CHAPTER ONE
A scraping sound woke Serena from a deep sleep, and she sat up in total darkness, heart pounding. “Who’s there?”
She hoped like heck that the answer was no one.
She’d rented this big beach house to get away from everyone and lick her wounds in private. Suddenly, being all alone in the middle of nowhere didn’t seem like such a brilliant idea. Groping around, she realized she’d fallen asleep on the living room sofa and dropped her ereader on the floor.
Boom. Boom-boom.
Someone was banging on the door. Terror streaked along her veins.
No one knew she was here. There weren’t even any neighbors that she’d noticed. The remote property was surrounded by dunes and woods.
A serial killer?
Pulse racing, Serena sprang off the sofa and fumbled for her phone on the nearby coffee table. Hiding the glow of the screen with her hand, she dialed 911 and crept into a corner while listening for the ring.
Just outside the room, she heard the front door creak open.
Her blood froze. The call wasn’t connecting. Why? She fought the urge to wail in desperation. She had no bars because the cell service here on the Georgia sea islands absolutely sucked.
I’m all alone in the dark, miles from civilization, with a home invader. She’d thought it bad that her heart was broken and she’d have to be alone for Christmas. Now, to top it off, she was going to die.
Not if I can help it.
Her eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness enough for her to see an orchid nearby in a tall vase. She tipped the orchid out—it was fake—and gripped the vase in her hand like a club. Staying low she scuttled across the carpet to hide beside the arched entrance to the foyer. She rose up, praying her knees wouldn’t creak, and gingerly lifted the heavy vase high over her head. She could hear footfalls on the carpet. If he came this way…
A big shoe landed right in front of her, and she brought the vase down on his head with every ounce of force she could muster.
“What the—?” The man crumpled to the floor as chunks of ceramic scattered. Quick as a flash he was on his feet again, big hands gripping her upper arms.
She screamed and beat him with her fists. “Get your hands off me! I’ll call the police.” Her useless phone had fallen to the floor.
“Who are you?” he asked coolly, deep voice rough.
“None of your damn business. Get out of my house this instant!” Adrenaline surged through her and she struggled to free herself, but his hands were too strong.
“Your house? This house belongs to my friend Zadir.”
Zadir Al Kilanjar. That was the owner’s name on the short lease she’d signed. She stopped struggling. Maybe this man wasn’t a crazed killer. “I rented it from him for two weeks.”
“I saw a light upstairs. That’s why I knocked. Zadir told me it was empty and that I could have the place over Christmas.”
“Clearly he was wrong. I’m here, and I have a signed lease. You need to leave.” Her terror was starting to subside into irritation at being scared out of her wits in the middle of the night. And embarrassment at the realization that she might have overreacted.
He took one hand off her long enough to switch on a nearby light. A blinding burst of light revealed that in addition to his impressive strength, the intruder was tall and broad with a bold handsome face.
Where a trickle of blood flowed from one temple.
Maybe news of that would get him to let go of her. “You’re bleeding.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have smashed my friend’s china on me.” His dark eyes glittered a challenge. His grip didn’t soften. “That’s assault.”
She could almost swear she saw a hint of amusement in his expression.
She felt her dander rising. “I rented this house legally, and you have invaded in the night and scared at least five years off my life. Unhand me, sir!” She hoped the formal command would get his attention.
It worked. Slowly, and with apparent reluctance, he pulled his fingers from her arms. His gaze rested coolly on her face for a moment, then dropped to appraise her body.
Extreme self-consciousness washed over her. What was she even wearing? She refused to look down. He was elegantly dressed in dark pants and a subtly checked shirt, the sleeves rolled up over muscular, tanned arms.
They’re just arms, Serena. She wasn’t attracted to him anyway. His looks were too flashy. She preferred someone more…subdued. Like Howard.
Ouch. It had been almost three weeks since Howard dumped her, and it hurt like he’d just told her five minutes ago.
“Are you okay?” His brow furrowed with concern.
“I should be asking you that. Don’t get blood on your friend’s carpet.” Her heart rate slowed. Now that the threat of gruesome death was subsiding, she started to relax. “You really should go.”
“But I have friends meeting me here tomorrow.”
“Then you’ll have to get in touch and tell them to meet you somewhere else.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Which reminded her that she had on a college sweatshirt over her blue-striped pajamas.
Cringe.
At least he didn’t know who she was. Probably no one would even recognize her from her publicity pictures right now.
“It’s three A.M.” He cocked his head and rested his dark gaze on her face. “And now I’ve been assaulted. Can I at least have a cup of coffee first?”
“No.” She wanted to get him out of there before he could figure out she was alone. Since her twelve-week stint on Good Morning, people were way too curious about her personal life, and so far she’d managed to keep her humiliating breakup out of the public eye. “Please leave.”
He reached a finger up to his injured temple. “A Band-Aid, perhaps?”
“I don’t know where they are.” Who did this guy think he was? “It’s not a bad injury.” With an attitude like his, he deserved to get blood on his expensive-looking shirt.
“I’ll call and ask Zadir.”
“Never mind.” She didn’t want anyone else in on this. “I’ll check the bathroom.”
She could swear a slightly wolfish smile of triumph tugged at one side of his broad mouth.
Which made her want to hurl another vase at him.
She turned and walked toward the powder room off the foyer, sure she could feel his eyes on her. Probably laughing at her pajamas. Heck, it was nighttime! She should be in pj’s. He was lucky she didn’t sleep in the buff.
She pulled open the cabinet under the painted porcelain sink. “You’re in luck. There’s a first aid kit down here.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Zadir is one of those people who have people who think of everything.”
“Except double booking his beach house.” She handed him the gray plastic box, careful not to touch his fingertips. He had big hands, with long, strong fingers.
“Most likely his very capable staff booked it to you, and he just offered it to me without checking with them.” He opened the box and pulled out some gauze and a tiny brown bottle of peroxide.
“Which means that I have the legal right to be here and you need to leave.”
He looked up, and his dark eyes flashed. “Impossible.”