* * *
The next morning,there was a knock at the door of my suite. I hesitated, naturally wondering if my room number had been leaked. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened. Once, when I was filming a movie in New York, the place I was staying was released on social media. The number of people that managed to sneak into the hotel and make it all the way to my door was astounding. I couldn’t believe how bold they were, knocking on my door and demanding my attention.
Looking through the peephole, I let out a sigh of relief. It was just a bellhop, a young man in a red uniform. Opening the door, I saw that he was holding a brown folder in his hands.
“This was delivered for you this afternoon, Mr. O’Neal.”
I took the folder, pulling out my wallet to hand him a tip. He took the ten dollar bill, but lingered, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.
“Is there anything else?” I asked kindly.
“I just...I wanted to tell you that I loved your roll in A Time for Revenge. I think it’s your best movie ever. Will there be a sequel?”
I smiled. That was my most popular movie to date, and there was something earnest about this kid, his words and the slightly nervous expression on his face.
“They’ve talked about it, but the last I knew, the production company hadn’t given it the greenlight yet.”
“Well, I hope they do. I’m Spencer, by the way,” he said with a grin. “Please, let me know if you need anything at all while you’re staying here, Mr. O’Neal.”
“I will,” I said. “But can you do me a favor and keep my presence here to yourself?”
I didn’t need more attention. There wasn’t really any press to worry about here on the island, but I knew that word of mouth could still make this vacation less than relaxing. I didn’t want to be unable to even leave the hotel.
“No problem,” he replied eagerly. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re not even staying at this hotel.”
He winked and turned away, heading back to the elevator down the hall. That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but it worked.
I put the folder Spencer had sent on the small table in the kitchenette of my suite. It had to be the script that Sam insisted on sending to me, but I wasn’t particularly interested in reading it right now.
Instead, I donned my cap and sunglasses and left the hotel. Crossing the street and turning right, I headed for a golf cart rental shop that I spotted yesterday. I had seen several people driving them when I arrived, so I assumed they were street-legal here and a good way to get around the island without having to call a cab.
It didn’t take long to get one rented out for the week, and I quickly figured out how to drive the golf cart. It was similar to a car, but it ran on electricity, so it was much quieter and maxed out at about fifteen miles per hour. It wasn’t quite as fun as my Porsche, but this would have to do.
I pulled out onto the road, finding that the accelerator was more sensitive than I anticipated. I was thinking about checking out the beach, but that train of thought derailed as I saw a familiar figure step out of the hotel just ahead. It was Marlee, with her dark hair in a ponytail and a pair of oversized round sunglasses on her face. She was also all by herself.
Without overthinking it, I drove the golf cart over to her, stopping in the drive-up area just in front of the glass doors. She glanced in my direction, then did a double-take.
“Hi,” I said, and she moved closer to the cart. “You need a ride somewhere?”
“Is that thing safe?” she asked, eyeing it suspiciously.
I chuckled. “You could probably jog faster than it drives, but it’s still better than having to walk everywhere.”
“Well, I was about to go find a place to grab some lunch.”
“Get in,” I told her with an engaging smile. “I saw a place yesterday that we can check out.”
She didn’t hesitate to join me. Climbing into the cart, she tucked her purse under the seat. I pulled away from the hotel, going south to the boardwalk. The wind whipped around us, pulling small tendrils of hair loose from her ponytail.
Her smile was as bright as the sun, and I had to make myself turn back to the road and pay attention to where we were going, or else I could lose myself in staring at her. This woman was making me feel like a lovesick teenager again, and I liked it. There were no pretenses between us, just an honest and real attraction I found refreshing and exciting.
“Where are we going?” she asked just as the boardwalk came into view.
There was a taco truck parked in the road, and I pointed to it. “I saw that yesterday. You see the sign? Best fish tacos on Pompeo Island. I’d like to judge that for myself.”
“Wouldn’t you have to try all the other tacos on the island to do that?” she asked with amusement in her voice.
“Hey, I have a whole week here,” I replied with a grin. “I could probably pull that off.”