done it. She’d found him and if she wasn’t mistaken he was interested in her.
He was acting true to form, just like her client, Becky, had said. If he was going to repeat his despicable actions of the past, he’d try to get her drunk, and then seduce her just like he’d done to Becky. The only difference was Laurel would be seduced in a much nicer setting.