That sucked.
The second chime on his alarm told him that someone had entered the Wolfe home. Michael’s stage name was how he labeled the Beverly Hills estate. Rick glanced at the monitor and noticed that Judy actually used the electronic device this time . . . but her roommate hadn’t. It was time for a tutorial and he was more than happy to deliver it.
The Ducati made the ride from Tarzana to where Hollywood’s elite lived a breeze. The motorcycle had been a gift from Neil. His friend had serious taste and knew how much Rick missed his Mustang, which had been destroyed not long ago.
The two cars in the drive had become familiar over the last week, Judy’s economical Ford and Meg’s beat-up Toyota that should have been put out of its misery several years before now.
He let himself in and hoped the noise of his arrival would alarm the girls.
Unfortunately, neither Meg nor Judy noticed the alarm of the gate to the home opening or even the noise of the powerful motorcycle idling in the drive.
Rick wiggled the lock on the front door, found it open, and let himself in. “Hello?”
Music from the east end of the house caught his attention.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Hello?”
Irritation brewed on the surface. It was one thing to use the wrong key-code to get in the house . . . it was something completely different to have a would-be stranger standing in the foyer . . . an armed stranger with two young women in the house, alone.
“Judy?” Fuming, Rick started toward the music, ready to read the riot act.
Outside the first guest room, he heard Judy’s voice from inside. She was singing, off-key, to the music on the radio.
He paused and listened.
God, she was awful. Couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, but damn it, he shouldn’t know that about her by just walking in the door.
Noise from the other bedroom made him shift his direction and head into the main living room of the house. As much as he’d like to see his little pixie naked, he wouldn’t do so by sneaking up on her in her own bedroom.
He walked around the main living space of the large home for several minutes, checked out Michael’s side of the house and the garage before returning to the living room.
The women still hadn’t noticed his presence.
Eventually the water turned off and the music was turned up. Rick made himself comfortable on the couch and opened an Architectural Digest magazine.
“Good Lord, Gardner, how many times do I have to tell you, you can’t sing!” Rick heard Meg yelling at Judy down the hall.
“You can say that again,” Rick muttered.
Meg rounded the corner, looking behind her, and before Rick could say hi, she twisted, saw him, and screamed.
Rick placed his hands in the air, but it took Meg a few seconds to realize who he was.
She finally stopped screaming and grabbed her chest. “Shit. Holy . . .”
“What is it?” Judy ran into the room, water falling from her hair and a towel covering her naked body.
Meg sucked in air and seemed to have trouble catching her breath. She pointed toward him and Judy followed her hand.
She grasped the towel tighter. “What the hell?”
Meg was still doubled over. Suddenly, Rick’s brilliant idea of showing up unannounced felt entirely wrong. Before he could explain his presence, Judy knelt beside Meg. “Do you need your inhaler?”
Meg nodded and Rick heard her wheeze. Oh, damn!
Judy ran down the hall and returned seconds later. He managed to move to Meg’s side right as Judy thrust the medicine in Meg’s hand. She sucked in two deep breaths and closed her eyes as if savoring the oxygen.
“You OK?” Rick asked.
“No thanks,” she sucked on her inhaler again, “to you.”
Judy glared at him and managed an indignant pose even wrapped in a towel. “Think you can get her some water while I find some clothes?”
Rick ran his hand over his short hair and moved into the adjacent kitchen. He returned to Meg’s side with a bottle of water while she sat on the arm of the couch.
“You scared me to death.”
“Wasn’t my intention.” Well, it was . . . kind of. Had he known what Meg’s reaction would be, he would have waited outside. He handed her the water and watched as she slowly brought her breathing under control.
“You’re asthmatic?”
Meg rolled her eyes. “What was your first clue?”
Yeah, that was a stupid question.
“Comes on like that when I’m scared to death.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You should be!” Judy heard his half-ass apology as she walked in the room. She’d managed a tiny pair of shorts Rick was sure were illegal in a few states and a tight knit top. Her hair was still wet, her skin still pink from her shower.
He swallowed, hard.
“You both have slipped into some bad habits since you moved in.”
Meg glanced at Judy and they both glared at him.
“The fact that I walked in and made myself at home should stand as a warning. Not that I thought you’d react like that.”
Meg shrugged.
“You have keys,” Judy told him.
“Keys I didn’t need to use to get in here. This isn’t Utah, Judy. Lock the doors and use your sensors to get in and out of the gate and to disable the alarm on the house.”
“I put in the key code,” Meg told him.
“Yeah, I figured it was you, but the codes are meant for the hired help, not you two. It’s important that we know who is home. And unlocked doors are just sloppy.”
“Paranoid much?” Judy asked him.
“There are more people that live on this block than everyone combined in Hilton, Utah. The days of keeping your doors unlocked are over, babe.”
Judy bored holes in him with her glare. Maybe babe wasn’t the best choice of endearments.
“You know, Mr. Annoying, we’re not children.”
Rick flashed his dimpled smile and let his gaze move down her frame. “I can see that, Utah.”
She actually growled at him.
“What would you have done if it was anyone else sitting in here?”
“I would have hit the alarm.”
He paused, smiled. This could be fun.
“All right.” He stood and grasped her hand, ignored the heat of her palm, and placed her in the hall in the spot from which she noticed him the first time.
Meg watched from the other side of the living room while Rick moved back to the sofa and sat.
“Meg, on your call. Judy, let’s see how quickly you can get to that alarm.”