Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Astonishingly, there’s an indoor pool inside the huge bedroom. It’s probably only fifteen-feet wide, but it’s long, rectangular, and leads directly onto the balcony under the glass-paneled wall.
Samuel walks over to the glass wall that leads onto a patio. When he presses a button, the wall starts sliding panel by panel into recessed pockets until it completely disappears.
“Oh, wow,” Barrett murmurs.
It’s obvious Samuel takes immense pride in this feature. “Visitors to Marjorie Island tend to spend a great deal of time in this room.”
“I imagine so,” she replies as she wanders onto the balcony. It’s furnished with a beautiful set of furniture and another gas fire pit.
“Mr. Murdock said you will be staying here for an extended period,” Samuel says.
“A few weeks.” I keep the answer purposefully vague.
“Well, we normally send someone in daily to clean, change the linens, and replace the towels. Would you like that?”
“Actually,” I reply hesitantly, eyes on Barrett as she leans onto the balcony railing and admires the blue waters. “I think we’ll be just fine on our own.”
“Of course, sir,” he replies with a half bow. “But like I said… I’m a phone call away if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Samuel,” I reply just as Thomas comes in with the first armful of our luggage.
It takes another twenty minutes for Samuel to show us around and Thomas to unload the boat. I tip them each a hundred, for which they’re extremely grateful. My hope is the generosity will translate into discretion. When we were in the kitchen, I’d checked out the food supplies and pantry. We easily have enough to keep us well fed for a few weeks.
I walk with the men to the docks, leaving Barrett to the lunch she insisted on making. The three of us make small talk until Samuel’s other son comes to pick them up. After they leave, I give the boat a once over, making sure it’s secure before heading back up to the main house.
Barrett put together a salad with what looks to be grilled chicken. She certainly didn’t have time to cook it, so when Samuel said the provisions were well stocked, he hadn’t been kidding.
It’s quiet as we eat, and I have no clue what Barrett’s thinking. My mind is on getting the security equipment set up before the sun goes down.
So, it startles me when she says, “You should take the master suite.”
Furrowing my brow, I lift my head. “Excuse me?”
“The master suite. I mean… you’re the one doing all the hard work of protecting me and stuff. You should have that bedroom.”
I put my fork down, then cross my arms on the table. “Actually… we need to stay in the same room.”
“We do?” she asks, pulling her chin toward her chest in surprise.
“For safety,” I say bluntly. “While the chances of anyone finding us or making it past the security alarms without alerting me are slim, I want you in the same room with me at night while I’m sleeping.”
“Oh,” she mutters, eyes on her salad.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” I say.
“Sure,” she replies vaguely, picking through her salad with her fork. But then she jerks her head up. “I mean… no. You can’t sleep on that hard floor. The bed is huge, and we’re both adults. We can share.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I drawl.
She cocks an eyebrow. “Why? Am I unsafe with you or something?”
“Of course not,” I snap, offended she’d even suggest such a thing.
“Then what’s the big deal?” she mocks, batting her lashes.
Jaw locked, I stare. I have to loosen it to grit out, “No big deal.”
Except sleeping in a bed with you all night will be about the most torturous thing imaginable.
But I keep that admission to myself.
CHAPTER 12
Barrett
There’s no disorientation as I wake up. I immediately know I’m on a private island in the Caribbean in a luxurious home owned by a famous movie star, currently being hunted by people who want to kidnap me, and pressed against a half-naked, well-muscled, and gorgeous man.
Shit.
How did I end up plastered against Cruce’s side? It took significant effort throughout the night to cling to my side of the huge bed. It’s been the same for the last three nights.
Each night, I’m exhausted at bedtime. I’ve pretty much been working the same long days I did back in the States, and I was ready—actually aching—for sleep when I tumbled onto the mattress. Cruce doesn’t go to bed at the same time I do, which has made it less awkward for sure. I’ve been able to drift off fairly quickly.
But thereafter, things weren’t quite that easy. I had a terrible time staying asleep, nightmares and needing to pee constantly waking me. Each time I woke, sometimes sitting up in the bed or quietly rolling out to use the bathroom, Cruce woke, too.