One Year Past Perfect
[April 2004]
When physician Kathryn Thompson arrives in Hawaii to settle her great-aunt’s estate, she has two things in mind: a week’s vacation in the beloved beach house and finding Aunt Kathy’s diary, a sixty-year tell-all the old woman promised would scandalize the rest of the family. What she finds are three very handsome Costa Rican men comfortably ensconced in the property–and reading the diary for amusement!
For international singing sensation Cesar Osorio, life has crept by since the death of his wife three years before. Now in Hawaii for what he personally plans to be his last gig, his brother-in-law and manager Vicente keeps firing the housekeepers, further exasperating him. Adding to his chagrin is the imminent arrival of Vicente’s estranged wife and the threat that his talented nephew Armando will seek a golf career rather than follow in his uncle’s footsteps. He finds himself relieved when the new housekeeper takes charge. In fact, she even acts like she owns the place!
Reviews
“Ms. Sisk writes a fabulous romantic, suspenseful comedy. There is humor, sadness, love, desire and attraction, all of the makings of a delicious read.”
Road to Romance
Excerpt
She studied Cesar’s back, the curve of his strong neck as he leaned into the guitar. The moonlight cast his shadow behind him and gave what she could see of his face an other-worldly glow. The man could be magic and she hoped he didn’t make a habit of playing nightly in the moonlight, of tempting the angels.
Tempting her to walk out there and sit at his feet and watch his hands and wish they caressed her the way they caressed the strings, hold her the way they held the neck of the guitar and curled and touched. She watched his hands slide, chord, hold, tremble, and she shivered even as she made herself smaller in the chair. The vibration she heard as he began to hum along with the tune felt like it began in her.
Oh, damn! These wayward thoughts about her tenant/employer had to stop. She had no claim on these ideas. They were idle, useless, filtering in from nowhere and they had no home in her psyche. She had no need of a man, any man, especially not one that thought her the maid, the cook, the laundress. And that was what she would have to be. Invisibly be.
So surely he didn’t do this every night when he came home.
He turned and looked her direction, although she knew she was hidden from his gaze in the shadows. His eyes studied the living room and his brows drew together. He pursed his lips.
Oh, please, God, surely he did.