“Zoe, quiet.”
“These have the most amazing little nodules.” She yanked the box and suddenly the whole top row of the display popped off, hooks and all, sending a shower of condom boxes everywhere.
“Oh, shit!” Zoe shrieked a laugh, hands out, missing more than she caught.
The man kept coming toward them, so Lacey gave Zoe a nudge to start picking up the mess. As she crouched down, Zoe was laughing so hard she lost her balance and tipped onto her backside, letting out a howl as she landed in a sea of condom boxes.
She whipped one out from under her butt holding it up like a prize just as the man walked up behind her. “And the winner is… Kiss of Mint non lubricated, safe for oral—”
“Zoe.”
“—sex with a reservoir tip for heightened—”
“Zoe Tamarin?”
“—male…” The arm waving the box overhead froze, but Zoe didn’t look up. “… sensation.”
“Is that you, Zoe?”
She didn’t move. Not a single muscle so much as twitched on a woman who couldn’t do “still” with a gun to her head.
“I recognized your laugh,” he said.
Dead silent, she put her hand on the floor and started to push up. Instantly, he reached down to help her, and she wrenched her hand out of his, standing on her own.
Lacey was vaguely aware that he was tall and dark-haired, a striking figure with bold features and broad shoulders. But she didn’t do a close inspection because she was more concerned with Zoe, who seemed almost unable to face him.
Zoe, who didn’t know the meaning of shy with strangers and especially not with great-looking men who already knew her name. When she turned, her fair complexion had gone bone pale, her green eyes as flat and dimmed as if someone had reached inside and turned off her switch.
“Hello, Oliver.” And she didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see this man, whoever he was.
“Zoe.” He said her name on a long, soft sigh, breaking into a huge smile, searching her face like a starving man being dragged past a banquet. “What are you doing here?”
She held up the condom box and attempted a funny face. “Stocking up.”
He barely smiled, giving her with a look so intense even Lacey could feel its power. “I mean, in this hotel?”
“Visiting a friend.” She gave him a tight smile and tapped the green Kiss of Mint box on her cheek. “Obviously, a good one.”
“Obviously.”
“Oliver!” The woman he’d come in with called from the front. “I’m ready.”
He held up a single finger to the woman without taking his eyes from Zoe. He looked like he wanted to say something but no matter how deep he dug, the right words eluded him.
“Your wife is waiting,” Zoe said in a voice that was no louder than a whisper.
“Zoe…”
“As I recall, she doesn’t like to wait.”
He closed his eyes like she’d kicked him in the stomach. “It was… I can’t believe—”
“Oliver, I told the limo driver we’d be right there. Hurry, sweetheart.”
“Bye!” Zoe said with completely false brightness, using the condom box to give a stupid little wave.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words so soft Lacey wasn’t sure she heard right. “I’m so sorry.”
Zoe’s brightness flickered for a second, but that wasn’t joy. It was hate. “Go. I have nothing to say to you.”
Without so much as a glance at Lacey he pivoted and returned to the front, where the woman grabbed his arm and nudged him toward the door. “What were you doing back there where they keep the sex toys, you animal?”
Zoe stood transfixed, watching them leave.
“Who was that?” Lacey asked.
Zoe just closed her eyes and collapsed into a heap of fallen condoms, no doubt preparing a punch line she’d deliver with impeccable timing and sarcasm.
Instead, she quietly started to cry.
Chapter 15
Clay only half listened to his sister’s account of her latest dating debacle as he strolled through the waters of Barefoot Bay. His other ear was trained on the road that led to the beach, hoping the sound of Lacey’s little VW would be the next he heard.
“Do I have a loser magnet hanging around my neck, Clay?” Darcie asked. “I mean, is it me or is it just that all men are assholes who only want sex and games, with no strings attached?”
A little guilt tweaked him, but he shoved it away. “It’s all men.”
“Not you.”
Yes, him. Now, anyway. “Just be careful, use protection, and don’t get your hopes up. It’s hell out there.”
“Great advice, oh cynical brother. Aren’t you ever going to get over your heartbreak?”
He snorted. “First of all, I’m honest, not cynical. Second of all, nothing broke except my career. And third, I’m over her, Darcie. I was over it long before the day they got married.”
Darcie was quiet for a minute. “He’s actually been really good with little Elliott.”
“Nice to hear. Change the subject or I’m hanging up.”
He heard her sigh softly. “How’s it going down there? Getting what you want?”
“Working on it,” he said with another glance at the road. “I was right about the job; it could be big. It looks like I’m going to get it from planning to finish, which would be exactly what I need to take to the AIA for certification.” He waited a beat, debating how much to tell her. “The owner’s nice, too.”
“Nice? What do you mean, nice? Like he won’t go looking for references or digging up dirt?”
“I mean nice, like she’s pretty hot and we have good chemistry.”
“Ohhhh.” She dragged the single syllable out to a full chorus of multiple notes. “Well, use protection and don’t get your hopes up.”
“Touché.”
“And be careful, Clay.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get hurt again.” He wasn’t that stupid.
“I mean professionally,” Darcie said. “If Dad finds out—”
“He won’t,” he assured her. “This place is completely remote. I’m not going to file anything official with my name on it that could get on the Internet. Once I finish the job, I’ll claim it with the board and fight for a chance to sit for those exams. No one can stop me if I’ve finished designing and building and have all the personnel here, and the property owner, to support me.”
“Are you going to tell her everything?”
“I actually asked her to dinner tonight for that very reason. I’m going to tell her the whole miserable story.”
Darcie was quiet too long.
“Darcie, can you think of a better way out of this? Dad has tied my hands and threatened to cut them off.”
“No, I think you’re being very smart and strategic, but maybe you should try talking to Dad first.”
“And throw myself at his feet? No, thanks.” He was the prick who moved in on his own son’s girlfriend. And she was the one who—
Let it go, Clay.
“I came up with a way to save my own ass, and Lacey Armstrong is the ticket.”
“Pretty name. What’s she like?” Darcie asked.
“Pretty lady, too. Smart, funny.” There was so much more to Lacey he didn’t even know what to focus on. “Good mother.” Why had he picked that out of the hat?
“She has a kid?” Darcie sounded shocked.
“A daughter, fourteen.” And an ex, but before he could tell that to his sister, he heard the sound of a motor, too loud to be the Passat but definitely coming this way. “Hey, I gotta go, Darcie. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Okay, Clay, but please…”
The motor had his attention, but so did the little note of sadness in his sister’s voice. “Hey, Darce, you’ll find the right guy. Don’t worry.”
“That’s not it. I want you to… maybe think about…”
He knew where this was going. With Darcie, the family
peacemaker, it was always the same. “I’m not going to forgive him, so drop it.”
“Life’s short, Clay.”
“He should have thought about that when he banged my girlfriend. Bye.” He hung up without waiting to hear Darcie’s reply, standing still to identify the engine he heard.
A motorcycle. He made his way up the beach to Lacey’s property, lingering far enough off the road so he could see who it was without being spotted. The rider was helmetless and Clay instantly recognized Lacey’s ex, Fox, perched on an expensive BMW bike.
Fox rolled up to the foundation and cinder-block base of the old house, a good fifty feet away from Clay, shut off the bike, and pulled out a phone. Clay had run here and his truck was parked two miles away, so Fox probably thought he was completely alone. But just as Clay was about to call out to him, Fox spoke into the phone.
“Mr. Tomlinson?” His deep voice carried across the open space, loud, like a man who liked to be heard. “I’m here. Are you on your way?” He was silent for a beat, then, “Well, please hurry. I’d like to get this done as soon as possible.”
He shoved the phone into his pants pocket, taking a minute to survey the property.
Clay cleared his throat, instantly getting Fox’s attention.
“I didn’t see you there,” Fox said, accusation in his voice. “What are you doing out here?”
“Working,” Clay said. “And you?”
“Same.” He walked toward Clay with purpose, his gaze direct, a hand extended when he got close enough. “Good to see you.”
Was it? Clay shook his hand. “Working on what?” Clay asked.
“A surprise for Lacey.” He smiled and slid his hands into the pockets of crisp khaki pants, then took an expansive look around. “Kind of a magical place, don’t you think?”
Once again, something about the guy seemed familiar, or at least he reminded Clay of someone. “Absolutely magical,” Clay agreed.
“I saw some of your sketches and it sure looks like you captured the possibilities of the place.”
She’d shown him the sketches? For some reason that bugged him. “There are plenty of possibilities,” he said vaguely. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful when we’re done.”
The other man snorted softly.
“You don’t agree?” Clay had to ask.
“You obviously don’t know Lacey.” He shook his head, amused. “She’s big on plans. Not so big on finishing things.”
“Maybe she’s changed. I get the impression you’ve been more or less gone most of the last fourteen years.”
“I’ve been gone, but she hasn’t changed.” Fox walked toward the water, gazing out. “But I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt on this idea. And I want to help her.”
Clay said nothing, the sensation that he knew this guy still nagging. “How do you plan to do that?”
A big fat investment? Lacey could use that when it came time to break ground.
Fox just shrugged. “Oh, I’m working on some plans.” He kicked a shell and put his hands on his hips, looking around like he owned the place. And the woman who came with it. “Fact is, Lacey and I have a connection.”
Yep, definitely the woman who came with it. “You have a daughter,” Clay corrected.
“Indeed we do, and that’s a connection in and of itself. But…” He lifted his brows. “We also have a history,” he said. “A long, emotional, passionate history.”
What was his point? Throwing down a gauntlet? Warning Clay off?
“History means it’s over,” Clay said. “Is it?”
“At the moment,” Fox acknowledged. “Is anything going on with you and Lacey?”
Clay refused to react to the bluntness of the question. “We’re working on a building project.”
“Looked to me like you were working on more than that.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.” He turned to face Clay, his expression sheer determination. “I’m putting my broken family back together again.”
Clay just looked at him, a lot of different responses in his head, but all he heard was the echo of his sister’s words. Life’s short.
He wanted Lacey, no question. And he wanted this business. But he sure as hell didn’t want to be in the middle of another broken family.
“Lacey’s a grown woman,” Clay said. “Old enough to decide what she wants.”
“Absolutely,” Fox agreed. “And what she says she wants is this pipe dream.”
Clay laughed softly. “I think it’s a little more than a pipe dream.” It sure as hell better be.
“You do? Well, here’s where my long-term knowledge of Lacey Armstrong and your short-term attraction to her comes into play. As I told you, she’s big on starting, big on planning, big on hoping and dreaming and talking. That’s a large part of what took us apart. She just couldn’t—” He shook his head, a little condescending, a little bemused. “Just wait until the first or second obstacle. She’ll stop cold, give up, and start on her next dream. Believe me, I know her.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know me.”
That earned him a look of surprise. “Maybe I don’t, Clayton.”
“Clay.” God, he hated to be called Clayton.
That’s who he reminded Clay of… his father. The thought made him a little sick.
“And I know what she needs,” Fox said. “And, even more important, I know what Ashley needs.”
“How could you?”
He gave Clay a wry smile. “I take it you don’t have any children.”
“None.”
“And probably don’t want them.”
He didn’t take the bait, but shrugged silently.
“So you cannot even imagine what I feel for that girl, and, by virtue of the way nature works, what I feel for her mother.”
That stopped him cold. He was right, damn it. He couldn’t imagine how this guy felt about a daughter, even one he hadn’t bothered to see for more than a decade.
“More critical,” Fox continued, “you cannot imagine how much Ashley needs to be part of a strong, loving, solid family again.”
Actually, he could. “I’m sure that’s a universal desire,” he said.
“Indeed it is. And you’re getting in the way of it.”
“By helping Lacey build a resort and giving her a way to show Ashley how to go from disaster to a success?” How was that getting in the way?
“So you’ve really bought into Lacey’s fairy tale.”
“Hell yeah, I have. And I’m going to help her realize it.” Wasn’t he? Or was he going to use her to get out of his own professional jam?
“Very noble of you, Clay.”
Okay, maybe not so noble.
“On the other hand,” Fox said, “I’m going to help her make another dream come true and teach Ashley another important lesson. I’m going to be a father to our daughter, a partner to my former lover, and a presence in her life. I can provide her with stability, family, and”—he tilted his head in acknowledgment—“quite a bit of money.”
Holy shit, no wonder the guy reminded him of his old man. He was more like Dad than Dad was. And Clay’d had this conversation once before, and lost.
“And I agree with you.” Fox took a few steps closer, leveling Clay with a cold look. “It will be up to Lacey to decide if she wants stability, family, security, and love or”—he gestured toward Clay—“the thrill of the younger man. Which, I don’t deny, is probably making her feel very girlish and giddy. She certainly sounded giddy with you.”
A car engine on the road denied Clay the chance to reply.
“Ah, there’s the person I’m meeting. Do you mind? I need some privacy.”
Yeah, he minded, a lot. Right now he minded everything. Mostly he minded that he hadn’t been completely straight with Lacey, and before they went one step farther toward the bedroom, he needed to tell her exactly why he was there.
If he lost the job, or a chance with her
, or if that sent her into the arms of this guy, then she wasn’t the right partner for Clay. Partner… of any kind.
Chapter 16
Lacey had assured Clay that he’d never find the place the locals called the SOB, since South of the Border had no sign, no written menu, no bar, no reservations, and very few tables. So they’d agreed to meet in the parking lot of the Super Min and walk to the restaurant.
Problem was, he couldn’t find a damn parking spot. He finally pulled into the lot of the Fourway Motel across the street and, just as he climbed out of his truck, two familiar faces cruised by in a Mustang convertible that slowed down when the driver recognized him.
The G-girls. From behind the wheel, the frosted blonde, Grace, if he remembered correctly, gave him a long, slow once-over. Gloria was in the passenger seat.
“Gotta admit I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” Grace called out, turning down her car radio. “Hate to break the news to you, but this is a private party.”
So what? He couldn’t park in the motel lot? “I’m meeting someone,” he said.
Next to her, the other woman leaned forward, her dark eyes much less predatory than her cousin’s. “Don’t tell me Lacey’s going to be here?”
Okay, he wouldn’t.
“She better not be,” Grace said, all playfulness gone from her voice as she answered before Clay could. “Like I said, private party.”
“I’ll move the truck,” he said, not sure what to make of the woman or what she was implying. “No worries.”
Grace narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not worried about your truck, honey. Believe me.” With that, she hit the accelerator and drove off, disappearing around the corner.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asked out loud.
“That, my friend, is the Wicked Witch of Mimosa Key riding her red broomstick.”
He turned at the sound of Lacey’s voice, and any comeback caught in his throat as he checked her out. And checked her out. Whoa.
She crossed the street, high heels clicking to a rhythm that suddenly matched his heart as he drank in the tight black tank top, short jeans skirt, and some very sexy, strappy sandals with red toes peeking out.
Barefoot in the Sand (Barefoot Bay) Page 14
