by Jill Jaynes
Dick frowned. “Creed, eavesdropping? So you know. I’m a bona-fide licensed moneylender with Kwik Kash.”
“Is your company regulated by the FCA? That’s small print I’d like to see.” Creed kept his emotions hidden in his lack of expression. If Dicky had a middleman, he’d gained money as well. Or someone could be a woman, serving as a sexy distraction. High-end partying preceded signing on the dotted line.
Creed weaved his way toward Finn at the bar. Despite his knee, he was in better shape than the guys who’d been drinking since sunrise, were already stinking drunk, and could barely high-five him.
His cousin smiled widely and then turned to the hungry-eyed waitress. “Make it two.”
“Thanks in advance.”
“Hooah.” Finn back-slapped him. “Hey. Thanks for making it to our wedding.”
“Have to say,” Creed said, “it was super short notice.” Much had changed in the last five years. Finn had gone from a jaded, bitter man to a husband and father.
“My dad spread the word.” Finn was big, bossy, and sullen at times. Also loyal and utterly supportive. “Bloody hell. Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Your engagement will be announced on the Bikini Babes show?”
“Scarlett puts her life on social media.” Creed tried to drag air into his lungs. The upcoming engagement party worked his lungs like a Chinese finger trap.
“A toast to the childhood sweethearts.” Finn raised his glass, making it plain. When he saw Creed, he thought of Scarlett. “Hey. Look happy.” Finn couldn’t picture them apart. “PTSD resurfaced, right?”
“It’s not that.” Creed drew a breath to calm down. “Symptoms aren’t the same. I’m not emotionally cut off.” He had new interests and cared did about different things. “Scarlett and I matured in different ways.” He didn’t say Scarlett was stuck in mean-girl adolescence.
Army Rangers were pack animals and worked together as a unit. That was what he missed most. His pack was his second graders, and they were under his protection. In a surprising way, their parents looked out for him. Creed felt this when he gave Billy’s dad, P.I. William Bradford, a call.
“Mr. Taylor,” Bradford said. “Are you calling in the favor I’d promised?”
“Actually, yes. Is this a convenient time?”
“Sure,” Bradford said, “shoot.”
“I’m at Vinnie’s and overheard him bickering with someone who loaned him money. It sounded like he couldn’t make payments, and he might lose his establishment.”
“Vinnie isn’t the only one. My wife is an old friend of Patrice Miller, and—”
“—Dick approached the celebrity stylist from West Hollywood?”
Bradford said, “Yeah, well, she’s originally a home town gal. Now Patrice is outfitting and accessorizing women here. Anyway, I’ve taken the liberty to do a little checking on Dick Sloan. He makes big promises to increase business.”
“Those promises are not in writing,” Creed said.
“Correct. Patrice asked me to take Sloan on. I have a forensic accounting firm to track financial dealings. My guy is expensive, but Patrice paid up front.”
“Great, I’m sending you money. For Vinnie.” Creed clicked off, and then wired five hundred to Bradford through his PayPal account.
* * *
After filming ended, Scarlett ditched fans and phoned Creed. No answer. She tried again. And again. She slid into the driver’s side of her car, made a U-turn, and spotted his economical four-cylinder Honda parked diagonally in front of Vinnie’s. Then she remembered his Army Ranger’s reunion.
His smiley face in his text message threw her off. Truly his stubborn-ass side surfaced. He wanted to talk. Talk needed to be happy talk. In anticipation of speaking to him about the engagement party, she strung together some random excuses.
She’d done a good job of hiding her secret venture. Salt water had splashed and smeared her eye makeup. One of her fake eyelashes fell off, and she ripped off the other one. Catching her tearful reflection in the new fancy doors, she pushed her way through.
The bar looked like an old ship, thanks to the smooth operator. The loan went through, and Vinnie’s updated establishment would soon belong to Dick. She’d get a hefty commission. Wide wooden planks paneled the walls, and patrons sat on ancient steamer trunks covered with travel stickers.
“Scarlett?”
She heard Creed come up behind her. His footsteps matched throbbing vibrations across her forehead. She smelled his familiar aftershave, Dior Eau Sauvage, but no longer wanted to lean against him. When she visualized doing the deed, it was with Dick, and she didn’t have to fake orgasms. She turned and waved with her pinky.
“Let’s find a spot.” Creed’s too-handsome-for-his-own-good face used to make her heart race. His reddish hair was freshly cut, the cleft in his chin deep, his jaw set. The problem? His walk changed him. No, he didn’t walk, he hobbled. His bad knee buckled with every other step.
Hit with a case of fight or flight, flight won. “It’s so cold in here.” Going in and out of the cold ocean wasn’t the only thing wreaking havoc on her. A lover’s triangle required attention.
“AC is on high. Here, take my jacket.” He draped it over her shoulders, but his voice roughened. “So, what’s going on?”
“Business is going on.” It seemed to Scarlett the messy eyes didn’t work. He didn’t trust her. Week by week, the divide between them deepened, and now he was steeped in suspicion. He was right to be suspicious. Her instinct was to share as little as possible and shut up before he guessed she was two-timing him. “You wanted to talk?”
He said, “You won’t want to advertise our discussion.”
“There’s a vacant steamer in the corner. Let’s sit there.” She dug into her purse, pulled out a piece of salt-water taffy, placed it in his hand, and squeezed. “Blue raspberry, your favorite.” She needed to string him along.
“Thanks.” Taking the candy, he led the way but lost his balance just once while angling through people. He set his cane against the wall and lowered himself onto the trunk. Instead of pulling her to his side, he unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth. “Scarlett, we’re wrong for each other.”
“You didn’t think so before.” She bristled. This couldn’t happen now.
“There’s a whole lot not right between us.” He took her hand and frowned at the ring he’d given her.
She tugged her hand back. “Don’t nurse a grudge.”
“Give me the ring.” He sounded relaxed. “I’ll hold onto it.”
She tugged it off and handed it to him. Not that it mattered. As soon as she walked out, she’d slip on a three-carat solitaire. Anyway, she was so over his clumsiness and his itsy-bitsy stone. Looking at the way he rolled the candy around in his mouth put butterflies in her stomach. Memories, how he’d once tasted and how hard his body had felt, collided with previous thoughts of Dick. Oh, brother. Maybe she thought she was over him. “Creed, please understand. I want to be loved, admired. I have clear goals.” She wasn’t going to let him shake her off. His wholesome image was a necessary scaffold.
“We’re way too different. I’m a teacher.” He swallowed the candy. “I like my ordinary life. You’re in the glittery world of Tinsel Town. And you’re just getting started.”
“That’s right, thank you very much.” She’d put up with his controlling ways far too long. “Bikini Babes is not my peak.” She straightened her back, adjusted her tank top to show a bit of cleavage. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, letting the dim light caress her face. Sure enough, a flashbulb went off.
He frowned, his lips sneering.
“Please be patient. Bikini Babes will be in a movie.” She neglected to keep him in the loop. “I forgot to tell you. Sorry for the oversight.” Her stomach pitched like an elevator drop.
“Congrats. What’s the plot?” He moved, and his knee bumped into her.
Scarlett took a breath to ease the general nausea
from bumping his bad knee. “It’s a haunted house movie. Did you know there’s one in Moonlight Cove?”
“Sure, the Victorian, up on White Star Lane. It belonged to Martin and Stella.”
“That’s the one.” Her mind whirled over the excitement of 3-D.
“Supernatural demons? Ghosts?” Clearly, he wasn’t impressed. That was his problem.
Her scream matched that of the scream queen, Jamie Lee Curtis. Plus, horror movies made money. “We’ll have our serious talk. I promise.”
“Fine.”
“Not now,” she said. “Let’s hash things out after the engagement party.” Her fans had expectations, and Creed Taylor fit them. Dick filled her needs. The way he scooped her up, took her upstairs to his bed, and slid deep inside her. Best of all, afterwards, they cuddled and talked about money. Other than money-talk, they never said more than three words to each other.
Chapter 2
“I don’t believe in miracles.” Lily Holmes gazed at her new friend, Scarlett Royale. Mid-morning sun shone on her tan flawless face, making her look like a mannequin. The reality-TV star increased business to her bistro. For this her grateful heart warmed, but for the last ten minutes, Scarlett was pushing her to take out a loan.
“The miracle you need right now is money.” Scarlett brightened. “You don’t want Bikini Babes filmed up there.” She nodded toward the Moonlight Bed and Breakfast. “Well, do you?’
“No, but I’ve attracted celebrities. Like you, for instance.” She didn’t mention the volleyball and surf competitions, her dinner menu featuring abalone from Jackson Barrell’s Abalone Farm.
By now, Lily was whipped. She’d started her day with the breakfast crowd. Her staff took over while she spoke at a YWCA lunchtime fundraiser. Later, she MC-ed a foster care charity event. She wanted to climb the stairs to her apartment, kick off her shoes, put her feet up, and watch funny cat videos.
Scarlett’s proud-of-you smile faded. “You could do better.”
Looking at the star’s uncompromising face, Lily knew she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Listen to me.” The brunette leaned across the table. “In another month our producer will choose, down here or up there. What about a neon sign, maybe in the shape of a lily pad?” She sipped the on-the-house tropical smoothie.
“Sounds cute.” Large neon signage ran around ten thousand, and a voice in Lily’s brain told her to think for herself. She rubbed her aching temple and shoved back the opportunity Scarlett was promoting.
“How did you end up with this joint?” Scarlett leaned back a bit.
“This joint? My Grandmother Lillian made it into a social hub on the beach. She willed it to me.” She resented Scarlett’s demeaning tone. “Too shabby for your taste?”
The raven-haired stunner with high cheekbones was as dark, tall, and worldly as Lily was pale, mousy, and short. “Sweetie, it’s far from shabby chic.”
Lily gazed around the patio. The lattice cover sagged a bit. Underwater pond lighting lacked sparkle. She’d bought paint for the rusting bistro table and chair sets.
“With a loan, guess what? You could quadruple the profits. I have connections.” Scarlett stretched out her long legs. “Another thing. I won a contract for a movie.”
Ambition stirred her heart with the idea of doing better. Then again, she didn’t want debt.
Scarlett said, “I can set up a loan for you.”
Over her tall glass, Lily forced a smile. Leave it to Grandma to plant insecurity about owing money.
“Show me a little enthusiasm,” Scarlett wailed. “Don’t be a ninety-year-old choosing your coffin. You’re thirty. A loan won’t bury you.” She reached into her bag and brought out papers.
Lily took the papers but dropped them. They swished onto the table.
“I’ll introduce you to the officer.” Like a miracle worker, she clasped Lily’s shoulders and squeezed. “Is this afternoon good?”
Damn. She hated feeling dumb and helpless. Looking around the barren patio, she shrugged, not knowing what to say.
“Honestly? I don’t know how you stay in business. At all.” She smoothed a hand down her slender thighs. “Four o’clock, right here.”
“Okay.” Lily slammed a palm on the table with an attempt to rally. “Is the loan officer a friend of yours?”
Abruptly, Scarlett stood up. “Dick Sloan and I share a lot of things from his loan business to the color of his socks.”
“You’re sleeping with him.”
She narrowed her eyes and didn’t answer. “I’m about to marry someone else.” She stretched out her hand to display a huge solitaire diamond.
“Oh, Scarlett.”
“My fiancé was an Army Ranger in Iraq. A bullet had its name on his knee. Shattered it to smithereens.”
“You’re describing Creed Taylor.” Until now, she hadn’t made the connection. “Busted knee, but I bet he’s good in bed. Lucky you to be marrying such a brave hunk.”
Scarlett waved it off. “Over there his claim to fame was saving kids from terrorists. The Purple Heart is a bigger honor. It’s the one worth a mention.”
“Creed’s a teacher.” Pain strained the muscles across her forehead. His injury didn’t strip him from a powerful persona. Not for her, anyway. Drat her libido and the fun she had flirting with him.
“We grew up together. Our parents are best friends.” Scarlett stood, curled a hand over hers. “Our future together? Predictable.”
She pulled out car keys and pressed a button. A cherry red convertible chirped.
Scarlett’s words swirled in Lily’s brain. A ring, no zing. With a hand over her heart, she thought it best to change the subject. “What’s the name of the lending company?”
“Kwik Kash.” Scarlett’s dark eyes lit up again, and she blew her a kiss on her way out the exit gate. “Dick and I will see you later.”
“Later,” She echoed and gathered up the glasses, wiped the table with napkins, and headed inside. Until then, she’d work alongside her team.
* * *
At exactly four o’clock Scarlett and Dick Sloan showed up at Lily’s Pad.
Lily invited them to join her around the pond.
“Lily. Isn’t he good looking?” Scarlett elbowed the loan officer.
“Sure.” Lily assumed it was a rhetorical question, otherwise she would have said he looked like a dressed up pit bull. Ready for their visit, she pushed a cart with an icy pitcher of lemonade and glasses to a table. “Please sit.”
Dick snort-laughed and pulled out two chairs. Turned out one was for Scarlett, and the other for him.
“Really,” Scarlett continued, “he’s a bastard. Rich beyond imagining. As a human, he’s not worth much.”
“So,” Lily joked back, “you’re one of his belles after his money.” She poured lemonade for them.
Scarlett grinned. “Now he’s here for you.”
Dick handed Lily a white Mont Blanc fountain pen, engraved with Kwik Kash in black script.
The pen felt heavy with pen-snobbery.
He took a sip of lemonade. “You can keep the pen, Lily. After you sign, I have a couple of other gifts.” He set out a Cartier watch and a Louis Vuitton bag. Both glistened in the dappled sunlight. Under the table, Lily noticed he nudged Scarlett’s sandaled foot with his Venetian loafer. Were his thoughts traveling down a salacious path?
Lily pulled the brim of her hat down, more to shade her seething expression than her eyes. How could Scarlett treat Creed this way? She placed the unopened pen with the watch and bag. “These are beautiful gifts, Dick.”
“Jeez, Lily,” Scarlett said. “Don’t make an ass of yourself. Come on, tackle the paperwork.”
Vulnerability vanished. “I paid off my college loan. I’m still making a monthly auto payment.” She nodded toward her Mini Cooper. “Before taking on more, I need to be debt free.”
“Pardon me,” the beach star said. “You have to spend money to make money.”
“The interest
rate is high.” Lily pointed to the fine print. “Fifteen percent.”
“We can make an adjustment.” Dick tapped his fingernails on the table.
“With a balloon loan,” Lily said, and Dick stopped tapping.
Scarlett jerked to attention. “Your place needs some TLC. Money is good for that.”
Lily stiffened. “I’ve decided against it.”
“Don’t do this to me, Lily.” Scarlett shook her head.
“Do what to you?” Lily took a sip of lemonade, closing her eyes briefly as she swallowed.
“Not rising to the occasion. I can bring you more business.” Scarlett’s persistence rubbed Lily the wrong way. Usually the loanee courted the loaner, not the other way around.
“It’s a business decision. You have your answer,” Lily said without apology. “I need to head inside.”
“Move from that seat, and you’re dead,” Scarlett said levelly.
“A death threat, even in jest, isn’t funny.” Lily folded her arms across her chest.
“What if I give you a solid,” Scarlett said. “My parents and Creed’s have a twenty-thousand dollar budget for our engagement party. Let’s have it here.”
“You might not remember,” Lily said, “but last month you booked a date to have it here.”
“Well, I’m canceling.”
“Fine.” Lily couldn’t understand why she was marrying someone other than Dick Sloan who seemed to drive her mad with desire.
Scarlett coughed, choked on the mouthful of lemonade. She reached for a napkin and pressed it to her mouth. “You’re going to be sorry. As far as I’m concerned, you’re dead.”
“I’m sorry we’re not friends.” Lily couldn’t help but frown at the bitterness in Scarlett’s voice and hostility in her eyes.
Dick gathered up the pen and other gifts. Scarlett gave her a sidelong glance. “Goodbye, Miss Shabby.”
Lily bit her lip to shut down a sassy retort. Except for the plane crash taking the lives of her parents, she’d enjoyed a happy childhood with her late grandparents. They’d attended Our Redeemer Church on Grace Street. Tomorrow, Sunday, she’d head there and count her blessings.
* * *
At eleven in the morning, Lily headed from church and walked down the hill toward the shoreline. With thick fog hanging low, she nearly bumped into Maggie Henderson. “Hey, Maggie.”
