shape. The board-and-batten siding was not just devoid of paint but had been badly pummeled by the elements. Like a boxer who’d gone one too many rounds, the house almost seemed to be standing upright from sheer force of will. Or possibly from habit.
“Good God.” Deirdre emitted a small groan of dismay at the weather-beaten wood and the gaps from missing planks that dotted the sagging porch. Stones were missing from the foundation wall and the front steps. Much of the window trim was either gnawed on or rotten. The single-hung windows were salt caked and grimy, practically begging to be put out of their misery.
But Avery loved the home’s clean, simple lines on sight, and the way it had been designed to fit into its surroundings. Whoever this high-profile individual was, he had not been worried about impressing others.
Avery headed for the front steps eager to see the interior, but Thomas called out, “The pool’s around this way.” He led them around the house and out to the concrete pool deck that jutted toward the ocean.
The pool and its deck were empty. But they commanded an uninterrupted view over the beach and the small tidal pool to the ocean, which shimmered now in shades of turquoise, green, and blue. In the distance she spied the tip of some sort of structure.
“That’s Alligator Reef Lighthouse,” Thomas said. “The Gulf Stream flows by just beyond it.”
Before Avery could form a reply a man stepped out of the shadowed pavilion. He was even taller and broader than Thomas, with powerful shoulders, a lean but muscled body, and a deeply tanned face that was as still and craggy as a mountain range.
His shoulder-length hair was dark and straight with streaks of gray, his eyebrows thick and black as his hair must once have been. His face appeared cleaved in two by the hatchet nose that was bracketed by mile-high cheekbones.
The faded T-shirt he wore hugged his abs and strained across his chest. A thin white stick dangled from one corner of his mouth. Even standing completely still he seemed to swagger.
When he began to move toward them it was with an unexpected if predatory grace; a mountain lion come to see who’d ventured too close to his cave.
Avery resisted the urge to fall back a step. Beside her Deirdre snapped to attention, a level of awareness normally reserved for members of the press and those who might further her ambitions. Something akin to a whimper left Maddie’s lips.
“Be still, my heart,” Nicole murmured as he drew closer.
Kyra had already hoisted her video camera onto her shoulder and was shooting the famous one’s approach. A small smile quirked at her lips, which was the only part of her face that could be seen.
“I know I have to be dreaming this.” Maddie grasped Avery’s hand. Her voice was hushed, almost reverent. “I had the hugest crush on him for . . . ever.”
“I thought he was dead,” Nicole whispered as he drew closer.
Avery had never seen eyes quite so black. The tiniest pinprick of what might be amusement flickered in them. Or maybe it was irritation. “He looks pretty alive to me.”
Maddie clutched Avery’s hand more tightly.
He came to a stop directly in front of them, clearly aware of but not at all intimidated by the cameras. Slowly he removed the small white stick from his mouth; whatever had been attached to it was gone.
With an ironic smile, the man formerly known as William the Wild bent slightly at the waist in what might be construed as a bow. His eyes never left them.
The voice that had sold millions of records said, “I’m William Hightower. Welcome to Mermaid Point.”
Chapter Six
He wasn’t sure what to do with the damned stick now that the entire group was staring at him. After the last six months of quiet—much of it spent avoiding the bars and people he’d partied with in them—these people’s very presence was an onslaught to the senses. His days had been long and ludicrously quiet, the solitude punctuated only
“Good God.” Deirdre emitted a small groan of dismay at the weather-beaten wood and the gaps from missing planks that dotted the sagging porch. Stones were missing from the foundation wall and the front steps. Much of the window trim was either gnawed on or rotten. The single-hung windows were salt caked and grimy, practically begging to be put out of their misery.
But Avery loved the home’s clean, simple lines on sight, and the way it had been designed to fit into its surroundings. Whoever this high-profile individual was, he had not been worried about impressing others.
Avery headed for the front steps eager to see the interior, but Thomas called out, “The pool’s around this way.” He led them around the house and out to the concrete pool deck that jutted toward the ocean.
The pool and its deck were empty. But they commanded an uninterrupted view over the beach and the small tidal pool to the ocean, which shimmered now in shades of turquoise, green, and blue. In the distance she spied the tip of some sort of structure.
“That’s Alligator Reef Lighthouse,” Thomas said. “The Gulf Stream flows by just beyond it.”
Before Avery could form a reply a man stepped out of the shadowed pavilion. He was even taller and broader than Thomas, with powerful shoulders, a lean but muscled body, and a deeply tanned face that was as still and craggy as a mountain range.
His shoulder-length hair was dark and straight with streaks of gray, his eyebrows thick and black as his hair must once have been. His face appeared cleaved in two by the hatchet nose that was bracketed by mile-high cheekbones.
The faded T-shirt he wore hugged his abs and strained across his chest. A thin white stick dangled from one corner of his mouth. Even standing completely still he seemed to swagger.
When he began to move toward them it was with an unexpected if predatory grace; a mountain lion come to see who’d ventured too close to his cave.
Avery resisted the urge to fall back a step. Beside her Deirdre snapped to attention, a level of awareness normally reserved for members of the press and those who might further her ambitions. Something akin to a whimper left Maddie’s lips.
“Be still, my heart,” Nicole murmured as he drew closer.
Kyra had already hoisted her video camera onto her shoulder and was shooting the famous one’s approach. A small smile quirked at her lips, which was the only part of her face that could be seen.
“I know I have to be dreaming this.” Maddie grasped Avery’s hand. Her voice was hushed, almost reverent. “I had the hugest crush on him for . . . ever.”
“I thought he was dead,” Nicole whispered as he drew closer.
Avery had never seen eyes quite so black. The tiniest pinprick of what might be amusement flickered in them. Or maybe it was irritation. “He looks pretty alive to me.”
Maddie clutched Avery’s hand more tightly.
He came to a stop directly in front of them, clearly aware of but not at all intimidated by the cameras. Slowly he removed the small white stick from his mouth; whatever had been attached to it was gone.
With an ironic smile, the man formerly known as William the Wild bent slightly at the waist in what might be construed as a bow. His eyes never left them.
The voice that had sold millions of records said, “I’m William Hightower. Welcome to Mermaid Point.”
Chapter Six
He wasn’t sure what to do with the damned stick now that the entire group was staring at him. After the last six months of quiet—much of it spent avoiding the bars and people he’d partied with in them—these people’s very presence was an onslaught to the senses. His days had been long and ludicrously quiet, the solitude punctuated only
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