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Truth be told, there were far fewer desirable places to carry out a month-long undercover stint. The cottage was right on the beach, and the blue-and-white furnishings were both comfortable and appealing. It was the opposite of his cavernous Laurel Canyon mansion. If he let himself, he might even enjoy it.
If he’d do what heshould—sign the contract forFatal Glory 7and forget any asinine ideas about working with acclaimed directors.
He eyed the thick encyclopedia of classic films lying on the coffee table. Yesterday as he’d been wandering around reacquainting himself with the town where he spent much of his childhood and teenage years, he’d ended up at the Bliss Cove Library. He’d moved away from the town right after high school, but he’d once been a frequent visitor to the library’s film and cinema collection.
He picked up the encyclopedia and leafed through it. The book brought back a memory of the woman he’d encountered in the elevator. In a straight brown skirt and plain beige sweater and blouse, she was the kind of strait-laced woman he might not have noticed if he’d passed her in the street.
But close-up in the elevator, her flustered disarray contrasting with her school-marm appearance had sent his thoughts straight into a sexy, dirty direction. Her brown hair had been escaping her bun, long tendrils curling around her swan-like neck.
Though her silk blouse had been buttoned up to her neck—fastened with an antique gold brooch, no less—the material draping over and enhancing her small, round breasts had made him wonder what she looked like naked. And her legs…when he’d gripped her ankle to dislodge her heel from the gap, it had taken all his willpower not to slide his hand up her shapely calf and under her skirt to…
Yeah. That would have gotten him arrested faster than the encounter with the fucking reporter.
He pulled on a hoodie, set his fake glasses on his nose, and headed outside. He’d known it would be dangerous to return to Bliss Cove—people heremightrecognize him, as she obviously had. While he could have hidden out in some Midwestern town where no one knew him, he needed to be in the surroundings where he’d lived the toughest, and most formative, years of his life.
But he didn’t want to scrutinize all the reasons that being in Bliss Cove was important to him. He was here now, and he’d stick it out until the end of the month. No longer.
No matter how much he couldn’t get the woman from the elevator out of his head.
* * *
Jake left the cottage and walked several blocks to downtown Bliss Cove, pausing to take both still shots and video of anything that caught his eye—a passing cat swishing its black tail, a flag rippling in the breeze, a bed of colorful flowers.
As he approached downtown and Starfish Avenue, the beach cottages gave way to brick and stone buildings housing the places he remembered from his youth. The Antique Attic, Ruby’s Kitchen, Java Beans, the Mousehole Tavern—home of Bliss Cove’s world-famous artichoke soup—and even Metalworks Hardware where he’d once had a part-time job.
The streets converged at Bliss Cove Square, a large gazebo surrounded by a manicured lawn, trees, and flowerbeds. Several pedestrians wandered in and out of the shops on the side streets.
Though he wore a dark blond wig to cover his hair and had shaved off the scruffy stubble that made him so recognizable as the heroic Blaze Ripley, Jake was no longer certain his disguise would hold. If the woman in the elevator had thought he looked familiar…
She’d looked familiar too. He shouldn’t have been surprised—of course, he was bound to run into people he once knew. But when he’d decided to hide out in Bliss Cove, he’d planned to keep to himself and avoid too much interaction.
He couldn’t place her, but he also couldn’t imagine not remembering her. He’d never have forgotten her fine, delicate features, her slender body or those chocolate-brown eyes that had regarded him with both curiosity and wariness.
Not that it mattered. He could find out who she was just by looking at the Skyline College Classics department website, but he wouldn’t. He wasn’t here to seek out a woman, no matter how much she’d intrigued him.
He scratched the edge of the itchy wig, skimming his gaze over the storefronts clustered around a cobblestone courtyard with a little fountain in the middle. The nameSugar Joy Bakerywas etched on the windows of the largest building. Round tables and chairs sat in the weather-beaten courtyard amidst terracotta flowerpots.
Sugar Joy. He’d forgotten about the bakery until now.
After crossing the street, he pulled open the door. A waft of fresh baked bread and croissants filled his nose. Patrons sat at the tables inside, which was a warm haven of polished wood, flourishing green plants, and glass cases displaying countless pastries and treats.
How many times had he and his friends stopped here on their way home from school to scarf down cookies and chocolates? His mother had brought home Sugar Joy muffins whenever she could afford a dozen, and Jake couldn’t remember a Christmas when they hadn’t had a Sugar Joy chocolate-peppermint cake for dessert.
“Morning.” A young woman wearing aGrateful DeadT-shirt straightened from putting a cake into the cold case, her wavy black hair swinging in a ponytail. “What can I get for you?”
Jake stared at her for a second. He knewherfrom somewhere too. Were the women of his past coming back to haunt him?
No, wait a second. Aside from the bright red lipstick and black hair, she resembled the woman from the elevator—similar features and thick-lashed eyes…
She met his gaze, her eyebrows raised expectantly. Turning away, Jake studied the cookie display.
“Do you still have those cookies with all that stuff in them? Peanut butter, butterscotch, chocolate chips, toffee…they were the size of saucers.”
“Chaos Cookies.” She slid open the cookie case and pointed to a tray on the bottom shelf. “They’re one of our bestsellers.”
“Awesome. I’ll take one…no, two.”
“Sorry, this is our last one.” She held up the cookie with a rueful smile of apology. “We have plenty of other kinds, though.”
