Page 50 of Most Eligible
Nina gapes at her.
“What?” Olie asks innocently, her huge eyes twinkling. “We talk.”
Nina smirks and keeps undressing. “I think we better watch out for you, Olie.”
“Sorry,” Olie says, cheeks coloring.
“Don’t be.” Nina smiles at her. “I’m happy for you.”
Olie leads us outside and wastes no time jumping in the pool, followed by the others. The rain has stopped, leaving a muggy heat in the air.
I wrinkle my nose at the pool full of women. “This is such a good way to transmit diseases.”
“Which none of us have!” Philippa shrieks gleefully. “The producers made sure of that. Come on, Georgia, get in!”
Her words are punctuated by a loud splash as Nina, newly nude, jumps in beside Johnna, who winces as water splashes onto her pixie cut. Not that we’ve talked much, but I wouldn’t have pegged Johnna as the naked-pool-party type. She and Mara, a divorce attorney currently clinging to a pink pool floatie, have mostly kept to themselves.
What the hell. If a badass attorney can do it, so can I. I pull my top over my head and shimmy out of my jeans, dropping them onto a chair and kicking off my sandals. I’ve just peeled off my underwear when I hear a voice behind me.
“What the—”
Rhett doesn’t finish his sentence before I turn around, shriek loudly, and fling myself backward into the pool, where I collide with Nina. But I only have eyes for Rhett. Rhett who is now standing, fully clothed, poolside. He’s soaking wet, his black shirt sticking to his skin.
“Come on, Rhett, join us!” Olie yells, splashing merrily.
A catcall whistles through the air, and I look around to find Mara waving at Rhett. Someone’s really come out of her shell.
Rhett cocks an eyebrow at her, then his gaze finds me and the eyebrow hitches higher. I shrug as if to say,Can’t handle it?Keeping his eyes stoically on my face, he swallows, jaw tensing.
“Thanks, but not today, ladies,” he says. Then he turns on his heel and walks away.
“Isn’t hefiiine,” Mara sighs.
Olie cackles. “In your dreams, Mara. In your dreams.”
Rhett is almost out of sight inside the shadowy mansion. Ignoring Olie and Mara, I hoist myself out of the pool, grab a fluffy white towel, and wrap it tightly around myself. Maybe I don’t need Serena to find dirt on Rhett. Maybe I can find it all on my own.
“Bathroom,” I mutter, but no one except Olie, who salutes me,is listening. I stop to grab my clothes and sandals, and then tiptoe inside.
Rhett has split off toward his wing of the mansion. Glancing behind me, I follow carefully, feet light on the cool stone floors. I peek around the corner of a long hallway; the door at the end has been left ajar. I sneak forward, listening hard. But the sounds I hear are coming from the other end of the hall, the way I just came. My heart leaps into my throat and I turn. Rhett must’ve gone a different way, because his footsteps are coming toward me. And he’s not alone.
“—a total disaster,” Lainey says. “You should’ve seen it.”
Heart beating fast, I look from the hallway to the door and make a split-second decision. Before they can see me, I push the door open and close it hastily behind me.
I seem to be in a suite. A freshly pressed suit hangs on the closet door, and men’s toiletries are strewn across the bathroom vanity. My eyes bulge at the open guitar case on the floor.
Rhett and Lainey’s voices get louder on the other side of the door. I sprint into the bedroom and search frantically for somewhere to hide. The door to the suite opens. I consider the closet, but what if he needs to grab something in there? And the huge sliding doors leading to the deck might make noise if I open them. There’s nothing else for it, so I throw myself onto the floor and wriggle under the bed, the towel the only thing between my naked body and the carpet.
“After my injury, I had a really hard time recovering. It felt like I lost a part of myself when I wasn’t playing anymore. But thanks to my amazing trainers and family, I’m excited to say that I’ll be back at Wimbledon this year—just a few months after I finish filmingLove Shack.”
—Roland Marchetti, in an interview withGood Morning America, three months ago
Chapter Seventeen
When I went into investigative reporting, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind: lying naked under a low-slung bed to get intel. My clothes and shoes are still clutched in my hand, and I pull them out of view as Rhett and Lainey enter the suite.
“She didn’t even bite,” Lainey is saying. “Addison pushed her off the ladder and she didn’t so much as fight back.”
