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  SECRETS ON THE SAND

  The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay - #1

  By: Roxanne St. Claire

  Copyright 2013 South Street Publishing, LLC

  ISBN: 978-0-9883736-1-7

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  This novella is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights to reproduction of this work are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission from the copyright owner. Thank you for respecting the copyright. For permission or information on foreign, audio, or other rights, contact the author, [email protected].

  Author’s Note:

  Barefoot Bay is more than just a slice of paradise on tropical Mimosa Key. It’s a community of friends and family, a world of pain and promise, and a celebration of laughter and love. I’m thrilled to bring readers back to the tropical Gulf Coast island where love is always in the air! Many of you fell in love with the stories of Barefoot Bay in the first four books of the series, when four lifelong friends joined forces to build a small but upscale resort called Casa Blanca. The resort is up and running and filled with new characters who find love on the white sands of Barefoot Bay, starting with a trio of sexy, flirtatious, irresistible billionaires and the unlikely heroines who steal their hearts. I hope you love these novella-length stories of redemption and romance!

  Up first is Zeke Nicholas, who has turned his mathematical genius skills into a mountain of money. But Zeke sits on that mountain all alone, longing for the one thing money cannot buy: a lifelong partner and true love. Zeke grew up on Mimosa Key and is staying at the resort for a week while he’s in town for a family event. Enter Mandy Mitchell...the maid. Except, Mandy is much more than that to Zeke—she was the object of his every teenage fantasy back in the days when she was known as “Mandy the Magnificent” and he had the unflattering high school nickname of “Ezekiel the Geekiel.”

  Zeke is no longer a geek—he’s a dime. And Mandy doesn’t feel so magnificent since her marriage fell apart and left her up to her eyeballs in debt and despair. One look at Zeke, and she knows he’s exactly the kind of trouble she should avoid. One look at Mandy, and Zeke turns his relentless ability to get what he wants into a full-on seduction. But can Mandy face down the secrets of her past to find a fairy-tale future with Zeke?

  Like every book in the Barefoot Bay series, this novella stands entirely alone, but why stop at just one? Pull up a beach chair, kick off your shoes, and fall in love!

  Roxanne St. Claire

  This title is dedicated to reader, friend and fan Tonya Loose Dawson in appreciation for her constant support and cheerleading!

  Chapter One

  “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

  Amanda froze at the sound of Tori Drake’s sneer, refusing to react even though the cold porcelain of the toilet rim pressed against her forearm as she brushed the bowl.

  “Mandy Mitchell’s up to her elbows in someone else’s shit.”

  Of all the other housekeepers to be assigned to the same floor, she had to get Tori. “As you know, I go by Amanda Lockhart now.”

  “Ah, you’ll always be Mandy Mitchell to me, hon. Homecoming queen. Head cheerleader. Runner-up for Miss Teen Florida. Junior housekeeper.” She choked softly. “What’s wrong with this résumé, kids?”

  Breathing slowly, holding it together, Amanda sat straight, the move pressing the hard tile into her knees with the same force that Tori’s insults hit her heart. But not as much force as she’d like her fist to hit the other housekeeper’s face.

  “Do you need anything to finish your rooms?” Amanda asked, faking nice as much as she possibly could. She was too far behind this morning to get into it with Tori. Besides, if the universe decided it hated Amanda enough, she could very well be calling this woman “boss” soon. The thought made her almost want to hurl into the toilet instead of clean it.

  “Oh, I don’t need a thing,” Tori said.

  “You sure? Because my supply cart is right there, and I’ve got plenty of Pine-Sol and Clorox.” In case you want to drink a little.

  “Nah, I’ve cleaned all my rooms, of course. That’s why they call me the fastest maid in Barefoot Bay. Possibly on all of the Gulf Coast. Maybe the entire state of Florida.”

  “Why not the world?”

  “Why not?” Tori snorted with self-satisfaction and stepped further into the bathroom, which was sizable, being in a high-end resort hotel, but no room was big enough for the two of them. Uninvited, Tori leaned lazily on the granite vanity, sliding a judgmental finger over the surface. “You didn’t use the Magic Eraser on this.”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  “Oh, you’re just about done, my friend.”

  At the smug tone and the subtle warning, Amanda twisted from the toilet to look up at the other housekeeper, narrowing her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  Tori crossed arms well-toned from hard work and deeply tanned from years of baby-oil-and-iodine-infused sunbathing. Her gray eyes danced with a secret, and derision pulled at her lips. “We are very close to a done deal.”

  Amanda’s heart dropped. This was the worst possible news. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said.

  Tori arched a penciled brow, forming lines on her forehead. More lines than Amanda had, considering they were the same age of thirty. The thought gave Amanda small consolation since beauty and lines now took a back seat to money and survival.

  “Then you better believe it, sister.” Tori pushed her butt onto the counter. “My man Jared has nearly closed financing and has made an offer on office space right in downtown Mimosa Key, not ten minutes down the beach. J&T Housekeeping, LLC, is about to be a reality, and guess what that means?”

  The end of the world. Well, not quite. But most likely the end of this job. Once Casa Blanca Resort & Spa outsourced housekeeping to one company, then Amanda would have to work for that company or leave the resort. If “J&T Housekeeping” got the business...unemployment loomed.

  “It means congratulations are in order,” Amanda said, barely keeping the bitter out of her voice. But it was hard not to be bitter. Amanda had made the huge mistake of nursing the fantasy of opening that housekeeping firm herself when resort management announced the outsourcing plan. The taste of independence, of owning a business, of never having to clean a toilet again, had been sweet...for about two weeks.

  She’d even met with the resort owner to talk about it. Then she’d done enough research to learn that the venture would require about five grand in starting capital. Which would be about $4,900 more than Amanda had to her name.

  “You bet congrats are in order.” Tori crossed her ankles and swung her feet. “The first thing Jared’s going to do is put me in the office and out of other people’s toilets.”

  Envy wormed its ugly way up Amanda’s chest, even though she knew that jealousy was exactly what Tori wanted.

  “What will you do?” Tori asked, as if they didn’t both know that the first order of “office” business would be to fire Amanda. Or give her the worst shifts imaginable. “I mean, what are you trained to do? Not too many beauty contest options around these days. Maybe you could go coach the cheering staff down at Mimosa High. Still have your old uniform, Mandy the Magnificent?”

  Oh, Tori loved to pull out that old high school
nickname, didn’t she? “I have to work,” Amanda said.

  “You sure do. And that’s a stunner for you, isn’t it? Thought you’d be some rich guy’s wife and give parties and have tea. But that didn’t work out for you so well, did it?”

  No, it hadn’t worked out at all. She stabbed the toilet brush harder, biting back a response.

  In Tori’s pocket, her cell buzzed, offering a reprieve. She pulled it out and read a text. “Oh, boy. That guy who checked into Bay Laurel yesterday is going out for lunch and wants the villa cleaned ASAP.”

  Amanda looked up. “I’m not scheduled to do any of the villas until after three o’clock today.”

  Tori lifted a tough-shit shoulder. “Sucks to suck.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Hey, hey, hey.” She waved a warning finger back and forth. “You know the company motto. Can’t is a four-letter word at Casa Blanca Resort & Spa.”

  Amanda had heard Lacey and Clay Walker, the resort owners, make the statement enough times at all-staff meetings that she swallowed her argument.

  “Anyway.” Tori pushed off the counter and slapped her work sneakers on the floor. “Management’s watching. Dude’s some kind of big-ass deal, and they are giving him the royal treatment. You better get over there and clean your sweet cheeks off, babycakes.”

  “Me?” She sputtered the syllable. “I’ve got three more rooms to do here in the hotel before I can start the villas. These have to be done before noon.”

  Tori smoothed her uniform, the same peach and brown as Amanda’s, but much tighter. “Sorry, darling, I have a date with Jared for lunch.” She gave an evil grin. “Business planning and then...my reward for getting my work done early.” She turned to smooth stick-straight blonde hair in the mirror.

  There was no way Amanda could clean that villa and finish this floor by noon. “Come on, Tori. It’s one guy in a huge villa. Can’t you run over there and do a quick job before you go to lunch? Or maybe pick up one of my rooms?”

  Tori never looked away from the mirror, dabbing at her mascara. “You know what your problem is, Mandy?”

  She had a feeling she was about to find out.

  “You’re not driven enough. You think you can get by on your good looks, but, honey girl, have you looked at yourself lately?” She turned from the mirror to stare down at Amanda, tsking softly. “It’s like you forgot who you once were.” Very slowly, Tori crouched down, getting face to face with her. “But the rest of the nothings and nobodies in your royal court haven’t forgotten a thing.”

  Despite the assault of sour breath and mean spirit, Amanda refused to cower. “You better go, Tori. Jared’s waiting. It’s time for you and your husband...oh, I mean fiancé. Oh, wait.” She couldn’t resist. “He hasn’t given you a ring yet, has he?”

  Tori stood quickly. “At least I didn’t get dumped and end up living with my parents. And, oh, I’m not four rooms behind on my morning work.” She lifted her foot and tapped the side of the toilet with her sneaker’s toe. “You missed a spot, angel.”

  * * *

  The fastest way to the beachfront villas was via a golf cart up the stone walkway that led from the main resort through the entire Casa Blanca property, but, of course, no carts were available when Amanda needed one. She didn’t relish walking the path, but not because of the hot sun or tropical heat. In January, the Florida barrier island’s humidity was tempered with lovely Gulf breezes, and the view of Barefoot Bay usually lifted her mood. But walking the path generally meant rubbing elbows with the well-heeled resort guests, as they meandered from the exclusive villas to the private beach.

  Not so long ago, Amanda had at least felt at home with the beautiful people strolling through resorts like this one, wondering which four-hundred-dollar cover-up to wear to the beach or whether she should have champagne or chilled vodka after her oxygen facial. Now? She couldn’t remember the last time she tasted champagne or did more than wash her face before falling into bed, bone-tired from cleaning toilets and scrubbing showers.

  Honey girl, have you looked at yourself lately?

  Tori’s words stung, even though Amanda didn’t need to worry about how she looked. She needed to worry about how to pay debts on a maid’s income without depending on...on anyone. Amanda Lockhart would never again depend on a man, a friend, a parent, or a gift.

  Shouldering the weight of a bucket full of supplies in one hand and a long work mop in the other, she held on to that unwavering objective. To erase the ugly conversation she’d had with Tori, she peered through palm fronds and over sea oats to the turquoise Gulf of Mexico sparkling in the sun. But even the splash of yellow beach umbrellas and the squawks of seagulls and terns didn’t cheer her.

  If J&T Housekeeping became a reality and got the business to provide all of the cleaning services for this small but upscale resort, she’d have to leave this slice of paradise. And she’d have to find something to do for work, because she wasn’t going to be able to stay at her parents’ house much longer. Their round-the-country RV adventure would be ending soon, and she wasn’t going to live with them. It was too humiliating and suffocating.

  Although, she should have been used to humiliation and suffocation. Doug Lockhart had been quite adept at putting her through both.

  She arrived at the two-story vacation villa only slightly damp and out of breath. Setting her bucket down, but still holding the mop, she pulled out her master card key from the lanyard around her neck and tapped on the mahogany door.

  “Housekeeping!” she called automatically before sliding the key in the lock.

  She waited a beat, then tapped again and started to turn the knob, but the door whipped open from the other side, practically yanking her arm with it.

  “You’re here now?” A man loomed in silhouette, backlit from the patio well behind him.

  “You asked for...” She blinked as he took a step closer and she could see him clearly, losing her train of thought as she met Gulf-blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. Straight ebony hair brushed the collar of an expensive shirt. He was all black and blue...which was probably the shape this man left every heart he encountered. “I’m here to clean.”

  But he seemed speechless, too, holding her gaze for a heartbeat or two, a frown pulling at his thick brows as he studied her—hard—then glanced at her mop. “I see that.” His eyes back on her face again, he searched every inch, from brow to chin and back again.

  The scrutiny lasted one second too long, so she lifted the card key, flipping it to show her ID. “I’m with the resort.” Because he looked like he didn’t believe her. Or at least he didn’t believe...something. “You asked for your villa to be cleaned?”

  “Uh, yeah, but later.”

  Damn it! Tori had lied to her to throw off her schedule. Now she’d have to trudge all the way back down to the hotel. “All right, sorry for the incon—”

  “No, wait.” He almost reached for her, then caught himself. “Stay and…clean.” He nearly swallowed the last word, as if it didn’t sound right to him.

  “I don’t have—”

  “Who are you?” he asked, still staring at her face.

  Oh, jeez. Just her luck to get the nutcase. Great-looking, but a guest didn’t care what the maid’s name was unless he had a screw loose.

  “I’m Amanda Lockhart from housekeeping.” She bent to scoop up the bucket as if that could prove it. “I was informed the Bay Laurel villa was ready for cleaning, but I can come back at a better time.”

  “No, it’s just that…” His voice trailed off. Easily six-two with broad shoulders in a crisp white shirt tucked into pleated khaki pants, he wasn’t simply gorgeous, he oozed that indefinable something that came with money, class, and power. On most men, that revolted her. On him? Had to admit, nothing was revolting. “I have a guest,” he finally said.

  She stepped back quickly, imagining some sultry brunette stripping down in his bedroom. Maybe two of them, by the looks of this guy. “I’ll come back. Say, three o’clock?”


  Laser-blue eyes sliced her. “Do I know you?” His voice was tinged with something she couldn’t pinpoint in that split second. Hope? Expectation? Something.

  “Doubtful.” She croaked the word, probably because there was no way anyone who had a single female hormone floating in her bloodstream would forget him. “Sorry to bother you, sir.”

  “No,” he said quickly, opening the door even wider. “No, please. Come in...” That frown pulled again. “Amanda, did you say?”

  She hesitated a second longer. “Not if you’re in the middle of something with a...a friend.”

  The hint of a smile pulled at full lips, his eyes crinkling with a flicker of humor. “Not a friend.” He leaned a little closer and whispered, “But if I tell you who it is, you have to promise not to laugh.”

  She didn’t move, her senses slammed by a clean, masculine scent and the low timbre of secret in his voice.

  “It’s my mother,” he said, the smile widening. “And if you’re not careful, she’ll want to help you clean.”

  She let out a quick laugh, the nerves receding but not the toe-curling impact of him. “I don’t need any help, but if you’re entertaining...”

  “I’m afraid she’s not. Entertaining, that is.” He backed up to clear the doorway for her. “We’re on the patio.”

  With a little uncertainty, she stepped into the cool air and rich comfort of the Moroccan-inspired decor. He fit in a place like this, as though the high-end designer had planned the dark wood and plush furnishings around someone with his size and command.

  Deep inside, a familiar warning bell rang with a reminder that she’d sworn off men. All men in general. This kind of man in particular. Especially one who continued to look at her too intensely.

  “Why don’t I start upstairs so I can stay out of your way?” Without waiting for a response, she walked toward the wrought iron banister, gripping her bucket and mop so they didn’t slip out of damp palms. Still, she could feel him looking at her, those gas-flame blues burning a hole in her back. Tensing, she put one foot on a step before sneaking a peek over her shoulder.