“Mango mojitos are going down real well.”
“Glad to hear it.” She gave him a pleasant smile. Not flirtatious, just the kind she’d give any guest. “How was the fishing?”
“Great. Colt took us to some hot spots. We darn near caught a Sailfish that must have been fifty pounds or more. Thing was jumping around, fighting us every step of the way. Never saw anything like it.” He pretended to reel in a struggling whopper of a fish. “Didn’t even have a line out, but Colt spotted it in about twenty feet of water and in a matter of minutes had it on the hook.”
“That’s a catch and release, right?” She couldn’t imagine a guy like him not wanting to take the Sailfish home as a prize.
“Yup. I’m telling you every minute was worth the fight. Fastest damn fish I’ve ever seen. Sleek and beautiful. Like you.” He grinned which made him even more attractive. “Not that I should compare you to a fish.”
“I don’t mind the comparison. I’ve had worse.” She laughed and started to move away, but he caught her arm.
“Come on. Sit with us. We’re only here for a few days and would enjoy the company of an attractive woman.”
“You were.” Brittany nodded her head toward the long table. “My mother.”
“She’s a doll, but so are you.” He leaned closer, and she could smell his aftershave. Armani. “One drink. What’s the harm in that?”
His refusal to take no for an answer was starting to piss her off. “I have other guests to take care of.” He might have tempted her once, except for the plain gold wedding band on his left hand. “Did you end up catching any fish you could keep?” she asked, shaking off his hand.
“Sure did. A shit-load of snapper. Taylor said she’d cook up a few for dinner. Colt and Jamie are cleaning the fish right now. It’ll be a feast. You should join us.”
“Really? Will your wife be there?”
He glanced down at his wedding ring. “So you noticed.”
“Shouldn’t I have?”
“I don’t like to lie about it. Some women don’t seem to care.”
“I used to be one of those women. Luckily, now I’m not.” With that, she turned her back, poured herself a big icy mojito and took it over to the table where Chase sat alone. “Mind if I join you?”
“No. Not at all.” He started to stand, but she shooed him down. “Save your gentlemanly manners. They aren’t needed here.”
“Good manners are always needed.” He stood and moved back her chair with a welcoming flourish. “Imagine how the human race would suffer.”
“You have a point.” Brittany sat and clinked glasses with him. “How did the writing go?”
“My inspiration didn’t show up.”
“I’m sorry about that. Worked all day at the Cafe, and then I was tuckered out. Slept for two hours this afternoon.” Brittany toyed with the hem of her red dress, tugging it toward her knees. “I guess I’m not quite back to my old self.”
“The run this morning in addition to a day’s waitressing was probably a little much for you.” He briefly covered her hand with his. “Take it easy for a week or two. Let your body heal.”
“Okay, Doctor Oz.” She smiled so he wouldn’t mind her teasing. “You’re probably right. It just felt good to get out of the house.” She sipped on her mango mojito, enjoying the kick of rum. “And it feels good to have one of these again.”
“That’s right. You weren’t drinking.”
“I wouldn’t.” The baby would have come first.
“I know a gentleman is never supposed to ask a ladies’ age…” he said. “You look like you’re in your early twenties.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t mind answering his non-question. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“Definitely young enough to put this behind you. One day, you’ll meet a man who deserves you—not one who’d turn his back—and who’ll be a good father.”
“My ex-boyfriend already had four children from his other marriages.” She shifted in her chair. “I just didn’t know that he was still living with wife number three.”
“What a first-class jerk.”
She grinned and giggled at Chase’s pronouncement. “Totally. And you know what? It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Brit covered her heart with her palm in surprise. “I don’t feel anything when I think of him. Except regret for giving him a year of my time.”
“Smart girl.” He lifted his drink and saluted her. “Bright and beautiful.” He sat back in his chair, and glanced at the man who’d put a move on her. “I thought you might have been persuaded to join the men over there.”
“Not a chance. Too damn cocky, and way too married.” She put her chin in her hand, and leaned forward. Chase looked like he could use a little dazzle, and nobody could charm like her—when she set her mind to it, of course. “Maybe after happy hour we could grab a plate of leftovers and escape to your place. Work on your play awhile.”
He lifted his drink toward her slinky dress. “You might want to change. If you came looking like that, I wouldn’t have a coherent thought in my head.” His lips twitched. “Not the big head anyway.”
She laughed. “All right. But since I’m all dressed up, let me make my rounds. The couple seated with Mom just arrived. I should say hello.”
“Take all the time you need. I’ll sit back and enjoy the view.”
Brittany saw his eyes on her every time she turned her head. He didn’t get her insides doing a foxtrot, but he was intelligent. Kind. Interesting. And not like any man she’d ever dated.
In other words—perfect.
The “mandatory” happy hour at their resort had changed dramatically in the past year. Kayla never stayed for happy hours anymore. With the baby and a husband who worked long hours, she liked to get home and prepare a meal for him on the nights he could get away early. As a cardiac surgeon, plans could change in an instant, but Kayla accepted the situation and would stay up to greet him regardless of how late the hour.
Since Taylor prepared all the happy hour snacks, she’d normally stay and have a drink, then leave by four-thirty or five to go to the home she now shared with Colt and his son Jamie. Other nights, like tonight, they saved her the trouble of cooking dinner, and joined her here. Especially when she stayed late to cook the fresh fish the guests had caught that day.
Her mom had kept up the tradition of happy hour, as she enjoyed speaking with their guests and hearing about their day. It was as much for her as it was for them, and Brittany understood that. She was kept busy running the office and babysitting Meri and Shauna, and deserved a little fun at the end of her day. It was the least Brittany could do, to help her mother out and socialize with their guests.
“Hey, Mom.” She put a hand on her mom’s shoulder, and nodded to the couple she was sitting with. They’d just arrived that morning from Chicago, and it was their first visit to the Keys. “Hello. I’m Brittany. Welcome to Paradise Cove!”
“Thanks. It’s such a beautiful place,” the wife answered. “I’m Julie and this is Michael.” They were a youthful looking couple, probably in their late forties or early fifties, both dressed casually in shorts and t-shirts.
Brittany shook their hands. “Nice to meet you. You here for some fishing?”
“Yes, and a little sightseeing,” Julie answered. “We’re leaving in two days for Key West. We plan on spending a couple of nights there before flying back home.”
Key West was another hour and a half south. “Back to Chicago?”
“That’s right.” Michael used a paper napkin to dab the sweat off his brow. “We needed a little getaway before winter sets in.”
“Cool weather actually sounds nice,” Brittany said, fanning her face. “We’ve had a brutal summer, and although we’re used to the Florida heat, it never gets easier.”
“You mom was telling us that you’re a professional dancer. With a touring company. That must be exciting,” Julie said, her smile pleasant and friendly. “Pretty dress.”
Brit tugged at her short hem.
“I know. It’s a little much, isn’t it? But it’s the coolest thing I own. Besides if I don’t wear my dresses here, I might never get a chance again.” She locked eyes with her mother, having reached the decision over the last week of soul-searching. “I plan to quit the company.”
“You do?” Her mother nodded with approval. “I’m so glad.”
Brittany dipped her head at Julie and Michael. “It was a pleasure meeting you both. Enjoy Key West and safe travels.”
Jason and his friend were standing near the railing, looking out at the sunset. She strolled over, and stuck her hand out to his friend. “I’m Brittany. I haven’t been introduced to you yet.” He was mid-thirties, like Jason, and also wearing a broad gold band.
“Mark Conners. Nice to meet you.” He glanced at her, then back to the view. “Nice place you have here. You live here full time?”
“Just moved back. I spent the last few years with a dancing company out of Miami.” She gestured to the turquoise sea and the setting sun. “It’s good to be home. I’ve missed this view, and Taylor’s cooking,” she said with a laugh.
“Best happy hour in town. Maybe anywhere.” Mark’s sincere words lacked the predatory smile Jason had worn. “Taylor is cooking up some of that snapper we caught. Why don’t you join us all for dinner? Bring your mother. Or your friend over there?” He nodded toward Chase.
“Normally I’d jump at the idea, but I’m exhausted tonight. Tough week.” A slight breeze lifted her hair and she smoothed it back over her ear. “Enjoy your dinner. The snapper will melt in your mouth.” Brittany turned to leave, getting in a last look at the ocean. “Come back again next year, and bring your wives. They’d love it.”
“We might do that,” Mark said.
She strode over to Chase. “You ready to go?”
“Anytime you are.”
“I’ll run home to change. See you in half an hour? You might as well stay and have another drink.”
“I’ve had enough. Besides, I want a clear head. Who knows, maybe brainstorming with you will ignite a spark.”
“That’s the general idea,” she said with a grin. “But I’m known more as a party girl than as a soon-to-be celebrity muse.”
“A girl can change.” His eyes were serious. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Her smile died. He was right. From the time she was a teenager she’d always been popular, and had given herself away freely. She hadn’t valued herself enough. No wonder no one else had.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chase returned to his cabin as soon as Brittany headed back to her place to change so that he could tidy up before she arrived.
Max greeted him enthusiastically the second he opened the door. The Corgi twirled around in circles and jumped up.
“Hey, boy. Ready to go outside?” He gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears, grabbed his leash and a plastic bag, and allowed Max to drag him toward the straggly pine trees. After watering them, Max pulled at his leash, eager to sniff and explore every bush in the area.
Chase knew Max wanted another run, but there was no time for that if the cabin was to look presentable. Bringing the dog reluctantly back inside, Chase refreshed Max’s water bowl and tossed him a few treats.
He made his bed, put the few dirty dishes in the washer, and hid the trash in the closet. It was stuffed with discarded papers from his pathetic creative endeavors.
He was grateful that Juanita only came in once a week to change the linen, wash the floors and generally clean up after him. He didn’t want anyone around, disturbing him when he was working. Which was kind of a joke since he’d only produced a rough outline, a mere fifty pages, in the time he’d been here.
He’d been one of the most promising talents amongst his peers, but now after a decade of popping out one-liners for a catchy commercial, he couldn’t fill a page with anything but dribble.
How could his creativity flee? Surely after one semi-successful play, he wasn’t done. He still had the heart, the passion, the fire that burned within him. Maybe more now than ever. He didn’t need fame or fortune, he’d had his share of accolades in the past. Money was never a driving force since his family had plenty. He and his sister Melanie had inherited a southern plantation home and a sizeable trust fund.
What he wanted, what he needed and felt compelled to do was write, to produce, to give the world a piece of himself. He longed to entertain—to take people out of their ordinary lives, and give them a different view. Make them laugh. Make them cry. Most importantly, make them care.
“Hey there,” Brittany called as she opened the screen door. “I brought food and a bottle of good wine. Can’t be inspired without a little sustenance, right?”
Max’s short Corgi legs made him the perfect height to sniff around Brittany’s ankles, letting her know that he was eager to try out whatever she was carrying on that platter. She set it on the counter and scooched down to give the dog a hug. “Hey, boy. How come your daddy didn’t bring you to happy hour? We’ve got lots of treats.”
“Seriously?” Chase glanced up from the kitchen table he’d been working at, staring at his laptop and willing words to appear. “Look at him. He adores being the center of attention and would be a nuisance!”
“Bring him tomorrow—I think our guests will love him. If not, just keep him on the leash. At least he’ll be out with you. If it doesn’t work, you can bring him back to the cabin—it’s not far.”
“If you’re sure.” He patted his knee and Max came running, putting his paws on Chase’s leg. “See, I told you she was nice.” Max wagged his bobbed tail, as if he understood he was being given one chance.
“So how’s it going?” She brought the wine and food to the table.
“I was just rereading what I’ve got.” He scrubbed at his jaw. “I’m not sure I should share it. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything this challenging.”
Brittany took the plastic wrap off the food and turned her attention to him. “Well, it can’t be that different—I mean the ability to create with words comes from your imagination. You just have to unlock the story. Or polish it off. Or something.” She shrugged. “Don’t know much about writers. I had a hard time writing an essay in high school.”
“As an ad man we worked in teams to create a commercial that would sell a lot of product.” He skimmed his fingers along the keyboard of his laptop. “Everyone had their input. This is different. I’m trying to tap into something I’ve never done before. My first play was a drama. Not a children’s story. Not fantasy.”
“Look.” She leaned against the table and crossed her arms. “I can see that you’re full of self-doubt. But don’t be. This is going to be fun.” She gave an excited laugh. “I’ve never worked with a brilliant playwright, slash advertising executive, before.”
“I know you’re trying to be reassuring, but your enthusiasm is a little misplaced.” Chase kept his eyes on the screen of his laptop, not looking at her. “I started off with an idea, and the first few pages came to me right away, but now I’m seriously blocked.”
“I know a solution! Wine.” She grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and poured them each six ounces. “So how do we start? Do we just bounce around some ideas? Start with plot and a bunch of action? Or with characters?”
“How about I read you what I have?” Perspiration spotted his brow and dampened his armpits. What the hell? Where had his ad-exec backbone gone?
“Oh, sure.” She sat opposite him. “That’s a good idea.”
“It’s not much. This is a long shot anyway. The only reason I’m trying for it is my buddy said that the producer remembers my first play.” The cursor on the screen blinked at him. “He’s impressed by some of the ads that I’ve created, and he’s willing to give me a chance.”
“That’s awesome. So what are you afraid of?”
She sipped on her wine, her eyes on him. She looked so serious, with a little crease between her brow. His insecurity must be getting to her.
He
fingered the stem of his glass, twirling the burgundy colored wine, but not tasting it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doubting myself. It’s not like I need a full script, just an idea, an outline. That can’t be so hard, can it?”
“Not hard at all. Your life in New York sounds exciting to me, but that’s not the point is it? Not if your heart’s not in it. So, we need to come up with something brilliant, and we will.”
“My sister has a couple of kids, and they love all the Disney shows. They’ve watched the Harry Potter movies, and the oldest has started the books. I know this is big business. I get it. And I can do this. I hope.” He twirled his wine some more, then took a sip.
Brittany kicked off her flip flops and brought her chair around so that she sat next to him. “Come on Chase, cheer up. We’re going to figure this out—we just need to tap into your inner child.” She clinked his glass with hers. “Drink up. And here. Try one of these delicious empanadas. They’re stuffed with chicken and beef. Taylor makes the best pastry. Light and fluffy.”
His stomach protested with a grumble. How could she be so damn peppy? “I don’t want any food right now. My nerves are in my damn throat.” He shook his head. “This brings back awful memories of my first semester at NYU. The creative arts department was in Greenwich Village, a haven for poets and writers. I assumed that it wouldn’t take long for them to realize that I was a fraud. Figured I’d be laughed out of school, and told not to find my way back.” He moved his computer out of the way, and tasted the wine. Then he slammed the glass down, spilling a little over the sides. “It’s crap.”
“The wine? It’s a very good bottle,” she answered, affronted.
“Wine’s fine. I’m talking about the story. It’s laughable, that’s what it is.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.” She put a hand out and touched his computer. “Mind if I have a look?”
He let out a big sigh, then turned the computer around so she could see the screen. “Go ahead—just remember I warned you.”
PARADISE COVE - 3 BOOK SET: PARADISE COVE SERIES Page 52
