Barefoot in the Sand (Barefoot Bay)

by Roxanne St Claire

  She leaned against one of the white columns of the building. “Is this why you’ve kept your name off everything? Won’t sign a contract? Haven’t filed anything formal yet?”

  “I will do all that, but I wanted to convince you first of how right I am for the job.”

  “Why? Why is it so important?”

  “If I complete a full project on this scale, I can sit for my exams, get my licenses, and start my own business.” He gave her a direct gaze, as truthful as what he was telling her.

  “Were you trying to win me over or convince me to hire you by using sex?”

  “No,” he insisted. “That just happened.”

  “Not yet it didn’t.”

  “Whether you believe me or not, my plan was to tell you over dinner, but then they made this decision to have this impromptu meeting and I really didn’t want to give you an excuse to quit. Plus”—he tapped the affidavit rolled in her hand—“I wanted to get some concrete proof that I’m telling the truth.”

  She closed her eyes like he’d hit her, saying nothing.

  “What happened when I left?” he asked.

  “I got on the agenda.” The words were barely a whisper, as soft as the sea breeze that lifted a curl of her hair.

  “I knew you could do it.” He had to fight the urge to touch her. “That’s great, Lacey.”

  She finally opened her eyes, none of the misery gone from their topaz depths. “Why weren’t you straight from day one, Clay? Why didn’t you tell me that this job could make or break your career? Maybe I would have been sympathetic.”

  More regret gnawed at him. Why, indeed? “When we met on the beach, you were so certain I was coming at this through the back door,” he admitted. “I thought it was smart to prove to you what I could do first.”

  “Like last night? What you could do up against a wall?”

  The words punched a hole in his chest. “No, Lacey.”

  “How can I possibly believe you didn’t just use sex to sweeten the deal and make sure I was too far gone to send you packing?”

  He waited a beat, then asked the obvious. “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Too far gone to send me packing?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Excuse me, do either of you know Ms. Lacey Armstrong?” The voice came from the parking lot, making them both turn.

  A man came forward. He was heavyset, and thin gray strands of hair lifted as he hustled toward her. Clay immediately recognized him, mostly by his out-of-place suit, as the person David Fox had been talking to earlier.

  “I’m Lacey Armstrong.”

  His face brightened, already pink and sweaty. “Oh, that’s fortunate.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Ira Howell with Wells Fargo Bank in Fort Myers. Have you presented your plans to rebuild on the Barefoot Bay property?”

  Lacey stole a glance at Clay before answering. “I didn’t present much,” she said. “Why?”

  “Do your plans include building on the Everham and Tomlinson properties adjacent to your lot?”

  She tensed a little, and nodded. “Yes, they do. Why?”

  “You don’t own those properties, ma’am.”

  “I’m in the process of purchasing both lots. I’ve made offers and am waiting for the paperwork.”

  “Not anymore you’re not. My client closed sales this afternoon on both properties. Your plans will have to be scaled back. Or canceled.”

  “The Everham and Tomlinson properties sold? That’s not possible.” Lacey choked softly, stepping back as if the guy had hit her, while a little bell dinged in Clay’s head. “Who bought them?”

  Clay knew, instantly. David Fox had been talking to this guy and, when Clay saw him at the beach, he’d heard Fox use the name Tomlinson on the phone.

  “Can’t say, ma’am, but both neighbors closed this afternoon,” the banker said.

  The bastard had stolen the land right out from under her. Clay was next to Lacey in a flash, his hand on her back.

  “That’s not possible. I haven’t been informed—”

  “I’m informing you now.” He pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. “The owners have asked me to return your deposit on both lots, along with my client’s apologies for the inconvenience.”

  “Who is your client, Mr. Howell?” Clay demanded. As if he didn’t know.

  “The buyer prefers to maintain anonymity.” He handed Lacey the envelope, added a nod good-bye, and headed back to the parking lot, as efficient as a process server.

  “Lacey,” Clay said, gripping her arm. “I know who did this to you.”

  She looked up at him. “Who?”

  “David Fox.”

  She just shook her head. “I can’t believe anything you say anymore.”

  “Well, you better believe this, because I’m right. He had a meeting with Tomlinson at Barefoot Bay. I was there, I heard the conversation, I heard him use the name Tomlinson. And I just saw him talking to this banker guy in the parking lot less than ten minutes ago.” He took her hand, pulling her around the corner to see if he could spot Fox again, but he’d disappeared. “Your ex is the client Howell is protecting. He has the money, the motivation, the need to control you.”

  She held up her hands to stop him, the check in one fist, the affidavit in the other, and an expression of pure distrust on her face. “Please, Clay. Just leave.”

  “Lacey, I heard him say ‘Mr. Tomlinson’ on the phone, and I just saw him talking to Ira Howell. I swear I did, Lacey.”

  “Mommy! Are you out here?”

  Lacey’s face registered a flash of horror. “I want you to leave,” she said in a soft whisper.

  “Leave? The island? No, Lacey, I’m not.”

  “Lace? You out here?” A woman called.

  “Leave!” She gave him a little push. “I need to be with my family.”

  “Meet me at Barefoot Bay tonight, Lacey.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding.”

  “I’m not kidding. And I’m not leaving this island. I’ve never walked away from any challenge, and I’m not about to start with a woman I care about as much as you.”

  “A woman or a job?”

  Both. “Meet me tonight at the beach at Barefoot Bay. We’re not done, Lacey.”

  But the look in her eyes said they were.

  Chapter 21

  Seriously, Lacey? You’re going to believe the accusation of a known criminal over the father of your child? A man who claims to have heard me use a name on the phone twenty feet away?” David lifted his feet onto the ottoman and locked his hands behind his head. “I think you have bigger problems than trying to pin that deal on me.”

  Lacey glanced at the kitchen, where Tessa and Zoe were making food with Ashley, giving Lacey the quiet moment she’d been waiting for since they’d returned from the town hall. Jocelyn had texted that she was going back to the hotel for a “client emergency,” so Tessa and Zoe had returned to the house with Lacey.

  “Clay heard you say his name.”

  “But he didn’t actually see me talking to anyone.”

  “Why would he lie about this?”

  David let out a hearty laugh. “Why wouldn’t he lie is a better question. Lacey, I really hope you have this cougar fantasy out of your head now.”

  Irritation stung at the words. “Well, you’re not a liar, David, and I notice you haven’t directly answered the question. Did you or did you not meet with Mr. Tomlinson at the beach when you ran into Clay?”

  He let out a long, slow, put-upon sigh that sounded so much like Ashley when she was trapped and in trouble. “I did meet with him, that’s true.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought I could help you.”

  “How could meeting with Mr. Tomlinson possibly help me?”

  Another sigh of resignation. “By buying the property for you—”

  “So you did?”

  “—as a gift. To save you the added expense and show you how much I care and wa
nt to be involved in your life and your project.”

  Why did every word that came out of his mouth sound like bullshit? Because so often it was. “If that’s true, then I can buy the property back directly from you.” That might delay things, but at least—

  “No, I didn’t buy it, Lacey, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  Lacey perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know. Tomlinson said he had another rock-solid offer that he simply couldn’t ignore. Of course, I assumed it was you.”

  “Did you ask him who the offer was from?”

  “I did, because I thought I could go to that buyer. But he said it was anonymous through his bank. So I just let it go as a bad idea and decided to look for other ways to convince you that I care.” His face was set in the most sincere expression, his eyes dark with just the right amount of contrition and hope.

  God, he was good. Believable. Direct. In some ways, more real than Clay.

  Forget Clay, Lacey. But that was the problem. She couldn’t forget Clay.

  “Why wouldn’t you talk to me about it? Why wouldn’t you just ask to be an investor? Why go behind my back?”

  “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to show you, and Ashley, that I’m serious about wanting to be a family. Because, Lacey, I am serious.”

  She dropped her head into her hands, grateful that Zoe and Tessa were in the kitchen with Ashley; at least she hoped they weren’t listening to this.

  “I have never lied to you, Lacey.” He stood, the words somehow having far more impact that way.

  “I know,” she conceded. He was a lot of things—adrenaline junkie, absentee father, even a bit of an actor—but she couldn’t remember David lying to her. In fact, when she’d told him she was pregnant he’d been honest in his reaction. She’d hated what he said, but he’d been honest.

  Which was more than she could say for Clay Walker.

  “I tried to tell you. I wanted to.” He took a step forward, looming over her now, making her feel small and helpless. “But you were so preoccupied.”

  “Don’t,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t tell me circumstances stopped you from being straight with me. I’ve had enough of that for one day.”

  “Then you’re over him?”

  “I was never under him,” she said defiantly. “Whether you want to believe that or not, it’s true.”

  “Of course I believe it.” With no warning David was on his knee in front of her, shifting from his power stance to a proposal pose.

  “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and pleading, his gaze soft and so damn credible. “I did not purchase that land. Why would I do that and keep it from you? I don’t want to stop you from building this inn or resort or whatever you want it to be. I want to be part of it with you.”

  “And with me.” Ashley burst in from the kitchen, Zoe practically running behind her.

  “Ashley, I’m trying to have a private conversation with David.”

  “His name is Fox.” Ashley folded herself on the floor right next to David.

  “You know the old joke, Ash,” David said, giving her hair a ruffle. “She can call me anything she wants, as long as she calls me.”

  Ashley giggled and, for a moment, for one suspended, stupid, insane moment, Lacey felt like they were a family. Dad trying to tease a smile out of Mom through an inside joke with Child.

  An ache she didn’t recognize at first welled up inside her. The ache for a real family. A whole family. A happy family. David had stolen that from her with a one-way ticket to Patagonia. But they probably wouldn’t have made it anyway.

  “Mommy, you’re crying!”

  Oh, geez. Was she?

  “Ash, remember what we talked about.” David put a gentle arm on Ashley’s shoulder. “You have to be sensitive to the stress your mom is under.”

  He was giving their daughter life lectures now? Maybe he was trying to be a real family. But it was too little too late. And not what she wanted. What she wanted was…

  Clay.

  “When did you talk about that?” Lacey asked, sounding as wretched and bitter as she felt.

  “When we played chess last night,” Ashley said. “When you went out to dinner.”

  Of course. While Lacey was out on a date with a man who was keeping secrets and trying to talk her into commitment-free sex that they could keep entirely separate from their project, a project he had no right going after.

  Guilt strangled her. She should have been home teaching Ashley life lessons, not flirting and kissing and offering sympathy for his sad, sad story about his father and the ex-girlfriend.

  “Dad and I talk a lot,” Ashley said, pride in her voice as she looked at him. “And I’m really trying to work on my attitude, Daddy.”

  She was clearly possessed by spirits—or the proper parent. The guilt knife cut a fresh wound.

  “The thing is, Mom—and don’t get mad at me for listening—but Dad didn’t try to screw you out of that property and I think he really does want a second chance at love.”

  “Don’t say ‘screw,’ ” David said.

  “Don’t say ‘love,’ ” Lacey shot back.

  On the sofa, Lacey’s phone vibrated softly with a text. “That could be Jocelyn,” she said, picking it up.

  Clay Walker: I’ll wait at Barefoot Bay.

  She couldn’t do anything but close her eyes against the words, feeling a tornado of emotions swirling right down to her toes. A maelstrom of longing and loss, shockingly strong, and remarkably real. Loss? For a man who’d deceived her? Used her?

  But had he? His explanation for not telling her made sense, and he hadn’t used her. He’d taken what she offered. And she’d offered it because there was something about him. Something different. Something extraordinary.

  “Mom?”

  “Lacey?”

  Their voices pulled her back, forcing her attention away to the two people who were right here, asking her to be a family. The family she wanted. One of them she loved more than anyone or anything. Unconditionally. The other she didn’t love, but did he deserve a second chance?

  And yet there was Clay. And all this unresolved feeling whirling around like one of the mini-tornadoes that had ripped her home to shreds. Was he going to do the same thing to her heart?

  Dear God, she had to know.

  “What did Jocelyn say, Lacey?” Tessa and Zoe stood in the kitchen door, so close they’d no doubt heard the whole preceding conversation.

  “Don’t tell me she got on a plane and went back to L.A.,” Zoe said. “ ’Cause she is so dead to me if she did.”

  “It’s not, she’s not…” She shook the lie out of her head before she said it. “That wasn’t Jocelyn.” She slid her finger over the screen and deleted the text, shifting back to Ashley. “Honey, there’s a lot more to this than you are old enough to understand. But…” She staved off the argument with a flat palm. “But I realize how important it is that David and I are friends. I hope you see that we are.” And that’s all we are.

  “Does that mean you guys will stop fighting?”

  “We’re not fighting,” David said quickly, unable to keep the appreciative smile off his face as he reached for Lacey’s hand. “It’s called discussing. Do you believe me now?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Who else would have the money or motivation to step in and buy those parcels out from underneath me?”

  “I don’t know about money, but motivation? I’d start with that skinny bitch who should be named Uncharitable.”

  Ashley giggled.

  “If I find out, will you believe me then?” he asked.

  “I suppose.”

  That seemed to satisfy him. “All right.” He put a fatherly arm around Ashley. “Who’s up for a game of Monopoly?”

  “I am!” Ashley leaped to her feet, sharing a knuckle tap with David.

  “Gonna buy me some Boar
dwalk, baby!” David exclaimed.

  Behind them Zoe stuck her finger in her mouth and fake-gagged.

  “Listen, Lace. Jocelyn’s not answering her cell,” Tessa said, “and she took our rental car. You think you could give us a lift to the hotel?”

  Lacey gave her a grateful smile. “Of course.”

  “They can stay here,” David said. “No need for you to go out so late alone.”

  “Or they can take Grandpa’s van,” Ashley suggested, suddenly the voice of reason and maturity.

  No, Lacey had to get away from this house and talk privately with her friends, even if just for the forty-five minutes it would take to drive to the mainland and back. “Their stuff is at the hotel and, honestly, David, I want to see Jocelyn. I’m worried about her.” None of that was a lie.

  Her phone vibrated again and she ignored it, throwing it into her purse without looking at the screen.

  “It won’t take long,” she promised, giving Ashley a kiss. In her purse she felt the vibration of another text. She didn’t need to look; she knew it was from Clay Walker, the man who always got what he wanted.

  “How long will you be gone?” Ashley asked.

  If she went to the beach to talk to Clay one more time? “An hour or two, tops.”

  Not that she’d even consider something so mind-numbingly dumb.

  “David is relentless,” Tessa said the minute they were alone.

  “I know.” Lacey cranked the AC to full blast and whipped out of the driveway. “Do you believe him? Do either of you believe Clay?”

  Tessa didn’t answer, shifting in the passenger seat to adjust her long, lean frame, and let out a sigh. “I’m the wrong man-hater to ask, I’m afraid.”

  Zoe picked up Lacey’s bag. “Mind if I see if Jocelyn was texting you?”

  “You can look, but I think it was Clay. He wants to meet me at Barefoot Bay.”

  Neither one of them said a word.

  “I’m thinking about going.”

  Still no response.

  “Are either of you going to talk me out of it?”

  Silence.

  “Okay,” Lacey said with a soft laugh. “You’re not advising me because you know that some decisions a person just has to make on her own.”