by Lane, Aubree
Tahoe Blues
by
Aubree Lane
Published by Aubree Lane
Copyright © 2014 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
My greatest appreciation goes out to my family. My husband and two sons are my life and my love for them is unmatched, even by my characters.
To the crazy ladies who support me almost unconditionally, and kick my butt when I need it. I’d say more, but what happens in the CLS, stays in the CLS.
To Colleen Hendon and the tiny seed she planted which grew into Tahoe Blues.
To my Street Team, Lane’s Lunatics. Ten of these awesome Looneys read an advanced copy of Tahoe Blues and gave me the confidence to keep going. Leslie Hansford, Tina Peterson, Robin Driscoll, Elaina Grambo, Danielle Peterson, Milissa Cheslog, Jan Murphree, Kimberly DeFabio, Nancy Overhiser Zerdin and Rochelle Pritchett. I love you ladies. Thank you.
To RE Hargrave for hooking me up with the great, JC Clarke, of Grafix Momma who designed my magnificent cover. Thank you JC!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
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Chapter One
The opulence of the Grand Ballroom of the Cascade Bay Resort and Casino jumped out and smacked Cara in the face for the very last time. Cara Lee Greene Alexander, soon to simply be Cara Lee Greene, had just arrived to host her final event as the wife of Duncan Alexander.
Duncan and the rest of the Alexander family had yet to arrive, and that suited Cara perfectly. She had several small details to attend to before the gala was scheduled to begin, and she wasn’t up for another round of Duncan’s soft voice beckoning, his bedroom eyes seducing, or another woman on his arm smiling her secret smile.
Duncan was part of the wealthiest family on the Nevada side of North Lake Tahoe, and he was probably the hottest man alive. Unfortunately, it had been those same qualities which had brought about the end of their marriage. Women loved to associate with the newly crowned King of Tahoe and owner of the Cascade Bay Resort and Casino, and Cara’s privileged husband had become far too accommodating.
Duncan couldn’t keep it in his pants if his life depended on it, and Cara was tired of trying to make the best of a bad situation. Her self-esteem had taken a brutal beating. She couldn’t understand why she wasn’t enough for Duncan, but that wasn’t what killed their marriage. It dissolved into dust the day Cara realized, Duncan was no longer enough for her.
The final straw came crashing down when she walked in on him and the latest one of his Blackjack dealing Barbies. Inside the walls of the sacred family compound, the couple had been completely nude and quite energetic under the covers of the couple’s bed. As their only safe haven from the glitz and glamor of casino life, Cara thought would have been off limits.
The redhead was just one of a long line of immoral, insecure, boob-jobs willing to share her goods. But this time Duncan had made it all too clear he didn’t give a damn about how many foot prints he left on Cara’s back as he trampled across their wedding vows.
Cara had almost grown numb to his dalliances. She had checked out of their marriage ages ago, but Duncan’s blatant lack of respect for her or any aspect of their union rammed home, in more ways than one, the fact that their marriage was over.
Cara calmly walked over and pulled her suitcase out from under the bed and began packing. Through the groans and moans of passion, Cara was unobserved for several moments. When the couple came up for air and noticed she was in the room, the boob-job began to blubber, and Duncan scrambled to assure Cara the piece of ass under him didn’t mean a thing.
Stoic and silent, Cara ignored the commotion around her and gathered her belongings. By the time she hit the bathroom to dump her toiletries and cosmetics into a large beach tote, the redhead was history and Duncan finally had his pants pulled back on. Cara couldn’t help but notice how his thighs were pumped a little larger than usual due to the vigorous activity he had just engaged in.
He leaned his six foot frame in the doorway, his pants loose and unzipped around his hips. Duncan had decided to go commando, and Cara let her gaze drop to the ‘V’ which led to the ‘P’ and released a disgusted huff. Those trim, tight muscles that ran along his hip bones were capable of driving way too many women crazy.
His arms were crossed over his bare chest, and his messy sun-tinted amber hair brushed the lashes of his golden eyes. Once upon a time Cara had truly loved the man standing so handsomely before her, but Duncan had destroyed it.
Somewhere inside Cara knew she had to be partially to blame for their failed marriage, but for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom what she had possibly done to deserve this.
She shook her head and huffed sarcastically, “You aren’t seriously going to try to convince me to stay?”
Duncan’s overconfident grin curved at the corners of his soft lips. His face had been freshly shaven, and Cara knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the encounter with the Blackjack bitch had been planned and executed flawlessly. It left her wondering if he intended for her to catch them.
When he spoke his voice came out like silk and it was laden with sexual overtones. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Babe,” he cajoled. “Don’t make me beg. You know I can’t live without you.”
Cara narrowed her eyes and glared at him. His overconfident, self-assured attitude made her ill. The urge to punish him for all the hurt and humiliation she endured during their marriage was overwhelming. Cara drew in a calculated breath and let the tension flow out of her body. Her gaze softened. She looked deeply into his eyes and stepped into his waiting arms.
Victory was written all over Duncan’s face. His sultry eyes closed, and when he leaned his philandering lips down to meet hers, Cara grinned. Her eyes narrowed. She was now the predator, and she had him within her sights. Cara forcefully drew her leg up and bashed her knee into the heart of his cheating-ass groin.
Cara left Duncan doubled over, clutching the source of his virility in pain and cursing profusely.
The following day she filed for divorce, and from that day forward, all contact with the Alexander family had been kept strictly on a professional level. Cara had already committed to running the annual charity gala for the Blue Tahoe Blue Foundation, and she agreed to honor that one final obligation. As a Biology Professor at the University at Tahoe City, located just over the summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range, Cara was in charge of undergraduate research of invasive species in Lake Tahoe. Keeping the lake healthy had always been at the top of Cara’s priorities and the gala had been responsible for raising an exorbitant amount of money for exactly that purpose.
Next year Duncan’s sister would be called upon to carry the load.
Cara and Drew had never been close, and Duncan’s twin had taken Cara’s abandonment as a slap in the face to the entire family. Leaving the gala in her sister-in-law’s incapable hands made Cara uncomfortable. The charity function meant a lot to her, but she wouldn
’t be surprised if Drew ended up deliberately sabotaging its success just to get back at her.
It didn’t matter if it was Drew’s intent or not. The reality was that with Drew in charge, the gala’s days were numbered, and Cara had to find a way to let it go.
Looking around the ballroom, Cara could see the crystal clear water and the tips of the snow-capped mountains out of every single window that banked the back wall of the stately room. It wasn’t the majestic view which took her breath away, it was her own reflection.
Cara was happy. The smile on her face would not leave. In a sudden burst of joyfulness, Cara twirled happily around in the gorgeous smoke-gray, above the knee cocktail dress. She ran her hands down the silky material and gave her best friend a mental high five for forcing her to wear one of her creations instead of the bare-assed beaded disaster Duncan had purchased for her.
Cara searched the room for the high-priestess of Tahoe’s fashion scene. Leah Jefferson Bailey owned a small boutique, which showcased her own designs. She carried other local wears as well, but she was queen of her own tiny castle. The months preceding the annual Alexander Gala was her busy season. Gowns from Leah’s shop were always in high demand, but every spring business boomed. The quarter preceding the gala was Leah’s Christmas. The business she did during that time dictated whether she would make it or break it for the rest of the year.
Her shop was small, but it was also mighty.
The only other major player in town was Bellissimo Abito, where Duncan had purchased the extravagant, sheer, floor-length light blue number with the plunging neckline. Cara was pretty sure some glue would have been needed to keep the girls from falling out. Made mostly of mousseline, the majority of the wearer’s skin would be visible under the delicate sheer fabric. If it hadn’t been for the precise placement of a variety of sequins and beads cascading down the bodice in a C-shape, covering the breast and pelvic region, the wearer could probably be arrested for indecent exposure.
The whore gown was more suited for one of Duncan’s casino show girls and Cara suspected her loving husband had one particular Blackjack dealer in mind when he picked it out for her.
Bellissimo Albito had been after Leah for the last several years to sell out and come on as one of their designers. If Leah had her way, it would be a cold day in hell before that happened.
Leah had paid a price for turning her nose up at Bellissimo Abito. They had a substantial amount of resources and had used their influence to turn up the heat and try to force Leah into accepting their offer.
Suddenly, Leah’s creditors were not quite so understanding if she happened to be a day or two late with a payment, and her advertisements in the local media wound up buried within the pages, smaller than ordered, or forgotten altogether. When she complained, her money was quickly refunded with an apology, but Leah knew that Bellissimo Abito had begun to play hardball.
Hard times were coming. Leah suspected that soon her suppliers would dump her or begin delaying her shipments. She had made it through the gala season practically unscathed, but Leah didn’t think it would be the same story next year.
All thoughts of Leah and the problems she faced disappeared when she caught sight of one of the artists who had created and donated a sculpture specifically for tonight’s benefit auction. Brett Boden was dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a white t-shirt. Cara and Brett had known each other for years and had become good friends. She suspected the good looking older man, with a penchant for old television sit-coms, who actually treated her with respect, might have a little crush on her.
After she walked out on Duncan, Brett had offered her the use of his spare room above his studio. She had been tempted to take him up on it, but although she was very fond of Brett and had spent many recent evenings with him watching his favorite old-time black and white programs as she tried to stay out of Leah’s way, Cara knew moving in with another man would cause more problems than it would solve. Bunking with Leah until she found a place of her own was a far better option.
Over the past few weeks, when time constraints allowed, Cara was playing a subtle match-maker between Brett and Leah. She would call Brett over to pick her up from Leah’s to give them a few moments to get to know each other in a non-threatening environment, or when Brett called to ask Cara to lunch, she would have him bring enough food over for both her and Leah. The few hours Cara managed to wrangle for the three of them to spend together had successfully sparked Brett and Leah’s interest in each other, and although neither of her friends said anything, Cara suspected they had begun to spend a little time together on their own.
Cara smiled at the thought of a Brett and Leah union. She could envision them combining their studios and showrooms. In Cara’s humble opinion, the two were meant for each other. Leah would add structure to Brett’s chaotic lifestyle, and Brett would help loosen up Leah’s tight constraints. With his wealth and prestige, he would probably be able to help Leah with her suppliers as well.
When it came to his art, Cara gave Brett a huge amount of leeway to accommodate his eccentricities, but wearing jeans and a t-shirt to the gala was taking it too far. He had an image to present this evening, and that of an unconventional renegade artist was not it.
“Brett Boden!” she called out, wagging her finger in his direction. “This is a formal event! Guests will be arriving soon and this,” she scowled, waving her finger up and down his apparel, “is not part of the dress code.”
Brett brushed off her rebuff lightly. “Quit worrying about your little ball thing. My tux is in the car.” He shot her a cheeky smirk. “I’m just polishing my piece.”
Brett had a vernacular all his own, and Cara couldn’t help but smile at the latest of the never ending stream of sexual innuendos which fell out of his mouth. He loved to tease her about how seriously she took this event by calling the prestigious Alexander Gala a ball thing, but Cara knew how to exact her revenge. She exhaled dramatically and rubbed the palms of her hands excitedly together. “Where’s your statue? I can’t wait to see it.”
Brett chuckled and nodded his graying temples appreciatively. “My sculpture is right over there.” he corrected her with a grin. He winked, then bent long at the waist and sent a dramatic arm flourish in the direction of the auction enclave.
Cara was dying to see Brett’s creation. He had been uncharacteristically coy this year. No information about his sculpture had been forthcoming, which left the description in the program nonexistent. Cara was forced to write about his latest successes instead.
Internationally renowned sculptor, Brett Boden, first place in the annual Carve Tahoe snow sculpting contest for his rendition of Fire Goddess.
She ended it with a tease about how they would all have to wait and be surprised as to what Brett planned for the gala this year.
It irritated her, but no amount of coercion would get Brett to give her as much as a hint. To get his goat, Cara threatened to take the word International out of his description. His art was basically only known in the Western United States and Canada, but since that would defeat the purpose of acquiring the best price possible for his donation, she reined in her spite and let the program go to press unedited.
Of course, she didn’t let Brett know she hadn’t followed through with her threat.
Immense disappointment made the smile, which had clung happily to her face, fall away the moment she walked through the ornamental archway. Cara could not believe the monstrosity in front of her was a Brett Boden design. She stood frozen, her mouth agape. The form in front of her was like nothing she had ever seen before. It was an amalgam of metals reaching skyward in a mass of swirls and curves.
Cara didn’t claim to be an art critic, but she knew as she studied the atrocity before her that Brett had hit a low point in his career. “Wow!” was all she could think to say.
Brett’s eyes twinkled, but instead of being insulted, he looked as though he was trying not to laugh. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it? I used your eyeball
door as inspiration.”
Cara nodded. The door at her new apartment was a sight. Gaudy described it perfectly. It was made of solid mahogany and carved under about fifty layers of glossy dark lacquer was a giant bulging eye, spying from both inside and out. The monster reminded Cara of an eerie nineteen-twenty’s fortunetelling machine whose marquee read, The Eye Sees All. The only good thing was it made her new apartment easily distinguishable from all the other units at Granite Gates Estates.
Cara shot Brett an incredulous look, then stared blankly back at the statue. “I appreciate art, and I know what I like. For the sake of tonight’s success, I hope someone out there appreciates your work, but I have to be honest with you, this is not one of my favorites.” She looked a little closer and touched the smooth edge of the curves. “And other than the fact that they are both a piece of work,” she commented with her eyes slightly crossed, “I’m not sure I get the relationship to my front door.”
Brett choked back his mirth and tried to explain, “I know a hotel right down the road from the Santa Cruz, Beach and Boardwalk, where I’m sure your parents must have taken you when you were a kid. It’s just south of San Francisco on the California coast. Both the hotel and the boardwalk were built in the same era, and the hotel has the same exact doors as the one on your apartment.” Brett swiped his hand skyward. “If you look closely at my sculpture, you’ll be able to see my interpretation of the Giant Dipper.”
Cara knew the Santa Cruz area well. She and her parents had made it a frequent vacation spot while she was growing up in the Sonoma wine country of California. The Giant Dipper was one of the few remaining wooden roller coasters in the United States, and Cara had enjoyed many days racing up the enclosed ramp. Her child eyes had been in awe of the black and white portraits of Marilyn Monroe, Bob Hope, and many other celebrities whose names she could no longer recall.
