Surfer Bride
Quincy Holt, a world champion surfer, was in love with a police officer, Fennimore Smith. He dumped her over a rumor that she cheated on him. Two years later, she’s moved on and is engaged to Percy Hicks, a British man that she believes could make her happy.
Quincy thinks her fiancé is an antiques dealer but he’s actually a firearms smuggler. A smuggler being investigated by her former lover, now an ATF agent. When Percy’s private plane full of weapons is confiscated while Quincy is aboard and she’s arrested for arms dealing, Fennimore Smith flies to Bali to rescue her and get her to testify against Percy. She turns him down as she has plans of her own. She sets off to London on a quest to trap her fiancé and bring him down. Will she survive her mission? Will her former lover have to rescue her again?
Genre: Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Length: 81,650 words
SURFER BRIDE
Jillian Chantal
ROMANCE
www.BookStrand.com
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A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE
IMPRINT: Romance
SURFER BRIDE
Copyright © 2011 by Jillian Chantal
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-190-2
First E-book Publication: February 2011
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
For my dear friend, Frances Garner, also known as Emmy, thanks for sharing your memories of Bali with me and, most of all, for your unwavering belief in me as a writer and your zest for life.
And for Karl Murray, who was killed in a tragic accident as I wrote this book. I borrowed his name for a totally fictional character to celebrate his memory.
SURFER BRIDE
JILLIAN CHANTAL
Copyright © 2011
Chapter One
“He’s a complicated man...John Shaft”
Theme from Shaft- Isaac Hayes (American singer/songwriter, 1942-2008)
The ceiling fan in her bedroom spun and wobbled, a sound of comfort for Quincy Holt as she hummed the theme song from Shaft and packed a box. Seemed like the hundredth box. No way it could’ve been that many, but dang, it seemed like she’d been packing forever.
The song was stuck in her head on a continuous loop, but the work went faster when she occupied her mind with something besides her plans for the immediate future. The song served its purpose. The big changes in her life scared her, and she didn’t want to mull over the decision she’d made. Too much thought might make her change her mind and run in the other direction.
The song kept her mind fully occupied. Shaft was kind of a lame song, but that was the point. No serious thoughts. Be mindless. The decision was made, and she knew there could be no retreat. She’d committed to this, and she’d follow through. No matter what doubts kept creeping into her subconscious. The doubts she kept tamping back down from her conscious mind. Don’t think, just do. Pack, don’t think. Just pack.
She heard the phone in her living room ring. Deep sigh. Who could it be now? There was no need for all the calls. God, can’t they just be happy for me and leave me alone? The decision was made. No one would talk her out of it. No matter how hard they tried. Her head was stuck in a cardboard box she’d taken from the back of the liquor store as she packed her favorite bed linens. She yelled from the bedroom to the front of the house. “Avery, can you grab that? I’m in the middle of a mass of sheets and blankets.” Let Avery get rid of whoever it is.
* * * *
Avery, her own head in a box of books in the other room, said, “Sure.” She turned to the table where the phone sat and grabbed the receiver. “Quincy’s house.”
“Avery? That you?” A familiar male voice.
Dead silence.
“Avery? Avery Collins?
She found her voice and croaked, “Finn?” Stunned, she paused for another second and added, “Fennimore Smith? Really? Can this be Finn?”
The man exhaled deeply. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s Finn. Is Q there?”
Avery sat in the closest chair, the blue brocade that matched the drapes. “What the hell you think you’re doing calling her out of the blue two years after you ripped her heart out and fed it to the sharks, you pig? And calling her ‘Q’ like nothing ever happened? What’s your game?”
“No game. I just need to talk to her. Is she there?”
“She’s here, but she’s in the middle of packing. She’s found someone else. She’s getting married and moving to England. To be with him.” Avery looked around the small living room of the bungalow that was her friend’s childhood home. She looked at all the boxes, some stacked and ready to ship and some open with things spilling out.
“I heard. That’s why I’m calling. I need to talk to her about that.”
“No way. Uh-uh. Nope. She’s happy. She’s over you. No way am I putting you on the phone to screw with her head. Forget it.” Avery shook her head as if the man on the other end of the phone could see her.
“So, she’s there?”
“Yes. I already told you that. But I’m not telling her you’re on the phone. No way. No how.” She paused. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I will.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you know this or if you even care, but she totally lost it when you dumped her. You were an ass. Never even listened to her side of the story. It took her over a year to even get out of her house again, except for work. I’m not about to let you screw with her head again. She’s marrying Percy Hicks, and you’ve got nothing to say about it. Now I suggest—”
Quincy came in the room then, pushed her damp curls off her brow, and asked, “Who is it?”
Avery mouthed to her, “No one.” She added into the receiver, “As I said, sir, Ms. Holt isn’t interested. Thank you for calling. Have a nice day.” She disconnected the call and turned to Quincy. “Telemarketer. Selling crap you don’t need. What with all you’re getting rid of in the move.” She nodded toward the piles of stuff near the front door that
Quincy was donating to the rescue mission and went on, “Hope you don’t mind that I cut him off.”
“Thanks, Avery. Hate those calls.” She lifted her hair off her neck and fanned herself. “That’s hard work. Who knew sheets could be so heavy?”
“Me, too. I hate those calls, always interrupting my life. Feel kind of sorry for the workers, but darn it, it sure does disturb the peace.”
Quincy laughed. “Sure does.” She flopped on the blue and white plaid couch, legs stretched out in front of her. She picked up one of the matching throw pillows and hugged it to her stomach. “I’m starved. Wanna split a pizza? Toss me the phone and I’ll call. Delivery won’t take long.”
“Let’s get out of here and go get something. You need to get away from the mess for a while.” Avery waved her hand in the direction of the stacks of boxes. “This place is depressing, what with you packing up your life. We need to get out of here before I cry again.”
“Nah. You can’t cry again. You’ve done enough of that for both of us, and I’ll be back here to visit so much, you’ll get sick of me. Let’s stay in and call for the pizza. I’m done for.” She sighed and looked around at the room. “Who knew I had so much crap?”
“I really would like to go out and get something. I like my pizza served hotter than delivery can do it.”
Quincy laughed. “Since when? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me out of here.”
“Yep. That’s it.” Avery nodded and crossed her fingers behind her back. “I’m afraid the telemarketer is a stalker and will be coming here to see the great Quincy Holt.”
Quincy sat up from where she reclined on the couch and shook her head, strands of blond hair going into her mouth. She pulled the wayward tresses from her lips. “You’re so crazy. I’m not that famous. And not famous at all in some crowds. But, I’ll go out for the pizza as long as I don’t have to get cleaned up.”
“Grab your purse then and let’s go.” Avery leapt from the chair and dashed to the front door. She snatched her own purse
class=WordSection3> from the floor where it sat amidst the chaos.
Quincy stood, grabbed a pony tail holder from the drawer in the phone table and pulled her hair back. “Damn, you are in a hurry. Did you rob a bank or something?”
“Just hush and come on.” Avery tossed Quincy the keys from the oak table beside the front door and they left the house.
* * * *
They rode to the local pizzeria, Tuscany Grill, in Quincy’s restored 1955 Willys Jeep. The vehicle was Quincy’s baby. It had belonged to her father.
When they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, Avery turned to her. “Aren’t you gonna miss this place?”
“I sure am. After all, we’ve been coming here since high school, but I’m gonna miss you most of all.” A few tears escaped and trailed down Quincy’s face. “I’m not at all sure this is the right thing to do. I’ve only known Percy for seven months. And that’s been mostly a long distance relationship. I think he’s rushing me a bit. After all, packing up my life and moving to another country is pretty scary. And how do I know we’ll get along when we’re together all the time?”
“Honey, he loves you. He just wants to be with you as much as he can. I think it’ll be fine. The time you have spent with him has been good.” She looked at her friend in silence for a moment and then added, “You do love him, right?”
“I really think I do. I don’t have that crazy wild feeling for him like I did with Finn. But we both know that wasn’t healthy. That was an insane, raging fire that burned me. Burned me bad. You know that.” She shuddered at the memory of the shell of a person she’d become when Finn dumped her. “Besides, Percy’s more stable, and it makes sense to grab on to that. Being with a cop was too up and down for me. And I can’t live life like that again. I can’t.” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t stop the doubts about what I’m doing. Doubts about Percy and me. In the middle of the night when I’m all alone, I mean.”
Avery patted her arm. “I know that Finn and you were a like a supernova—burned out fast and early. But I really think you and Percy will make a good marriage. The two of you can live on a more even keel. You and Finn would’ve always had such a volatile life. A nice, good looking, boring old antiques dealer is what you need. I hope you’ll be happy with Percy. Calm and settled. And you can have those kids you’ve been wanting.” She looked around the parking lot and added, “Not to change the subject, but let’s go eat. Finish this conversation after we order. I’m suddenly starved.”
“So you think Percy is boring?” Quincy grinned as she opened her car door and got out.
“Not really, but compared to Finn, he’s a little dull. Mr. Polite, suave, British stiff upper lip, kind of dull. Not in a bad way, just different. And Finn was certainly a fine specimen of a man—”
“You need to quit while you’re ahead. You’re making it worse. Every word you say.” Quincy slammed the Jeep door and headed to the entrance of the pizza joint.
“Fine. Fine. I probably should shut up while I’m ahead.” Avery whispered to Quincy’s back as she walked behind her.”
* * * *
The restaurant was a cozy little pizza place that boasted a full menu of other Italian entrées as well. It had a beehive, wood fired oven, and the crusts of the pizzas came out sublime due to the real fire cooking.
The decor evoked old Tuscany. The walls were yellowed adobe with murals of grape arbors painted on them. The décor was simple. Freestanding tables in the middle of the room and booths with high backs. The booths each provided privacy and acted as favored spots for lovers as the deep seat backs provided a spot for the teenagers to make out unseen by the other patrons.
The restaurant was a favorite of locals since the Seventies. Quincy and Avery had been customers since they were kids. Quincy loved to frequent the place when she was home in South Florida from her work as a professional surfer. One of the first things she wanted when she came back to the States was one of their six-meat pizzas. Sometimes she could barely stand the drive from the airport to the restaurant, her mouth watered so badly. She would definitely miss this place.
When they got inside, the waitress led them to a table, and they ordered their drinks. The friends sat in silence, listening to the music on the jukebox until the waitress came back. Once they ordered their pizza and she left the beverages and straws, Avery opened her straw and twisted it around in her hand. With her other hand, she reached across the table and grabbed Quincy’s. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in the Jeep. About the fire you felt for Finn and your uncertainty about Percy. I have to ask. What would you do if he came back?” She shoved the straw in her glass and took a large swallow of her tea, nervous about the lie she told earlier.
“Why would that even come up?” Quincy asked.
Avery stared at her. “Just answer the question.”
“Seems pointless, doesn’t it? Why ask?” She hunched her shoulders and leaned across the table.
“Just curious.” Avery’s face turned red.
“What aren’t you saying? I’ve known you for a long time, and when those red splotches show up on your neck and face, you’ve either done something or are hiding something. What’s up?
“Remember the telemarketer?”
Quincy let out a deep sigh. “Ave, it was twenty minutes ago. Yes, of course, I remember.”
“Wasn’t a telemarketer. It was Finn.”
Quincy turned white and sat back in the booth. She slammed herself so hard into the back rest, it wobbled. She raised her shaky hand to her forehead, “Finn? My God. What did he want?”
“Said he heard you were getting married and wanted to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Why didn’t you let me talk to him?”
“I just thought you didn’t need—”
Quincy slapped her hand on the table and raised her voice. “Who the hell do you think you ar
e? You just thought. I didn’t need. Who are you to think for me? Who are you to know what I need?”
“Shh. You’re making a scene.”
Quincy leaned over the table and hissed, “The hell with that. What were you thinking?”
“I’m your best friend. I remember the dark days after he left. How you almost quit living. I didn’t want to see all that come back. He hurt you so bad, I didn’t think—”
“That’s right. You didn’t. You didn’t think. I’m twenty-six years old. I can make my own decisions.” She paused for a second, and recognition dawned in her eyes. “Is that why you rushed me out of the house? Did he say he was coming over?”
“No. But I was afraid he would.”
“I appreciate your intentions but don’t interfere again.”
“I won’t.” Avery had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Promise?” Quincy relaxed a little.
“Yeah. I really am sorry. When you said you had doubts about Percy, I decided I better tell you about the call.”
“My doubts have nothing to do with Finn. Not really.” She shook her head. “It just seems like Percy and I are in a hurry, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what the big rush to the altar is all about. Percy’s been single a long time, and I don’t know why he’s so insistent on the marriage being soon. He says it’s because I want children, but I have plenty of time for that. And I plan to keep surfing for a while anyway. It’s going to be hard, but I’ll do it. At least until I can get pregnant. You know I’ve always wanted a family, and this marriage is the best chance I have. I’m not getting any younger, and I think Percy and I will grow in our feelings for each other as we spend more time together. I hope so, anyway because this is what I want. A nice life with a husband and kids.” She paused and took a drink of her soda.
Chantal, Jillian - Surfer Bride (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 1
