Home Matters (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

stalker.”
    Olivia followed Tristi’s heavily-lined gaze past the cameraman and his crew to where she saw Pete standing, a mischievous smile trained on her. Dressed in ratty cargo shorts, he wore a grease-smeared tank that exposed a set of sculpted shoulders and hugged a rolling set of washboard abs. He had a frayed ball cap turned backwards on his head. And he was covered, head to toe, in some sort of light powder or soot. If he’d been anyone other than Pete, she might have thought he looked hot. Well, in that blue-collar-fantasy sort of way.
    Olivia turned away, brought the latte to her waiting lips, and sipped. A shiver worked its way up her spine. “I thought I sensed an evil presence. Should have known Pete couldn’t be far,” she said, stealing another glance in Pete’s direction. He’d disappeared. “Trying to ‘help me,’ he claimed,” she muttered, the perturbing memory of her screen test still fresh in her mind. “My snowy white backside. I tell you what, that man’s a menace.”
    “Nah,” Tristi said, clearing the idea away with a shake of her head. “Pete’s harmless. A real sweetheart.” She mimicked grabbing something with both hands. “I’d like to get my claws on those rock-hard glutes of his.” She dropped her arms, defeated. “Only he doesn’t date much. Apparently, he lost his fiancée a few years ago to some debilitating cancer. He started a nonprofit project in her name to help others suffering from similar diseases.” A dreamy look softened her eyes. “So tragically romantic, don’t you think?” she said, then continued to yammer on about Pete’s charitable endeavors. Only by this point, Olivia wasn’t paying much attention. All she could think about was what Pete had said and how there were more important ways for her to spend her time than in the pursuit of fame. Then, how the show’s executives seemed to think her worth as an actor began and ended with her pretty face. Only what did any of that matter when her life was finally on track? Or was it?
    From behind, a pair of hands slipped around her waist. The waft of cologne that followed told her who the appendages belonged to.
    A smile threatened her lips, but she held it back. “Shame on you, William.” She feigned disapproval. “Are you spying on our design?”
    His lips moved to her ear. His breath tickled her skin. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
    The warmth of his palms permeated the silky fabric of her blouse, sending a shiver of delight up her spine. All thoughts of Pete, what he’d said, along with any issues regarding Eleanor’s design, evaporated—a wisp of smoke carried away on a sudden breeze.
    Pulling out of his grip, she turned her back to the film crew’s curious eyes. “Apparently the only duties I’ve been tasked with for the next week and a half are to woo the homeowners and flirt shamelessly with my cohost, all while looking ‘absolutely fabulous,’” she cooed.
    The right side of his mouth lifted into a crooked grin. “Then we’re in luck. You can accomplish two of the above while having dinner with me,” he offered, his soft lips closing seductively around every word. “Say, eight o’clock?”

Live oak branches mingled together to form a giant canopy, a web of green mesh screening a slate blue sky. Spanish moss, like tufts of grey unruly curls, swayed on a breeze dying with the setting sun. Savannah was famed as the most haunted city in America. But to Olivia, enchanted seemed like a more accurate description.
    Pushing her tortoiseshell glasses higher on her nose, she knew it was time to get moving. Only the balmy twilight air was pleasantly dry, the park around her peacefully shutting out the world beyond, and she decided to linger a few minutes more. She’d forgotten what it felt like to live life at an unhurried pace. To stroll instead of rush. To call out a casual “hey” to a random passerby. To have a stranger offer a hand, or nugget of advice, unbidden. To live the