So, the little beauty had kissed him brainless because he was leaving. No harm, no foul. Usually that particular shoe fit on his own foot.
He scooped scrambled eggs from the bowl Frank passed over and stabbed a slab of ham from the plate in front of him. Apparently, the board half of his pay would be more than acceptable. He added a couple slices of toast from the stack on a plate within reach.
Everybody ate quietly for a few minutes. Casey kept her head down. From anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell.
Just to break the silence, he said, “Good breakfast.”
“We take turns,” Frank cheerfully announced. “Your turn will come tomorrow since Casey’s still recuperating.”
Casey’s head shot up at that, followed by the expected wince at her swift movement. “I’m fine. I’m going to work today.”
Aidan’s mind was still stuck on the announcement he had to take a turn making breakfast tomorrow. He didn’t make breakfast. He ate breakfast. Prepared by his ancient housekeeper, Mrs. Butterfield, or whatever hotel he was staying at that morning.
“No, you’re not,” Frank bellowed at his niece and promptly softened his voice at her second wince. “Doc said you can’t drive the boat, so you can’t work.”
What the heck? Had Frank changed his mind? Last night, he had informed Aidan he’d be driving the boat while Casey narrated the tour. No way would Aidan open his mouth to argue either, after his “Good breakfast” comment got him on permanent breakfast rotation.
“I have to go,” she insisted.
“No, you don’t. You have to get better.”
“I’m fine.” Now Casey bellowed and her face scrunched up in pain. “We can’t afford to scrub the tours. We need the money.”
Aidan kept his eyes on his plate, embarrassed to be witnessing and intruding on this family altercation, although the two combatants completely ignored him.
“We’ll make it up some other way,” Frank said quite reasonably.
Aidan felt sure he watched a master at work here and would bet no one else could play Casey without her knowing.
“There is no other way,” she argued.
If Frank didn’t fight back the smug expression Aidan could see creeping onto his face, he’d blow his cover and lose all leverage in this deal.
“Stop yelling, Casey. You’ll make your concussion worse, and I’ll call Doc back over. It’s time you went back to bed.” Her uncle scooted back his chair.
“I’m not going back to bed. I’m not tired. I can sit up just fine without exerting myself. No need to bother calling Doc.”
“If you’re fine just sitting, then we’ll be going. Aidan and I have work to do.”
Frank rose to his feet, and Aidan stood when he did. As though just now realizing he was still there, Casey stared at him. He could see the wheels turning in her head and smiled. She didn’t.
“He can go,” she told Frank.
Frank—God bless him—played dumb. And very well.
“He who? Go where?”
Slick. If she has to explain, she owns the idea. A marketing ploy Aidan had often used himself.
“Aidan! That’s who,” she blustered, growing impatient.
“Yeah, he’s going with me to the golf course to work off his bail.”
Her determined gaze flicked to Aidan for a beat then swung to Frank. “No, he’s going to the boat.”
“Why? Did he forget something?”
“No. He’s taking me to the boat. He can drive for the tour, and I’ll just sit and narrate, so we won’t lose the income.”
Aidan worried that Frank’s bewildered look was overkill, and Casey might catch on.
“I can sit on the boat as well as here,” she obviously felt the need to explain. “He can drive the boat but can’t narrate. I can’t drive, but I’m the only one who knows the tour spiel. So, Aidan goes with me.”
“I don’t know,” Frank drawled out and rubbed his chin in thought. “Maybe I ought to check with Doc first.”
“Don’t you dare. I’ll be fine. Besides, I have to get checked out this afternoon anyway. If Doc says I’m fine, then no harm done.”
“I suppose,” her uncle agreed grudgingly. “As long as you just sit and talk into the mic. No selling water and snacks or working on the boat.”
She grinned in triumph. “I won’t. You go on, Uncle Frank. Aidan can drive my Jeep.”
Frank turned for the kitchen and winked at Aidan. “What do you say?”
Caught flat-footed, Aidan fumbled, “Uh, sure. Whatever. But I need to pick up my boat part this morning and drive it out to my ship. I’ll do that first and come back for Casey.”
“I’ll come with you,” she offered.
“No!” Aidan blurted too loud, and both eyed him suspiciously.
No way did he want Casey on his yacht. Too great a chance of figuring out his . . . what? His what? His game? His jig?
“Why can’t she come with you?” Frank asked, watching his eyes.
“The trip’s too long and rough. I’ll have to go fast to get out and back. It’ll shake her up too much.”
“The news just forecast calm seas this morning,” Casey argued, and Frank nodded.
“Yeah, but that trip combined with the boat tour will be too much for you.”
“No, it won’t. And there’s not enough time to come all the way back for me.”
“She’s right,” Frank agreed.
“Yes, but—”
“You don’t want me along, is that it?”
“Not at all. I was just worried.” He had the distinct impression neither one of them believed him. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“Just give me ten minutes,” Casey said and disappeared down the hall.
“You handled her well,” Aidan told Frank. “I figure there’s an important lesson here. For me.”
“Exactly. And you fumbled the ball there at the end.” Frank laughed, all wariness gone. “Y’all come over to the course when the tour’s over. Casey will show you what needs to be done.”
Frank was gone before he could argue. No one ever ordered Aidan Cross around except his father, and Aidan ignored him. Being on the receiving end of such bossiness didn’t exactly sit well, but he’d gotten himself into this mess, and he would see it through. One thing was for sure. Life had definitely gotten more exciting.
He hurried downstairs to grab his windbreaker and call Ian. He’d texted the big Scot the night before and told him only that he’d been bailed out, and he would bring the part out to Joe in the morning.
Ian answered on the first ring. “It’s a lass, isn’t it? The whole mess started with a lass.”
“More or less.”
“So, tell me what happened.”
Aidan gave him the three-sentence version. “Look, I only have a couple minutes. Casey is on her way down. I’m going to pick up the part, and we will drive it out to you.”
“So, I’ll get to meet this dangerous lassie.”
“Not if I can help it, but I told her you were the yacht owner and my boss, Ian MacVicar, not my friend Ian.”
He heard the big Scot’s sigh. “And who are ye? Just so I know.”
“I’m Aidan Crosse—C.R.O.S.S.E.—your yacht crewman for the last few years. I just crew for you or your guests and play golf when the yacht is in port. Got it? Oh, and you have agreed to let me stay in Cypress Key for a while.”
“Just like Garrett.”
“No, not like Garrett. I didn’t change my name.”
“So, the wee e on yer name is just along for the ride?”
“Right.”
Ian mumbled something that sounded like, “Exactly like Garrett,” but he said clearly, “How long is a while?”
“A while. I don’t k
now. You were getting off in Tampa day after tomorrow anyway to catch a flight back to Scotland, remember? You were leaving me.”
“I remember. So, why are ye staying?”
“I, um . . .” Aidan let out a hard exhale. “I have to work off my bail.”
Several moments of silence followed.
“Did I just hear ye say work off my bail?”
“Yes.”
Aidan hung up rather than suffer any more of the big Highlander’s laughter.
Chapter 5
After giving Aidan directions through town to Riley’s Marine Service to collect his ignition controller, Casey fell silent and stared out the passenger window. Him going along on the boat tour may have been her idea—or so she had been led to believe—but she didn’t have to like the idea. Aidan suspected she also suffered a huge dose of embarrassment over the passionate kiss she had allowed herself, thinking her rescuer would be gone in the morning.
He knew all about the just-one-night type of passion. Had experienced it a few times himself, where he let his inner sensual animal determine the level of passion since there were no consequences. He couldn’t help but wonder if Casey’s passionate side always made love as though there were no consequences, but he had better let sleeping dogs lie.
Instincts told Aidan he would be safer that way. If he knew more about the freckled beauty, then he would care more, and that would not be a good idea. In the last eighteen hours, he had learned enough about Casey—and her uncle—to know this was not a woman to be dallied with. Any hookup with her would be all or nothing, like everything else in her life.
Regardless, he wanted to break the weighty, awkward silence in the Jeep. “Tell me about this PJ who roared into the marina yesterday. Obviously, you two know each other.”
“What do you mean obviously?” She kept her gaze out the window.
“He screamed at me once I pulled you out of the water and onto the dock. Told me not to touch you.”
That did make her turn. She gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “He did?”
Aidan stopped at one of only a handful of downtown traffic lights when the light blinked yellow, then red. “Yeah. Right before I booted his ass into the drink.”
Her lips twitched as she stared at him, and then a slow smile spread across her face. Aidan was again dumbstruck by her beauty. He wanted to bring that smile back as often as possible. She turned back to the window and broke the spell. No matter. The light turned green.
“So, what about the PJ jerk?”
She waited so long to answer, he gave up hope.
“He and I have a . . . history.”
There was a definite flatness to her tone, as though some emotion lay buried beneath the story.
“Good history or bad history?”
“Past history, so it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” Aidan said.
Her head swung around to stare, but he kept his eyes on the road. “He knew exactly what he was doing speeding into the marina. He intended to knock boats around, and your blond hair is visible from a long way off.”
She heaved a resigned sigh. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Did you break his heart?” That could easily explain the jerk’s testosterone display.
“No!” she exclaimed.
The relief her vehement response triggered in him threw him for a loop. He was leaving for crying out loud. He would never see her again. Why should he care if she had a history with the obnoxious caveman?
“Then what?” He could feel her eyes run over him, but dammit he had to know.
“I’ll explain, but only because you shoved him into the water. I’m sorry I missed that.”
He glanced over, saw a bright smile, and relaxed.
“PJ asked me to the senior prom and then stood me up.” She rattled off the explanation as though the words tasted bad.
Nor did that make any sense. “Then you should be mad, not him.”
That was a crappy thing to do, even for a jerk like PJ. Girls got all dolled up for prom—hair fixed, new dress, nails done. Aidan wished for the second time he’d slugged the guy instead of giving him a good soaking. Maybe Casey had slugged PJ, and that’s why the guy carried a grudge.
“What did you do?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Aidan saw her chin come up. No, Casey Stuart wouldn’t take that sitting down.
“I went to the prom anyway. Uncle Frank talked me into going.”
“Good for him. So, what happened?”
She ignored him and pointed up the street. “Riley’s is on the left after the four-way stop.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“I told you what happened. Let it go.”
A large steel building with a Riley’s Marine Service sign posted on the side appeared on Aidan’s left, and he steered into an open space out front.
“I just want to get to know you.”
“No!” She turned sideways in her seat. “You’re only here until you pay off your bail, and then you’ll leave.”
“You don’t know that.”
Why the hell had he said that? He was leaving. This girl had gotten into his head. Heck, he just met her.
“Yeah, I do. Handsome guys are about as trustworthy as sharks. I don’t get to know you, and you don’t get to know me.”
“So . . . you think I’m handsome?”
Casey rolled her eyes. “That’s all you got out of what I said?”
“Pretty much. It was the part I liked the best.” He grinned. “But I still want to know what happened.”
She gave him a one-handed shove. “Go get your part. We have to hurry if we’re going out to your ship before my ten-thirty tour.”
Laughing, Aidan exited the Jeep and headed for the open repair bays at the end of the building. Riley’s was an enormous metal structure with a large combination office-and-supply room on one end and the rest of the building an open space with an indoor crane and hoist for working on boat hulls. This Aidan already knew from his visit the night before with Frank.
A handful of parking spaces for visitors lined the street side of the building, and a large fenced-in parking area fronted the marina on the other side, though Riley’s building was at the opposite end from Casey’s boat slip. A triple-wide boat ramp was situated on the far end of Riley’s shop. The marina seemed a bit oversized for the small town, but dozens of opulent pleasure craft resided in slips, no doubt owned by wealthy folks from Ocala or Gainesville who rarely took their craft out on the water. Pleasure boats were status symbols and the boon of large marinas everywhere on the Florida coast. Most of the vessels just sat, had their dockage fee paid, and never left their slips.
Aidan rounded the corner and had to step around a gold Cadillac parked right at the largest bay entrance. Business must be good for Riley. The interior of the building looked deserted at present, neither Riley nor his assistant Donnie—whom Aidan had met last night—were anywhere in sight. Walking toward the office at the building’s other end, he heard voices raised in argument and slowed to a stop outside the open door, not wanting to barge into anything personal between Riley and his assistant.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Archer?” Riley’s voice sounded from the shadowed interior.
So . . . not Donnie, but the mayor. Aidan debated whether to go back to the Jeep to wait when the next words stopped him.
“Don’t be a damn fool.”
“I don’t want your loan,” Riley insisted. “I’m getting a loan from Seashore Bank & Trust.”
“Well now, that’s another reason you should accept my kind offer to loan you expansion money.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The bank turned down your loan application,” said the
mayor.
Even through the doorway, Aidan could hear the smugness in Archer’s tone.
“How do you know that? I just talked to my loan officer, Jerry Sanders, and he said he didn’t think there’d be any obstacles,” Riley argued.
“When was that?”
“Yesterday.”
“This morning George Fisher told Sanders your loan was too big a risk. Sanders will call you later with the news.”
“You bastard!” Riley growled. “You got your patsy bank president to turn down my loan.”
Archer didn’t deny the accusation. “So, you see? You should accept my offer of a loan.”
“The hell I will. Your offer is no loan. It’s extortion. Thievery!”
“Calm down and you’ll see the value in my offer,” Bartow said, unmoved by the accusations. “Together we can expand and bring in marine business from outside the county. Why I can get you on a repair service loop for boaters that tour the coast.”
“You’re nothing but a thief, Bartow.”
Aidan wished he’d gone back to the Jeep. This discussion had turned ugly fast.
A metal tool scraped across the floor behind him, and he jerked around. A bottle-blonde eyed him from a few feet away. Maybe mid-forties, but pretty in a hard, been-there-done-that sort of way.
“Eavesdropping?” Her husky voice could be practiced or cigarettes, and Aidan hated that he’d been caught listening.
“No, I was just leaving,” he said, moving past her.
“Wait.” She latched on to his arm.
He stared at her hand until Blondie let go. “I came to pick up my boat part and heard Mr. Riley in a meeting, so I’ll come back later.”
Blondie stuck out a hand. “I’m Evelyn Bartow and you are?”
He gave her hand of well-manicured nails a quick shake. “Name’s Aidan.”
“Aidan?”
Her hazel eyes stared into his—glittered actually—and he realized her eyes gave her that hard look. Few wrinkles or crow’s feet marred her complexion. She must have been a stunner twenty years ago.
PAR FOR CINDERELLA Page 6
