Too Hot to Handle Read online

  TOO HOT TO HANDLE

  Written by

  Kate William

  Created by

  FRANCINE PASCAL

  Copyright © 2015, Francine Pascal

  To Johanna McNelis

  Mr. Benjamin went over to the man Devon had picked out and whispered into his ear. The man glanced over at Devon with a masked expression, then excused himself from the game.

  Devon watched him get up and cross the room. Pete was tall and lean, and moved with powerful ease. There was something in his uncle's eyes that Devon could relate to—a driving, restless hunger, and a spot of vulnerability.

  I know this guy, Devon thought. We're family!

  Uncle Pete looked Devon over, obviously sizing him up as well. "So you say you're my nephew." His voice was arctic, without a trace of welcome or interest.

  "That's right." Devon looked him in the eye and reined in his sappy hopes. I'm not home yet, he thought.

  Visit the Official Sweet Valley Web Site on the Internet at:

  http://www.sweetvalley.com

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth Wakefield and her sister, Jessica, stood in the doorway of the kitchen, gaping at the scene before them.

  "I don't believe it!" Elizabeth murmured.

  Their older brother, Steven, was locked in a passionate kiss with Lila Fowler, the richest and snootiest girl at Sweet Valley High—who also happened to be Jessica's best friend. The couple seemed totally unaware of their astonished audience.

  Steven, a student at nearby Sweet Valley University, had temporarily moved back home when he'd taken an internship position at the District Attorney's office. He planned to become a lawyer someday, and the experience of working with the D.A. would be extremely valuable to his future career.

  Unfortunately, Steven's move had caused problems with his girlfriend, Billie Winkler, also a student at SVU. They'd shared an apartment off campus for some time, and had seemed perfectly suited for each other. But Billie had resented Steven's decision to move out for the semester and the fact that he hadn't even discussed it with her first. They'd broken up shortly before Steven had left.

  Elizabeth and Jessica had looked forward to having Steven at home for the semester. But he had arrived looking miserable and depressed. Jessica had insisted a new romance would perk him right up and that he needed to start dating other girls immediately.

  But watching him now, locked in Lila's arms, Elizabeth was very sure that this was not the right girl for him. It's like a scene from a horrible soap opera, she thought. Except that it's real!

  Lila had recently suffered her own share of tragic heartaches. A week ago, a fire had nearly destroyed Fowler Crest, her family's twenty-room mansion in Sweet Valley's exclusive Hill section. Gasoline traces had been found all over the estate, proving that the fire had been caused by arson. Worst of all, Lila's parents were away on vacation, leaving her to face the disaster alone. Mr. and Mrs. Fowler were staying at a resort on a remote island where no one could reach them.

  Elizabeth caught herself staring at Lila's arms, which were wrapped around Steven's neck like two flesh-toned snakes. How creepy! Elizabeth thought, shuddering. She felt terrible about what Lila was going through, but it didn't change her opinion about what was happening in front of her. Lila was totally wrong for Steven.

  Elizabeth glanced at her twin, and their eyes met. Jessica exhaled slowly and forcefully, her nostrils flaring and her eyes glimmering. She looked angry enough to explode.

  That's all we need now, Elizabeth thought wryly. Hurricane Jessica! If unleashed, her twin's sudden fury could easily turn the soap opera scene into a low-budget horror flick.

  Elizabeth looped her arm through Jessica's and pulled her sister out of the kitchen.

  "What?" Jessica hissed, shrugging her arm free.

  Elizabeth raised her finger to her lips in a silencing gesture. "Upstairs," she whispered.

  Lost in Steven's kiss, Lila could almost pretend there was nothing wrong with her life. Nothing mattered except his strong arms around her, his soft breath fanning her cheek. It seemed impossible that someone had set her house on fire, nearly killing her, or that someone was trying to frame her for the crime.

  But eventually the kiss ended. And a heartbeat later, Lila's raging nightmare became real again. Her eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision as she gazed at Steven's ruggedly handsome face. If it weren't for him, she'd feel all alone. She had no one else.

  Even her parents had deserted her. They were on a secluded island in the South Pacific, having a second honeymoon—again. Since they'd remarried earlier that year, they'd taken several so-called second honeymoons. Lila wasn't sure if this one was actually their fourth or their fifth. But what mattered was that she couldn't reach them when she needed them most. She knew she would've fallen apart without Steven.

  Lila brushed her hands over his shoulders and along the top edge of his gray wool vest. "Tell me everything is going to be all right," she pleaded.

  Steven kissed her forehead and held her close. "Everything will be all right," he assured her.

  Lila closed her eyes and drew in a deep, shaky breath. She believed Steven and trusted him with all her heart. But feeling this special, warm thrill—especially with her best friend's older brother—had taken her totally by surprise. Lila had recently broken off her relationship with Bo Creighton, a gorgeous millionaire who lived in Washington, D.C. They'd met while working as junior counselors at a summer camp and had fallen instantly in love. Although she and Bo had tried hard to maintain their long-distance romance, the passion between them had eventually fizzled out and died.

  A week ago, Lila had burned Bo's old letters and the mementos of all her dashed hopes. She had known their relationship wouldn't last forever, but the breakup had left her heartbroken just the same. Alone in the big mansion, Lila had cried herself to sleep on the divan in front of the fireplace. It was then that someone had tried to burn her house down around her.

  Hours later, Lila had woken up in the hospital, her throat raw from the smoke she'd inhaled. She had opened her eyes slowly and, through a cloud of groggy pain, seen Steven's face. Since then, he'd become her knight in shining armor.

  Lila pressed her lips against the side of his neck. Steven is going to get to the bottom of this terrifying mystery and make me feel safe again, she thought.

  Steven stroked his hand through her long brown hair and whispered her name. Lila breathed a soft sigh and wrapped her arms around his lean, muscular back. Her heart pounding, she lost herself in another deep, searing kiss.

  Jessica paced across her bedroom floor like a caged tiger, kicking her way through the piles of clothes and shopping bags strewn across the purple carpet. The image of Steven and Lila burned her mind's eye as though it were permanently branded into her brain. Jessica could picture them as clearly as if she were still in the kitchen: Lila's perfectly manicured fingernails resting against Steven's gray vest. . . Steven's hands on her waist . . .

  "Calm down, Jess," Elizabeth said.

  Jessica whirled around and glared at her sister. Elizabeth was sitting on the unmade bed with her back resting against the headboard, acting way too reasonable in light of what was going on downstairs at that very moment.

  "I don't want to calm down," Jessica snapped. "Why did you drag me out of the kitchen?"

  "Because you were ready to explode," Elizabeth responded smoothly.

  Jessica clenched her fists and began pacing again. "I
have every right to explode! Lila and I are so close, we're practically related," she said, grimacing. "It's like your brother going out with your cousin or something. And isn't that illegal?"

  "But they're not cousins," Elizabeth pointed out.

  Jessica crossed her arms. "So you approve of what they're doing?"

  Elizabeth shook her head. "No, of course not," she answered. "They're totally wrong for each other. Steven's a burgers-and-baseball kind of guy, and Lila is caviar and the Concorde all the way." She shrugged. "I don't understand why they can't see it themselves."

  Jessica exhaled sharply. "Because Steven and Lila are blind, or insane . . . or both!"

  She grabbed one of the shopping bags and flung it across the room. "After all I did for that girl," she raged. "I tried so hard to cheer Lila up after the fire. I spent hours and hours putting together a beautiful photo album for her because she was so upset about losing her mementos. She lost her entire wardrobe, so I took her out on that huge, exhausting shopping spree. . . . Is this the thanks I get?"

  Laughing, Elizabeth looked at the clothes piled around the room. "You haven't even given her the album yet, Jess. And your thanks is having all of Lila's new things here to borrow whenever you want," she said.

  Jessica sneered at her. "Very funny, Liz. But while you're cracking jokes, Lila and Steven are downstairs, making a huge, disastrous, and totally disgusting mistake! We have to stop it!"

  Elizabeth gave her an annoying know-it-all look. "We have to think this through logically, Jess," she insisted.

  Jessica rolled her eyes. Of course Ms. Logical would say that, she thought hotly.

  The twins were physically identical, with sleek, shoulder-length blond hair, blue-green eyes, and lean, athletic figures. But the similarities between them stopped at the surface. To Elizabeth, being logical was almost a hobby, along with being reasonable, sensible, serious—and totally dull, in Jessica's opinion. Elizabeth's whole life was neat and organized. She got straight A's in school, and spent much of her free time reading poetry or writing for the Oracle, Sweet Valley High's student newspaper. Her longtime boyfriend, Todd Wilkins, was one of the most boring guys at SVH, and her best friends, Enid Rollins and Maria Slater, weren't much better.

  Jessica, on the other hand, believed in living each day to the fullest. Her world was full of bright colors and strong emotions. She loved crowds, especially if she was the center of attention. She was just as serious as Elizabeth about the things in life that really mattered, such as boys and shopping. Jessica was very sociable and enjoyed school for that reason, but she didn't believe in straining her brain on academics. She was satisfied to earn the minimum grade requirement to keep her position as cocaptain of the SVH cheerleading squad.

  She was an action person, always on the lookout for excitement and adventure. When an idea popped into her head, she rarely wasted time planning out the details or worrying about unforeseen consequences. Both twins had strong personalities and placed high demands on themselves. But while her sister was more concerned with being right, Jessica put her energy into getting results. The idea of leaving Lila and Steven alone together in the kitchen gnawed at her.

  "I think we should march down there and put a stop to it!" Jessica said.

  "No," Elizabeth insisted. "It would only make things worse."

  "How could things get any worse?" Jessica retorted. "Lila and Steven . . . at this very moment . . ." She shuddered, "It's revolting!"

  "It certainly is . . . strange," Elizabeth said. "But we have to be careful. Steven and Lila are both incredibly headstrong. Outside pressure and disapproval might only push them closer together. We have to help them realize what a mistake they're making, without being obvious about it. They have to feel as if it's their own decision to break up."

  Jessica chewed her bottom lip as she considered her sister's point. "Maybe you're right," she said. Steven had always been resistant to any help in his love life. Jessica recalled how angry he'd been when she tried to fix him up with her friend Cara Walker, even though, in the end, he and Cara had ended up together for some time. They'd broken up only because Cara had moved to London.

  "The fact that Steven and Lila are both on the rebound doesn't help matters either," Elizabeth added.

  Jessica pushed a heap of silk blouses off the bed and plunked herself down next to her twin. "I guess we'll have to do it your way," she said. "Our brother is too stubborn to accept the fact that we know what's best for him, and if I know Lila, she isn't about to give him up until she's good and ready."

  After driving all night, Devon Whitelaw reached the outskirts of St. Louis, Missouri, just before sunrise Saturday morning. The gas gauge on his Harley-Davidson motorcycle pointed straight at empty. Noticing it, Devon cracked a smile. He'd kept himself alert during the long, boring hours on the road by working math problems in his head. He'd calculated his average gas mileage, breaking it down as far as the number of yards traveled per pint of gasoline, and figuring the distance he could cover between fuel stops. So far, all of his estimates had been right on target.

  Playing with numbers also helped him block out the painful memories that followed him like a gray, gloomy shadow. He'd collected quite a cache of them in his seventeen years. Some dated back to his childhood—faded images of strangers hired to raise him. His parents had been too wrapped up in their own lives to do the job themselves.

  Devon clenched his jaw as a familiar, hollow ache settled in his heart. He'd grown up in a huge, lavish house in a wealthy Connecticut town, but it had never felt like a home.

  Devon's parents had been killed recently in a car accident. He wished he could mourn for them, maybe shed a few tears, but their deaths had left him unaffected. His lips twisted in a humorless smile. No surprise there, he thought. He had learned at a young age to rely on no one but himself.

  Devon had wanted to strike out on his own months ago, when he'd turned seventeen. But his parents had adamantly refused. They'd spouted some sappy words about family togetherness, but Devon hadn't been fooled. He knew the issue had more to do with control and power than anything resembling family togetherness.

  But now Devon was finally on his own—almost.

  Even in death, James Allan Whitelaw III had managed to keep his son on a leash. His will provided Devon with a twenty-million-dollar trust fund—and the stipulation that he live with a legal guardian until he reached twenty-one years of age.

  Devon squeezed his fists tighter around the handlebars of the bike. At least the old man is letting me pick my own guardian, he thought. Devon would receive one half of his inheritance—ten million dollars—upon choosing a guardian. The other half would be released to him when he turned twenty-one.

  The kids Devon had grown up with in Connecticut assumed he'd led a charmed life as a spoiled rich kid. Devon was tall and good-looking, which had automatically made him popular with the girls. But none of them had seen past his ruggedly handsome face or his deep slate blue eyes. No one had cared for the person inside the tough-guy mask. Nor had anyone ever guessed that Devon would have traded all of his wealth just to be part of a loving family.

  Devon had thought he'd found the home he'd always dreamed of when he'd moved in with his cousins in Ohio just after his parents' death. Unfortunately, the idea of a ten-million-dollar windfall had turned the whole family into a pack of greedy parasites. His aunt and uncle had automatically assumed they would become his legal guardians.

  Within hours of Devon's arrival, they had begun making plans to remodel their modest split-level home. Their two sons, Ross and Allan, had turned into whiny, spoiled brats. After staying with them for only one week, Devon had hit the road again. This time, he was headed for Las Vegas to search for his uncle Pete.

  Devon took the next exit off the interstate and pulled into a truck stop. He took off his helmet and pushed his fingers through his thick brown hair. His legs felt stiff as he hoisted himself off the bike. Yawning deeply, he unzipped his black leather jacket and stretched his ar
ms out wide. He grimaced at the heavy odor of gasoline and exhaust fumes that hung in the air.

  Devon could barely keep his eyes open as he waited for his turn at the gas pumps. He realized the long hours on the road had finally caught up with him.

  After he'd taken care of filling his gas tank, he cruised over to the adjacent motel. A large sign proclaimed it to be The Serenity Rest Stop.

  Devon smirked. Sounds more like a funeral parlor, he thought as he ambled into the motel office. A slight, white-haired woman was sitting behind the front counter, reading a newspaper. She looked up and smiled.

  "Good morning," she said cheerfully. "Looks like that storm they've been predicting might pass us by, don't you think?"

  Feeling much too tired to chat about the weather, Devon dispensed with the pleasantries.

  "I want a room," he responded curtly.

  "Been on the road all night?" she asked.

  Devon pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a credit card. "I want a single, non-smoking if possible." He slapped the card on the glass counter.

  Just then the phone rang. The woman smiled apologetically at Devon as she answered it. "Serenity Rest, one moment please." She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Devon. "Help yourself to coffee," she whispered, pointing to the large urn and insulated paper cups set up on a side table. "I just made it fresh."

  Devon drummed his fingers on the glass counter. He didn't want coffee, and he resented being made to wait. He glanced around the small office, noting the faded gold couch and chair, threadbare brown carpet, and tacky framed prints on the wall.

  At last the clerk ended the call. "Sorry about that," she said. "Now, where were we?"

  "I need a room," Devon stated flatly.

  "Yes, of course." She processed his credit card and handed it back to him along with a registration form and a cheap plastic pen bearing the motel's logo. "How many nights are you planning to stay?" she asked.