Susan Hatler - Just One Kiss (Kissed by the Bay Book 3)

by Unknown

  Harper let out a long exhale as she rustled through the papers she’d pulled out of her neat little messenger bag. She cleared her throat, and handed me another document as I took a second sip of water. “Just. One. Love.”

  I choked on my drink. “I’m sorry, did you just advise me to take a lover?”

  Harper lifted a brow. “No, but that’s not a bad idea either.”

  I set the bottle down, wiping my mouth. “That’s a terrible idea. All things considered.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. With your luck he’d probably end up in St. Barts, too.”

  “My luck has been pretty bad lately,” I admitted.

  She continued to hold the paper toward me until I took it. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant. I said Just One Love, as in the television show.”

  I walked back to my seat and slumped into it. “The soap opera?”

  “Yes. You’ve seen it?”

  “No.” Yes. I watched it religiously, not that I’d ever admit that to my well-put-together lawyer. I also had a little crush on the leading actor, Luke Montgomery. Not that I’d ever admit that, either. “I’m confused, though. You want me to act in the show? I haven’t acted in years.”

  “No, something different entirely. You see, one of the producers, Maggie Sparks, is a good friend of mine. They shoot the show in San Francisco, but she told me they’re looking for a house in Blue Moon Bay to film for a month, and your place is perfect. It meets all of their needs. The money is phenomenal. It would pay your taxes and operating costs for a good long time.” She gave me an expectant look.

  I stood up and started pacing. Outside the windows, the view beckoned but I ignored it for the moment. Harper had scored me two plausible options but neither would work.

  Getting even with Rex seemed like the fair thing to do, especially with that fat advance. The creep had breached my trust, left me literally broke, and—if all of that wasn’t enough—he’d kicked a good dent in my self-esteem that even had my sister chastising me for my comforting relationship with TV.

  Yeah, sure, I’d become addicted to my shows, especially to Just One Love, and drooled over Luke Montgomery who played oh-so-hot detective Derek Bishop, but it’s not like I wanted the actual actors in my home. That would be the antithesis of privacy.

  Although. . . Yes, I needed my privacy to heal in my home but I needed an actual house to do that in. Maybe I should sell my house and rent until I figured something out. . . .

  Only I’d be leaving the security of my gated community, and the paparazzi were relentless. They jumped out of every shadow. I couldn’t expose myself to them again by living where they could walk right up to my door, hoping to get a shot of me in my bathrobe.

  “If Just One Love is filming here, then where would I live?”

  She raised both hands, patting the air in a soothing manner. “Not to worry. The show is totally willing to have you stay in the downstairs guest unit. They just need the main house.”

  “I see.” I did see, unfortunately. I could either expose Rex for the dog he was or I could give up my house to a television show for one month. Either way I’d have to give up my privacy. But with the second scenario, I could still respect myself. “Can’t we come up with something else? Anything else?”

  She smirked. “You could always take Rex back. His lawyer calls me daily.”

  I stopped pacing long enough to give her a dirty look. “I’d rather jump off my deck naked, at night, and fall to my death in the cold ocean below.”

  “You might have to when you run out of grocery money. Think of the made-for-television movie that would make.” She spanned her hands across the air in front of her as if she could see the idea in bright lights between us. “They’d turn this house into a creepy, creaking place and the actress playing you would skulk around the hallways all in white with your hair hanging over your face and lipstick on your teeth, moaning I won’t take him back . . .”

  “Not funny, Harper,” I said, because I could see that scene way too clearly in my head. Scary! I went back to my seat and dropped my head in my hands. “I’m out of options.”

  “Like I said, my friend Maggie is one of the producers. This is a great deal, Charlie. You’ll never get another one like it, and it’s only for one month. Your choice is this, taking Rex back, or Greta von Strand.”

  I spoke through my hands. “I can’t write that book. Or take Rex back.”

  “Then it’s Just One Love? Should I call my friend and seal the deal?”

  I dropped my hands from my face, my gaze meeting her eager green eyes. “Yes, Just One Love it is.”

  “You won’t regret it.” She clenched her fist in the air in a victorious gesture, then whipped out her cell and got on the phone with her producer friend.

  As she went over the details of the show’s one-month stay for Just One Love’s special promotional filming of their highly advertised upcoming beach storyline—which I’d previously been eagerly anticipating—I knew I should’ve been relieved at getting to keep my home. Instead, I wondered what I’d just gotten myself into.

  Chapter Two

  Two weeks after I signed the contract with Just One Love, the cast and crew arrived to start filming. Some were commuting from San Francisco, and others were staying at the Inn at Blue Moon Bay, which was owned by my friend Wendy. I didn’t feel close to ready to have strangers in my house, but at least the income meant I could keep my house for another year.

  I’d moved all of my personal belongings to the guest suite downstairs, determined to stay hidden for the month the show was here in an attempt to maintain my privacy. Instead of enjoying my plan, however, I paced my room frantically, finding it difficult to keep myself from going upstairs. In the last episode of Just One Love, a shadowed figure had pushed ultra-rich Sebastian Holloway down his grand staircase, and the coroner had pronounced him dead.

  This meant Sebastian had been murdered.

  Sebastian had recently married schemer Catrina Reed in a grand affair at the yacht club on the San Francisco Bay, and then the couple had separated—which was good because Sebastian so deserved better than Catrina. But then they got back together and started counseling because Catrina claimed to be pregnant, which turned out to be a false alarm. Yeah, right. So obviously another one of Catrina’s lies. And now that Sebastian was dead?

  Catrina Holloway would inherit everything.

  My heart rate sped up and so did my pacing as I treaded back and forth in front of the large picture windows. Catrina had grown up poor and now she was rich. She had the most to gain from her husband’s death, so the killer had to be her. Hot detective, Derek Bishop—my secret crush—had been assigned the case.

  He could be upstairs right now finding out who had killed Sebastian!

  With that last thought, I couldn’t resist any longer. Even though I was in jeans and a tee shirt, I wrapped a scarf around my head, grabbed my huge sunglasses, and shot out of the room. Hurrying up the private staircase in the back, I arrived on the main floor, and scurried to the furthest corner of the room, stopping at a spot that was mostly hidden by a large potted plant.

  In front of me, Roger Abbot, a tall and thin red-headed man with a goatee, who I knew from Soap Opera Now magazine to be the director, was snapping out orders and people were running around putting blue tape down that the show swore wouldn’t mess up my maple floors.

  Right then I wouldn’t have paid any attention if a Zamboni machine were running amok on my floors, because out of the corner of my eye I spotted sexy soap star Luke Montgomery. He stood almost directly to one side of me, and if I wanted a really good look—which I so did—I was going to have to turn my head and actually look like I was looking. Thank goodness for the sunglasses concealing my eyes.

  In a casual gesture, I tilted my head, giving him a side-glance. My knees buckled. I gripped a side table for support. Oh, wow. Luke Montgomery defined the term “movie star” and looked even more swoon-worthy in person.

  Luke sported a tousl
ed and textured slicked back hairstyle that gave him a classic look, and his blue-gray eyes held steady on the director, who shouted instructions at him. I wanted those eyes fixed on me. Oh, baby.

  “Action!” Roger Abbot commanded, and the scene started.

  Luke strode onto his mark, wearing a gray button-up shirt with a navy blue tie, tucked into charcoal pants, and a police badge at his waist. I tried not to focus on his long, lean legs and broad chest. But when he moved forward, those powerful muscles of his shoulders moved too, making my heart flutter. He wasn’t bulky, not at all, just toned and tight—everywhere, especially his backside, which I had the best view of at that moment. I couldn’t compel my eyes to look away.

  Adele Andrews played the leading lady and newly widowed Catrina Holloway. Catrina swept into the room, with her perfect mass of blonde waves and icy features completed by a delicate lace dress and designer jewelry. She opened the front door to Luke. “Won’t you come in?”

  Luke, in character, stepped inside the room. “Mrs. Holloway, I’m Detective Bishop. I’ve been assigned to investigate the murder of Sebastian Holloway.”

  “I know who you are, Derek.” Catrina pursed her lips as she shut the door, and gave a wicked glare. “Don’t pretend we’re strangers, like the summer two years ago never happened.”

  “I’m here to do a job, Catrina.”

  She placed the back of her red-manicured hand against her forehead. “Your indifference is even more cruel than when you left me. Why did you leave me, Derek?”

  Man this was good TV. I pushed my sunglasses down my nose in order to see even better.

  “Stop, Catrina. Just stop. I have to know. Did you push Sebastian down the stairs?” He gestured toward my staircase. “A staircase very similar to this one . . .”

  In my head, I heard that melodramatic sweep of music that always played at moments like this. I held my breath, waiting for her answer.

  “Of course not!” Catrina clutched her hands to her chest and fluttered her eyelashes. “How could you even ask me that, Derek? You know how much I loved him.”

  “Yes,” he said, striding toward her and then grabbing her arm. “I know exactly how much you loved your husband. The same way you loved me. Don’t play the innocent game, Catrina.”

  “Don’t play the cop game with me!”

  I stifled a grin. Catrina always knew how to turn things around.

  “I have to play the cop game, Catrina.” His grip on her arm loosened and he ran his hand up her arm slowly. “No matter what happened between us before, I’m a detective now, and your husband was just found dead at the bottom of the stairs with you standing over him.”

  “He fell. I swear it was an accident.” Catrina gasped then broke down in sobs that sounded strangely similar to a barking seal.

  “Cut!” Roger Abbot groaned. “Adele! I need a little less ham and a lot more authentic desperation here.”

  Adele strode over to Roger, and I took a retreating step back into the shadows. She put her fists on her lace-covered hips, and glared at Roger. “Are you accusing me of bad acting?”

  “No, Adele. I’m saying you’re acting a little more than necessary.”

  Roger’s voice was calm but firm.

  I stared at Adele, fascinated. She was a notorious diva and if the rumors in Soap Opera Now were true then the entire crew had once banded together to get her bounced from the show. The writers had put in a plotline that saw her wandering lost in the Himalayas for two months—yes really—but after receiving poor ratings they’d brought her back. The gossip mill also said that Adele and Luke were a couple in real life. Were they? I was dying to know.

  “I see.” Adele sniffed.

  “Good, now let’s try it again,” Roger said.

  “Fine,” Adele said, then huffed off.

  Luke left the spot where he’d been standing and moved toward a side table, which held a pitcher of water and glasses. I watched him walk across the room, his badge glinting as he moved. Life was so unfair. The last time I’d gotten a speeding ticket, the cop looked nothing like Luke. Although if cops did look like Luke I’d actually want more speeding tickets.

  The scene started again, then ended with subdued sobs from Catrina that made me tear up. She was the ultimate bad girl, because she made me doubt that she killed Sebastian even though she’d been found standing over his body!

  Luke sauntered over toward the refreshment table near me, but then stopped near the tall potted plant I’d thought had hid me well. He smiled. “Greta Garbo or one of those fabulous nineteen forties film stars?”

  I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  His blue-gray eyes were warm and seductive. “The scarf and sunglasses.”

  “Oh!” My hand flew up to the filmy scarf I’d put on earlier. “I was just . . .”

  “Rex Rockwell’s ex! That’s where I know you from!” a female voice echoed from behind me.

  I winced, turning my head to find one of the actresses standing nearby, waiting for her turn on-camera.

  She stared at me. “You’re Rex Rockwell’s wife!”

  “Ex-wife,” I corrected.

  She practically shimmied. “No way. I’d heard this was your house, but I wasn’t sure it was true. Hey, guys, this is Rex Rockwell’s wife!”

  My stomach knotted as four other people suddenly surrounded me. The woman who had originally spoken stepped closer to me. “So, come on, tell us. Is this the house where he got caught sleeping with a groupie in your favorite hammock?”

  My face heated. Not knowing what to say, I opened my mouth to reply—

  “Jenny, that’s rude.” Luke’s voice wrapped over my shoulders like a warm hug. “Do you like it when perfect strangers approach you and start asking you questions about your personal life?”

  “Of course she does.” Adele sniffed, taking a single grape off the refreshment platter. “Jenny’s practically sold her soul to those media vultures that stalk the stars. Why, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if—”

  “Let’s not intrude on someone else’s privacy, okay?” He gave Adele and Jenny meaningful looks, and the other two lookers-on scattered. He turned to me with a warm smile. “Thank you for letting the show use your home, by the way, it’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Thank you,” I said, grateful he’d rescued me from an awkward situation.

  “I have a scene to shoot here, people!” Roger Abbot called out. “And it’s not getting any earlier in the day. Get to your marks please.”

  “Sorry.” Jenny shot me a tiny look of remorse, then headed for her mark.

  I nodded to her, then turned to Luke, who stood so close I could smell the delicious scent of his after-shave. My belly fluttered. “I really do appreciate you stepping in . . .”

  Luke shrugged. “You have to overlook Jenny’s words sometimes. She’s only eighteen and just starting out in this business. She hasn’t figured out how intrusive the paparazzi are, or how much what they do can affect our lives.”

  A tiny laugh escaped me. “Affect or infect. Take your pick.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “I’d say infected is accurate at times.”

  Adele leaned against Luke, and put a hand on his arm. He was at least a foot taller than she was. “Come, Luke, I’ll help you find a reasonable snack.”

  My gaze stuck on Adele touching him in such a very familiar way, her body snugged right up against his, too. Were they a couple?

  Luke stepped away, casually breaking her hold on him. His expression didn’t change but the distance he’d created between them felt wide and deep. “I’m still good from breakfast, actually. I found a quaint diner just off the highway called Over the Moon. Their pancakes are so good I’m thinking of asking the woman who runs the place to marry me.”

  I choked on a laugh. “Do you mean Mrs. Hanson? She’s almost eighty!”

  His eyes twinkled. “I’m a firm believer in pancake-love knowing no age.”

  Adele wrinkled her nose. “You keep eating pancakes and the war
drobe people are going to have to sew you into your clothes. Or they’ll fire you.”

  “I’d be willing to die a terrible death in a firestorm if need be, on set of course, if it meant having those pancakes forever.”

  Adele threw her hands up and walked off.

  “Luke, I need you over here please!” Roger Abbot called then shouted to other actors.

  Luke turned to me. “It was. . . Well, I was about to say ‘it was nice to meet you’ but we haven’t officially introduced ourselves. I’m Luke Montgomery,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Charlie Rockwell.” I took his hand, which closed around mine. My legs immediately turned liquid. I smiled, trying to hide his effect on me. “Good luck on your upcoming nuptials, Luke.”

  The corner of his mouth curved upward. “Thanks. I’ve always had trouble finding good pancakes.” He gave me a secretive smile that I couldn’t define and then he sauntered off.

  My belly heated. Had he been flirting with me with his pancake remark? Having gotten married so young, I’d never really been in the dating loop, so it was hard to tell.

  I watched him go, wondering if the tabloids had gotten it wrong about Adele and Luke. He certainly didn’t seem the least bit interested in her. And, maybe I was dreaming, but it almost seemed as if he might be interested in me.

  Chapter Three

  The Over the Moon diner had been around since I was a kid and wasn’t much to look at from the outside: a little old house with dolphins carved into the porch columns and a faded full moon stained on the front window. The front porch held rocking chairs with blue cushions, in case you ate so much you couldn’t make it out of there, which happened more than one might imagine due to those delicious pancakes.

  As I stepped inside, I inhaled the thick fog, scented with vanilla, maple, and frying bacon. My stomach rumbled. Yum. I scanned the jam-packed interior and spotted my sister, Claire, sitting at a table in the far corner. I threaded my way across the crowded room, keeping one hand on my large floppy hat as I went, and the other against the side of my big sunglasses.