"Yes." He tossed a package of bacon onto the island, peeking at me over his shoulder. "Is there another kind of Harvard?"
"No, I guess not." Why had I asked such a dumb question?Jeez, Evie, get a grip."What do you do for a living? Are you a lawyer? I only ask because you seem smart and well-off."
He turned toward me and set down the condiments he held in both hands. Head tipped to the side, he observed me like I was a confusing creature. "You honestly have no idea who I am, do you?"
"You're Val Silva." I folded my arms on the island. "Are you from a super-rich family or something?"
"No," he said slowly. "I was a football player—soccer to Americans—for years until an injury forced me to retire. Now, I take modeling jobs when I feel like it."
"When you feel like it? Guess you made a good living at soccer." I ran my gaze over his muscular, tattooed chest. "You probably get paid a lot for modeling, with a body like yours."
He chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment, but that's not why I get high-paying modeling jobs."
"Why, then?" Realizing I was being kind of rude, I held up a hand. "Sorry, never mind. It's not my business, unless you want to tell me. I swear I'm not normally this nosy."
"I don't mind your questions." He bowed his head, focused on sorting the items he'd procured from the fridge. "Most people don't need to ask questions. They know all about me before they ever lay eyes on me."
"Are you famous?"
He set his hands on the island, leaning into them, and lifted his head to look at me. "Infamous is more accurate."
The house phone rang.
Damn, I wanted to know why Val was infamous, but I couldn't ignore the phone. My guests only called when there was an urgent issue.
"Hold that thought," I said and rushed to grab the phone off the wall. "Hello."
"You forgot dessert," Quentin said. "The guests are not happy."
"Oh. Sorry. I'll bring it over right away."
"Not like you to forget anything."
"I'll bring the desserts," I snapped. "Get back to work on the burst pipe."
"Plumber can't get here until tomorrow."
"Fine, whatever. Goodbye."
I hung up, oddly flustered by my phone call with Quentin. He had interrupted my conversation with Val, and I was annoyed. Why? Val was just another guest, one I would not sleep with ever, under any circumstances. Been there, done that, had the mental bruises to prove it. My mistake with Quentin last year had done damage I hadn't realized until today.
Until Val Silva showed up.
My gaze flicked to him. "I forgot to take the desserts over to the guest house. Gotta do that now, sorry."
"I'll help."
"That's okay, I can manage. The desserts are in the guest house fridge, which is always locked. I have the only key."
And I needed a little break from being alone with a nude, intensely hot man.
I left Val alone in my kitchen and jogged over to the guest house.
Chapter Four
Val
Eve came back a little while later but insisted she had work to do in her office, which was in the guest house. She grabbed the lunch I'd made for her and took off again, though not before encouraging me to go out and mingle with the other guests.