by June Bowen
“Sure.”
“Why don’t we get some to go then? We can go back to the Rockrose where I’m staying and have lunch there.” It would be more conducive to the conversation he wanted to have anyway.
“Sounds good to me.”
Kelly wasn’t joking about the absence of sign and menu, but the smells were amazing. His stomach was growling by the time they got back to the Casa Blanca.
“Wow. It’s even more beautiful than I’d heard.” Kelly walked around the one-bedroom villa.
Rafe had to agree. The Rockrose was the smallest of the Casa Blanca lodges, but its woodwork and other amenities more than made up for its size. Featuring its very own pool and set a little apart from the rest of the resort, the added privacy was a definite plus.
He kept the conversation light about Mimosa Key until they were almost finished with lunch. “So, from our last discussion, it sounded like you were definitely going forward with your plan to have a baby on your own.”
“Yes, at least I think so. My sister is just concerned about taking it on by myself.”
“What if you could have a partner?”
Kelly shot him a puzzled look as she finished her enchilada. “You did read all of that email, didn’t you? I’m missing a key ingredient.”
“What if I were to provide that, along with ongoing support?”
Kelly was silent so long he wasn’t sure she’d heard him. Finally, she responded. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I have no doubt you know from office gossip that I intend to never marry.”
“Surely if the right woman came along?”
“No. I wouldn’t even want to chance it. But I do want an heir. Someone to pass on my fortune to and, perhaps, any wisdom I’ve picked up over the years.”
“Why did you choose me?”
“I’ve worked with you long enough to get to know you and watch how you treat other people. I think you’ll make a phenomenal mother. You’re highly intelligent and, despite the blindness of the town’s people, you’re attractive in your own way.”
“I don’t know…”
“Take some time to think it over. You’d take the risk out of using a donor. Your child would not only know who his or her father is, but have an ongoing relationship with him. I’m prepared to cover everything financially. If you want to continue working, that’s fine, or if you want to devote yourself to raising the child, that’s fine, too. It would be your choice.”
“But I live back here now.”
“You could continue to do so. I can build a house here. You can raise the child, or children, in it. I could build a guest quarters like this,” he gestured to the room, “out back to stay when I come to town. I could split my time between Tampa and here. You’ve seen for yourself how easy it is to telecommute.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve dropped a lot on you. Take some time to think it over and let’s talk again.” Rafe could tell he planted a seed but the deal wasn’t closed. At least not yet. But it would be.
* * *
Kelly drove aimlessly, trying to make sense of what just happened. Janie had been right after all. Rafe did have an agenda of his own. Here was an opportunity to have a child by the man who’d captured her heart. But did she want to be forever linked with a man she was trying her best to forget? How much heartbreak would it be to have a front row seat in his life but to never join him on stage? No. She didn’t think she could. But was it fair to a child for them to know only basic health information about their father but no personal history? No family genealogy?
More confused than ever, Kelly went back to Hibiscus Court. When she got to her door, she noticed Janie’s package had arrived. Could it be a new heart? She was in need of one about now.
Chapter Four
Hooker shoes.
Kelly stared at the shoes in the just-opened box on her bed, then at the note in her hand.
It simply read Live a little, Love Sis.
Her sister, the one who knew her better than anyone on the planet, had sent her sin-red sling-back shoes with 3 ½-inch stiletto heels.
Hooker shoes.
Kelly now understood why women in the world’s oldest profession earned their incomes on their backs. Who could stand in those shoes for more than five minutes?
She picked them up and placed them in an open space on her shoe rack.
They certainly made a statement. The red shoes shouted out amongst the low-heeled spectator pumps that came in shades of navy, brown, and black. Even her sedate silver sandals couldn’t compete. The white tennis shoes weren’t even in the running.
Hooker shoes.
Sitting there, they seemed to call out to her. You know you want to, they seemed to say.
It feels so good to be bad, they taunted.
Come on, girl. Live a little.
What would it hurt to try them on? Maybe they wouldn’t fit. That would give her an excuse to send them back. She had been thinking about buying a pair of boots in the fall. Judging by the designer name, these would surely pay for the pair she had selected.
She slipped off her Keds and reached for the shoes.
As she went to put them on, she realized she should wear some type of socks or hosiery since she intended to return them.
She went to her lingerie drawer and found the limited choices. Since she worked from home, she never wore hose anymore.
White athletic socks stared up at her. They wouldn’t do. Back in the very far corner of the drawer, she found a pair of thigh-highs she’d purchased by accident. Fearing the stockings would head south while she was walking east and west, she’d never worn them.
Thigh-high panty hose were perfect for hooker shoes.
She slipped off her shorts and stuck her toes in the opening of the hose and rolled them up her foot, over her calves, and up her thighs. The experience felt like a caress instead of the normal war she went through with her regular brand.
After repeating the process on her other leg, she slipped on the shoes.
They fit.
Perfectly.
On a woman who normally shopped for shoes from a catalog with the slogan “we can fit any human.”
She walked to the full-length mirror that made up the back of her closet door.
Walked?
No, she slinked over. There was definite slinkage.
Something about the high heels made the natural sway of her hips more pronounced. Her rear end stuck out a little more. While that sounded like a negative, the reflection said otherwise.
The picture she presented was of two women. Above the thighs, she looked like a nun might before she put on her habit. The white cotton briefs shouted don’t touch. The white minimizer bra under her T-shirt downplayed her assets.
Below the thighs was another story.
The bottom half said hooker. A very expensive, very good in a very bad way, hooker.
A thousand dollars an hour.
At least.
She was keeping the shoes.
* * *
By the time she got out of bed early on Saturday, Kelly had a plan. After one phone call, the plan was in action. She dressed and chose a shopping bag in which she placed the shoes, carefully wrapped and boxed, of course.
After a two-hour drive, Kelly found herself ringing the buzzer at the back entrance of South Beach’s hottest new nightspot, The Peacock Club. It was a favorite of tourists and locals alike.
After a few minutes, a Fabio look-alike opened the door.
“This way,” he motioned to the elevator. The look came complete with a dubious accent.
After a brief ride, the doors opened to reveal a luxury apartment, complete with a luxury view.
“Now what is so important that you have me up at this ungodly hour?”
Kelly was immediately enveloped in a gentle hug and received air kisses on each side of her face. She pulled back and stared. Even though she had known what her old friend from high school was up to, that knowledge hadn’t
prepared her for the sight that greeted her.
“Bernie? Bernard Ledbetter?”
“Bernie? Bernie is gone. Long live Bernice Ledew!” Her friend stepped back and struck a pose that would have made Marilyn Monroe proud. Heck, now that she thought of it, Kelly noticed quite a resemblance.
Her friend, the one that she had protected from the bullies, was now a world-class female impersonator.
Kelly knew that she had come to the right place. If Bernie could transform himself into the diva standing before her, he had to be able to work miracles with Kelly.
“Wow!”
“You got that right, sweet thing. Now what was so urgent that you had to see me right away?”
“I need your help. I figured that if you could do so much with what little you’d been given,” Kelly gestured to Bernie’s figure, “that you could make me over to fit these.”
Kelly carefully pulled out the box and unwrapped one of the shoes.
“Oh.” Bernie reached out to touch the shoe. It seemed to beckon him, just like they had Kelly.
“Mine.” Kelly clutched the shoe to her chest protectively.
Bernie studied the shoe, then eyed Kelly up and down. “How long do I have?”
“I have to be back at 7:00 tonight. I want to be fully decked out for a charity ball back at Barefoot Bay.”
Bernie put his perfectly manicured hand to his forehead, as if to summon up the power.
“Done, but I’ll need reinforcements.” He bent down, picked up a phone, and punched out a number.
“Pheebs? This is Bernice. I have a fashion emergency down at the club. Call Sasha and Shelly. We’re going to make the fairy godmother and the mice look like hacks.” Bernie replaced the phone and placed an arm around Kelly and patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry about a thing, dear. By this evening, those shoes will look like they were made for you. Just trust Auntie Bernice.”
Strangely enough, Kelly did.
Chapter Five
Rafe looked over the growing crowd at the No Kidding charity event. So far, Kelly had failed to show.
“You must be Rafael Martinez.”
Rafe turned to look at the attractive brunette. “Guilty as charged.”
“I’m Frankie Becker. I wanted to thank you for your donation. We’ll be able to do a lot of good with it.”
“It sounds like a great cause.”
“How did you hear about us? Was it from the Tampa Area Junior League? They’ve sponsored and supported a number of our fundraisers. In fact, quite of few of them came down for this one.”
That didn’t sound good. He’d dated a number of them who thought they could convince him to settle down. He needed to find Kelly and find her fast. “No, actually, it was from Kelly Edwards. She—”
“Would you look at that?”
Rafe turned to see what had caught Frankie’s attention.
Or rather who.
Standing just inside the entrance was a woman who quite literally took his breath away. Or something that totally deprived his brain of oxygen. She was dressed in a red strapless gown that displayed an unbelievable amount of creamy breast and hugged hips reminiscent of the World War II pinup days. A slit up one side exposed a mile of long leg. With her feet encased in red heels, she was the absolute embodiment of female sexuality.
“Is that our little Kelly all grown up?”
“No,” came Rafe’s automatic reply. But when his gaze made it back up above those delicious breasts, he found that he was wrong. It most certainly was. Wow. The townspeople weren’t the only ones who’d underestimated her appeal. Remembering the slights to her looks, Rafe’s chest tightened with pride. Kelly could hold her own to anyone. He looked around to gauge the reaction of the crowd. More than one slack-jawed stare greeted him. Others hadn’t been immobilized by her appearance. Several men were already making tracks for Kelly with a predatory gleam in their eyes.
Oh, hell no. The sharks were moving in. “Thank you for inviting me tonight. If you’ll excuse me, Frankie, I need to thank Kelly as well for making me aware of the charity.” Determined to protect her, Rafe struck out in her direction.
“Rafael Martinez, there you are. You are not getting away from me so quickly now that I found you.”
A hand on his elbow stopped Rafe. He turned, swallowing a groan as he recognized the tenacious Tampa Area Junior Leaguer he’d dated last fall. Just as he’d feared, his past had caught up with him and, if the grip on his arm was anything to go on, Gracie Jones wasn’t prepared to let him go anytime soon.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for some time but I’ve never been able to get past that bulldog you call an assistant.” Gracie looked like she was trying to frown, but somehow her face wasn’t cooperating. Botox. It had to be.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw a prominent businessman with quite a reputation as a hound talking to Kelly.
“Gracie, can I get back to you? I need to speak with Kelly and she just walked in.” Rafe tried to pull away, but, to his dismay, Gracie’s grip was so tight and her heels planted so firmly that she started to slide on the dance floor.
“You can speak to Kelly anytime. The band sounds like it is starting up. Come on.”
He allowed himself to be pulled on the dance floor as the band cranked out a jazzy swing tune. While he moved Gracie around the dance floor, he offered up thanks to God that men got to lead. He used it to his advantage and kept an eye on Kelly as much as possible. Unfortunately, his quick and odd movements tripped Gracie several times. Oh, well. Maybe she would avoid dancing with him again.
As the song ended, Rafe extricated himself from Gracie with a vague promise of another possible dance. He once again set out for Kelly.
“Rafe. I want a word with you.”
Wanting to ignore the strident voice but unable to summon up enough rudeness, Rafe turned.
“Hi, Babs. How are you?”
“Getting mighty tired of my baby sister mooning over you.”
Yes, he was in hell. Every Junior Leaguer he’d ever dated and dumped had apparently shown up tonight, and they were all gunning for him.
* * *
Kelly couldn’t believe all the attention she was getting. Men who were only passing acquaintances now seemed to have a burning desire to learn what she did for fun, whether or not she loved boating, and if she had plans after the event.
At first she was extremely flattered. Then a little overwhelmed. Now, a slow simmer had started to work. She was the same person today as she had been on Friday, damn it. Only now she was in an unbelievably gorgeous dress and to-die-for shoes. But inside, she hadn’t changed. Did she really want to get involved with someone who was only interested in how she looked?
The fact that Rafe seemed to be dancing his way through all the women in attendance didn’t make her feel any better. He hadn’t even spoken to her yet.
It was indeed time to let him go in her heart. It wasn’t going to happen. She could wait the rest of her life and still have no family to love if she waited on him. While the men buzzing around her might be coming to the party late, at least they were showing interest now.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I believe this dance is mine.”
Elliot Becker, co-founder of No Kidding, pulled her out of her reverie with his statement. She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor as a slow song started.
“Frankie thought you could use some rescuing. The dress isn’t in any danger of falling lower, is it?” The twinkle in Elliot’s eye told her he was teasing.
“Although it may not look like it, this dress is firmly attached. Someone who knows exactly what he’s doing arranged it.”
“He?”
“It’s rather hard to explain Bernie. If I wanted to learn to play tennis, I’d call Serena Williams. If I wanted to look like a diva, I’d call Bernie.”
“Well, he certainly kept up his end of the bargain. Now that all the fish are biting, what do you intend to do with them?”
“Go through them lo
oking for a keeper.”
“Who are you going to start with?”
“I don’t know. Any suggestions?”
Kelly watched as Elliot scanned the room. Then his gaze came to a stop. “How about that guy?”
Kelly immediately tripped over her own feet. He nodded to Rafe.
“He happens to be my boss and a confirmed bachelor. He wouldn’t be interested. Trust me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Although he’s dancing with other women, his gaze continues to follow you around.”
“I think you’re seeing things but, if I’m wrong, it’s because of a business proposition.”
“Business? I don’t think so. More like getting busy.”
Kelly couldn’t help but laugh at the outrageous statement. “You’re funny. Besides, falling for Rafe is a sure bet to a broken heart. Just ask them.” Kelly nodded to the women surrounding the topic of discussion.
“Maybe you ought to go rescue him.”
“While I would like to let him suffer a bit more, I do need to give him a response on a proposal. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Elliot moved her to the edge of the dancers. “But do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” Kelly asked. She didn’t know what on earth she could do for Elliot.
“Keep an open mind.”
Kelly gave him a sad smile. If he only knew. “I’ll try.” It was the best she could promise.
As Kelly drew closer to Rafe, she could see the frustration in his expression. Maybe he was the one that needed rescuing after all. “Excuse me, ladies, I need to speak with Mr. Martinez a minute. You can have him back in a few.” If looks could cut, she would have been in shreds, but amazingly no one stopped her.
“I owe you big time.”
“We’ll see if you still think that after I turn you back over. This is just a reprieve, not a rescue.”
“So, how does it feel to be the belle of the ball?” Rafe’s expression smacked oddly of pride.
“Good. And oddly frustrating at the same time. I’m still me, just in different packaging.”
“That makes sense.”
“But it has shown me that Janie was right. I have sold myself short. I need to put more effort into finding a mate. For that reason, I’m going to pass on your offer. I do realize the compliment in seeing me as someone you’d trust to raise your child.”
