Risky Pleasures (Forged of Steele #4) - Page 7

She walked over to the basket, opened the lid and did a quick check to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She wondered what Mr. Neighbor would think when she appeared on his doorstep. She intended to meet the man then put him out of her thoughts once and for all.

Little Red Riding Hood.

That was the first thought that came to Cameron’s mind when he glanced out his library window and saw the feminine figure coming up his walkway dressed in a red shorts set, a red straw hat and carrying a picnic basket. He pasted a smile on his lips. It seemed that Vanessa would be finding out his identity sooner than he had anticipated, but that was just as well.

He stood and pressed the intercom button on his desk and within minutes an elderly lady appeared. It seemed that Martha Pritchett came with the house, having been housekeeper to the previous four owners, over a period of fifteen years. She had been born and raised on the island and arrived early on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. He really didn’t need her that often and with little to do, she usually left by noon. But during the time she was there, he’d found her to be very efficient.

“Yes, Mr. Cody?”

“I’m about to get a visitor.”

“And you want me to send them away,” she said quickly, assuming what would be his position on unwelcome guests.

In most circumstances she wasn’t far off the mark, but in this case, the last thing he wanted was Vanessa sent away. “No. I want you to do whatever it takes to encourage her to stay. I’m going upstairs to change and will be back down in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And in case it comes up in conversation, I prefer that you not give her my name.”

If Martha found his request strange, her expression didn’t show it. “All right.”

With adrenaline of the strongest kind rushing through his veins, Cameron turned and left the room.

Vanessa stood, stretched and for the third time dismissed the idea of leaving before officially meeting her neighbor. She’d only rung his bell once when the door had been opened by an elderly lady with a huge smile who’d introduced herself as Martha.

Vanessa had given her the spiel of wanting to welcome her sister’s new neighbor, and then, without batting an eye, the older woman had ushered her inside. That had been a little over five minutes ago. Explaining that the master of the house would be down shortly, she led Vanessa to the massive living room. A few moments later she had returned with a tray of hot tea and the most delicious teacakes Vanessa had ever eaten. Then she had excused herself.

Vanessa glanced around the room, admiring everything she saw and wondering if the decorating was the taste of the present owner or if, as in the case of Cheyenne’s home, the furnishings had come with the house. Whichever the case, Vanessa was in awe of the furniture’s rich design, as well as the cost of the paintings that hung on the walls. Being best friend to Sienna, who was an interior designer, had acquainted her with the different designs and style of furniture and it was plain to see everything in the house spoke of wealth.

And then there was this breathtaking view of the ocean through the large floor-to-ceiling window. She could stand there looking out at that view for hours, but she didn’t have that much time to spare, she thought, glancing at her watch. The five-minute wait time had stretched to seven, and a part of her refused to be kept waiting any longer. Besides, each and every time she was reminded of what she had seen of her neighbor yesterday made goose bumps form on her arms. What if he walked into the room wearing something as skimpy as the swimming trunks he’d had on yesterday? Or, worse yet, what if he was bold enough to walk into the room wearing nothing at all?

Vanessa felt her face flush at the thought and immediately decided maybe coming here hadn’t been a good idea after all. She should have waited until their paths crossed on the beach or something. Sighing, she was about to turn around when she heard a deep husky voice behind her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Vanessa went still. She knew that voice. She knew that sensual texture, that smooth timbre, that silky reverberation. Her throat immediately tightened around the gasp that formed in it. She felt heat flow up her arms as a tingling sensation swept through her at the same time that realization streamed all through her. It was highly unlikely that two men could produce that same sexy sound. It was a voice she’d always thought was meant to seduce, and it could only belong to one man.

Tags: Brenda Jackson Forged of Steele Billionaire Romance
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