by Debra Fisk
Table of Contents
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World
About ONLY IN YOUR ARMS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Roxanne St. Claire. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Barefoot Bay remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Roxanne St. Claire, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Only in Your Arms
A Barefoot Bay Kindle World Novella
by Debra Fisk
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Only In Your Arms. This book is entirely the work of author Debra Fisk, a talented writer I handpicked to write in the world of Barefoot Bay.
Another Florida girl and a good friend, I’m thrilled that Debra has taken readers “undercover” again. In this book, she pairs a sexy police officer with his #1 suspect’s beautiful sister and like every great romantic suspense, you get action, adventure, and an unforgettable love story. Enjoy!
– Roxanne St. Claire
PS. If you’d like to read all of the Barefoot Bay Kindle World novels, or would like to explore the possibility of writing your own book set in my world, stop by www.roxannestclaire.com for details!
Only in Your Arms
Tracking down leads to his partner’s murder was all that mattered to Detective Noah Donavan, and finding Marco Talarico was his number one priority. When his captain makes him take vacation or face suspension, Noah uses the time to do some sleuthing in Barefoot Bay, the location of his suspect.
Luciana Talarico has been dreaming of making a name for herself her entire life. When her new business idea finals in the Golden Ticket Contest, she can’t get out of New York fast enough—saying goodbye to her dead end job and her overbearing family. Too bad her dead beat brother picks that moment to get into trouble—again! If that weren’t enough, running head first into Noah is a distraction her heart wants but could ruin everything.
Noah uses his connections in Barefoot Bay to go undercover. Using Marco’s sister, Luciana isn’t the best idea he’s ever had but it’s the only one he’s got. Too bad she’s everything he could hope for and more. When the two meet the sparks fly, but with so much at risk for both of them, will they give in to their hearts?
Dedication
For Roxanne St. Claire,
forever in my heart, an inspiration, author, mentor and friend.
Thank you for creating Barefoot Bay, a world where love conquers all.
A special thank you to all of the readers, may you “Kick off your shoes and fall in love.”
Table of Contents
Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World
About ONLY IN YOUR ARMS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
“And another thing, Donovan, read my lips—you’re on vacation.” Chief Bratton hammered home his last three words by tapping his index finger on the desk, ending his long-winded lecture.
Detective Noah Donovan glanced sideways at the wall clock. This time it was different. The chief had surpassed the average thirty-minute mark. It was about time he finished.
Getting reamed out wasn’t new to Noah. He’d been on the receiving end of the chief’s scoldings numerous times before. At least he wasn’t being suspended, but a vacation? This was a first.
“A vacation, sir, really?” Like a cat clawing its way out of a bathtub full of water, Noah tried to steer clear of being forced to take time off. Not when they were so close to finding an answer. His mind worked every angle to avoid the fate about to be handed to him while he studied a scuff on his new black Italian leather shoes. How the heck did that happen? He turned his attention away from the scratch and forced himself to act concerned for the older man’s benefit.
Today the chief looked like he’d been run over by a steamroller in his starched white shirt with pleated cuffs and a dull blue tie twisted in a crooked single knot. Sloppy. Noah couldn’t help it, he had a thing for dressing for success. It came with the territory of being raised a Donovan. The other detectives joked about his sense of style, calling him Detective GQ. His foundation for fashion had been set at an early age. The real estate empire built by his great-grandfather in the 1920s had required nothing but the best for their clients.
Noah estimated the lecture should be over in another five or ten minutes. He tried to show remorse, but this kind of thing happened every time he went above and beyond. No appreciation, not even a hint of thanks—ever. Instead of praise, he was ritualistically criticized. He imagined Bratton’s reprimand could be heard floating over the city, drowning out the sirens in the New York streets below.
“Detective Donovan, are you listening to me?” Chief Bratton’s face turned a deeper hue of red. “After the stunt you pulled yesterday, we’ll be lucky if this department doesn’t get sued.”
It hadn’t been that bad. He did get a confession without force or violence. “You should be thanking me,” Noah interjected. “Look, Tom, I got results—”
Bratton’s eyes bugged out and looked like two cherries in his head, as if he was being strangled by his tie. “It’s Chief Bratton to you.” He flung himself forward in his chair and slammed his fist on his desk. “You’re taking a little R&R, understand? Book yourself a ticket out of LaGuardia, and I better get a phone call tomorrow from somewhere saying you’ve landed a thousand miles away. Got it?”
“Is the department paying?” Ouch. That slipped out. The glare he received told him he’d gone too far. All the Ivory soap in the world couldn’t clean the wiseass out of him. His parents should have bought stock in the company. He pushed back the chair and stood. Now that Bratton was finished, he’d try to reason with him. “Give me a few days off, but a vacation’s not needed. I have to keep the pressure on to find Talarico. I’m positive the kid was there when they wasted Rizzo.”
Chief Bratton let out a long sigh. “What you need is to get out of my office and out of town. Leave this to the rest of the department.” Tom Bratton was tough as nails but not altogether heartless. He wanted to catch Rizzo’s killer and make him pay. Noah had been Rizzo’s partner years ago, what would happen to his wife and two small kids.
Noah still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact he was gone. Joe Rizzo had been one the best cops in the city. New York was a mixed bag of good and bad, but within the department, Joe was known as a by-the-book kinda guy—Noah owed him his life on more than one occasion. He rested his hand on the desk and leaned closer. “My gut says Joe was set up, and I’m sure Talarico witnessed somethi
ng.”
“I have no choice. You’re too emotionally attached to this case.” Tom leaned back in his chair, and finally looked human again. “We can’t afford any mess-ups when it all goes down. I don’t want this piece of scum walking away on a technicality.”
A knock at the door made them pause. “Come in,” Bratton grumbled. Detective Merritt stepped in and blurted out, “We got an anonymous tip—Talarico left town and is headed out of state.”
Interesting.
Noah pressed for an answer, “Do you know where?” The vacation was on. Noah no longer wanted out of the R&R, as Bratton put it. He could continue his hunt for Talarico and maybe catch a killer.
The chief held up his hand to silence Merritt. “Noah, you’re outta here. And don’t go getting any ideas. Stay off of this case.”
Perfect. Now he could track Talarico, get some answers, and satisfy the chief’s orders.
“I don’t need a vacation. Merritt, any ideas who called it in?”
Bratton pointed his index finger at Steve. “Don’t answer him.” Then he turned to Noah. “Goodbye, Detective Donovan. See you in a few weeks, and stay away from this case. Got it?”
Reluctant to leave, Noah lingered a second longer. Anxious to pump an informant for answers about Talarico, he needed to learn what the word was on the street. Then he’d know exactly where to go for a “vacation”. which ticket to buy and to where.
*****
Flight DELAYED. What? Luciana Talarico blinked. The overhead board had flashed, and her flight had changed from BOARDING to DELAYED. One blip, and her day had gone from awesome to awful. Now what?
How about a toasted garlic bagel with cream cheese and a nice warm coffee from Starbucks? There was plenty of time now. She tamped down the stress-induced eating voice. “Stop trying to lead me astray,” she murmured.
Stuck in the airport. This was the exact reason she hadn’t wanted to purchase a ticket with a connecting flight from New York to Florida. She should have flown nonstop. In hindsight, the two hundred dollars in savings didn’t seem like such a great deal.
Mild panic set in. How would she make it to Mimosa Key in time to check in for the Golden Ticket Contest? The panic started to build. Stranded in the Atlanta airport for how long? Ugh! First, she’d been yanked out of line to have her hands swabbed for traces of explosives, then she was accosted by TSA because of a splash of rhinestones on her jean’s pockets. Was this how they repaid her for not carrying a weapon? The last few times she’d flown had also ended up with some unusual situation. Once, a storm had kept them on the runway for six hours. Another time, smoke had filled the cabin.
The flight-status screen flashed again. DELAYED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Luciana stood frozen, unsure what to do next. A throng of passengers surrounded the ticket counter, demanding answers. She was reluctant to join the angry crowd inquiring how to make it to Florida, but worried she’d be late and might be disqualified from the contest.
If it weren’t for her best friend, Crystal, she wouldn’t be going at all. She didn’t pay much attention to reality TV shows, but they were like lifeblood for her bestie. She’d seen the information about the contest in People magazine and entered Luciana without her knowing. Talk about a shock to find out she’d been selected as a contestant.
It should have been exciting, the chance to get a start for the women’s athletic wear line she’d designed. She even had a name already—Perfect Fitz—and she hoped that her business plan would sell the judges on her idea. The Golden Ticket could be just that if it worked out. A chance at a new start. Of course, it meant keeping her eye on the prize, which was almost impossible after the cryptic message she’d gotten from her brother Marco. He was supposed to meet her in Barefoot Bay, but she had no way to contact him, and she didn’t want him to worry if she wasn’t at the resort on time.
To win the Golden Ticket, her product needed to fill an untapped niche in the market. Crystal had been sure she’d win, even if Luciana didn’t have half as much faith. Still, she was proud of her line of exercise wear made from a super comfy breathable material. It eliminated the feeling of being stifled in clothing that fit like skin around a sausage.
A stabbing pain in her stomach reminded her that her last meal was hours ago. Time for that garlic bagel? Not wanting to lose her spot in line at the ticket counter, she ignored the empty rumbling and remained planted in place. One by one the crowd thinned, and she inched closer. She studied the woman in front of her. Blond, mid-twenties, and dressed like a perfect stuffed sausage in her designer workout wear. Really? Why would anyone fly on a plane in yoga pants and a sports bra unless they wanted to hook up in the airport lounge?
“I know delays can’t be helped, but I am on my way to the Golden Ticket Contest.” She threw out the words Golden Ticket like they had some high level of importance to the airline clerk.
The attendant peered over her glasses with a frown. “Everyone surrounding this desk has someplace to go.”
The blond woman’s shoulders slumped with disappointment, while the airline clerk generated a ticket and handed her the printed slip of paper.
Luciana moved up in line, handed her ticket to the woman, who smiled at her. “You’re in luck, I have a seat open on a smaller commercial flight, one of our commuter carriers, if you’re interested. It leaves in an hour.”
“I’ll take it.” While Luciana waited for her ticket, her cellphone rang. The screen displayed RESTRICTED. She tapped the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.” Marco. But why was he restricting his number?
“I have a disposable phone and only a few minutes to talk. When do you land?”
Luciana replied, “In three hours. How will I get in touch with you?” While she had the chance, she wanted to set up a way to meet up with him.
“Don’t worry about it—I’ll find you.” He paused, and wind rustled on the phone. “And Ana, be careful.” The line went dead.
Why would he say be careful? Her stomach clenched into a tight knot, and she worried she’d heave standing in front of the ticket counter. The queasiness made her break out in a cold sweat, and her panic, which had started to fade, ratcheted up again.
Marco, what have you gotten yourself mixed up in?
She tried to shake off the nagging, uneasy feeling rising up in her stomach. Her eyes darted around, searching for anyone who looked like they were watching her. This was ridiculous. No one would be following her.
“Your ticket, miss.” The clerk stood with her arm extended, holding the printed boarding pass.
Luciana reached out and took the slip of paper from the attendant’s hand. “Thank you.”
What-if’s pounded in her brain and put her nerves on edge. She needed to regroup. She had plenty of time to satisfy the craving for a bagel and coffee, maybe even time to sort a few things out about her brother. A good run on the beach later would relieve the pent-up tension from the trip. Following the signs to the gate, she kept her eyes open for the first coffee stop.
What had Marco gotten himself involved in this time? Her brother had the worst luck. Somehow he always landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. It hadn’t always been that way, but lately he was out of sync with the rest of the world. Was there some way she could guide him back onto the right path?
So much of her future was riding on this contest. In a few weeks, she’d gone from accountant to contestant and had had to submit her business plan to the contest organizers. After a huge pep talk from Crystal, she was positive she had a chance to win. Using her accounting skills, she’d pored over the numbers, doing research and formulating a strong business plan projecting the growth of sportswear for women. Her product line wouldn’t look like men’s clothes or something a pin-up model should be wearing. Perfect Fitz would be functional, comfortable. The clothing that wouldn’t ride up your butt during a workout or outdoor activity. It would be colorful, fashionable, and fit every body size and shape, and it would be made in the USA.
In the center
of the terminal, she spied an Einstein bagels shop. Carbs be damned! She didn’t make a habit of eating carbs, but today was an exception—a well-deserved travel treat followed by a healthy dose of caffeine in the form of a jumbo latte.
Used to eating on the run, she hadn’t eaten much the past few days. Just because she was Italian didn’t mean she knew how to cook. Luciana cared less about cooking and more about her work. She was tired of the question: How will you ever catch a husband? And that was the point—she was determined not to wind up living in the kitchen serving others and being worshiped for her cooking skills. She charged into Einstein’s, almost bumping into guess who at the end of the line—Miss Blond Sports Bra talking to a man also waiting to place an order.
Luciana didn’t have a problem with the blonde other than she was the competition for the Golden Ticket. Curiosity got the best of her. If somehow she could find out what the blonde’s entrepreneurial idea was, it might ease the self-doubt beginning to sneak into her head.
The blonde was flirting with the man in line. “So where are you from?” She batted her eyelashes and flashed a huge supermodel grin. She had the guy’s full attention, and Luciana noticed he sort of looked like Hugh Jackman.
“Chicago,” the sorta Hugh Jackman look-alike said. “You?”
“California,” the bubbling blonde gushed, flipping her long hair for added effect.
Figures.
“I’m on my way to Florida for the Golden Ticket Contest,” she announced, shoving her chest forward and wearing her cleavage like a medal of valor, as if she had been crowned Miss Universe.
“I’ve designed a swimsuit in a bag,” Bubbling Blonde said, leaning in and gently touching his arm. “You know how they have bed in a bag—”
“Bed in a what?” The word bed caught his attention. The more he spoke, the more Luciana realized he didn’t look that much like Hugh Jackman. The hair was wrong, for one thing. “I don’t know what that is,” Looking Less Like Hugh added.
