The Price of Scandal (Bluewater Billionaires) - Lucy Score Page 0,19
I crossed my arms over my chest and made a mental list of all the ways I could dispose of Derek’s body.
A crisis management firm? I didn’t like it. And I really didn’t like anything about Derek Price. He was high-handed. Condescending. Take charge.
Sure. Some women liked that.
Some women would probably like the naked trespassing, too.
But I wasn’t some women. I was Emily gosh darn Stanton, and I was hanging on by my fingernails.
Shit. I needed to schedule a manicure.
I keyed in the note to my phone as we cruised through Bluewater.
My home along with my cohorts’ houses were tucked away on the very tip of the enclave accessed by a small bridge. A pretty lagoon divided our cul de sac from the rest of the community. It offered the seclusion I’d wanted, though Cam was our mini-neighborhood busybody. She kept tabs on all our comings and goings. An orphan herself, she’d adopted the rest of us as family and fussed over us like a mother hen.
On cue, my phone vibrated in my purse.
I fished it out.
Cam: Who’s the GQ eye candy?
I did a mental eye roll.
Me: Just the guy who broke into my house and got naked last night. Long story.
Four seconds later, I had question mark texts from Luna and Daisy in a group message.
Me: Guys, it’s a long story, and I’m hoping to get rid of him today.
Cam: I ran an image search. That hunk of pheromones is The Derek Price.
Daisy: You hired him! I’m so proud. I was going to gift him to you, but I know how you feel about people being up in your business.
Luna: Wait. Emily hired a prostitute?
Daisy: Business. Not “bis-natch.” He’s a crisis management specialist and a damn good one, too. He shines up the tarnished. I used him after the shoplifting debacle of 2016.
Cam: I’m running through his website and social media presences. Seems legit. And also very very gorgeous. Like carved by angels out of heavenly marble gorgeous. Question: is it legal for human beings to be that attractive?
I rolled my eyes. Since when did legit mean a naked meet and greet after breaking and entering?
My board had saddled me with a criminal to keep me from being labeled as one.
I shot a glance at Derek and his “heavenly” profile. Damn it. Okay. I could admit that he was attractive. Handsome even. He had those slight hollows under his cheekbones that made him look pensive and angular. His jaw was sharp and lightly shadowed in stubble like he was too careless to worry about shaving regularly. Behind his sunglasses I knew were heavily lashed eyes bluer than Biscayne Bay. The scar under his eye was acceptable. The dimple… not revolting.
He wore a tailored suit sans tie, and his skin had the dusky bronze hue of a year-round Miami resident. Fine. He wasn’t hideous. But that didn’t mean he was good at his job. Or that I required his services.
Daisy: Tell him I said hi.
She added a winky kissy face.
I would do no such thing. I wasn’t going to let this Derek Price any further into my life than he’d already bulldozed his way in.
We hit the causeway, leaving my palm-treed haven behind us. Immediately, a rusty minivan cut across three lanes of traffic and slammed on its brakes in front of us. I braced my hand on the dash and squeaked out a warning.
Jane usually responded by shoving her middle finger salute through the open sunroof. But Derek was cooler. He merely cut the wheel to the left and accelerated around the—was that child even old enough to be driving?
“Everyone behind the wheel in Miami is an animal,” he observed cheerfully.
As if jumping to prove his point, a pickup truck that hadn’t passed inspection in at least a decade bounced off the concrete divider and continued to skim it for a hundred yards before jerking back over into traffic.
“We should have taken the helicopter,” Jane said.
“If we took the helicopter, we wouldn’t be able to go through a drive-thru,” Derek said.
She perked up in the back seat. “Carbs ’n Coffee?”
It was a local doughnut chain with speedy drive-thrus and pastries with specialty flavors like Coconut Chia and Chocolate Lemon Drop. My stomach growled on command. When was the last time I’d had a donut? Mom had made that snide comment about “expanding bottom lines” on Christmas Eve. I hadn’t had a simple carbohydrate since.
It was sad that giving up sugar was easier than defying my own mother.