Her Las Vegas Wedding

by Andrea Bolter

  She pushed off into another lap in the pool. For a minute she thought she heard splashing, but she didn’t see anything around her.

  In St. Thomas, Reg had always been there somewhere in the background, holding up a file for his brother to review or soothing egos after one of Shane’s outbursts. Wiry and calculating, Reg could slip in or out of a room without anyone noticing. Whereas Shane was a tidal wave whose undertow was always felt both before his arrival and after his departure. Shane had stolen all the air in her lungs every time she was near him.

  Audrey felt a whoosh of water so strong it almost veered her off her straight lap. Maybe the pump system in the pool needed to be adjusted.

  Then there had been that last night on the island. After the resounding success of those two weeks, the Murphy brothers were packing up to jet back to New York. The summer was ending and Audrey would be heading to college later that week.

  As she often liked to do at night, she’d walked barefoot in the soft island sand down to the beach. The sky was dark blue as she waded into the sparkling water and then launched herself into a swim. Her young brain was swimming, as well, with mental images of that powerful dark chef who she wondered when she’d see again given their families’ business dealings.

  While she was swimming farther into the sea, she felt something slide up along her leg. At first she was frightened that it might be a shark, or another marine predator. But a human head poked out from under the water. She’d have recognized him anywhere, even in the darkness. Those long crazy locks of hair were a wet and wild tangle framing his unshaven face. His lips glistened with moisture. Shane had come out for a swim, as well.

  “Well, what do we have here?” he called to her with surprise, their heads bobbing above the water and the sound of the waves making it difficult to hear. “Why it’s little Audrey Girard.”

  She’d felt so light-headed, she thought she might drown. The way he had slithered up beside her. Unintentionally, of course, but nonetheless he’d shocked her half to death. And then when she found it was him, a screaming awakening coursed through her. The mixture of attraction, fascination and fear was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

  Or since.

  No words had come out of her mouth. All she could do was summon all of her might to paddle herself back to shore as quickly as possible and run away in the sand.

  A split second in the Caribbean Sea. A moment that she was never able to forget.

  Why it’s little Audrey Girard.

  “We meet underwater again,” came a low voice from the other side of the pool.

  Audrey thought she might be hallucinating. Shane’s words from a decade ago had just been looping over and over again in her head.

  “What?” she stuttered into the Vegas night, blinking her eyes to try to focus.

  He plied a few strokes and was quickly by her side. Shane. A decade later. “You discovered the pool. That you kindly built for the staff.”

  Get out of the water immediately, Audrey’s mind directed. Yes, their fates were inexorably linked now in commercial partnerships. Yes, she’d be at his side working on the cookbook tomorrow. But there was no reason why she should be with him in a swimming pool at midnight.

  “I’m glad you’re making use of it,” she stammered, her chest knocking so loud she thought she could hear it.

  “Some turn of events, huh? I only just found out myself about Reg’s change of heart.”

  “Yes.” Move away from him. Audrey wasn’t exactly sure what she was scared of, but terrified she was. Did she think that now because she was no longer engaged to Shane’s brother, he might touch her? Or worse still, that she wouldn’t be able to resist touching him? Many years may have passed but her gravitational pull toward Shane Murphy was as strong as ever. And, just like last time in the water, escape seemed the only option.

  “I’m going to get some sleep.” She had to get away from him. Tomorrow was another day. Best to take them one at a time. “I’ll meet you at your kitchen. At noon.”

  Audrey hoisted herself out of the pool using the stepladder in the deep end. Which was nowhere near her towel. Just as she knew he would, Shane stayed in the water and watched her in what was enough moonlight for him to get a full outline of her body. Thankfully, she wasn’t wearing a bikini. But, still, the athletic one-piece bathing suit didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

  As she crossed the length of the pool toward her things, he used both hands to rake back his long wet hair. “Sugar—” he smiled up from the shimmering water “—you sure grew up.”

  * * *

  A glistening flesh-and-blood Shane in the moonlit water an hour ago. Ten-year-old memories of Shane in the Caribbean Sea. Now she was back to cardboard Shane in her bungalow. Everywhere Audrey turned, she found him.

  After a hot shower, Audrey was still flustered by the interaction at the pool. He’d really gotten under her skin. All of a sudden she was no longer attached to the man she was to marry, yet it was his brother she couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Tossing and turning in bed, she was wide-awake and aware. Giving up on sleep, she switched on the lamps, propped herself up in bed and opened her laptop.

  She’d promoted a date for the press to tour the hotel, but she needed to get to the nuts and bolts of the event. After welcoming them at the rooftop pool, they’d be taken on a guided tour of the property. She’d have the spa staff treat them to mini massages and give them goody bags filled with samples of the hotel’s signature body care products. Then they’d reconvene on the roof for a reception.

  “What should we serve for a light brunch?” Audrey asked cardboard Shane as matter of factly as she might have if her dad had been in the room.

  Weirder still, she received an answer. “Right, morning pastries and fruit kebobs would be easier than something they have to sit down to eat with a fork,” she said aloud, typing in Shane’s recommendation, knowing that she had gone insane.

  “That would be great.” She complimented Shane’s idea of a station serving flavored coffees. “Okay, we’ll do a dark chocolate, a hazelnut and an orange.”

  His suggestions for mini smoothies and for the buffet setup were all noted. “Thank you for your help.”

  When she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, she ended the meeting by flicking off the light.

  Shane’s photo said, “Good night, Sugar.”

  * * *

  The next day, Audrey arrived in the kitchen. She expected to find Shane at work on the cookbook recipes. The lights were on. Yet the kitchen was silent, save for the hum of the refrigeration system.

  “Shane?” she called out in case he was in one of the nooks or walk-in cabinets within the large space. “Shane?”

  There was no reply.

  Audrey had been in here with him yesterday when he unceremoniously dumped his pile of recipe ideas out onto his desk. And the day before when he’d ushered her and Reg out. She’d yet to have a quiet moment to really take in the scale of the kitchen. It, like the dining room, was by far the largest at any of the Girard hotels.

  Zones were designated for cleaning, cutting, frying, sautéing, baking, grilling, plating and so on. Boxes of state-of-the-art equipment, appliances and tools were marked for their station. There were food prep tables, dishwashing stations, freezers, ice makers, storage areas. There appeared to be a place for everything. Based on what she’d seen of how Shane functioned, this level of organization seemed impossible.

  She looked to the spot where Shane had popped that divine dulce de leche cake into her mouth. Sadly, the pan was no longer there. Who had eaten it, she wondered? With envy.

  “What are you doing here?” Shane’s voice stunned her as he charged in wearing a motorcycle helmet, each of his big hands lugging half a dozen grocery bags. He plopped them all onto a prep table.

  “We had an appointment for noon. To work o
n the cookbook.”

  Shane peeled off his helmet and laid it on the counter. He finger-combed his long hair away from his face. Audrey wondered what it would be like to do that for him.

  “You’re right, we did.”

  “What would be a good way to get started? Should we look at your idea file again?” Audrey asked, referring to that collection of notes scrawled on napkins and pieces of cardboard. If that was all Shane had to go from, it would have to do.

  “Those are just scribbles. I haven’t given them much thought.”

  “Well, did you jot them down because you were hoping they might be right for the cookbook? Didn’t you work with an editor on it already?”

  “He was a moron,” Shane shot back. He dug into the grocery bags he had tossed onto the counter.

  “But did you...”

  “Let’s make a ceviche,” he interrupted. “I got some lovely red snapper filets I want to play around with.”

  He quickly washed his hands, unwrapped the fish from its paper and laid it on a cutting board. With a knife selected from a drawer, he swiftly sliced the fish into bite-size chunks. They were dispatched into a bowl.

  Reaching in another bag for limes, he halved and squeezed the juice of five of them over the fish. He reached for a disposable glove to mix in the lime with his fingers. Then he placed the bowl in a refrigerated drawer.

  “Is this for the cookbook?”

  “Sugar, I don’t know at this point. This is how I work. Let’s just try some things.”

  “Stop calling me Sugar.”

  The used glove was tossed in the trash, and the cutting board and knife deposited into a sink.

  Next, he pulled out a clean cutting board and knife. Swung around to locate the tomatoes in his grocery bags, and rinsed them under a sink. With breakneck speed and precision, they were diced.

  He opened another drawer for a clean spoon to scoop up a pile of the ruby-red tomatoes and feed them to Audrey.

  They were surely the juiciest, most flavorful she’d ever tasted.

  “Beautiful, right?”

  Audrey knew he was talking about food. There was no rationale for the jealousy she felt when he called the tomatoes beautiful and the red snapper lovely. Was she competing with a fish? And why would she care anyway?

  “Get me the jalapeño peppers. They’re in a plastic bag,” he directed her. What was she now, his kitchen assistant? She supposed she could be, and should be, if that would help get the cookbook done.

  But Shane’s style was hard to take. He was too quick. Too forceful. Too impulsive. Too right up in her face. Feeding her yesterday with his fingers and today with a spoon. For heaven’s sake!

  Yet all of that spontaneity jostled her to the core. He was hypnotizing. Making her want to be part of whatever he was doing.

  When she handed him the jalapeños their fingers touched, and flickers flew up her arm.

  “If you ever work with these, be careful not to touch your eyes until your hands are clean,” he cautioned about the peppers. Because their heat might burn her, just as Shane was doing with his very being?

  He chopped the peppers into tiny minces.

  “Are we keeping a measurement?” she reminded herself of the task at hand. “In order duplicate the recipe?”

  “We don’t know if we have a recipe yet.”

  “But if we change it later, at least we’ll know where we started from.”

  Shane’s nostrils flared. As if in slow motion, his jaw tensed and then twitched. He shot her a scowl so scornful it made her take a step backward. Her mere suggestion of a method to accomplish one recipe for the cookbook upset him.

  “I think I know what I’m doing in my own kitchen.”

  Yet she could tell from the lost look in his eyes that his reaction was a heartbreaking combination of pain and frustration. Half of her wanted to run away while the other half wished she could hug him.

  She cast her eyes downward for a momentary respite.

  Shane put his knife down and busied himself at another station unpacking a box. Leaving Audrey standing with a lump in her throat.

  * * *

  What kind of monster had he become? Shane asked himself the question as he arranged and rearranged jars of spices he had ordered. He wished he hadn’t quit smoking years ago because a lungful of tar was just what he was really craving right now.

  Yes, he did want this new Shane’s Table restaurant to bring him back to the short list of best chefs in the world. Yes, he did know that an internationally distributed cookbook and TV special would put his name back in the limelight. Yes, he did understand that this was do or die for the Murphy Brothers Restaurants company.

  Then why was he being such an ass?

  He looked over to Audrey as if she held the answer.

  Down inside, he knew.

  A man doesn’t just snap back from a wrong marriage that ends in his wife’s death. An awful death that he might have been able to prevent had he taken action. He would always blame himself. He still wanted to scream, to cry, to shout his truth. That he felt responsible for Melina’s death and perhaps he always would. That he should wear a sign around his neck that read Don’t Get Close. That he was never to be trusted. He tried to issue Audrey a silent warning.

  Two years had passed since Melina’s death and Shane hadn’t shaken off any of it. He’d sat wordlessly through appointments with grief counselors. Taken a soul-searching trip to Europe. Spent lots of time with his parents. Gotten back to swimming every day. None of it had helped. Setting up the Las Vegas location for the Feed U Project, the charitable organization his family oversaw, was one positive thing he had accomplished. There was purpose in working with kids who might otherwise fall victim to poor nutrition.

  But he surely didn’t have a clear plan for the future of his restaurants, nor the energy and enthusiasm he’d need to see it come to fruition. He’d run on Reg’s fumes. Nothing was ever going to move forward unless he created some steam of his own.

  For starters, he wished he could undo having just gotten annoyed with Audrey.

  He finished inventorying the jars just as a delivery of equipment arrived. Shane shook the driver’s hand and instructed him where to place the order.

  Audrey was still standing exactly where he had left her a few minutes ago, though she was on her phone. Her time was valuable. She was here to work. How could he explain to her that it was a calling beyond his own will that had steered him to create the original, innovative dishes that made him a success? And that he didn’t know how to get his inspiration back.

  Her blond hair looked like spun silk. He guessed that her sensual body would be soft in his hands. Like he could take a trip to heaven by exploring every supple inch. He’d seen many inches indeed by the pool last night. His center had wrung with an ache he didn’t know he could feel anymore.

  Great, the only woman in years to remind him that he still had a pulse was completely off-limits! He might be ready now to satisfy carnal desires with a female, but it certainly wouldn’t be with a corporate partner he’d known for years and would be working with for many to come. Who was supposed to have become his sister-in-law! That was all kinds of wrong.

  If Shane was ready, perhaps he could start thinking about dating again. But nothing ongoing, of course. He’d never be in a long-term relationship again. Not after what he’d done, or failed to do, with Melina. It had cost them the highest price imaginable. He’d lost the right to a relationship where he would be counted on.

  He had always figured that’s why his dad and Daniel’s royal match up for Reg and Audrey had taken shape in the first place. After Shane’s catastrophe of a marriage, the dads got spooked and decided to step in. He could hardly blame them.

  So it’s Brittany in New York, huh, Reg? She was a former drug addict who had been clean and sober for years and was a hard-working employee
they valued. Shane was happy for his brother. Why shouldn’t Reg fall in love if that’s what he wanted? His brother had only dated a few women, but never for longer than a few months because he’d always been so preoccupied with the business. What a stable, serious man his brother was. It was touching to see the light in Reg’s eyes as he spoke of Brittany and this unexpected turn of events. If for no other reason but for Reg’s sake, Shane had to pull himself together to accomplish what he’d told his brother he would here in Vegas.

  He couldn’t gauge whether Audrey was devastated or relieved that her wedding was called off. In any case, he wished he hadn’t been such a jerk a few minutes ago.

  After the deliveryman unloaded the order in the kitchen, Audrey and Shane faced each other at an impasse.

  “What’s going to get you motivated again?” she asked in earnest.

  “I don’t know.” Shane had an impulse and grabbed Audrey by the hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” she protested. “We need to work.”

  He snatched up his keys and helmet, and tugged her toward the door. “Come on. I can at least show you something that’s become important to me.”

  Outside, he freed the spare helmet he had locked in his motorcycle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a rider with him. And had to admit to himself that he was turned on by the idea of Audrey’s arms around his waist and her breasts pressing into his back while they zoomed along city streets.

  “Oh, no. No. I can’t.” Audrey shook her head as Shane tried to hand her the helmet. She fumbled for words. “I mean, look at what I’m wearing.”

  She gestured to her black business dress and heels. True, not appropriate for a ride on a motorbike.

  “Why don’t you run over to your bungalow and change clothes?” he suggested.