Sweet Days by the Bay

by Kay Correll

  “They were burnt. I got so involved talking to you that I didn’t watch them carefully enough.”

  “The salad was good, though. And the dessert.” She smiled.

  “The salad came from a bag… and I got the pie from Sweet Caroline’s.”

  She laughed again. “I knew the pie was from Caroline’s, but I wasn’t going to let on that I knew.”

  “But I kept my promise about no reporters or photos.”

  “You did. At least last night…” She tossed him a wry smile.

  Rick watched as some of the tension slowly drained from Whitney. Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at him. But she was right. This was going to make running her business a nightmare. He looked down at her small hand holding his. As if she could read his thoughts, she withdrew her hand and it took all his restraint not to snatch it back in his.

  He scrubbed his now-free hand across his jaw. “I’m sorry about all of this, but I’ve taken care of things.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What did you do, exactly?”

  “Well, I’ve hired some… people to help out with that whole reporter-photographer problem.”

  “You did what?” Her narrowed eyes flew open wide, their sky-blue tones darkening.

  “I have some men who will be outside your shop and your house. A female will be with you here in the shop. She can pretend to be a worker here if that’s better for you.

  “You’ve hired bodyguards for me?”

  “Well, not exactly.” He delicately sidestepped the question.

  She stood up and faced him, toe to toe. “Then what would you call them?”

  “A security detail?” He carefully watched her face.

  “So… bodyguards.”

  He sighed. “Yes, bodyguards. Just until this blows over.”

  “And how long do you think it will take until this blows over?”

  He reached up and massaged his temples. “Something else will come along that catches the media’s eye. It always does.”

  “Somehow, that isn’t very comforting.”

  “I’m sorry about all of this.”

  “I do not want someone following me around all the time.”

  The door flung open, and a woman rushed in. “Miss Layton, Mr. Nichols.”

  A flash blinded him for a minute. He sprang forward and took the woman’s arm. “Out.”

  “I just want…”

  “Out of the shop.” He pushed her out the door and locked it behind her.

  “You can’t lock the door. You’ll lock out my customers.” A look of panic crossed Whitney’s face.

  “I know. The only solution I can come up with is hiring my security detail until things settle down.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she sank back onto the stool. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’ll stay here today and fend off reporters.” He gave her a small smile. “I’ll be your doorman. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds… crazy.”

  “But it will work, won’t it? Until the security people get here?”

  “I don’t think having Rick Nichols answering the door to my shop is really going to help the problem, will it?”

  He scowled. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “No, probably not.”

  She sighed. “I guess I’ll close the shop for the rest of the day.”

  “I don’t want you losing money on my account.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw.

  “I’ll work on your grandmother’s necklace. At least I can do that much.”

  She slowly walked over to the door and flipped the sign so it said closed. “I’m going to take this to the backroom and work on it.” She gathered up a cloth that held the necklace.

  “I’m staying with you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I’m staying until my people show up, just in case.”

  “Have it your way.” She shrugged, and he followed her to the backroom. A large window allowed light to flood onto a big table that held an array of wires, gems, shells, and sea glass. The items were spilled across the table in a haphazard manner. How did she ever find what she was looking for? He didn’t dare voice his question, though. She was aggravated enough with him.

  He took a stool, perched at the end of the table, and watched her work. She bit her lip as she carefully wrapped a wire around the piece of sea glass, creating a beautiful swirl of silver around the glass. He stared in fascination as she lost herself in her artistry.

  He looked at his watch and was surprised it was already a little after noon. Whitney sat up straight and tilted her head from side to side.

  He got up and walked to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly started to massage the knots out of her muscles.

  “I’d purr if I could.” Her voice was low.

  His fingers pushed and prodded and coaxed her shoulders to relax. The fresh scent of her shampoo filled the air surrounding her. He wanted to lean down and kiss her head, spin her around, kiss her…

  But he wasn’t quite ready for her to turn her cheek to him again.

  She tried not to focus on Rick’s warm, firm hands on her shoulders. Her body warred with the decision to relax under his careful, tender massage or to tense up because his body was right behind her, inches away.

  She gave in and lost herself in his touch, feeling the stress of the morning and the tension of concentrating on her work melt away under his touch.

  He stopped, and she had to bite her lip to keep from begging him to keep going. He slowly spun her stool to turn her to face him.

  She knew, just knew, he was going to kiss her.

  “If I kiss you again, are you going to duck your head?” He whispered the words.

  She shook her head no, unable to speak or concentrate on anything other than his tender voice and his lips headed for hers.

  He tilted her chin up and lowered his lips to meet hers. She didn’t know what she was expecting… fireworks, music, a marching band. But instead, a feeling of rightness came over her. Like his lips should be on hers, and he should have his hand gently resting on her cheek. He slowly and deliberately pulled her to her feet and kissed her again, wrapping both his arms around her, pulling her close. She leaned against him and heard a small moan escape her lips.

  He pulled back slightly and tossed a lazy, movie-star smile at her. “That’s more like it.”

  He leaned closer again, and she closed her eyes, waiting for another kiss, wanting another kiss. The sound of a phone ringing jarred through the room, and he pulled away, snatching away the kiss she so badly wanted.

  “I better get that.” He took a step back and snagged his phone.

  “Shawna, hey.”

  She stood there, lost, waiting for the second kiss that hadn’t happened while Rick answered a phone call from his girlfriend.

  Chapter 10

  Rick sent Whitney a rueful look. “I’ll just go take this in the other room.”

  She just nodded.

  He strode to the front room, closing the door to the backroom on his way.

  Shawna’s voice came clearly across the airways. “Rick, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I’ve left messages. You haven’t answered them. Haven’t called me back.”

  “What the heck were you doing giving Whitney’s name to that reporter?” He interrupted her litany of his shortcomings.

  “What? Well… I didn’t think it was any big secret.”

  “You could have asked.”

  “I tried to talk to you,” she accused him.

  He reached up and rubbed his shoulder. She had. He’d ignored her.

  “You know I like to keep my private life private.”

  “Well, I didn’t think it was really anything serious between you and that Whitney woman, anyway. I mean she’s a… shop owner. You’re, well, you’re an actor.”

  Rick bristled at her words. “You’re such a snob sometimes.”

  “Nice.” Her brittle word chastised him.

  He si
ghed. “I’m sorry. I’m stressed dealing with all of this.”

  “Why don’t you come home?” Her voice wheedled him.

  “You know I can’t. I have the party for Grandmere to plan.” That reminded him. He still needed to deal with the band.

  “You could hire people to do that. What do you know about planning a party?”

  “I’m doing just fine with it.”

  “But that’s silly. Let me call my event coordinator for you. She’ll finish everything up. You can just show up for the party. Anyway, there’s a big party here in L.A. this weekend. I’d love for you to go with me. You could still get back for your grandmother’s party. My agent called and said it would be good for us to be seen together. It might help with this new movie we’re hoping to get. You do still want the lead role in it, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course, I do.” But did he? Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to break out of his typical role and try something different.

  “Good, because you’re acting… odd.”

  “But I can’t leave, especially not for some publicity stunt your agent wants. And no, this party is something I want to do for Grandmere. I don’t want your coordinator to plan something. She’d have no idea what my grandmother likes.”

  “You’re so stubborn about the strangest things.” He could hear the irritation in her voice.

  “I’ve gotta go.” He’d deal with her later.

  “Next time how about answering my calls?”

  “Bye, Shawna.” He clicked off the phone and shoved it in his pocket. Sometimes she could be the most irksome person he knew even if she was mainly harmless.

  Whitney ignored Rick when he came back. If Shawna calling hadn’t given her a big dose of reality, she didn’t know what would. She kept her head bent over her work.

  He walked over to the table and put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped up off the stool. “I need to take a break. I’m going to go get lunch.”

  “Great. Where do you want to go?”

  “I think I’ll run home. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “I’m not letting you go home alone.”

  Who did he think he was? Telling her that he wasn’t going to let her go home. “I’m going. I’m hungry.” She had to go, put some distance between them.

  He let out a long, deep breath. “Look, there will probably be reporters at your home.”

  “No.” Her hand flew to her throat. “Not at my house. How?”

  “Everyone in town knows where you live. It won’t take them long to find out.”

  “I can’t… I can’t live like this.” Her pulse raced. Where would she be safe from all the prying eyes and flashes of cameras? Where would she be safe from Rick? The man with the girlfriend who’d just called him.

  “As soon as my security people get here—”

  “As soon as they get here I get to have people follow me around all the time? I get no privacy?”

  “Whitney, I’m so sorry.”

  “So you said.” She glared at him. Why did he mess with her anyway when he was obviously seeing Shawna? Maybe it was just some silly game with him. Well, it wasn’t a game to her.

  He frowned. “Did I do something wrong? I mean, besides the obvious fact the reporters are here because of me?”

  Her phone rang, and she crossed over to the counter to pick it up, annoyed at the interruption because she was ready to tell Rick exactly what was wrong with this situation. In excruciating detail.

  “Is everything okay?” Merry’s anxious voice filtered through the phone. “I came by the shop and you were closed. You never close your shop. Not during the busy season. And there were all these people hanging around outside.”

  “Those would be reporters. It appears my name is now forever linked to Rick’s.” She glared at him again for good measure.

  “I’m sorry. I’d hoped it would just blow over for you. I know how you hate attention like this. So you had to close the shop?”

  “For today. Then it appears that I get bodyguards to keep the reporters away.”

  “For real?” She couldn’t miss the incredulous tone in Merry’s voice.

  “It appears so. I’m not amused.”

  Rick paced back and forth across the expanse of the room while she talked. He chewed his lip, then reached up to rub his shoulder.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Well, I’m starving and it seems I’m not allowed to go home for lunch.” She tossed the words out as much for Merry as for Rick. He stopped his pacing, looked at her, and frowned.

  “I’ll bring you something from Sweet Caroline’s.”

  “Honestly, that would be great if you don’t mind. Are you sure?” Her stomach growled in anticipation.

  “Yep, I’ll be there in a jif.”

  “Thanks, you’re the best.”

  Whitney drew the blinds firmly on all her windows that evening. She couldn’t even leave them open so she could sit and look out at the ocean. Rick had wanted to come in after he’d introduced her to Mitch, who it appeared would be her new constant companion. She’d told Rick she was tired and closed the door on him. Okay, more like slammed the door on him. He could take his bewildered look and go back to The Pink Ladies. Maybe his rental would be surrounded by reporters, too. Let him deal with the chaos.

  Mitch had sent the reporters off her property and settled down on a chair on her front porch after taking a quick look around the outside of the cottage. He seemed a nice enough guy. She was just creeped out by thinking people were trying to spy on her and grab a photo at any time.

  A quick knock at her door stopped her in her tracks. “Miss Layton, it’s Mitch.”

  She crossed over and cracked the door open. “Yes?”

  “There’s a Merry here to see you. She said if I didn’t knock and say she was here, she was going to start screaming your name…”

  She cracked a small smile. “Yes, Merry is always welcome here.”

  “I’ll remember that, ma’am.”

  Merry pushed past him, her arms laden with packages. “I brought dinner. And wine. And you get me for company for dinner. Lasagna for the meal. Chocolate cake for dessert.”

  She took a tote from Merry’s arms. “I’m so glad to see you. I’m going crazy in my locked-down, buttoned-up cottage.”

  “There’s nothing that good old lasagna can’t fix. Well, especially if followed by chocolate and accompanied by wine. Go sit down and I’ll reheat this. Tell me all about your day. Everything. We barely got to talk when I brought you lunch. I could see the icy daggers you were tossing at Rick. What happened?”

  Whitney sank onto a kitchen chair, placed her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her palms. “I’m such a fool.”

  Merry turned on the oven and slid the lasagna in. She poured them both a glass of white wine and sat across from Whitney. “Okay, now tell me everything.”

  “I… well, this reporter came into the shop this morning and snapped my photo and started rattling off all these questions. I was so surprised. Then Rick came in. Then another reporter. Then somehow Rick set up that I’d have a security detail. Me. A security detail.” She shook her head.

  “So that’s why you’re so mad at him?” Merry’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not really his fault, is it?”

  “It’s not just that. I knew he was an actor when I went to dinner with him. Didn’t realize just how popular he was or how the media might turn my life upside down.”

  Merry took a sip of her wine and sat watching her.

  Whitney let out a long sigh. “It’s… he kissed me.”

  “You’re mad at him because he kissed you?”

  “No. Well, yes. I am. And I’m mad at myself because I let him kiss me.”

  “Because you don’t want to be involved with an actor?”

  “Not just that. I don’t want to be involved with an actor who is seeing someone else.” She set her glass down with a little too much force and wine splashed onto the table.

&n
bsp; Merry popped up, grabbed a towel, and swiped at the spill. “Is he seeing someone else?”

  “Willie said the rumors are that he’s seeing Shawna Jacobson. And guess who called right after Rick kissed me?”

  “No. Shawna did?”

  “Yep. And he got up and took the call in the other room.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m a fool. I’m just someone for him to amuse himself with while he’s in town. I thought… well, we’ve talked a lot and I’ve enjoyed his company.”

  “So you like him?”

  “No. Well, I thought maybe I liked him a little. Maybe. Then he kissed me and I got a little lost in him. That’s silly, isn’t it? He’s a movie star, for Pete’s sake. I’m… well, I’m just me.”

  “You’re a fabulous, smart, talented, beautiful woman. He’d be lucky to have you.”

  She threw a thankful look at Merry. “You’ll always be my biggest fan, won’t you?”

  “I am. But I’m telling the truth.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, because he has a girlfriend.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Whitney nodded her head. “I’m sure Willie is right. He said there are lots of photos of them together online. I should never have…”

  “What? You should never have let yourself kiss a guy you were attracted to?”

  “I should have known better. Now I’m in this mess with bodyguards and I’m not sure how this will affect my business.” She took a sip of the pinot grigio, savoring the crisp, familiar tones of her favorite brand. At least some things were the same in her world. Merry coming to her rescue, her favorite meal warming in the oven, and the taste of her best-loved wine.

  “I’m sorry.” Merry reached across the table and squeezed Whitney’s hand. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to avoid him and count the days until he leaves Indigo Bay.”

  Chapter 11

  Whitney rolled over in bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, fighting off the haze of sleep. “Hello?”