PARADISE COVE - 3 BOOK SET: PARADISE COVE SERIES

by Patrice Wilton

  “Good morning.” He spoke in a soft, southern drawl.

  “Good morning to you,” Brittany answered cheerfully. “I’ll be with you in a sec.” She placed Shauna in the swing that was set up in the corner. The baby fussed a little, but Brit gave her a binkie and that settled her down.

  Turning around, the smile left her face. “May I help you?” He was too slick to be a fisherman looking for a room. Probably a tourist needing directions. “Key West is about another hour and a half down the road. Keep heading south and you’ll end up in Cuba.”

  “I’m not lost.” He didn’t crack a smile. “The sign out front says Vacancies?”

  “Will you be staying one night or two?” she asked politely. Tall, she noted. Slim. He wore tan linen pants and a light blue collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing a Rolex that caught the sunlight and flashed on his wrist. He looked elegant, sophisticated, and out-of-place in the Florida Keys, and in particular, Paradise Cove. Slicked back light brown hair, Armani designer glasses, Gucci loafers. Definitely not the normal baggy shorts and tees attire the guys sported around here.

  “I was hoping for something longer. Perhaps a month, maybe two.”

  He wanted to stay here? “Of course! We have individual cottages.” She smiled, thinking how Kayla’s husband had entered their lives. Grieving after the tragic death of his daughter, and his failed marriage, he’d come for an extended stay to hide from his pain but had fallen in love with her sister. Romance bloomed in Paradise Cove.

  “Are you a doctor?” Brittany asked, warming up to him. Perhaps he was a new hire at Mount Sinai and needed a place to stay until he found a nice home to buy. Sean had probably recommended their cottages, having an invested interest now.

  “No. Why do you ask?” He removed his sunglasses, and his startling green eyes slid over her slowly.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Wowzers! This guy was hot. “Well, uh, because the last person who wanted to stay here for that length of time was a doctor from Boston.” She knew she sounded foolish, but rushed on. “You don’t look like a fisherman, and that’s mostly what we get. This area is known for being the sport fishing capital of the world. It’s our claim to fame.”

  “Well, I’m not here to fish.”

  “Didn’t think you were. So what are you here for?” Her eyes appraised him as his had her. “You look a little,” she searched for the right word, “refined for our efficiency cottages. You want to take a look before you decide?”

  “No. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I don’t want daily maid service, or a lot of interruptions.” He pointed back at his car. Brittany’s gaze followed his long finger toward a silver Lexus sedan with the windows cracked open, and a dog’s head sticking out. “I have a dog. Is that a problem?”

  “No. Not at all.” The brown and white dog had his tongue hanging out and his little white paws were clinging to the window. “He’s cute.” She had never owned a dog, but liked them. “We better get you moved inside. This summer heat is brutal.”

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Here’s my license and credit card.”

  “Thank you.” She slid a registration form toward him and handed him a pen. “So if you’re not a doctor, what do you do?”

  Busy writing, he ignored her question. She studied him, curious why a man of means with a whole world to choose from, would pick a sports fishing mecca if he didn’t fish. She cleared her throat to get his attention. When he lifted his head she snapped her fingers.

  “Got it! Are you an appraiser, here to scout out our place?” Her voice rose with excitement. “I bet you’re searching for some prime waterfront to put up a big fancy hotel. That’s it, right? We do have a lot of property, I know. But it’s not for sale.” She tapped her long painted fingernails on the counter top, wondering how much money they’d be talking about. Probably multi-millions. Not that they would sell, of course not, but it was worth a moment’s fantasy.

  He shook his head, and went back to completing the form with an amused smirk on his face.

  “I’m not that attached to the place,” she told him. “Hand me a super big check and I’m out of here. You know what I mean? But my mother and sisters? No way. They’d need a lot of persuasion.”

  “I’m an ad man. Not here to buy your place out from under you.” He pushed the completed form back to her, raised his head and smiled, flashing two dimples next to the corner of his mouth. His attractive meter jumped several notches. The guy was cute. Very cute.

  She discreetly arched her back, aware of his assessing gaze on the Paradise Cove logo above her left breast. The snug hot pink tee fit like a second skin. “Oh! Like Madmen? The TV series?”

  His emerald eyes glittered. “Just like that. Minus the infidelities and smoking.”

  “That’s good, because we don’t allow infidelities.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended. “No smoking in our cabins. Or in the cafe either. The restaurant is my sister’s baby, and Taylor is very strict.”

  He gestured toward Shauna who had fallen asleep. The baby was slumped over, the pink binkie stuck on her cheek. “And that little angel? She doesn’t look like you.”

  “No. I’m a whole lot taller and my hair is darker. Thicker too,” she teased. “That’s my sister Kayla’s baby. The doctor I mentioned? They got married and Shauna looks like her daddy.” She scanned the form. “So what’s an ad man doing here for two months? Shooting some commercials?”

  “No, ma’am.” She noticed his long, lush lashes as he scrutinized her face. “Took a leave of absence to get away and clear my head. Hit the beach—I’ve missed that, living in the city.” He shrugged. “Figured this would be a good place to write. Worked for Hemmingway.”

  “Oh! You write novels? I don’t read much myself.” She grabbed a key to one of their better cottages. Serenity. “Except fitness magazines, and People. I like the Hollywood scoops.”

  “I’m a playwright. Or was. Hope to be again.”

  “What have you written? Anything on Broadway?” She jiggled from one foot to the other, unable to stand still. “I love musicals. I was in a few, back in the day. You know. High school productions.”

  “I can see that.” He tilted his head and then nodded. “Bet you were the lead.”

  “Sometimes.” She didn’t have the acting bug like her mother, preferring dance. Brit flipped back her heavy waist-length hair, searching the desk for a hair tie to get it off her neck. The air conditioning in the office couldn’t always keep up with the summer heat. “So, what was your play about? What’s it called?”

  “Dangerous Liaisons. It was an off-Broadway show. You probably never heard of it.” He strummed his fingers along the counter as if embarrassed. “It was a few years ago.”

  “Nope, but it sounds interesting. Sexy.”

  “If you find murder sexy.” A dimple flashed.

  “You murder people?” She said it half-jokingly, wondering if she could pull up his play on the Internet. “You don’t look like the dark and dangerous type.”

  “Neither was Ted Bundy.” He leaned against the counter. “I’m working on something a little more lighthearted at the moment.”

  “Good.” She glanced at the panting dog with his head out the window, and knew she had to hurry this along. Plenty of time to get to know the handsome stranger in the long, lazy days ahead. “Well, I hope you find the cabin to your liking. Doesn’t get busy until mid-October. You’ve got a good month or two of quiet ahead of you.”

  She ran his card, then handed him the key for his room along with a local map of the area. “We have a happy hour at the pool every night between four and six. Taylor provides the appetizers, and you won’t want to miss it. Especially since you’ll be working all day. It’s like a free meal. A really good free meal.”

  “When I get engrossed in my writing sometimes I don’t come up for air.” He took the key, stuffed the map into his rear pocket, and headed for the door. “If you just point the way, I’ll be off. It’s not ev
en noon. Perhaps I can get started.”

  “Follow the road down toward the pool. Your cabin is named Serenity and it’s close to the beach.”

  “Thanks, Miss.”

  “Brittany.”

  “Thanks Brittany. I go by J.C., or Chase. Only person who dared call me Ashley was my mother. I blame it on the mint juleps she was so overly fond of. Or the whiskey sour mash.”

  “Right. I’ll try to remember. J.C. Like the superstar?”

  “Superstar?”

  “Yeah. You know. The musical.”

  He grinned. “I’m not that much of a martyr.”

  He opened the door just as Kayla walked in, her sleeveless summer dress swinging around her knees. Dark brown hair clipped high on her head showed crystal earrings the same shade of blue as the cotton fabric. Smiling, as usual.

  “Kayla,” Brit greeted her. “You’re just in time to meet our new guest. Ashley J.C. Chase. A playwright. He’ll be staying one to two months.”

  Chase turned slowly, and his green eyes nailed her. “The name’s J.C. Or Chase. Please remember to introduce me as such.”

  Brittany gulped. “Oops. Sorry. Kayla meet Mr. Chase. Or J.C. Not Ashley. Forget the Ashley.”

  Kayla laughed. “Nice to meet you, Chase—not Ashley.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “You ladies might get a chuckle over it, but I assure you that after growing up in Charleston, I don’t.”

  He left, and the two sisters exchanged looks. “Oh, dear,” Brittany said. “He is sensitive.”

  “And a southern gentleman,” Kayla added. “Staying for a month.” She rubbed her fingers together in the universal sign of money. “That just made my day.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  When the screen door closed behind their new guest, Brittany fanned her face and grinned. “Wow. Have you ever seen such beautiful green eyes on a man? And those lashes?”

  Kayla walked around the counter. “Smoking hot, that’s for sure. And you know how sweet southern men can be. Like a taste of pecan pie. But we must call him Chase. It suits him.”

  “True, but Ashley is cuter.” Brittany patted her cheeks. “Why, I do believe I feel faint. My corset must be too tight—why, I just couldn’t eat a bite.” She smacked her palm against the desk and gave a wicked smile. “He would be so easy to tease. And I love his dimples. Don’t you?”

  “Teasing him is not a good idea, Brit. Obviously he had a hard time with that growing up.”

  “I know and I won’t, as tempting as it is.”

  Kayla stepped quietly toward her sleeping daughter. She stroked Shauna’s face, and knelt down beside her. “Hi, baby. Mommy’s here.”

  Brittany watched her sister as she gently removed her baby from the swing and held her to her chest. Her eyes were blinded with love as she kissed the blonde fluff on the top of her daughter’s head. Shauna’s little fingers tugged at her mother’s dress as she cuddled close.

  Catching her look, Kayla smiled softly. “You’ll feel the same way. I promise.”

  Brittany nodded, hoping in her heart that it was true. Was she capable of loving anyone that much?

  “I’ll take over the office if you want to run down to the Cafe and serve up lunch,” Kayla suggested.

  “I’d like that,” Brit said. “You know I’d rather be busy, and I enjoy being around people. Not that Shauna isn’t good company, but I prefer people who talk.”

  “Yes, well, that’ll change when you have junior. You’ll start to enjoy the quiet times.”

  “I bet.” Brittany patted Shauna’s back, loving the warmth of her and the sweet smell of talcum powder and burped-up milk. “I wonder what my little one is going to be like. I hope it’s a girl, so she can play with Shauna and Meri.”

  “Me too, but no matter what, your baby will be equally loved.”

  Uncertainty reared its head. She straightened the desk and blinked away silly tears. “Well, I’m off. Mom should be back soon and then you can get home early. See you tomorrow.”

  She headed toward the Cafe, the bottom of her sandals making a clicking sound against the shell and gravel road. It was only about a hundred yards from the office to the covered back patio of the Cafe, which seated around twenty. Taylor offered free internet and morning breakfast specials during the season, and the patio served as an overflow.

  When the Cafe opened, the outdoor area had been designed with an attractive thatched roof, but that had blown down during a hurricane the previous year. Now it was much sturdier. A vertical seam metal roof had been installed in one single piece, from the eave to the peak. It could withstand high winds of hurricane force. Louvered shutters, now open, created an airy outdoor feel, but could be closed in less than a minute.

  Brittany entered from the back, noticing the restaurant was mostly empty. A few locals lingered over their coffee, and another table of fishermen who’d called it quits early.

  “Hi Tay. I’m here to replace Kayla. She’s manning the office with a little help from Shauna.”

  “Good. We had a busy morning, but it’s been quiet ever since. Gave me time to prepare for lunch.” Taylor wore her customary garb of jean shorts and a green and pink flamingo tee with the logo for her Cafe. Her hair was in a high ponytail, swinging madly as she dashed around the kitchen.

  “What are we serving today?” Brittany sniffed the air, trying to identify the scent.

  “We have the usual conch chowder but the soup of the day is a chilled mango curry. We serve it with a dash of sour cream.”

  “Sounds good. I’m hungry enough to try it.” She hitched her bottom on the stool next to the window, and watched her sister work.

  “Let me just get these in.” Taylor popped a couple of trays into the industrial-sized oven, then she opened the double wide refrigerator doors. “Here’s the soup.” She pointed to four gallon pitchers. “We could both have a cup before we get busy.”

  “I’ll get that. You continue with your prep.” She moved quickly, taking the heavy pitcher of soup from Taylor, handling it carefully so it wouldn’t spill. “What else do I smell?”

  “Mushroom chicken or a seafood quiche. And our soup and sandwich specials.”

  Brittany dished out two cups of soup and added a dash of sour cream.

  “Want to split a quiche or have a slice of sourdough bread to go with that?” Taylor asked.

  Brittany’s mouth watered at the delicious scent from the mango curry. “Both sound tempting. I skipped breakfast and your food is always too yummy.” She took the fresh loaf of bread, and grabbed a knife to slice it. “Bread is fine. A month here and I’ll gain ten pounds, baby or not.”

  Taylor laughed. “You can use a little fattening up. Being a dancer and wearing skimpy costumes all the time, I doubt if you barely ate.”

  “Not a lot, that’s for sure.” She took her cup of soup and sliced bread over to the small table Taylor had squeezed into the modest kitchen. “Come sit for a minute, the customers can wait.”

  Surveying the restaurant, Taylor nodded and brought her lunch to the table. “How are you doing? No morning sickness?”

  “No. It’s probably too soon. I feel good, although my stomach begins to churn every time I think of Jose. What a snake he turned out to be.”

  “Don’t think of him. He clearly doesn’t deserve a sweetheart like you.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. We have a new guest. Staying a month or two.” Brittany ate two spoonful’s of her soup, then put the spoon down. “This is so good. You’re an amazing cook and I mentioned that to our guest. When I invited him for happy hour, I bragged a bit about the wonderful appetizers you serve.” She took a few more spoonfuls. “We might want to come up with something special.”

  “How special?” Taylor asked, between slurps of the soup. They were both eating fast since the customer’s needs came before their own lunch.

  “I’m sure he won’t be doing much cooking, so I said your apps made a really good free meal.” She grinned. “Stuffed pitas might satisfy him. And save one o
f those seafood quiches.”

  “Anything else?” Taylor said with a light dose of sarcasm.

  “Nope. Unless you think we could do a platter of coconut shrimp?”

  “Since when did you take such an interest in feeding our guests? You always complained that we were giving away too much. Free drinks, free appetizers.”

  Brittany shrugged. “Well, he’s a writer working on a play. It’s kind of cool, isn’t it?”

  “Very. And we could use the rent money right now. It’s always lean pickings in the summer, but this year seems worse than others.” Taylor glanced at the timer, then jumped up to take the quiches out of the oven.

  “Can you check on our customers, while I see to things back here?”

  “Of course. But don’t throw away my soup. I’m not finished.”

  “Here. Take them their bills.” Taylor took the chits off the counter and handed them to Brittany.

  When she returned, Taylor turned around with a slow smile on her face. “So what does this writer look like?”

  “Like Leonardo in the Great Gatsby. Rather dashing. And too well dressed for around here, that’s for sure.”

  Taylor laughed. “Now I know why you want me to take care of him. We’ve got another hunk staying in our cottages for at least a month.”

  “He’s definitely attractive, but that’s not why.” Brittany shook her head slowly, and picked up her spoon, playing with her soup. “Last thing I want now is another man in my life.”

  “I know, sweetie. I shouldn’t tease you.” She put her hand on Brittany’s, forcing her to look up. “Were you in love with Jose?”

  “I thought so at the time.”

  “Well, he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

  A few more customers came in and for the next couple of hours the girls kept busy, personal chatter down to a minimum. Brittany was glad for it as she had some soul searching to do. Had she loved Jose? She must have because otherwise his betrayal wouldn’t have hurt so damn much.

  He was far from perfect, a little too worldly, and had a bad track record—but he’d been good to her, had made her feel special and taken her under his wing. He was the top-dog in the production company, did all the hiring and firing, and out of all the beautiful talented young women at his disposal he had chosen her. She’d considered herself lucky.