James Patterson - Lifeguard

Copyright 2005 by James Patterson

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First eBook Edition: July 2005

ISBN: 978-0-7595-1428-7

The Novels of James Patterson

FEATURING ALEX CROSS

London Bridges

The Big Bad Wolf

Four Blind Mice

Violets Are Blue

Roses Are Red

Pop Goes the Weasel

Cat & Mouse

Jack & Jill

Kiss the Girls

Along Came a Spider

THE WOMENS MURDER CLUB

4thof July (and Maxine Paetro)

3rdDegree (and Andrew Gross)

2ndChance (and Andrew Gross)

1stto Die

OTHER BOOKS

Honeymoon

santaKid

Sams Letters to Jennifer

The Lake House

The Jester (and Andrew Gross)

The Beach House (and Peter de Jonge)

Suzannes Diary for Nicholas

Cradle and All

Black Friday

When the Wind Blows

See How They Run

Miracle on the 17thGreen (and Peter de Jonge)

Hide & Seek

The Midnight Club

Season of the Machete

The Thomas Berryman Number

For more information about James Pattersons novels, visit www.jamespatterson.com

ThanksSunny and Don Sweeney, natives of Brockton, and friends. Jennifer Genco and the staff of the Breakers in Palm Beach. And Steve Vasblom of Auckland, a crazy Kiwi, but one whose feet get more on the ground with every year.

THE PERFECT SCORE

DONT MOVE, I said to Tess, sweaty and out of breath. Dont even blink. If you so much as breathe, I know Im gonna wake up, and Ill be back lugging chaise longues at poolside, staring at this gorgeous girl that I know something incredible could happen with. This will all have been a dream.

Tess McAuliffe smiled, and in those deep blue eyes I saw what I found so irresistible about her. It wasnt just that she was the proverbial ten and a half. She was more than beautiful. She was lean and athletic with thick auburn hair plaited into a long French braid, and a laugh that made you want to laugh, too. We liked the same movies, Memento, The Royal Tenenbaums, Casablanca. We pretty much laughed at the same jokes. Since Id met her Id been unable to think about anything else.

Sympathy appeared in Tesss eyes. Sorry about the fantasy, Ned, but well have to take that chance. Youre crushing my arm.

She pushed me, and I rolled onto my back. The sleek cotton sheets in her fancy hotel suite were tousled and wet. My jeans, her leopard-print sarong, and a black bikini bottom were somewhere on the floor. Only half an hour earlier, we had been sitting across from each other at Palm Beachs tony Caf Boulud, picking at DB burgers$30 apieceground sirloin stuffed with foie gras and truffles.

At some point her leg brushed against mine. We just made it to the bed.

Aahhh, Tess sighed, rolling up onto her elbow, that feels better. Three gold Cartier bracelets jangled loosely on her wrist. And look whos still here.

I took a breath. I patted the sheets around me. I slapped at my chest and legs, as if to make sure. Yeah, I said, grinning.

The afternoon sun slanted across the Bogart Suite at the Brazilian Court hotel, a place I could barely have afforded a drink at, forget about the two lavishly appointed rooms overlooking the courtyard that Tess had rented for the past two months.

I hope you know, Ned, this sort of thing doesnt happen very often, Tess said, a little embarrassed, her chin resting on my chest.

What sort of thing is that? I stared into those blue eyes of hers.

Oh, whatever could I mean? Agreeing to meet someone Id seen just twice on the beach, for lunch. Coming here with him in the middle of the day.

Oh, that... I shrugged. Seems to happen to me at least once a week.

It does, huh? She dug her chin sharply into my ribs.

We kissed, and I felt something between us begin to rise again. The sweat was warm on Tesss breasts, and delicious, and my palm traveled up her long, smooth legs and over her bottom. Something magical was happening here. I couldnt stop touching Tess. Id almost forgotten what it was like to feel this way.

Split aces, they call it, back where Im from. South of Boston, Brockton actually. Taking a doubleheader from the Yankees. Finding a forgotten hundred-dollar bill in an old pair of jeans. Hitting the lottery.

The perfect score.

Youre smiling. Tess looked at me, propped up on an elbow. Want to let me in on it?

Its nothing. Just being here with you. You know what they say: for a while now, the only luck Ive had has been bad luck.

Tess rocked her hips ever so slightly, and as if we had done this countless times, I found myself smoothly inside her again. I just stared into those baby blues for a second, in this posh suite, in the middle of the day, with this incredible woman who only a few days before hadnt been conceivable in my life.

Well, congratulations, Ned Kelly. Tess put a finger to my lips. I think your lucks beginning to change.

I HAD MET TESS four days before, on a beautiful white sand beach along Palm Beachs North Ocean Boulevard.

Ned Kelly is how I always introduced myself. Like the outlaw. Sounds good at a bar, with a rowdy bunch crowded around. Except no one but a couple of beer-drinking Aussies and a few Brits really knew whom I was talking about.

That Tuesday I was sitting on the beach wall after cleaning up the cabana and pool at the estate house where I worked. I was the part-time pool guy, part-time errand runner for Mr. Sol RothSollie, to his friends. He had one of those sprawling, Florida-style homes you can see from the beach north of the Breakers and maybe wonder, Whoa, who owns that?

I cleaned the pool, polished up his collection of vintage cars from Ragtops, picked up mysteries specially selected for him by his buddies Cheryl and Julie at the Classic Bookshop, even sometimes played a few games of gin with him around the pool at the end of the day. He rented me a room in the carriage house above the garage. Sollie and I met at Ta-bo, where I waited tables on weekend nights. At the time I was also a part-time lifeguard at Midtown Beach. Sollie, as he joked, made me an offer I couldnt refuse.

Once upon a time, I went to college. Tried real life. Even taught school for a while back up North, until that fell apart. It would probably shock my pals here that I was once halfway to a masters. In social education at BU. A masters in what? theyd probably go. Beach management?

So I was sitting on the beach wall that beautiful day. I shot a wave to Miriam, who lived in the large Mediterranean next door, who was walking her Yorkies, Nicholas and Alexandra, on the beach. A couple of kids were surfing about a hundred yards offshore. I was thinking Id do a run-swim-run. Jog about a mile up the beach, swim back, then run