"Okay. And relax, I'll take care of everything over here, and if you forget something, I can always mail it over to you."

"Right, right." Jane exhales loudly. "Poor Emmy. She was crying so hard over the phone."

I pat her hand. "She'll feel better once she has you there with her."

"Yes. Violet, I'm so sorry! Please tell Lily that I'll make this up to her somehow."

"No, don't worry about anything," I cut her off swiftly. "I'll be fine. Lauren and I will have one extended sleepover-it'll be great. But do me a favor-don't mention any of this to Mom. She'll just worry."

Jane tugs on a loose curl. "You're right. I won't even tell her about Emmy. Knowing her, she'd fly straight to Atlanta to help out. But, gosh, I hate lying to her."

"It will be fine," I say firmly as I start the car. "Mom will have the fun she deserves, you'll be taking care of your daughter, and I'll be safe with Lauren. It will all work out."

I wish I could believe my own words, considering I've just made myself homeless.

I find myself at the airport for the second time in two days. With one last hug and a reminder to lock up before I leave, Jane hurries off toward her gate.

Okay, now what? I can buy maybe a day or two alone at the apartment, but that's it. Maybe I could hide in the closet every time Jane's neighbor came over to check on things?

Yeah, I can definitely see that going badly when the neighbor decides to get nosy and opens the door-ending with me being arrested for something.

What am I going to do?

I call Lauren for real this time to see if she has any ideas. She tries to ask her mom if I can stay over, even for a few days, but her mom freaks out on her, so that's a no.

"What are you gonna do?" Lauren wants to know.

"I don't know," I reply, trying not to let the panic creep into my voice. "I'll think of something."

I hang up with Lauren, then I flop down on Jane's couch, scrolling through my pitifully short list of contacts for ideas.

I stop on the last name. A tiny seed of hope sprouts in my chest. But did I dare call him?

Do I have a choice?

I don't call. I decide to just show up. I don't know. Somewhere in my head I get the idea that it will be harder to turn me down if I show up on his doorstep with my suitcases and a sad panda face.

Am I really doing this?

I am.

I've been by the house once before, when Mom gave me a quick tour.

Bill's new house (our house, too) is a sprawling mansion with a private drive, and a stone fountain in the courtyard. I think it looks like a Mediterranean villa, with the red tiled rooftops and the big gleaming windows. Inside is just as gorgeous. I love the vaulted ceilings and the elegant curving staircase. Also, the house has seven bedrooms and eight bathrooms!

I can't even picture me and Mom living there. What would we do with all that s.p.a.ce?

But those are happy thoughts for another day.

I pull around back to where the pool house is located, next to the Olympic sized pool, of course.

Slowly, I get out of my car, more and more unsure about my plan. Should I bring a suitcase to look more pathetic? No, that's dumb. If he says no, I'll feel ridiculous. Maybe I should just go.

No, I can't. I don't have anywhere to go. If he says no, I'm screwed.

The pool house is a cute little home matching the style of the main house. It looks smaller than I remember, and I just pray it has more than one room.

The lights are on. He's home. Taking a deep breath, I knock briskly on the door. And I wait.

Wow, he's taking a really long time to answer. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and prepare to knock again.

The door opens and, I just barely stop myself from rapping my fist on his chest.

His bare chest.

Oh. My. G.o.d.

Shirtless Zane is a revelation. He is all smooth honey colored skin and sleek muscles. His shoulders are broad and dense, and his chest and ab muscles are so clearly defined, they could have been carved from granite.

My eyes continue their journey down to his slim waist, and...oh, my. The top b.u.t.ton of his jeans is undone.

For some reason, that undone b.u.t.ton strikes me as the s.e.xiest thing ever. Pure l.u.s.t explodes in my body at the sight of it.

So hot!

"Violet."

Zane's raspy voice snaps me out of my s.e.x-crazed coma. He runs a hand through his tousled, seriously cute, just-woke-up hair. "What are you doing here?"

"Um." I clear my throat nervously. "I kind of need a place to stay."

In a rush of words, I explain my situation. He listens silently, his expression neutral, leaning an arm against the door jamb. I am totally distracted by his bulging biceps.

"I promise I'll stay out of your way," I conclude. "You won't even know I'm here.

A slow smile tugs the corners of his mouth upwards. "Somehow I doubt that."

He opens the door wider, and I take that as an invitation to carefully slip past him. Um, yum, he smells like warm s.e.xy male, just out of bed.

I glance around at my new surroundings. It's a little bigger than the old apartment, with a simple floor plan. The rectangle-shaped living room is spa.r.s.ely decorated, with an L-shaped couch and a recliner angled toward a huge impressive-looking flat screen TV. I note with amus.e.m.e.nt that the entertainment center holds what appears to be every kind of gaming machine known to man. There's not much else: a gla.s.s coffee table in front of the couch, a couple of floor lamps, and a fancy bookcase crammed full of leather bound cla.s.sics.

The small open kitchen is to the left, and I'm glad to find it neat and clean-no dirty dishes piled in the sink, or empty pizza boxes on the counter.

There's a short hallway directly across from the front door which I a.s.sume leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms.

I'm about to go check it out when a tall stunningly beautiful girl suddenly appears from an open room.

My eyes widen in shock and dismay. Ms. Supermodel is wearing an itsy bitsy thong and nothing else.

Without a hint of self consciousness, she sashays up to Zane, tossing back her long glossy hair. "Zane," she says in a husky accented voice. "Come back to bed."

He smiles down at her as she wounds her slender arms around his neck. "Nata.s.sia, we have company."

"Nata.s.sia" gives me a lazy once-over with dark exotic eyes. "Who is this? She come to party with us?"

What? Ew!

Zane sees my horrified reaction and smirks. "No. This is my step sister. Why don't you get dressed?"

Supermodel pouts prettily. She stretches up to whisper something in his ear, making him chuckle s.e.xily. He puts a hand on her hip and murmurs something back.

What the h.e.l.l? I'm standing there awkwardly, trying to look everywhere but at them. Why am I the only one embarra.s.sed here? They're the half-naked ones!

Nata.s.sia mutters something in another language, then stalks back to the room, hips swaying seductively. Zane's eyes seem glued to her b.u.t.t.

"I'll be right back," he says to me, then follows her into the room, shutting the door behind him.

I'm rooted to the spot, waiting. Should I leave? They better not be having s.e.x in there.

It feels like hours have pa.s.sed when they both finally reappear. Nata.s.sia, to my relief, has on clothes. She's wearing a thin gray dress, killer black boots, and a smug smile. Zane's thrown on a long-sleeved shirt, left unb.u.t.toned. They both look romantic and s.e.xy, like the cover of a racy spy novel.

As she is leaving, Ms. Supermodel throws a smirking look in my direction. My polite smile slides off my face. She says something to Zane in her language (Russian, maybe?), over her shoulder. He just laughs and shakes his head.

Once she's gone, I turn to him. "What did she say? Was it something about me?"

Zane shuts the door and regards me through half-lidded eyes. "You don't want to know."

I grimace and shift awkwardly. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend. Got any bags?"

"Um, yes, in the car."

He holds up a hand. "Give me your keys, and I'll get them for you. Make yourself at home in the meantime."

I fumble in my pocket for my keys, and toss it to him. "Thank you."

"No problem. Be right back."

Zane goes out the door, and I immediately start exploring. The kitchen has a sliding gla.s.s door that opens right to the pool. Nice.

I head over to the hallway. The first room is small, and contains a queen sized bed, chest of drawers, and a antique looking vanity. The window shows a view of the main house. I smile in relief. This will be perfectly fine for a month. Okay, let's check out the bathroom.

It's right next door and looks completely unused, which is great. It has a toilet, a sink, and...

No shower.

I look around wildly. Where's the shower? Oh, this isn't good.

I peek my head in the other room-Zane's room. My eyes skim over the huge bed, dresser, desk, bookcase...and there's another door. The master bath.

I hear the front door and run back out. Zane has all my bags, carrying them like they weigh nothing.

"Why doesn't my bathroom have a shower?" I demand, as if it's his fault.

"Because it doesn't. The master bath has one," he says. He moves past me into my bedroom.

I follow and watch him dump my bags on the bed. When I continue to stare at him, he raises an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, yeah!" I throw my hands in the air. "This isn't going to work! I need to shower."

"Shower in my bathroom," he says with a shrug.

I stare at him, appalled. "I can't just walk into your room!"

"Yeah, you'd knock first, I hope. It's no big deal, Violet."

Zane walks back out and heads toward his room. He stops in the doorway and gestures me over. "Come on."

I stare at him warily. I wish he would b.u.t.ton his shirt. I would be able to think better. The open material frames his flawless skin and hard muscles. I seriously feel like a perv right now-I can't stop peeking at his chest.

Meanwhile, Zane is waiting. He crosses his impressive arms over his impressive chest. "Don't be scared, little girl," he taunts. "I don't bite."

Ugh! "I do," I growl, and push past him.

"I'll have to remember that." He laughs.

Did he take that to mean something dirty? I don't see how, but you can never tell with guys.

Oh, never mind. I'm standing in Zane's room with him! It smells like him: a fresh clean scent and some kind of masculine body wash-and lingering above that, the exotic scent of a girl's perfume. I can't stop staring at his bed, where he probably just had s.e.x with that Nata.s.sia girl. I blush bright red at the thought. I don't want to picture Zane having s.e.x. Um, ew...right? Not hot at all.

Nope.

"I'm hardly ever home," his voice says from behind me. "I'm sure we can work out a schedule. Bathroom's right there."

"Okay."

Cautiously, I check out the bathroom. It's really nice, and big. Double sinks, a gla.s.s enclosed shower, and-ooh!

"A jetted bathtub! I've always wanted to try one of those!" I exclaim, bending over for a closer inspection. "Are the jets adjustable?"

"I believe they are."

Why does he sound so amused? I whip around and study him suspiciously. He smiles back innocently.

"My back muscles get stiff sometimes," I say, just to clarify. "Having something hot and hard aimed at me would definitely help me loosen up."

Zane only grins wider. "No doubt."