| Chapter 1 |
| I never expected the storm to be so severe: we just don�t get rain like that where I come from. So let�s just say I was ill prepared. The day started out okay. Mild breeze, overcast, a little on the cool side. I figured I�d be perfectly comfy in shorts, sandals and a summer-weight sweater with a tank top underneath. I got up early to pack, taking along a few snacks, plenty of water and, of course, my trusty digital camera. I was on my way to Cocoa Beach to do a little �stalking�-uh, I mean sight-seeing. Now, don�t get scared. I wouldn�t hurt anybody. I just wanted to snap some pics of Howie Dorough�s condo. No big deal, right? Don�t ask me how I got the address. Believe me, it�s top secret and my friend would kill me if I told. All I can say is that after she slipped me that piece of paper at lunch one day I wasted no time booking a flight to Orlando. Good thing I have relatives there. So, there I was, kicking it on the beach, toes in the sand. The condo looked different from the beach. The only photos I had ever seen were from the inside, on MTV Cribs. I scrolled through the pictures on the camera, quite pleased with what I�d gotten so far. In one shot, I had zoomed in on the window to his bedroom. It was interesting to imagine what kind of action might take place in that room. |
| I must have spent too much time thinking about Howie�s bedroom, because the next thing I knew, it was starting to get dark. The battery in my camera was ready to bite it anyway, so I scrambled to my feet and started the hike back to my rented BMW. That�s when it started to sprinkle. By the time I made it to the car, the wind was howling and the rain was pouring down. Storms come on fast in Florida, I guess. Remember, I mentioned I was ill-prepared for the rain? It just sounds better than, �Apparently, I am a complete moron�. I fished the keys out of my backpack and ducked into the car as fast as I could, hoping I wouldn�t get charged extra for getting sand and mud all over the interior. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, but nothing happened. Well, not NOTHING, exactly. The car made a weak attempt at turning over, then died without ceremony. I blinked hard and tried it again. That time it just sat there, silently mocking me. It was then that I realized I�d left the lights on all day. I didn�t even know if I had jumper cables. I was furious with myself. I was even more furious when I realized I�d left my cell phone at my cousin�s house in Orlando. I sighed heavily, popped the trunk and jumped out of the BMW to check for cables. A set of headlights blazed past me in the downpour, spinning tires spraying water all over me. Now I was really pissed. �Jerk!� I screamed aloud at the driver. I got a little scared when I saw the car back up, turn around, and aim straight for me. He couldn�t have heard me, could he?? I scrambled around the side of the car, yanked the door open and climbed back in. My heart was racing. I locked the driver�s side door, but with the battery dead, I couldn�t lock the others. Rain was sheeting off the windshield. The other car had it�s high-beams on, practically blinding me. I could barely see the blur running toward me. I prepared for the worst. |
| The hooded figure pounded on my window. He was yelling something. He was very persistent, but he didn�t necessarily seem dangerous. Maybe he had jumper cables? I couldn�t roll the electric window down, so I took a chance and cracked the door open, just enough to talk. That�s when I saw his eyes. Brown and huge, raindrops dripping from his lashes. �You need some help?� I didn�t answer right away. I was in total shock. �Hey, I�m getting soaked out here�� he laughed, somewhat impatiently�but not very. �Uh, yeah. My battery died. Can you jump me?� I asked. He cocked an eyebrow. �Well, as much as I�d love to, I�m afraid I don�t keep cables in the car,� he chuckled. �Come on, ride with me to my place, I might have cables in the garage,� he replied, then sprinted back to the blob that was his car. I stared ahead for a moment, collecting my thoughts. I grabbed my backpack, locked up the car and followed him to what I now recognized as the infamous purple Corvette. I slid in the passenger side. Howie was already inside, cozily wrapped in the sumptuous leather of his driver�s seat, looking stunningly handsome. Just what was it about a wet Backstreet Boy, anyway? He frowned slightly. �You know�I just realized my brother took the cables and put them in his truck.� �Well�I could call AAA�but I left my cell phone at my cousin�s house.� |
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