by Becca Barnes
But this was good information to have. These were the ins and outs I needed to know before my new venture went live.
If it went live.
No, I reminded himself.
When it went live.
I’d zeroed in on the pampered pets sector for its earnings potential. It was a can’t-lose model that I’d already spun off in a dozen other categories. And as far as I was concerned, it was a done deal. Now, I simply needed someone on the inside of this fine establishment to help me with the rest of the plan. Not that that person would know that they were helping.
Ellie looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I slapped Mr. Charming back on. This would be too easy.
Three
Ellie
“It’s not a date.” I hopped out of the shower, trying once more to convince my mutt Bentley to forgive me. “But you still can’t go with me.”
Bentley was having none of it. She cocked an incredulous eyebrow at me before curling up in a ball in the corner with a huff.
“It’s not!” I said. “I mean, it’s not a date date.” Although there was no denying it was with a man man. Every time I thought about my encounter with Mac over in the store this afternoon, I flushed with pleasure.
True, there was some well-deserved embarrassment mixed in there. It wasn’t every day I doused a certified Norse god in doggy bath water and fur whitener.
And it certainly wasn’t every day that I found myself pinned under the finely sculpted arms, abs, and--lordy--torso of one.
But that didn’t make tonight a date.
“He’s here on business, and I’m going to take him around town. That’s all. We’re going to grab tacos down at the pier, and I’m going to show him the many sights of Lavender Beach. He probably has a girlfriend anyway. Or a...a boyfriend.”
Although even I, who would be the first to admit my gaydar was as defunct as a bottomless boat, didn’t believe that last part. There was something about the way he’d gripped me, his fingers spread wide over the small of my back, that was just so primal and masculine and sexy.
That, and I’d totally caught him staring at my boobs.
Still, that didn’t make it a date.
But date or not, I was danged if I would be caught looking and smelling like a drowned rat again. I chose a frilly top that showcased the ladies without being too low-cut then twisted my hair into a loose side ponytail at the nape of my neck.
“I’ll bring you back a taco,” I said in a sing-song voice to Bentley.
At that, my dog stood up and wandered over to check that I was not, in fact, harboring a taco then and there. After a good ear scratch and nose boop, I was reassured that Bentley was not mad at me for life. Probably not even for the next thirty seconds.
As I traipsed out the back door of the store, over to the attic loft above the spa that served as my living quarters, I paused in the office. My father’s presence still filled this room, no matter how hard Kat had tried to cover his memory with fresh coats of paint and high-end furniture. This was where he’d sat so many long hours, poring over the books and wholesale catalogs, hand picking his products with care.
Operating a small business was hard. There was no telling how many times Dad had come within a gnat’s breath of closing down. But he always put in the extra hours and got creative without cutting corners. He knew that his employees counted on him, and he treated the responsibility with the reverence it deserved.
Too bad he hadn’t shown the same attention to keeping his will current.
I sighed and chided myself for the errant, harsh thought. I had loved my father more than anything or anyone in the world. He was all I had had since my mother had died when I was a toddler. He had been my world. And I knew that my father had loved me as well.
He’d just been blind as a bat when it came to gold-digging hussies.
My dad had met Kat when I was in seventh grade. It had been hard at the start of the relationship, after so many years of it being just the two of us to welcome someone new into our life. Hard as it was, though, I had tried to see it from my father’s perspective. His daughter was becoming a young woman. He was a bit daft when it came to anything feminine. Kat had been a seasonal worker at one of the local resorts. She’d been so charming, so carefree...and so twenty-three years old.
My dad dyed his hair, got a ridiculous tattoo, bought a motorcycle, and lost ten pounds.
The nearly ten year age difference between me and Kat had at first seemed fun, like having a new big sister around.
My dad was happy. I was happy.
Well, as happy as I could have been under the circumstances. I was happy that my dad was happy.
And then, after dating only four months, Kat and my father had gotten married.
In the clear, bright spotlight of marriage, Kat’s charm suddenly looked a heck of a lot like self-centeredness. And the carefree twenty-something had shown zero interest in anything that could be construed as responsibility, much less mothering a teenage girl.
While my dad had been alive, it hadn’t been too bad. Kat wasn’t awful, only immature. It wasn’t like I even remembered what I was missing in not having a mom. And Kat had still had her share of fun moments. We’d go shopping and...well, just shopping.
And then one day, a few weeks before graduating from college came the phone call that would change everything.
A heart attack.
I had only been a year younger than Kat had been when she became my stepmom. But there had been nothing carefree and wild about my life over the intervening seven years.
I grazed my fingers along the rough-hewn desk, handcrafted by my father of sanded driftwood. It was where he’d spent so many of his working hours. Kat had tried to get rid of it, called it junk, but it was too big to fit through the door without taking it apart screw by screw.
It was a lot tougher than it looked.
And so was I.
I took mental note on the way out the door to double check the current doggie life jacket inventory and order more organic jerky bites from Green Sun Farms, one of our local suppliers. I could save them a delivery run and pick them up next week when I was inland for a dentist appointment.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. When had I become the only adult in the room?
No more business.
It was time for my non-date.
Four
Mac
There’s nothing more appealing than a woman who doesn’t know how beautiful she is.
And this one had no damn clue.
The freckles alone were driving me to distraction.
Eight. There were eight of them. Right on the tip of her nose like a constellation of stars. I had the perfect angle to view them as we walked along the sidewalk past all the upscale boutiques that were closed for the evening.
She looked up at me expectantly, and I realized I’d been so focused on the freckles that I’d missed her last question.
“Sorry, what was that again?” I said.
“Oh, I was asking what it is that you do,” she said. “I mean, you’re obviously rich. I’m curious how that happened.”
He let out a guffaw.
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“Nope.”
“And is that a bad thing? Me being rich?”
“Also no. That is, unless you’re a vampire or a sex fiend.”
“Those are your two caveats? Wealthy is fine unless I’m a...what was it again?”
“Vampire or sex fiend.”
“Am I that pale? Or...whatever a sex fiend looks like?”
“No. Basically, my entire knowledge of incredibly hot rich guys has been gathered from runaway bestselling book series that have been made into movies. Twilight. Fifty Shades.”
“Ahh. Well, sorry to disappoint you. I’m no Edward Cullen. I actually work for my dad. Family business. A little of this. A little of that. Mostly e-commerce.” Hey, it wasn’t my fault if
I conveniently failed to mention that my family’s last name was MacCarthy of MacCarthy Enterprises. A little of this was venture capitalism, and a little of that was corporate acquisitions.
“Ahh. One of those ‘work from anywhere’ jobs?”
“Technically. But all those pictures you see with people working from their beach chairs are a ridiculous stereotype.” I swerved to avoid a puddle from one of the quickly-passing afternoon rain showers that broke out along the Florida panhandle like roving cartoon storm clouds. I grabbed Ellie around the waist to steer her clear of it as well.
She shifted her hip, and my hand brushed against a patch of bare flesh. Her skin was as smooth and tantalizing as it had been earlier. I had an overwhelming urge to touch more of her. It wasn’t even sexual. She was just so soft and warm and inviting.
Okay, maybe a little sexual.
“I prefer to work out of pool chairs. Less sand to clean up.” I laughed. “But, yeah. It sounds all glamorous, but really, it’s living out of a lot of suitcases. Which is the opposite of glamorous most of the time.”
When I lowered my hand, I noticed she skimmed her fingers over the spot where it had been.
Hmm.
“It’s a nice night out,” she said. “I should have brought Bentley along.”
“Oh. Is Bentley your boyfriend or—?”
“No, no boyfriend. Bentley’s my dog. And a she.”
“Ahh.” The momentary knot that had formed in my chest loosened, but I refused to examine it. Why should I care whether or not she had a boyfriend. Honestly, it would have been better if she had. It would make things cleaner, simpler. Easier to stay focused on the business side of things. But maybe her dog would be an easy segue to discussing the shop. There was no hurry, though. We had all night.
I would get what I needed. I always did.
“Tacos okay with you?” she asked. “There’s a great spot down on the pier. They have blackened mahi mahi tacos that are so yummy, I’d slap a nun for one.”
“Did you just say you’d slap a nun for one?”
“Maybe.” Her cheeks grew a tantalizing shade of pink. “Is that a problem?”
“Only if they’re out of the tacos, I guess.”
“Don’t worry. There are no convents nearby.” Ellie traipsed ahead, and a breeze caught her skirt, whipping up the hem to reveal a hint of her tan upper thigh.
“Thank God,” I whispered under my breath as I jogged to catch up. I was having some decidedly unpure thoughts about which of my body parts I’d like those thighs wrapped around first.
* * *
Three hours and a full tray of tacos later, I still hadn’t gleaned one shred of information about S’Paw Box. That wasn’t surprising as I’d neglected to give my primary mission of gathering business information more than a passing thought ever since we’d gotten to the taco shop.
The patio where we sat had thinned out once the sun had dipped below the horizon. Hurricane lanterns flickered on each of the tables, and flashlights were visible up and down the shoreline as beachgoers searched the shallows for crabs.
“All right,” said Ellie. “Your top three nun-slappable foods. Go.”
“Tacos.” I pointed at the last shred of cilantro on the platter as proof. “So good choice. Uh, a nice, thick steak, medium rare, grilled to absolute perfection. And my Gammy’s freshly-baked blackberry cobbler with a big scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream, right out of the churn.”
“Oh, wow. I can’t beat that.”
“What about you? Any grandma specialties you love?”
“No. Um...no. Both of my parents were only children, and they were both over forty when they had me. All my grandparents passed away before my parents died.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know--”
“It’s okay. My mom died when I was really little. The only memories I have of her are more like emotions and general feelings. My dad had a heart attack right before I graduated college. It sucks, but it is what it is.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not have my bustling, big extended family around me all the time. With all the holidays. All the birthdays. All the work meetings.
All the responsibility. All the pressure.
“Well,” I said, clapping my hands together, “you’ll have to try my Gammy’s cobbler sometime.”
What the hell? Why had I said that? The only woman I’d ever even introduced to my grandmother was Felicia, and everyone had seen how that had ended up. Not that I’d told the full, true story to anyone but my best friend Nick.
I didn’t even know anything about this Ellie other than that she was a gorgeous orphan, and apparently I was ready to spoon feed her Gammy’s dessert specialty.
Focus, man. I was here for one purpose.
She wasn’t some frail princess with enchanted animals doing her bidding. She’d probably inherited a monster life insurance policy and only worked because she loved dogs so much. She was a grown-ass woman and more importantly, a potential source of info that could help me close a necessary acquisition with a lot less expense and legal headaches on my part.
The waiters were stacking chairs around us. The time had gone by in a blink with Ellie to talk to.
“I should probably get you home,” I said. “Bentley must be getting lonely.”
She pulled a plastic container out of her handbag.
“Hey, Josh,” she called over to one of the waiters. “Can I get a Bentley special to go?”
“Coming right up, Ellie.” The waiter disappeared into the back.
“What’s in a Bentley special?” I asked.
“Any scraps they’re about to throw out at the end of the day.”
“Sounds delish.” I slid my hands into my pockets. “And thanks for showing me around. This place is awesome.”
“Yeah. You’re welcome. It used to be more of a local secret, but they made the mistake of letting passers-by smell their wares.”
“That would do it.”
“In a month, you’ll have to wait in an hour-long line to even place an order, but the season isn’t in full-swing yet. School’s still in, so it’s still a local secret for another few weeks.”
“Sounds like I came at the right time.” I slipped money for the tacos along with a hefty tip into Josh’s hand when the young waiter returned from the kitchen with the doggy bag.
“It’s my treat.” Ellie reached over, but I placed my hand over hers.
“I’ll let you pay another time.”
Damn it. There I went again. There weren’t going to be another time. I needed to just get what I needed and get out of this enchanting little beachside town.
I brushed my thumb over her wrist. It was a simple gesture, but I wasn’t prepared for the magnetic pull created by so slight a touch.
She gnawed at that naughty lower lip.
Maybe one more time wouldn’t hurt.
I squeezed her hand as I turned the charm up one more notch. “So about that next time...”
Five
Ellie
“It’s not another date.” I yawned as I tossed bits of whatever grilled meats were left in the baggie to Bentley. I was almost done prepping my work area for the next morning.
Bentley let out a soft whuff.
“It’s not. He didn’t even kiss me when he walked me home.”
No, it had been so much more sensuous. As I had stooped over to unlock the front door, he’d leaned in behind me and put his mouth right up to my ear.
“When can I see you again?” he’d asked in a husky voice, all gravel and leather. “Tomorrow night?”
The stubble on his chin had caught in the hairs of my ponytail, giving each a prickly pull, one by one, as he awaited my answer.
Which, duh. Yes. As soon as you want. Would you like me to have your babies now or wait until later?
Sensations I hadn’t felt in a very long time ran up and down my spine thinking about it.
But he was just visiting the area.
He’d pointed out the rented boat dock where he was staying in the distance, and it was filled with the huge yachts that paused in our adorable little vacation town for a few days and then went on their merry way. Besides, he probably thought of me as a tour guide. “See you” could mean anything. Or nothing.
Probably nothing.
I mean, of course he’d wanted to get together again. He was probably bored to tears in this tiny town. I loved its charm. I loved knowing my neighbors and getting to know the tourists as they passed through every summer, and then returned year after year.
But Mac had described his life as a businessman, if not the mundane details of whatever deal he was handling right now. Ping-ponging back and forth between various big cities. After that kind of exciting lifestyle, being stuck in sleepy Lavender Beach, even temporarily, would have to be torture.
My phone rang. There was only one person who would call at eleven o’clock on a Thursday night.
“Hey!” My best friend Isobel’s voice was so loud that I had to hold the phone six inches from my ear.
“Hey. Why are you screaming?”
“I’m at the Fuzzy Palm.” Isobel brought her voice down a notch, but then it sounded like she was in center of a bee hive. “Get down here. There’s a margarita as big as my face calling your name.”
“Isobel, it’s almost midnight.”
“It’s eleven-oh-five. Come on, El. You never loosen up. You’re like a sixty year-old grandma trapped in the body of a beauty contestant.”
“I can’t. I still have to mop, and then I’ll need to be up at five tomorrow morning to meet the delivery truck and restock over in the store before my eight o’clock shih tzu shiatsu appointment.”
“Did you just say—?”
“Don’t. It only gets worse the more you say it out loud. Besides, I really can’t spare the money, and I’m not letting you buy my drink again.”
Isobel didn’t respond immediately, but I knew she was still there because of the crowd noises in the background.
