by Claire Adams
Tabitha was wrong, and the next few days proved it. Corsica talked about nothing but high-end camping equipment, the shiny, elegant kind that would never help anyone survive on a real camping trip. Her ideas were sprinkled with tiny insights into the camping she did as a child, but those short glimmers were not enough to give me hope. She was stuck on the comforts of life and would never see it any other way.
She would never see it my way.
A few days later, I figured I must have dreamt it all–maybe I drank too much dandelion wine–but the Corsica I held in the oak grove was gone. In her place was a chattering shopper who left me on the street while she cooed over some brand name dress in a shop window.
"What? You want me to buy it for you?" I asked.
Corsica turned on me with an angry flash of her eyes. "Did I ask you to buy it? What's wrong with liking the way something looks? I can't admire nice things?"
"By all means, get a closer look."
"I'm going to try it on," Corsica snapped. She marched into the shop.
I felt like an ass when I realized the store was consignment. Whatever high fashion Corsica had found was within her tight and practical budget. I went inside to apologize and then overheard her talking to the clerk.
"You've got a good eye," the clerk said as Corsica plucked an Hermes scarf from a jumbled bin. "An expensive eye."
Her blonde hair tossed. "I got it from my mother. She was forever sending away for catalogs of clothes she couldn't possibly afford. She called it fun, but it was sad to see how much she wanted those pretty, expensive things."
"Your mother never heard of consignment?"
Corsica laughed. "There was no such thing in the town where I grew up, and we didn't travel much. My mother got sick, and the only times we went to the city were for her treatments."
The clerk patted her hand. "Your mother must have had a beautiful sense of style because she certainly passed it on to you. Do you want the dress?"
"No, thanks. I better get back to my-oh!" Corsica spotted me, and her light smile disappeared. "I'm done. We can go. Sorry to make you wait."
"Is that Versace?" I asked.
The clerk nodded and held up the sapphire blue dress. It was tight sheath with a curved neckline and a delicate embroidered pattern of blue silk thread. I knew instantly how beautiful her eyes would be over that perfect dress, and the air contracted in my lungs.
"She'll take it," I said. "If you have shoes to match."
The clerk scurried to the back room with a squeal of excitement.
Corsica stood still and didn't meet my eyes. "I don't need the dress. Thanks, though."
"You'll need something for the engagement party my friends are planning. Was that true about your mother?"
"That was a long time ago." She shrugged.
I bought the dress and the silver heels the clerk unearthed. Corsica was quiet and let me carry the bag as we left the shop.
"What next?" I asked.
She stopped on the street and gazed out over the Pacific. "What about paddle boarding? I hear it's really fun."
"You're messing with me," I said with a surprised laugh.
"If you can buy Versace just to make a point, then I can kick your ass in paddle boarding."
We were playfully battling when someone called Corsica's name. Her blonde head snapped up, and her whole expression changed. It settled into that perfect and still smile that made me want to roar in frustration.
The cool, collected, and primly aloof Corsica turned to greet her friend. "Kara, how nice to see you. What are you doing in Monterey?"
"I was just going to ask you the same thing. Everyone on campus seemed to think you'd gone off to the city." Kara tipped down her Ralph Lauren sunglasses with a perfectly manicured hand. "I thought you had to work all summer."
Corsica tittered. "No, not at all. Unless you call staying there work."
Kara's head snapped around to study my house on the shoreline. Her plumped smile thinned a bit, but she turned back and kept her voice friendly. "Out doing a little shopping?"
I opened the bag for the nosy woman to see. "She treated herself to a Versace dress. Or maybe she's treating me to the view of her in it."
Kara slipped her sunglasses off and batted her eyelashes at me. "You look so familiar. Have we met before?"
"You might know his father, though I'm not certain you run in the same circles," Corsica said. "Nice running into you again. We'll have to get together while you're in town."
She waved over her shoulder as she dragged me away.
I waited until we reached the end of the block. "Back to pretending?" I asked.
Corsica dropped my arm. "Like you're one to talk. What's this about an engagement party?"
"That's to make my mother happy," I snapped. "What was all that about?"
"Kara always thinks she's better than everyone else. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two." Corsica frowned. "And, you don't get to make a big deal out of it. You're the one lying to your parents. All I did was let some snob make the wrong assumptions."
"Fair enough," I said. And it was.
Corsica was only pretending because I had asked her to, but it bothered me how far her desire to appear rich reached. What did she care what some snob from her college thought? It made me think I had been right about what Corsica was really after.
"So, how about paddle boarding?"
I glanced at my phone and saw a lifeline. "Sorry, but it looks like I'm meeting Phillip for drinks. Are you okay heading back to the house on your own?"
Corsica's eyes skimmed away from me. Then she squared her shoulders and smiled, though not at me. "Probably better that you go to happy hour. I was planning on practicing the piano for a while, and it doesn't sound too pretty yet."
Watching her delicate fingers dance over the black and white keys while her voice soared above the notes was very tempting, but I shook it off. "Ten to one Phillip's got girl trouble. You'd probably just sit there and roll your eyes at us anyway. Good luck with the piano."
We went our separate ways, and I didn't look back until I reached the end of the block. I had hoped I felt her eyes on me, but when I looked over my shoulder, Corsica was halfway up the sidewalk towards my house.
It took all I had to pull out my phone and keep walking. "Phillip? Yeah, I'm on my way. Order me a whiskey."
Phillip pushed the double shot towards me when I slumped into the seat across from him. "Why do I think you could use this more than me? I thought I was the one who just got dumped."
"You got dumped?" I tossed back a heavy gulp and let the whiskey burn my throat. "I thought it was usually the other way around."
"Nah," Phillip said. "I only dump the ladies who are just after my family jewels. Or my fortune."
I gave him a wan smile. "So what happened?"
"Turns out she wasn't after anything but me. And I turned out to not be good enough."
I flagged down the bartender and ordered another round. "So, what's the plan? Find someone with longer legs and a lower IQ who only wants what you have?"
Phillip laughed, but it was short and harsh. "No. I'm sick of gold-diggers. Maybe I'll take your route and pretend I'm poor until some nice girl actually falls for my bullshit."
"Not fair," I said, but I punished myself with another burning gulp. "Besides, I think Corsica might be a gold-digger. The subtle, smart kind, but still the same species."
"Or are you just paranoid? You think she's finally figured out who you are and how much you’re worth?"
I shook my head. "She's more interested in outlining her little, multi-million-dollar ideas."
Phillip snorted. "Sounds like the perfect match for you. Until she finds out you lied. That's how I got dumped. She found out I lied about remembering her birthday. She wasn't impressed by how good my personal assistant is, even less so when she found out how much I pay him."
"My problem is that Corsica will probably be over the moon when she finds out my lie. She'll think she's
Cinderella and I'm Prince Charming."
Phillip hiccupped and sipped his whiskey. "No one's going to make that mistake with you, my friend."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "So, what do you think will happen when she finds out I'm loaded?"
"She'll be mad. Probably throw something. See this cut on my forehead? It was a vase. Ugly damn thing, and I'm glad it's gone, but it hurt like hell."
Phillip swirled the last dregs of his whiskey. "But then I bet Corsica will relax. You said she's scrambling to take care of herself; maybe she'll relax when she realizes you can take care of her millions of times over."
The thought of Corsica letting me foot every bill made me laugh. "She won't go for that. I bet she'll storm out and not come back until she's worth more than double what I am."
She really wasn’t a gold-digger like I had said. Emotions had just overtaken me.
Phillip's eyes swam. "How's that a bad thing?"
"Come on," I sighed. "You're drunk, and I'm calling your driver."
"Just admit it, Penn," Phillip said as we wove our way outside. "You can't predict what Corsica will do, and that just proves she's not like all the others. You should give her the benefit of the doubt."
That sage advice from my drunk friend kept my spirits up. The whiskey didn't hurt either. I trotted up the front steps in the mood to make up and hoped to find her singing over the piano. Instead, I found her on the phone, and the first words I heard out of her mouth made me cringe.
"The best part of the day was the dress. You should see it, Ginny. It even made Kara jealous. Yeah, Versace, can you believe it?" Corsica sat on an armchair facing the ocean and didn't hear me come in.
"That was the best part of your day?" I snapped.
Corsica jumped and swiveled around in the armchair. "Gotta go, Ginny. Yes, and thank you!"
I didn't wait until she hung up her phone. "Sounds like you’re more excited about some blue dress with a fancy name than you are about your singing gig. And who got you that audition? Doesn't matter unless it costs money, huh, Corsica?"
"I only tried on the dress because you made fun of me for looking at it in the window." Corsica jumped up from her chair and marched to the kitchen. "I didn't ask you to buy it for me, so don't come whining to me about your depleted bank account."
I stopped myself just before I told her the astronomical state of my accounts. The whiskey was pumping hot through my body and into my brain. "That's why it's so easy for you to pretend with me, isn't it? You couldn't possibly be interested in someone as poor as me."
"Poor? For someone who keeps trying to cry poor, you look like you're doing just fine to me." Corsica gestured to the wall of custom-made windows with ocean views. "I bet this has nothing to do with money; you're just feeling guilty for using me for sex."
I had to hold onto the kitchen island for support. "What?"
Corsica grabbed a soda out of the refrigerator and slammed the door. Then, she cracked open the can so it sprayed across the kitchen island at me. "You heard me. This whole thing was just an easy way for you to get sex without the complications of a real relationship. And you call me shallow."
The warm effects of the whiskey fled, and I was stone-cold sober. "You think I'm using you for sex?"
"Oh, are you going to try to tell me it was just the magic of the solstice or the influence of the starlight?" Corsica slammed the soda can down on the counter. "I thought it was really something. I thought we were done pretending. Then we got back here, and you've been jumping on every little thing I do and accusing me of things like using you, of all people, for your money."
"I'm not accusing you-"
"Then I am," Corsica snapped.
I held onto the counter and shook my head to clear it. I marched around the kitchen island and grabbed Corsica by the shoulders. "I wasn't using you for sex. I was trying to get you out of my system. You're all I can think about. This is all I can think about."
I crushed her angry retort under a kiss and held tight as she tried to push me away. The struggle sparked the passion between us. Corsica growled under her breath, but stood on her tiptoes to give me every bit of the kiss right back.
"See?" I ground out against her lips. "It doesn't work. I can't get enough of you, and it's driving me crazy."
"Then this might help," Corsica said. She slapped me hard across the cheek and stormed away. At the stairs, she flashed me an angry look. "Pull yourself together; we're having dinner guests over. Ginny's coming from Santa Cruz, and your father will be here soon."
She disappeared down the stairs, but I still felt her vibrating against me. I still tasted her lips on mine. And I couldn't deny that I deserved the stinging handprint on my cheek.
All I could do was swear, one long, vicious string of all the curse words I could muster. Then I took the soda can she'd left and pressed its coolness to my cheek.
"Pull yourself together, Penn," I mimicked her, but the advice was sound, and I ended up laughing at myself. I needed to get a grip before Corsica made me lose my mind, or worse, my heart.
It was a relief to see Ginny at the front door a few hours later. Her smile was direct and guileless, and then impish when she saw her friend.
"So, how are the lessons in spontaneity going?" Ginny asked.
Corsica rolled her eyes. "Not well. Ask Penn."
I slipped an arm around Corsica's waist. "She's resistant, but I'm willing to keep working with her."
Corsica looked relieved that I was still talking to her, but she still retorted. "You were the one who turned down paddle boarding in favor of happy hour."
Ginny smiled. "I like seeing you two together. This is a strange deal, no doubt, but you're making the best of it."
Corsica and I watched as Ginny took in the highlights of the impressive shoreline mansion. Then, her eyes flitted back to her friend, and Ginny grinned. "Did you seriously dress up to greet me? I'd be impressed, but I know exactly what little hole-in-the-wall thrift store you got that skirt from."
I chuckled as I realized that treasure-seeker was a more fitting title for Corsica than gold-digger. "Please, come on in and make yourself at home. The guest suite is just down there, first door on your left."
"That's my room," Corsica hissed to me.
"Xavier will be here tonight, maybe late. Better that Ginny stay there and you stay with me."
Her expression darkened to stormy, but Ginny just laughed. "I'm good with an old-fashioned sleepover, but we can decide all of that later. First, make sure I brought the right stuff. I didn't have another suitcase. Sorry."
My heart sank as I saw that Ginny had arrived with more of Corsica's wardrobe and accessories. The ladies hefted the laundry basket and hauled it to the guest suite. Corsica glanced back at me from the doorway, but my phone rang at that exact moment.
I took the call, and she took the hint to spend some time with her friend.
"Jason, I swear to God if this is something you can handle without me, I'm going to break this phone," I snarled at my assistant.
Jason's voice was cool, as always. "Then perhaps the first thing we should discuss is the details of your work delegation. I have some suggestions."
"Thank fucking God," I muttered.
"New product searches would best be handled by Roberston, since he organizes all the product testing."
I rubbed my forehead. "He had a good run last year with finding new carabiners. Fine. What else are you subtly implying that I'm neglecting?"
Jason sighed. "I'm not implying anything, sir. You deserve to take a step back and give others a hand. Your company just reached the Forbes list. No one expects you to keep it up yourself."
I hated to admit that my assistant was right, but it was a relief to hear. I couldn't stand the idea of work taking me away from Monterey, getting in the way of seeing my mother or interrupting anymore moments with Corsica.
Once the quick business conversation was through, I immediately marched down the hall to the guest suite.
"I don't know, Corsica. It wasn't nothing I felt when I walked in," Ginny said.
I paused and heard Corsica sigh. "That doesn't matter. He's just not my type, and that's how I know none of the rest of it is real."
Chapter Fifteen
Corsica
"I still can't get over how great it went last night. You were fantastic!"
I shook my head. "You have to say that; you're my friend."
"That doesn't mean it's not true," Ginny assured me. "Everyone else was saying it, too. And your blue dress was absolutely perfect."
"Yeah, I'm glad I didn't return it."
Ginny laughed. "I wouldn't have let you do that, no matter how much Penn annoyed you."
Just the mention of his name was enough to drive a fog over our morning coffee. Standing on stage at the little lounge had felt so good that I told myself it didn't matter that he hadn't shown up. His friends, Phillip in particular, tried to assure me that Penn had been called away on business. I wanted to believe them, but I had a feeling it was more than that.
"He's got a right to be on edge," I sighed. "His mother's treatments are intensifying, and she's going to be tested this week to see how things are progressing."
"So now you're defending him?" Ginny asked. "That's interesting. You used to just lift your nose in the air if someone snubbed you."
"Penn didn't snub me. He was just busy with other things," I grumbled.
"Well," Ginny laughed and poured us more coffee, "then explain to me why you are not positively bouncing off the walls with excitement? Last night was your big break, and baby, it was huge! I wouldn’t be surprised if a video of your singing went viral by noon."
I gave my friend a dark look. "And how exactly would that happen?"
Ginny blinked wide, innocent eyes. "I have no idea. Come on, Corsica! Admit it. Your singing debut was a huge success, and you should be celebrating. At least admit that you're happy."
I swirled the coffee in my mug and thought about that. Despite the confusion over Penn's absence and the nagging feelings it had saddled me with, I felt like my blood was still humming the tunes from last night. "You're right. I am happy. Last night felt so great."
