Trading Places

“I wish. There’s no alarm system, the entry gate doesn’t lock, the fence has a number of breaks and none of the windows can be properly secured. There are enough vines and shrubberies around the windows, even on the second floor, that a child could reach them.”

Tabitha and Alice eyed each other in confusion. Alice said, “I don’t understand.”

Jed gave her a long, level look. “Were you told there was a full-fledged security system here when you bought the place?”

“Well, no, but…I just assumed, I guess.” Or the real Sharlayne had assumed. Or maybe she knew the truth and didn’t consider it important. “This place had stood empty for several years and there were a lot of repairs before we—before I could move in.”

Tabitha set her cup on the mantel. “And you were in a hurry and pushed the refurbishment through,” she said. She added to Jed, “Would it be very expensive to install what we need?”

“Yes.” There was no softening of the word; Jed simply announced his opinion.

Alice felt a cold chill down her spine. “Of course, there’s no real threat,” she ventured. “Just a media circus to be kept at bay…maybe an occasional groupie. I don’t see that this presents a major problem, do you, Tabby?”

“Let me think about it.” Tabitha retrieved her cup. “My instinct is that it will be all right for at least a while—perhaps as long as Mr. Kelby is in residence. Speaking of which…” She was obviously trying for a pleasant expression. “Which room will Mr. Kelby occupy?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“I have, and I have a suggestion,” Tabitha said. “In light of these new findings, I feel strongly that he should sleep as close to your suite as possible. Perhaps the room across the hall from you?” She added for Jed’s benefit, “That room is quite pleasant, actually…of reasonable size and not too feminine.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. I agree I should be close, though. The lack of security leaves me concerned if not alarmed.”

“Maybe while you’re here, you could prepare a security plan for us,” Tabitha suggested.

“Good idea.” He finished his coffee and rose. “If you’ll direct me, I’ll pull my stuff inside now.”

“Up the stairs.” Tabitha pointed. “Turn left. Your room is the first door on the right.”

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Alice seethed until he’d had plenty of time to get out of earshot. Then she snarled at Tabitha, “What the heck are you up to?”

“Me? Not a thing.” Feline malevolence colored her voice.

“Don’t give me that. Why did you suggest that room?”

“Because the man makes you nervous and I like seeing you nervous,” Tabitha hissed. “Installing you in her place is probably the stupidest idea Sharlayne ever had. If I’ve got to be a party to it, there should be something in it for me, too, even if it’s only watching you squirm.”

Alice looked at her with pity. “Tabitha, that’s mean. Even for you, that’s mean.”

Tabitha caught her breath, her cheeks flushing. “How dare you speak to me that way!” She uttered the words in a hoarse undertone. “If she heard you, you’d be in a ton of—”

“I’m sorry,” Jed said from the doorway. “Am I interrupting anything?” He stood there with a long canvas bag over his shoulder and a newspaper in his hand.

Had he overheard anything he shouldn’t have? A glance at Tabitha revealed that she, too, was concerned about that possibility. His expression was closed and unreadable and giving nothing away.

“You’re not interrupting a thing,” Alice said with false carelessness. “What can I do for you, Jed?”

“You can explain this item in the newspaper.” He shook out a copy of the U.S. Eye, already turned to the page he wanted, and read: “‘We hear that the scrumptious Sharlayne Kenyon is holed up in her new Beverly Hills digs with a bad case of laryngitis. Fortunately for her, she’s also holed up with a new main squeeze, a mystery man with the physique of a…”’ Here Jed’s voice dripped with scorn. “‘Of a’…well, let that go. Either of you care to explain this item?”

Alice turned to Tabitha, incapable of making any plausible explanation. Fortunately, Tabitha was equal to the task.

“That’s what we call a planted item,” she said calmly. “We want to keep people away from Sharlayne. That will help us do it. If she’s sick and being attended by a new boyfriend, no one will expect to see her out and about. This sort of thing is done all the time.”

Jed’s taut expression didn’t relax. “Lying’s a way of life, huh? Do me a favor and leave me out of any future flights of fancy.” He pivoted, disgust in every line of his body, and stalked out of the room.

ALICE DIDN’T SEE Jed again that night before retiring to her suite. Restless, she prowled through the beautiful rooms, turning the television on and off a half-dozen times. For a while, she sat on her balcony, which overlooked the glistening swimming pool below, and wondered why she felt as edgy as a criminal anticipating the long arm of the law.

Finally, she decided that what she needed was a snack. In Sharlayne’s small refrigerator behind the wet bar, she found soda, bottled water, three candy bars—bad Sharlayne!—and a small bunch of shriveled green grapes.

She threw the grapes and the candy bars away. What she wanted was…

Yogurt, she decided. Surely there must be some in the kitchen.

If she could find the kitchen.

It took a while, since she really didn’t know the huge house all that well. At last she recognized the hall that led to the “working” areas: kitchen, laundry room, pantries and so forth. Poised with her hand on what she felt confident was the kitchen door, she realized belatedly that there was light spilling underneath. Pushing open the door, she stopped short.

And stared.

Jed stood in front of the huge industrial refrigerator, his back to her. His bare back: he wore nothing but a pair of jeans. No shoes, no shirt, no kiddin’. The sleek lines of his well-muscled back caused her eyes to widen even more.

At her soft gasp, he turned to face her.

She said, “Oh, it’s you. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He closed the refrigerator door without taking anything out. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my room.”

“Didn’t you come here looking for something to eat? Don’t leave until you’ve found what you want.” She moved farther into the room.

He said, “Bad idea.”

“No, really, it’s all right. I’m looking for a carton of yogurt myself.” She brushed past him to open the refrigerator.

“It’s not all right,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“I say it’s all right and I’m in charge here.” She darted him an annoyed glance but couldn’t help adding, “Why isn’t it all right?”

“Because you’re nearly naked, Ms. Kenyon. I’m here to protect your person and your reputation, not compromise either. Or both.”

Caught flatfooted, she glanced down at herself.

She was wearing a diaphanous shorty nightgown and matching negligee, if you could call it that, since it left nearly nothing to the imagination. She’d put it on hours ago because it was the most modest thing in the drawer.

But even as mortification heated her cheeks, she reminded herself that Alice Wynn had no reason to be embarrassed by anything Sharlayne Kenyon might do. Watching him over her shoulder, she said, “Don’t be a prude, Jed—and don’t call me Ms. Kenyon. My n-name is Sharlayne.”

He didn’t appear to notice her stutter. “I know your name, Ms. Kenyon.” He cocked his head and gazed at her, fists planted on his hips just above the low-slung waist band of his jeans. “It occurs to me that this is as good a time as any to get a couple of things straight.”

“Do tell?” she purred.