Forbidden Kiss (Carson Cove Scandals 1)

“A few years.” John nodded. “He’s a good boss.”

“Cool…” I leaned back in my seat—I really couldn’t think of anything else to ask him.

Mr. Foster—or Greyson, as my mother called him—was my father’s best friend. I was really excited when I got accepted to USC, but when I realized that my scholarship wasn’t going to cover anything outside of my educational expenses, I thought I was out of luck. My father left us with a little bit of money after he passed, but there was no way that my mother could afford to pay for me to live in California.

She saw how disappointed I was when I realized that my dream was about to fizzle out and decided to ask Mr. Foster for help. I hoped he would help me get an apartment and cover a couple of months of rent until I could get a job—instead, he offered to let me live with him while I was going to school. I didn’t want to be a charity case, but it was an amazing offer—one that I couldn’t really turn down. I still hoped that I would be able to get my own place after I got a job, but I was overwhelmed by his generosity.

“I don’t think Mr. Foster is home from work yet, but your bedroom should be ready.” John pulled the car up to a large iron gate and used a remote to open it.

“That’s…” My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I stared at the mansion ahead of us. “That’s his house?”

“He’s got a few.” John chuckled. “But yes—this is where he lives.”

I couldn’t help being a little jealous when the car came to a stop in front of Mr. Foster’s mansion. It was clear that being a sports agent in Los Angeles was a lot more lucrative than Chicago. My father barely left us with enough to get by—Mr. Foster was living in the lap of luxury. I followed John into the house, and he led me to a bedroom at the top of a large spiral staircase. I had to blink a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. It was certainly better than what I was used too. The room was nearly as big as the house I grew up in, and it appeared that I had my own bathroom—I was used to sharing a half-bath with my sister and fighting over the mirror in the morning was a daily battle.

“If you need anything, you can hit the red button on your telephone.” John motioned to a phone that was sitting next to the bed.

“Who does that call?” I raised my eyebrows inquisitively.

“Mr. Foster has an assistant named Lauren who takes care of everything. If you need something, she’ll handle it.” He nodded quickly. “If you need to go somewhere, she’ll call me.”

“Oh wow, okay.” I blinked in surprise.

John left me alone in my new bedroom, and I decided to start unpacking. The walk-in closet was enormous, and I certainly didn’t have enough stuff to fill it. I could have stacked all of the boxes that were on the way to Los Angeles in the back corner of the closet and still had room to do cartwheels. There was a large dresser that looked more like a wardrobe. All of the socks and underwear I owned would fit in one of the drawers. I probably wouldn’t have needed more than two to hold all of the socks and underwear I had ever owned. The bed was king sized and even bigger than the one in my mother’s bedroom. I wondered if it was a California King. They were supposed to be bigger than regular ones—and I was in California.

I should take a few pictures and send them to my sister. Lorrie is going to be so freaking jealous.

I pulled out my phone, snapped a few panoramic shots, and then walked into the bathroom. There was a large whirlpool tub that reminded me of a Jacuzzi, and two shower heads. The sink was a large oval basin that I could have fit in if I curled up in a ball, and the mirror covered the entire wall behind it. There were also lights on the side of the mirror, which—unfortunately, made me realize I had a couple of blackheads that needed to be handled. I didn’t even notice them when I was getting ready that morning. The mirror made the blackhea

ds stand out so much that I dug into my purse and grabbed my makeup so I could add an extra layer to hide them until I had time to properly handle the problem.

Now what? I guess I could explore the rest of the house…

I walked downstairs and started looking around. The first room I came to appeared to be a library. There was a large oak desk in the middle of the room and more books than I thought anyone could read in one lifetime. I saw some pictures on the wall and walked over to get a better look. I had to assume the guy that appeared in all of them was Greyson Foster. He was—hot. My sister remembered him a lot better than I did, and she mentioned that he was attractive, but that was an understatement. He was standing next to a celebrity from movies or sports in almost every picture, and he looked like he was the star.

He knows a lot of famous people…

In the middle of all the celebrities was a picture of Mr. Foster with my father. Seeing my father’s face was enough to make my eyes tear up. I was only five years old when he passed away. Most of the memories I had of him were stories that other people had told me. I was so young when he passed that I didn’t have many of my own. My father was a little older than Mr. Foster, but not by much. My father just didn’t take good care of himself—and he had a few vices, although most people didn’t mention those when they talked about how great he was. I missed him, even though I didn’t get a chance to really get to know him.

“You must be Christina.” A voice startled me, and I turned around to see the man in all of the photographs standing in the doorway of the library.

Oh my god, is that a—British accent? My mother mentioned that he was a Rugby star in England before he became a sports agent…

“Hi! Mr. Foster!” I walked over and extended my hand. “Most people call me Chrissy.”

“Chrissy...” He took my hand and shook it. “Nobody calls me Mr. Foster. Greyson—or hey, you—yeah you will work just fine.”

Wow, every word he says sound like poetry—and he’s so much hotter in real life…

“It’s nice to meet you—again. I know I met you when I was younger, but I barely remember it.” I looked up at him and for a second, I got lost in his mesmerizing brown eyes.

“You’ve definitely changed a little bit since then…” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m guessing you don’t play with Barbie dolls anymore.”

“No.” I blushed and suppressed a grin. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here. I promise I won’t stay any longer than I have to—a couple of months at most.”

Hopefully I can afford my own place by then if I find a job.

“It’s no trouble at all.” A slight smile formed behind his neatly trimmed beard—it was a darker shade of brown than his eyes with a little bit of gray along his chin. “I have plenty of room and your father was like a brother to me. You can stay as long as you like.”