Sunrise Kisses Page 2

  “You can leave your bags here,” Charlotte informed us with a smile. My father was trying to pull both our suitcases across the tiled floor and making a racket with the wheels. “Marcus will take them up to your rooms.”

  Marcus, our limo driver, came in behind us and held out his hands for the suitcases. Dad reluctantly gave them up, but only after Marcus cleared his throat. Despite his effort to carry the bags, Dad looked worn out and ragged from traveling.

  “Mr. Belrose will be down after his meeting, but I'd be happy to show you to your rooms if you'd like,” Charlotte offered. “I'm sure it must have been a long trip.”

  “Does Mr. Belrose usually work here?” I asked, looking around at the incredibly expensive room. I hadn't even met the man yet, but I had to wonder at his style. He must be obsessed with his own wealth. “I mean, does he run the dating website from here? I thought it was based in New York.”

  “He runs the logistics side of Kindling Romance, not the actual dating service,” Charlotte explained. She crossed the black and white tiled floors to stand next to the massive landing at the bottom of the two stairs. “He usually does work out of New York, but this auction is incredibly important to him, so he is telecommuting until its completion.”

  Telecommuting? I looked down at my phone. I had it turned to airplane mode with wifi still active since we were now considered to be roaming. Super roaming. I didn't even want to contemplate what my phone bill would be if I left my data running for this trip. If Mr. Belrose was telecommuting, I could only imagine what his bill must look like. It was a good thing he was a billionaire.

  “I'd actually love to go to my room for a bit,” Dad said, finally answering Charlotte's question. I noticed his collar was crooked again. His big body sagged on his frame as he looked around, looking like he might just curl up on the stairs and take a nap. “Traveling always seems to wear me out.”

  Charlotte smiled and motioned us up the right hand side of stairs. “Your rooms are adjacent to one another and are on the second floor. If you'll follow me, please.”

  “I'm going to need a map of the house when you get a moment.” Dad paused at the middle step, looking winded. It was a big staircase.

  “I actually have some printed up. You wouldn't believe how many times I've gotten lost in this place.” Charlotte answered with a grin. “You'll get used to it.”

  I shook my head, wondering just what kind of person would buy a house so big that they needed a map to get around. Add in all the opulence and wealth of all the furnishings, and it made me think that perhaps Mr. Belrose was a little too wrapped up with showing off his status.

  “Before I forget,” Charlotte said, pausing in the middle of the hallway. I nearly plowed into her. She pointed to a large double door on the opposite side of the grand staircase. “During your time here, Mr. Belrose will be working. The study is his office and bedroom, and he does not want anyone but himself in there. It's off limits to everyone.”

  “Is there anything that needs to be appraised in there?” Dad asked.

  “A few things,” she replied, “but Mr. Belrose will have you appraise those at his convenience. Until then, he requests that neither of you enter his study without permission.”

  “Of course,” Dad assured her, nodding vehemently. I knew he wouldn't even look at the door to Mr. Belrose's study, his honor and integrity permitting him to do nothing less. It was one of the things I loved most about my dad. Me, on the other hand, I would probably try and peek in if I ever saw the door open. Making things off limits tended to make me curious, but I wouldn't want two random strangers poking through my bedroom without permission either.

  Charlotte nodded, glad to see we understood and motioned us after her into another part of the monstrous house. The sunlight from the setting sun turned the room into a golden paradise as we worked our way down the hallways to our rooms. Every wall contained artwork and furniture that had my father and I drooling. In just the walk to our rooms, I already had a rough estimate of hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of antiques. This was going to be a massive job.

  “Here are your rooms,” Charlotte announced. They were side by side with one at the end of the hallway. “I thought Mr. Fairchild would like this one, as the furniture is all authentic Alexander Roux pieces.”

  Dad's eyes lit up. He nearly bowled Charlotte over to get into the room. I giggled. He reminded me of a kid on Christmas morning.

  “I think you just made his trip,” I told her. She grinned with childlike pride.

  “I'm just glad they had certificates on them, or I never would have known,” she confided, then gestured to my room. “I'm afraid your room isn't anything special. I know your specialty is impressionist art, but most of the pieces aren't in any of the guest rooms...”

  “This is perfect,” I interrupted, stepping into the room. It was large, with a gaudy bed and overzealous artwork, but the real treasure was the big window overlooking the ocean. We were on the East side of the island, so I would be able to see the sunrise in the morning. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

  Her face split into a grin. I liked her. She had obviously taken the time to choose rooms for us based on what she knew about us. It was sweet.

  “I'm so glad that the rooms are acceptable to you both,” she said, slipping back into a more formal tone. “Dinner will be in half an hour in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, again,” I replied. I hoped I could get her out of her shell a little bit while we were here. She seemed like she could be fun if she wasn't working. “What are we having.”

  “Just some soup and finger foods,” she answered. “Is that all right, Miss Fairchild?”

  “That's perfect.” I smiled. “And please, call me Ava. Miss makes me feel strange.”

  “I've never really liked it either,” Charlotte admitted. We grinned at one another for a moment, feeling like we might be long lost friends after all. “I'll let you settle in.”

  I went to the window as she turned to leave and looked out, taking a deep, happy breath. The mansion backed out onto a small cove. The sand was perfect and white and the waves small and calm. The sky was turning a deep shade of purple as the sun set on the opposite side of the island, causing the deep blue of the water to fade with the sky as it approached the horizon. It was absolutely stunning.

  That, I thought to myself, not the house, is what makes this a billionaire's place.

  I was just glad that Mr. Belrose didn't know that, or I would be out of a job.

  Chapter 3

  I closed the front door carefully behind me, listening for the subtle click to indicate it had shut. Dinner had been delicious, even if Charlotte hadn't been able to join us. Dad hadn't eaten much of the conch soup, even though he said it reminded him of Boston clam chowder. I had eaten more tropical fruit than a monkey, stuffing my face with papayas and mangoes fresh off the trees. It was practically a dessert.

  I stepped out on the big front porch, taking a deep breath of night air. It was humid and moist and everything I needed right now. It wasn't home. I could be someone else here. I wasn't the dumped ex-girlfriend, or the local library book-nerd, or the daughter struggling to save her father's beloved antique business.

  As my father's only child, I was the proud heir to his legacy. I loved working with antiques and running my father's business with my aunt and cousins. Dad had been attempting to wean himself off the appraisal circuit, but a recent arson fire had set him back. Due to a faulty sprinkler system at our company's warehouse, over five million dollars of art and antiques had been destroyed. Sure, the insurance companies were covering all of the damage, but the blow to our company's image had been devastating.

  It didn't matter that Dad checked the security systems and fire prevention units daily. It also didn't matter that the fire inspector had declared both the sprinkler system and the cause of the fire arson. As far as the public was concerned, Fairchild Auctions and Appraisals had let five million dollars burn.

  But I didn't need to think
about that now. My mind was already planning and preparing for tomorrow. A quick tour from Charlotte had revealed that the mansion was even bigger than I had suspected. A family of fifteen could live there and never see one another except at meals, and even then that was only if they wanted to use the main kitchen. Every room was full of antiques and art. It was going to be a fair amount of work, but work that I was excited about.

  Several paintings stood out in my memory as ones I couldn't wait to get a closer look at. Every room had art that made my fingers itch to look closer at. I knew my father felt the same way about the furniture. Even though this was technically work, it was work we were born to do. Getting to study antiques and art of this caliber was practically a vacation. I would have appraised this house for free, just for the opportunity to work with what I had seen on some of the walls.

  Furtive movement caught my eye. I was standing on the edge of the big front entrance, but I had a clear view of the nearby kitchen doorway, and someone was struggling to get something out. Whatever it was, the package was large and the person was trying very hard to be quiet.

  I frowned. Elijah had said to notify him of anything strange, but standing here in the dark, I had no idea how to get a hold of him. I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to do next.

  The figure stepped into the light coming off one of the security lights and I could see that he had what looked like a hastily-covered painting. The figure glanced anxiously from side to side, as if looking for someone.

  I had seen that look before. The night the museum I was interning at was robbed, I had seen someone from an upper window. The way the painting was wrapped, the careful movements, even the shape of the man was exactly the same as that night. I knew I had to do something. That man was obviously stealing a painting from the house.

  Be brave, I told myself. Remember those self defense classes...

  I didn't think. I just took a deep breath, and yelled my scariest, most alarm-raising shriek as I ran at the figure. Using every memory of watching Sunday night football games with my Dad, I planted my foot and brought both my arms up and under his. I let my legs do the rest of the work, pumping hard to push him backwards and up.

  It would have worked if he hadn't been well over six feet and outweighed me. And if he hadn't been pure muscle. Instead of flying to the ground like a sacked quarterback, he shrugged me off like a lineman, barely stumbling and still managing to hold onto the painting.

  “What the hell are you doing?” the man yelled at me. I wasn't sure how he did it, but he somehow got bigger scarier. It didn't help that it was dark and now the light was behind him, completely hiding his face.

  “You can't steal that painting,” I announced defiantly, trying to regain my balance. Where are you, Elijah? I silently pleaded. I had been hoping my war-cry had gotten his attention. Now I just had to stall the robber until Elijah got here.

  “Steal?” The thief sounded confused. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “You can explain whatever it is that you're doing to them,” I said smugly, as flashlight beams came jogging toward us. I could see Elijah and three other security guards coming at us at breakneck speeds.

  Elijah reached us first. “Mr. Belrose, are you all right? We heard a strange noise.”

  My stomach dropped straight to China. Mr. Belrose?

  “I think so, but who the hell is this girl? And how did she get past you to fucking tackle me?”

  He was royally pissed. And rightly so. I was so incredibly fired. My stomach dropped so fast, it went past China. It was falling to Pluto now.

  Elijah shone the flashlight in my face, making me blink and blush. I couldn't seem to find any words now. I had been so brave two seconds ago, but now I was a stammering mess. I had just tried to take down a billionaire. I couldn't be more mortified if I tried.

  “This is Ava Fairchild, Mr. Belrose,” Elijah answered. He waved the other guards off. “She's the appraiser you hired. She's harmless.”

  I wished I still had enough courage to be angry about the “harmless” comment, but considering how easily I had been brushed off, Elijah was probably right. Mr. Belrose carefully set the painting down on the cement and looked at me. I didn't dare look up at him.

  “You thought I was stealing a painting?” he finally asked, straightening his suit jacket. His voice was commanding and powerful.

  I nodded, staring at my bare feet. Not only did I just try and tackle a billionaire, but I didn't even have shoes on. I was such a failure at life.

  Mr. Belrose evaluated me for a moment and let out a sharp snort. “I suppose I should be grateful that an employee would feel so inclined to prevent theft,” he said finally, sounding irritated. “Look at me.”

  I slowly rose my eyes to meet his. I had seen pictures of Sebastian Belrose on the internet, but in real life, he was gorgeous. He had light, golden-brown hair cut in a short, neat fashion that accented the strength of his jaw and broad shoulders. The thing that the pictures never conveyed was the strength and power that radiated off him in waves. It was like the difference between seeing a black and white picture of a painting and standing next to the real thing.

  I could see the faint but distinctive scar across his cheek and eyebrow. I hadn't been able to find any information on where he had gotten it. It was just one of the many internet mysteries surrounding Sebastian Belrose. While the scar made him look dangerous, it was his eyes that gave him the aura of power and confidence.

  They were a blue so light that they were almost gray, especially against the dark fabric of his designer suit. They reminded me of a misty sky just before the dawn. He looked at me, those eyes full of confidence, and I forgot to breathe.

  “Miss Ava Fairchild,” he said, as if testing out how my name sounded on his lips. I rather liked the way he said it, but it was a little overwhelming. “Would you like to see what I was stealing?”

  I looked over at the wrapped package and fidgeted slightly. This was not a good way to meet one's employer.

  “I'm so sorry, sir,” I apologized. My voice cracked and I hated myself just a little bit more.

  “I didn't ask for your apology,” he growled. “I asked if you wanted to see it.”

  I opened my mouth to apologize again and quickly shut it. That wasn't going to do me any favors. I knew I should say no, that it wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't. Now I was curious.

  “Yes,” I whispered, blushing a deep crimson.

  Mr. Belrose's eyebrows raised. “Open it.”

  I looked up at him again, making sure I understood and he nodded toward the package. Cautiously, I went over and began to untie the string holding the wrapping to whatever was inside. Now that I was closer, I could see it wasn't a painting. It wasn't even shaped like a painting. The brown cloth wrapping fell away to reveal what looked like part of a broken surfboard. It was just the front piece, but it was obviously not a painting.

  “Is that a painting?” Mr. Belrose asked.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Do you still think I'm stealing it?” His voice was a little lighter this time, but not by much. I wanted to shrink into the sand and never show my face again.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then we're done here,” he said gruffly. He picked up the broken piece of surfboard and handed it to me. “Since you're so keen on me not having it, you can run it to the trash.”

  I nearly dropped it my hands were shaking so badly. Mr. Belrose's eyes went to mine again, capturing me in their dusky power. My heart pounded so hard I was sure I was going to need CPR soon.

  His eyes are beautiful, I thought. I pushed away the thought and looked away. That thought was not even remotely appropriate for what was going on right now. I did not need to be noticing that my billionaire boss, who I had just tried to take down, had nice eyes. Or how broad his shoulders were. Or how nicely he filled out his suit.

  “Yes, sir,” I stuttered. But I couldn't help but look up at his eyes again. They drew me to him like a
moth to a flame.

  It was like he could see straight through me and knew exactly who I was and what I was thinking. It made me glad I wasn't thinking something inappropriate, like him in his boxers, though given the way he was filling out that suit, it would be a very nice sight. Crap! I thought, blushing harder. Now, I'm thinking of him in his boxers!

  I looked down again, hoping that it was dark enough to hide my blush. When I peeked back up, his eyes were still on me, but with just the barest hint of a smile. As if he did know what scandalous thoughts were going through my mind. And that just made me blush harder. This was not my night.

  “Good night Miss Fairchild,” Mr. Belrose said evenly, turning to go back into the house. I just stood there, staring after him, holding the broken surfboard.

  “Next time, just let me handle any thieves,” Elijah remarked, walking past me to follow his boss. I nodded, waiting until they were both gone before going to my knees.

  That had been a disaster.

  I carefully picked up the broken surfboard nose and all the wrappings, finally noticing a trashcan just off to the side. It wasn't in the direct light from the house, so it was hard to see. That was why he had been looking around. If I had just waited thirty more seconds before turning into Sir Galahad, I wouldn't be in this mess.

  I carefully threw everything away before turning to go back in the house. Except, I didn't want to go back inside yet. Mr. Belrose and Elijah were inside, and the very last thing in the entire world that I wanted just now was to run into either of them again tonight.

  So instead, I followed the house around back to the beach.

  ***

  The fine white sand on the beach gleamed in the silver moonlight like a magical substance that only stayed on this world for a short time. I walked toward the calm, dark water, watching the waves whisper against the pale shore.