by Aubree Lane
Published by Aubree Lane
Copyright © 2013 Aubree Lane
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Special Thanks
The main character in this work of fiction is named after my childhood friend, Annie O’Hair. Annie passed away several years ago and will never be able to read about the protagonist named in her honor, but she will always have a special place in my heart and I will never forget her.
My fantastic cover is the work of JC Clarke and the Graphics Shed.
Many thanks to Rebecca Jeffries for keeping me on the write path (pun intended) and for her constant encouragement. And as always, to my husband and family who lovingly put up with me. I am grateful to have them in my life and I love them more than words could ever express.
Chapter 1
The paint in Mrs. Barrington’s living room had dried to a putrid shade of chartreuse, the electrician hadn’t shown up, and the floor guy was running way behind schedule. Annie looked at the ghastly color and moaned. Mrs. Barrington was not going to be pleased. This was the second time the room had been painted and this color was much worse than the first.
Numbers ran through her head as she calculated the cost of having it painted one more time, and wished Mrs. Barrington would stop being so helpful. The woman simply didn’t possess the vision to see how a small paint sample would look in large amounts. Wasn’t that the reason she hired Annie in the first place?
Annie closed her eyes against the onslaught. She felt like she was trapped inside a tube of minty-fresh toothpaste. If allowed to do her job, she and her crew would have been out of here ages ago. Instead, they were months past the projected end date, and hardly any progress had been made in the massive remodeling project.
Annie was worn out. Most clients were problematic in their own way, but Mrs. Barrington was one of a kind. The pressure of consistently living up to her reputation as the elite designer in San Diego, who came in under budget and on time, was draining the life out of her.
Budget problems were never an issue, because of her reputation people expected to pay more and Annie was happy to oblige. The challenge was finishing in a timely fashion. No matter how much leeway she gave herself, it was never enough. Most of the problems occurred from the sub-contractors she hired. Over the years, Annie came to the conclusion that somewhere in the contractor’s manual there was a stipulation that they had to be unreliable and flaky.
Of course, that was a drastic over-simplification of the problem. There were plenty of reputable contractors out there, but they were in demand and their time was stretched just as thin as Annie’s. Even if you had every aspect of your project planned out to the exact millisecond, the first time a tool broke or a delivery didn’t show up, all that planning and preparation would become worthless. Contractors would move on to their next job and bounce back and forth between assignments trying to keep everyone satisfied, which was impossible. It was a horribly frustrating way to do business, but Annie certainly couldn’t afford to have workers standing around with nothing to do until it was time for them to complete their specific task. She was stuck dealing with the status quo. Contractors tended to give her first priority because she paid them the moment she was satisfied with their work.
Annie knew how to keep her people happy. Money talked, and the little extra she handed out in the form of a bonus didn’t hurt either. She wasn’t even above hiring someone under the table as long as their work was exceptional, met code, and got the job done faster. Business was business and sometimes it got a little cutthroat, even in the designing field.
On days like today, she wished she’d reined in her ambition and hadn’t been in such a hurry to venture out on her own. At least then clients like Mrs. Barrington wouldn’t be her sole responsibility, and she wouldn’t feel guilty for taking a break now and then.
Feeling the need to find a calm place to think, Annie stepped through the rough framework of a doorway meant for a gorgeous pair of etched-glass doors, that had yet to arrive, and out into the courtyard. She parked herself on a decorative concrete bench which had been placed under the lacy leaves of a White Alder, hoping to enjoy the venti-sized, bold pick of the day which she picked up on the way over.
After a few moments, Annie realized she might have to rethink the placement of this particular bench. Shaded by the tree, the concrete could not absorb any of the day’s warmth, and a pronounced chill began to inch up her body. She was uncomfortable, but since she didn’t have the energy or inclination to move, she settled in to watch Mrs. Barrington’s gardener tend to the most outstanding collection of black roses Annie had ever seen, while her butt slowly turned to ice.
Annie used the deep hue of the delicate buds as inspiration for Mrs. Barrington’s living room, but she had never been given the chance to capture its beauty. She bit her lower lip and focused on the unusual color of the flower and hoped a light bulb would go off in her head.
Originally, the walls were to be the dark black-red of the petals with leaf green accents scattered about, but Mrs. Barrington nixed that idea, feeling the dark walls would make the oversized living room feel small. Then the woman made an executive decision and changed the color arrangement without first discussing it with her. Annie had been somewhat placated that the deep green Mrs. Barrington decided on was at least something she could work with, but after the room was painted, Mrs. Barrington decided she hated it and ordered it covered up with white primer almost before the walls had dried. The color residing in its place was a unique blend only Mrs. Barrington could have come up with.
It made Annie gag just thinking about it.
A minute or two passed as she watched the tall, aging gardener expertly remove the spent blooms of some of the healthiest rosebushes in San Diego, and still came up blank. Annie still believed that dark red walls would be amazingly dramatic, but since it was obvious Mrs. Barrington didn’t want that much drama in her living room, it was probably time to chuck the whole color palette and come up with something a little more conventional. She only wished she came to that conclusion earlier, and that Mrs. Barrington had been honest with her from the start.
Annie’s cheerful Happy Cricket ringtone chirped deep within the recesses of her jacket pocket. She fumbled around the soft microfiber lining, touching and discarding her sunglasses, a tissue, lip gloss, and a small electronic game before landing on the desired item. On the fourth and final ring, Annie successfully raised the device to her ear and announced, “Annie Harper.”
“You are not going to believe who our dive master was!” Marissa gushed into the phone.
Annie sighed, she hadn’t recognized the number and was hoping the floor guy was calling so she could tell him to move on to his next job, but hearing a friendly voice took a close second. She was surprised the usually overprotective mom hadn’t first inquired about the welfare of her children. Marissa had never left Jack and Sandy for an extended period of time and never with Annie. Even though she was on a romantic island vacation celebrating her tenth wedding anniversary with her husband, nothing had stopped Marissa from making daily phone calls just to hear the voices of her precious little cuddle bugs.
Annie laughed. “Don’t you want to hear about the kids?”
“If anything was wrong, you would be the one calling me, not the other way around,” Marissa barked impatiently. “Now pay attention. Our dive master was
Terence Javier! Can you believe it?”
She couldn’t. Terence Javier had been their big high school crush.
One day, midway through their junior year, a new student joined Annie and Marissa’s favorite class and became the newest member of the high school choir. Their teacher, Ms. Caftan, a hippy kickback with stringy waist length salt and pepper hair, had traveled the world and loved exploring cultural differences. Ms. Caftan felt the new girl, having come from the Pacific Rim, presented an incredible opportunity to enrich their lives and insisted she bring something from her former life to share with the class.
Poor Summer Sutton hadn’t known what to make of the request. She had come from Hawaii not some far off distant land, and since San Diego was part of the Pacific Rim, she didn’t understand why such a fuss was being made over her. Hardly able to refuse a teacher on the first day, she nodded her head and tried to come up with something. Summer had a passion for surfing and thought about sharing her beloved handcrafted surfboard. She knew there were just as many surfers in San Diego as in Hawaii, and since hauling the board around school all day would be a pain, she decided to bring her yearbook instead.
A storm rolled in the following day and the wet weather had everyone in the class fighting the doldrums. Being forced to sound excited over some dog-eared yearbook filled with a bunch of strangers didn’t help matters, but the all-girl choir dutifully passed around the book keeping most of their complaints to themselves. Then one girl commented on how many cute guys there were in Hawaii. A contest erupted, and the girls huddled together as they gossiped and giggled their way through the senior class, who were deemed far superior to their lower classmen. By the end of the hour, Terence Javier had been declared, as one of the more experienced girls put it, ‘the one she would most likely do.’
Without knowing anything about him other than his name and how handsome he looked, Annie, Marissa, and most of the other girls in the class became utterly captivated and obsessed with him.
Terence was hot, really hot. From then on, no boy at La Jolla High could measure up. The girls weren’t totally crazy. They still had lives to lead. They were teenagers. They were social beings. They couldn’t sit home weekends pining over some picture. That special time was reserved for the weekdays while they were supposed to be doing their homework.
The girls would gather at Marissa’s house after school, raid the refrigerator, and spend hours imagining what Terence was like. One day he would be the bad boy, the next day kind and courteous, other days he would be a little of both. Their perception of him changed with the wind, and they loved every minute of it.
Realizing exactly how goofy they were being, the girls made a sacred pact that only in Marissa’s kitchen would their hearts belong to their dark haired deity with a salacious smile, and that Terence Javier would never be discussed outside those four walls.
The infatuation lasted for months, which was the exact amount of time Marissa’s father made a point of staying away from home between the hours of three and six. The silly chatter drove him crazy. Larry was a patient man. He knew as prom night approached, Terence Javier would be yesterday’s news and the girls would move on to dresses, makeup, and shoes.
He was right. Although inferior to Terence Javier in almost every way, the boys at La Jolla possessed certain qualities which Terence did not. They were capable of renting tuxedos, stretch limousines, and making their prom night dreams come true. So the yearbook was packed away, and the practical young ladies left their unrequited love behind for something a bit more tangible.
“Who?” Annie teased, knowing it would drive Marissa to hysterics.
“Are you kidding me?” Marissa screeched in reply. “You know darn well who I’m talking about, and don’t you dare try to make me feel silly. I’m already embarrassed enough. I barely made it through the day without drooling on him,” she paused and let out a dreamy sigh. “Annie, he is so beautiful, and his voice…”
Annie pictured Marissa back in high school with her head thrown back in abandon, and hands clutched to her breast as she swooned over their fantasy man.
“It’s so deep and sexy, I almost wet myself,” Marissa continued. “I turned three shades of red when he helped me with my tank.”
A sharp laugh resonated through the phone and bashed into Annie’s ear. She jerked the phone away from her head, but as the pain subsided and she realized she was still capable of hearing, she took another sip of coffee and listened to her friend ramble on.
“David thinks I’ve lost my mind. You should have seen his face when I told him I wanted to kiss Terence.”
Annie choked when she heard that newsflash and the hot brew slopped out all over her hand. The cup fell to the ground, and Annie watched the last of her liquid breakfast bounce off the expensive flagstone and splatter up onto her dry clean only trousers, but Annie smiled with joy. If Marissa kept this up, she and David would not see their eleventh wedding anniversary. Annie and David didn’t get along. If he was out of the picture, so much the better.
“I bet he flipped,” Annie practically sang as she shook the hot liquid off her scalded fingers.
“At first, then he took it as a challenge,” Marissa dropped her voice and tried to sound like her husband. “Here I am on a romantic vacation with my wife and she wants to kiss another man. I must be doing something wrong.” She returned to her own voice and added a seductive inflection. “Then he showed me just how romantic and loving he could be.”
Annie cringed at the visual. “For future reference, that’s just way too much information.”
Marissa giggled. “But seriously, I think he’s okay with it. After all, it’s just one kiss to fulfill an old high school fantasy. It’s not like I’m running off with the man.”
Envy pulsated through Annie’s veins. She didn’t like David, but it was obvious he and Marissa were happy, and in it for the long haul. Now, Marissa was talking about kissing the man of their dreams while she was stuck babysitting her two children and dealing with people like Mrs. Barrington. Why did Marissa always get the good stuff?
Feeling increasingly agitated, Annie paced back and forth across the courtyard. “I get it but does David? Won’t you be putting your marriage in jeopardy?” Annie rolled her eyes as she spoke, even she knew one little kiss wasn’t capable of putting the tiniest dent in Marissa and David’s marriage armor. She wished she could be happy for her friend. It was hard to admit, but the feeling was undeniably there. Annie was jealous.
“Wow, are you my friend or my mother? It’s just one kiss. If I wanted to kiss Bradley Cooper, or what’s-his-name who played Captain Kirk―”
“Chris Pine,” Annie said, interrupting Marissa.
“What?”
“The guy who played Captain Kirk.”
“Whatever!” There was nothing but complete and total frustration in Marissa’s voice. “What I’m trying to say is that no one would give it a second thought if I wanted to kiss a celebrity. This is practically the same thing, and I’m going to do it tomorrow morning before Terence takes the boat out. And for the record, I was talking about William Shatner. I’d jump on his Enterprise any day!”
The sharp staccato of footsteps echoing off the flagstone made Annie jump. She spun around and saw a short, stocky, middle-aged woman wearing a hairstyle more suited for a woman half her age, come clomping towards her. The veins bulging out of the sides of her neck confirmed that the woman was peeved.
“Marissa, I’ll have to call you back, but if you’re determined to ruin your marriage, go ahead and kiss the guy.” She hit the end button on her phone and quickly tried to compose herself. She couldn’t let Mrs. Barrington see how upset she was. The woman could be downright mean. At the first sign of weakness, she’d pounce and reduce a lesser person to tears. Annie was not about to fall victim to that, at least not today.
“Miss Harper, have you seen my living room? I can’t possibly live with that horrible color another moment!”
Annie plastered a calm expressio
n on her face and smiled. “Mrs. Barrington, that’s just the first coat, sometimes it takes seven or eight to get the proper color saturation. In a day or two, you will positively adore it.” It wasn’t a lie exactly. Sometimes it did take that many coats to get the correct color saturation, just not in this instance. Nothing was going to improve that awful color.
Annie was usually honest with her clients, but she learned the hard way that with this particular woman, honesty usually caused more problems than it solved. By fudging the truth a bit, not only had she bought herself a little time to figure out how to try and fix this mess, but she had also weaseled in enough wiggle room to keep her date tonight.
Danger Zone was in town for one night only, and her escort for this evening’s concert, besides being a fellow fan, was the painter on Mrs. Barrington’s project.
Alan was a wonder with a paintbrush and was considered an artist by his fellow tradesmen. Until Mrs. Barrington, he had never failed to please a client. The man had just pulled an all-nighter making Mrs. Barrington’s living room extremely ugly. A feat which Annie had paid double-time for.
With every pass of his roller, Alan must have known exactly how horrible it was going to look, and it probably pained him to finish. The man took pride in his work. He had to be exhausted and Annie was determined to let him sleep. He’d been put through enough torture for one twenty-four-hour time period, and since she didn’t know which direction to go with this project, it was far more important for him to rest up for their big night than come back here and listen to more of Mrs. Barrington’s complaints.
• • •
The following morning Marissa was up and out of the honeymoon suite before the break of day while her husband still slumbered away. Marissa couldn’t face him. Her phone conversation with Annie the previous day had shaken her confidence. Then her best friend failed to call her back. What was up with that? Annie was supposed to be on her side, especially where David was concerned.
