Pleasure Beach Read online

  Pleasure Beach

  Pleasure Beach

  P.J. MELLOR

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Pretender

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Same Time Next Week

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Jack of Hearts

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  To Mary Law, English teacher extraordinaire, wherever you may be.

  To my parents, “Mac” and Virgie McAllister, for their lifelong love and support.

  And to my husband, Michael, my prototype for what a hero should be and my oh-so-willing research partner. I love you!

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my wonderful agent, Sha-Shana Crichton and fantastic editor, John Scognamiglio.

  Thanks also to Romance Writers of America and my critique partners, past and present: Cheri Jetton, Linda Barrett, Pat O’Dea Rosen, Jesica Trapp, Babette Dejongh, Peggy Hamilton-Swire, Karyl Van Wageningen, Terri Dunham, Judythe Hixson, Janet Clementz-Garza, and Sharon Mignerey.

  Pretender

  1

  Her lawyer turned and strode away without a backward glance, obviously confident his orders would be followed.

  And, of course, they would. She was great at following orders.

  “Who’d believe you’re a woman on the run?” she asked her reflection in the rearview mirror. “McCall Lindsey, honor student, Girl Scout, all-around boring and blah.” Even the highlights she’d recently added to her shoulder-length, wren-brown hair hadn’t helped. Instead, they gave her the look of a demented skunk.

  With a sigh, she headed her beat-up Escort toward the parking lot exit. The air conditioner spit out stale-smelling, hot air while she waited for a break in traffic.

  She blinked back tears. “How did you get yourself into this mess?”

  Fund-raising may not have been a career she’d aspired to, but she’d been danged good at it—well, until Sunshine International charged her with embezzling the multimillion-dollar funds from the Summers Group and fired her. Now it was a safe bet she’d never work in that field again.

  Seeing a break in traffic, she pushed the little accelerator to the floor mat and zipped into the flow, ignoring the squeal of brakes and honk of several horns.

  Against the steering wheel, the key her lawyer had tucked into her hand bit the tender flesh. A week at the beach might not be too bad. Labor Day was over. Maybe a little seclusion was just what she needed. Time to regroup and gather her thoughts about what she’d do with the rest of her life. She gave a watery laugh.

  Or to plan her suicide.

  Derek Summers broke his pencil in half, then threw it at his legal advisor.

  “Hank, you told me it was a legitimate and worthy cause, a good tax write-off. I hate publicity! You know that! That idiot attorney has subpoenaed me! Me!” He threw his hands up. “I don’t even do interviews. No way in hell am I appearing on every tabloid by going into a courtroom!”

  “Now, don’t get your shorts in a wad, Derek,” Hank Connors soothed. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of it.”

  Derek regarded the man who’d been legal counsel for the Summers Group for three generations. The man looked older than dirt, but if he said he’d do something, it usually got done.

  “Why don’t you go home, now, Mr. Summers?” Hazel, his almost equally ancient secretary, asked from across the room. Hazel had been Derek’s father’s secretary and knew more than he’d ever care to know about the family business. “Have you taken your blood pressure medication today?”

  “Damnit, Hazel! Don’t coddle me! And for your information, I went off the pills almost a year ago. So stop asking. I’m fine.”

  The two employees exchanged looks, which set him off again.

  “I saw that! You two think I’m overreacting.”

  “Mr. Summers, calm down.” Hazel flipped through the appointment book she always carried. “You were scheduled to leave for your beach house this morning.” Through the magnified lenses of her rhinestone-encrusted glasses, her brown eyes stared meaningfully at him. “Why don’t you head on out before the traffic gets any worse?”

  His shoulders slumped, all fight gone. “Whatever.” He jumped to his feet and jerked his navy sports coat from the back of his desk chair. “When I get back next week I expect you to have things worked out, Hank.”

  “I’m already on it, boss,” Hank assured him. “I’m checking into the background of the prime suspect.” He looked down at the paper in his hand. “A Miss McCall Lindsey.”

  McCall’s service-engine light blinked on by the time her car wheezed to a stop beside the rental beach house on South Padre Island. Trying to ignore its possible implications, she focused on the house looming above her.

  Made of redwood and glass and surrounded by decks on each level, it was easily three times the size of the little house she rented in the Heights section of Houston.

  Her ring snagged the side of her best skirt when she climbed out of her car. Dang. Why hadn’t she changed before heading out?

  She looked down at her hand. Her eyes filled with tears. The miniscule diamond was missing from the promise ring Joel had given her three years ago.

  It hadn’t been all that valuable, and Joel had long since moved on and even married someone else. But that tiny gold ring had meant something to her. It meant someone had once thought enough about her to promise to think about proposing. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but it had been all she’d had.

  And now it was gone. Along with everything else in her life.

  Listless, she tugged the ring from her finger and stuck it in the zipper compartment of her nylon wallet. When she found her next job, she would see about replacing the stone. After all, besides the diamond studs Hattie Brubaker gave her, it was her only other piece of jewelry that was worth anything.

  The handle broke off her rolling suitcase when she attempted to drag it from her cramped trunk.

  “Great,” she grumbled “No job, no husband or even a significant other, no good jewelry and now this. On a scale of one to ten, I’m a minus.”

  Unzipping the bag enough to slip the tips of her fingers inside, she dragged it through the sand toward the steep steps that led from the parking area to the back deck. When that failed, she yanked on the suitcase until she came to the steps.

  Drag, plop. Drag, plop. Dang suitcase wasn’t going to defeat her. It was slow going, but she finally reached the deck.

  “Wow.” Waves rolled to shore, their sound soothing her. In the distance sea gulls called. A faint tinge of pink showed on the horizon.

  She looked around the spacious deck. In the far corner, closest to the sliding doors, sat a hot tub that would easily hold six adults. She peered into the churning water, impressed by the thoroughness of her lawyer’s preparation.

  “Death by hot tub…. No.” She shook her head. “All that hot bubbling water would
bloat my body. It would be nice to leave a good-looking corpse.”

  After fumbling with the key, the heavy glass door slid open on its well-oiled track.

  The cool darkness of the interior greeted her. When her eyes adjusted, she took in the decor—well, what there was of it.

  The large room held an array of massive furniture, some leather, all overstuffed. Great fieldstone fireplace, although who would build a fire at the beach? She shrugged and walked into the kitchen.

  “Nice,” she noted, liking the way the sunset gleamed off the stainless-steel appliances. “Good to have in case I’m overcome by a Martha Stewart moment.”

  Dragging her suitcase to the curved staircase, she dragged the bag up the stairs until she walked into what had to be the master suite.

  “Oh, my gosh.” Her fingers released their death grip on top of the suitcase. It fell with a soft thud, spilling its contents across the plush sea-blue carpeting.

  The curved outer wall was entirely glass. She picked up a remote control and pushed a button. With a soft whir, the glass parted, allowing the surf to echo, giving the illusion of being held within a giant seashell.

  The huge, round brass bed beckoned her. Taking an uncharacteristic hop backward, she sprawled on it, rubbing her hands and now bare feet against the raw silk spread. The warm dusky-peach color of the spread glowed in the impending sunset.

  Feeling hedonistic, she rose to strip off her sensible business suit and fling it across the room. Her serviceable white cotton bra and underwear followed. Of course she would just have to pick them up and put them away later, but for right now, she would live her fantasy.

  Being a good girl never got her anywhere. It was time to discover her inner wild woman.

  She opened the bottle of sleeping pills Hattie insisted she bring with her and popped two in her mouth. So what if they always made her sleep like the dead? What did she have to wake up for, anyway? There was no job to get to, nothing and no one to meet.

  Naked, she padded to the open window and looked over the stretch of beach to the Gulf. Below her was the edge of the lower deck, some rocks and sand. Lots of sand.

  “Death by sand diving….” She rubbed her arms and stepped back. “Too abrasive,” she said to the sunset.

  A huge yawn escaped her. Stretching, she walked to the bed and climbed onto the sinfully decadent spread, wondering if it had satin sheets.

  She yawned again. The long drive caught up to her, causing her muscles to ache, eyelids to droop. The sound of the surf beckoned her. A sunset swim before the pills took effect would be great.

  Maybe she’d just rest a few minutes before she put on her bathing suit.

  Her hand stroked her nudity from breast to hip and she smiled. No one would believe goody-two-shoes McCall Lindsey was experiencing her wild side.

  “Yeah,” Derek spoke into the mouthpiece of his cellular headset as he flipped on his turn signal. “I’m turning in right now.” His Porsche Boxster purred to a stop in the garage of his beach house. He turned off the ignition and scrubbed his face with one hand while he stretched. “Jack, I appreciate the thought, but I’m beat. I had a long drive and traffic was a bitch.”

  He stepped out of the car and popped the trunk. “My birthday isn’t until next week, but thanks.” He set down his suitcase and sighed. “What’s the hurry about me getting the birthday present you left at your place?”

  A push of his remote button turned on the exterior and interior lighting of his house. A soft click told him the doors unlocked as well.

  He dropped his suitcase inside the back entry hall, then punched the LOCK button. “Okay, if it’s that important, I’ll head over there now and pick it up before the renter gets there. The master bedroom. Got it.” He walked back toward the car. “Key still in the same place? Thanks, pal, I’ll give you a call when I wake up.”

  Another beep unlocked his car door and he threw in the phone before heading down the beach toward his friend’s place to pick up his gift.

  “Oh, Jack, my man,” Derek whispered from the doorway of his friend’s master suite. “You have outdone yourself this time.”

  When his fiancée broke their engagement, Derek had been relieved. Unfortunately, his friends thought he was desolate and took up a crusade to find him a replacement.

  All had failed.

  Jack was the only friend who hadn’t tried to fix him up over the past year, for which he was profoundly grateful.

  Derek rested his shoulder against the door jamb and grinned.

  And now Jack had given him…this…for his birthday.

  He’d been celibate for way too long. Jack must’ve known he was ready to experience something new.

  To walk on the wild side.

  His eyes caressed the nude perfection of the woman spread before him on Jack’s orgy bed while he stripped with more eagerness than he’d felt in longer than he cared to remember. He snagged a handful of condoms from the mess on the floor on his way to collect his birthday gift.

  Good old Jack, he thought as he climbed up on the bed with his personal nymphette.

  He bought me a hooker.

  2

  McCall squirmed in the throes of the most delicious, erotic dream. Lying on a silken bed within a giant seashell, her personal love slave kissed and licked every inch of her nude body. Wet pressure set off shards of excited pleasure in spots that had not been touched by a man in a very long time. Her love slave had a very talented tongue.

  She purred, tugged him higher, and rubbed her erect nipples against his firm chest while she returned his passionate kiss.

  His hot erection throbbed and gently bumped against her stomach and upper thigh.

  Restless and aching, she pulled him to her, indicating with her spread position that she was his for the taking.

  And he took her.

  A dim recess of her mind marveled at the realistic quality of the dream, the hot hardness plunging in and out of her wet sex.

  Her fantasy lover gently bit the hard tips of her nipples while his hand reached between her legs to fondle her nub, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

  Her breath hitched; multicolored fireworks exploded behind her eyelids as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, drowning her in sensation.

  Above her, he shouted his completion, his magnificent body stiffening.

  Swimming toward wakefulness, only to drift back into the undertow of deeper sleep, she sighed. Tender hands petted her from lips to toes before covering her with the soft bedspread.

  She sighed again.

  Death by orgasm…. She smiled drowsily. What a lovely way to go.

  After locking Jack’s door, Derek shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jean shorts and set off toward his own beach house.

  A sappy grin curved his lips, he knew, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Jack really knew what he needed. It was the perfect birthday gift to take his mind off the horror of the upcoming trial with the fund-raiser from hell.

  His smile faltered as he climbed the steps to his deck. He knew she was a hooker, but while he’d been fucking her she’d felt more like a lover.

  He shook his head and walked through the darkened house toward his bedroom. He’d just been without a woman for too long. That was why she’d had such an effect on him.

  But why did he wonder what color her eyes were?

  “Hi, Hattie, it’s Mac,” McCall said, balancing her cell phone while she finished emptying her suitcase early the next morning. “I just wanted to let you know I’m at the beach house. It was so thoughtful of you and Tucker.” Tucker, her lawyer, was also Hattie’s grandson. “And thank you again for paying my legal fees.”

  She hung up one of the brightly printed sundresses the old woman had insisted on buying for her last week. “I know I’m not guilty, but it’s great to know other people feel the same.

  “Yes, I slept wonderfully. Like the dead.” She shrugged and tossed a handful of underwear into the dresser drawer, then glanced at her nudity in
the mirror.

  And gaped.

  Dang, she glowed. Absolutely glowed! The sea air was really doing wonders for her. Either that or it had been one heck of a dream.

  “I’m fine, Hattie. I told you, don’t worry. Yes, I’ll be careful. I—”

  The neon-colored condoms Hattie had insisted she take during their last visit were strewn out next to her suitcase. Something wasn’t right. She walked closer. One, two, three…Omigosh! One was missing!

  Maybe it hadn’t been a dream.

  “Ah, Hattie?” Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Could I call you back later?” Shoving the remaining condoms back into her suitcase, her gaze fell on the wrapper of the missing one, lying on the nightstand. “No, nothing’s wrong.” She laughed to reassure her friend. “No, I’m just trying to unpack and it’s difficult to hold the cell and work at the same time.

  “Oh! Tuck said I should turn off my phone and let my voice mail pick up. So if you can’t reach me, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Great. Thanks again. Bye, Hattie.”

  Her shaking thumb depressed the power button.

  She picked up the wrapper and looked out over the beach, the air swirling around her suddenly heated skin.

  Death by mortification….

  Derek woke slowly and reached across the bed. His hand connected with nothing but the cool sheet and he remembered.

  She hadn’t felt like a hooker—not that he’d really had any experience. Maybe that’s what made her a professional, her ability to make her client feel as though she cared about only him.