Straight On Toward Paradise
Shellwater Key Tales (Book 2)
Kristin Wallace
Copyright © 2018 by Kristin Wallace
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art by Olivia Designs
Created with Vellum
Contents
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Other Books by Kristin
About the Author
Book Description
Emma Bertram’s life is a recipe for disaster, but she’s about to discover that love and forgiveness are the perfect ingredients for a happy ending.
Chef Emma Bertram doesn’t believe in the fantasy of happily ever after. As a teenager, she witnessed the destruction of her parents’ marriage when her father left for another woman. Lingering bitterness and a demanding career have kept her apart from her father’s new family for years. Then her father and stepmother are killed in a car accident. Returning to her childhood home of Shellwater Key, Florida, Emma suddenly finds herself with custody of her two half-sisters. Left with no choice but to stay in Shellwater Key, Emma accepts a job offer from her best friend Layla McCarthy as Head Chef at the old Paradise Dinner Theatre.
But it’s her father’s law partner, Reece Casings, who’s threatening her peace of mind. The buttoned-up, so-wrong-for-her, but oh-so-sexy lawyer makes Emma’s blood boil. Or is it heart race? She cannot deny that Reece touches something in her that no man has before. Then an explosive secret boils to the surface that reveals Reece’s real connection to her family. Can Emma get past the truth? And can she ever learn to forgive her father – and herself – in order to serve up a delicious happily ever after?
Chapter 1
“What would it take to put you on my entrée list?”
Emma Bertram almost jumped out of her skin as a thick, hairy arm draped across her shoulders. She nearly dropped the tray of hors d’oeuvres she’d slaved over for the last hour. The sour smell of alcohol and cigars wafted across her face as the man leaned closer. Emma twisted, trying to put the tray between her and Thaddeus P. Coltrane, III.
Already, Emma regretted the decision to leave the galley. Fresh ocean air wasn’t a strong enough reason to walk into the path of lechers.
“I’m not on the menu, sir,” Emma said, keeping her voice toneless.
Any show of outrage generally made dirty old men like Thaddeus more determined to bring her to heel. Dirty old men with more money than God could make a lot of trouble for her. His type rarely had to hear the word “no” and didn’t take it well when they did.
“Thaddeus, you lecherous old goat, leave my chef alone,” a sultry voice intoned from behind Emma’s back.
Emma and the “lecherous old goat” turned as Isabella Barrett-Toulouse, owner of the floating palace christened Queen’s Ransom, moved toward them. Isabella’s sapphire-blue designer gown fluttered in the evening breeze, making it seem as though she sailed above the deck. To look at her, no one would guess Isabella had celebrated her seventy-first birthday two months ago. Her skin seemed as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Of course, she was worth an estimated $3.5 billion, and people with that kind of wealth could afford to acquire wrinkle-free skin by any means possible.
Thaddeus withdrew his hand. “I was merely trying to inquire about the recipe for those decadent chocolate tarts Chef Bertram served at dinner last night, Isa.”
‘Isa’ rolled her eyes. “Don’t try to fool me, Thad. Go on now.” She shooed him away with the flick of her hand.
Thaddeus threw one more glance toward Emma before sauntering away.
Isabella sighed and turned back. “Excuse my guests, Emma. They often forget themselves.”
“Don’t worry, I’m all right.”
Being hit on wasn’t anything new, though Emma continued to be surprised by each new proposition. Since joining the crew of Queen’s Ransom as Master Chef five months ago, she’d been on the receiving end of every bawdy proposition, lewd suggestion, and crude pick up line ever invented. For reasons unknown to her, the insanely wealthy guests who sailed on the yacht were attracted to her like bees to a honeycomb.
Perhaps it was the chef uniform. Maybe rich playboys had role-playing fantasies and thought it would be exciting to play in the kitchen—slather each other in oil and roll around on the floor like they were starring in a porno movie. There was certainly nothing about her five-three, tomboyish frame, honey-colored eyes, and wild mane of caramel-tinted curls to garner such attention.
“It could be that you seem so aloof,” Isabella said, with a thoughtful frown. “An island unto yourself. Perhaps they want to poke through that mystique.”
“Oh, they want to poke something, but I doubt it’s my mystique,” Emma said, in a dry tone.
Isabella chuckled. “You know what I mean, my iron chef. You with the hollow eyes and air of tragedy swirling about you.”
Emma suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at her employer. Isabella might be more casual than your average multi-billion-dollar heiress, but she demanded nothing less than absolute respect.
“There is no air of tragedy,” Emma said. “I’m trying to be professional. No one wants an emotionally unstable female chef. Only male chefs are allowed to be egomaniacal jerks in the kitchen.”
“My dear, you positively drip with tragedy,” Isabella said. “Why else would you leave one of the most acclaimed restaurants in San Francisco and take a job on my yacht?”
“I wanted to see the world.” Emma fought to keep a tremor out of her voice. Tried not to think of the heartbreak she’d fled a few months ago, and the life she’d known and lost years before that. “I’ve never been to Asia.”
“Neither had I. Vincent promised to sail away with me for my seventieth birthday.” Isabella grew silent, and Emma allowed her to fall back into memories. A past life filled with a beloved husband and only son.
They both had reasons to avoid home.
Isabella seemed to shake off her trance. “Now you’ve made me melancholy.” A smile pulled at her lips. “This sailing is a celebration for me. For you, I think it’s been an escape, but my dear, soon the world will come calling and drag you back.”
With those parting words, Isabella continued on, moving to speak to her guests. Emma stared after the retreating woman and shivered. Nonsense. No one was about to beg her to come home. She didn’t even have a real home anymore. Fighting off her own sudden bout of melancholy, Emma instead focused on the dark sea, which stretched out beyond the yacht like an undulating blanket. A full moon had risen, and the light caressed the water with a silver-tinted beam. Behind her, smoky jazz music played, accompanied by the buzz of voices from Isabella’s guests.
Emma took several deep breaths, focusing on the amazing fact that she was able to enjoy magnificent scenes like this, every day.
&n
bsp; “Emma!” a strident voice called out.
She whirled around to see one of the assistant stewards running toward her.
The younger woman huffed as she reached Emma’s side. “You have to come quick.”
“Why?” she asked in instant alarm. “Is there a fire in the galley? Has someone been hurt?”
“No. It’s your mother.”
“My what?”
“The captain came looking for you,” she said, pulling on Emma’s arm. “The call was patched through to him. Your mother is waiting for you.”
Fear lodging her throat, Emma took off at a run. Her mother wouldn’t contact her like this unless it was a dire emergency. She called every other week, mostly to assure her mother she was still alive.
She and Kylie raced up the two narrow flights of stairs to the bridge. The Captain turned as they stumbled inside.
“You said my mother was trying to contact me?” Emma burst out, her chest heaving from both the sprint and panic.
The Captain pointed to the radio, and Emma snatched it up. “Mom? I’m here.”
“Emma, finally,” her mother said, the voice sounding thin and far away. “I couldn’t reach your phone.”
“We’re in deep water. No reception. What’s going on?”
“Oh baby…” There was a pause and when her mother spoke again, Emma was certain her mother was crying.
“Mom…what’s wrong?” Emma cried, her alarm growing by the second. “Are you sick? Hurt?”
“No, it’s not me. Emma, it’s your father.”
Every muscle in her body froze. “Dad? What happened?”
“There was an accident. He and Mona…”
Again, her mother’s voice trailed off. Emma’s heart was pounding so hard each pulse actually hurt. “Mom! Are they all right?”
“No…baby, they’re both gone. Another car lost control and hit them head on.”
Sound rushed through Emma’s head and she had to catch herself on the back of the captain’s chair. “How do you know? Are you sure?”
“Your father’s law partner. He called here because he couldn’t get in touch with you.
Emma’s legs went numb, and she slid to the floor. “What about the girls? Imogene and Paige?”
“They weren’t in the car with them. Emma, you have to come home.”
“Who’s taking care of the girls?”
“I assume Mona’s mother—”
Static blasted her ear, and she held the radio away. “Mom…Mom!” The line went dead, and Emma could only stare at the radio in her hand.
Then somehow Isabella was there. She knelt by Emma’s side and took the device. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”
“They’re dead,” Emma said, barely hearing Isabella’s words of comfort. “My dad and stepmother are dead.”
“I know,” she said, eyes filled with compassion. “Is there anything I can do?”
Isabella had been right about the world dragging Emma back. She took a deep breath and looked up into the older woman’s eyes. “Can you help me get home?”
Emma soon learned that when Isabella wanted something accomplished, it was done. Having billions at one’s disposal helped grease palms, wheels, and anything else that needed to be oiled. A private helicopter flew out to the yacht and landed right on the deck. They flew to Hong Kong Island for refueling, and then on to Hong Kong International Airport. By the time Emma made it to the airport, the older woman had arranged for a first class flight to Dallas, and then on to Miami, Florida. From there Emma would rent a car and drive two and a half hours to Shellwater Key, the tiny town on Florida’s southwest coast where she’d been born.
Once she’d finally made it to the airport, Emma had taken a few minutes to call her mother to let her know when she’d arrive. She hadn’t been able to find out any further information, except apparently the funeral service would take place tomorrow, with or without Thomas Bertram’s eldest daughter. Emma also had no news on her half-sisters, Imogene and Paige, but hopefully, Mona’s mother had already taken them in.
Being stuck on a plane for roughly twenty hours left Emma with only one thing to do… Think.
Think about how she’d spent half her life running from memories of her childhood. Memories of the perfect family that had been ripped apart when her father fell in love with another woman.
Ever since the divorce, Emma had kept Thomas Bertram on the fringes of her life. She’d refused to forgive him, holding on to bitterness and anger as the only weapons at her disposal. After Emma turned eighteen, and she’d no longer had to visit on the random holiday or weekend, the rift had grown wider. She’d had little to do with her father’s new family, which eventually grew to include an adopted daughter, Imogene, and the miracle child, Paige, who’d arrived after her father and stepmother had given up hope of having a baby.
Now her dad was gone. Forever.
Emma would never have a chance to take back the angry words. No chance to heal the rift.
The heavy weight of guilt threatened to drown her, and she turned her face to the window. The sun had begun to rise, and the colors were glorious. Emma wished she could take pleasure in the coming dawn, but all she could think about was the fact that two young girls were waking up as orphans, halfway across the world.
On the final leg of her journey, Emma finally managed to fall asleep. Her dreams were plagued by visions of towering figures shaking their fingers in her face, their black eyes filled with contempt and judgment. She startled awake to the sound of the pilot informing them they were about to land in Miami.
Once off the plane, Emma retrieved her bags and then made her way down the concourse, along with the masses of humanity flying into the Magic City from every corner of the globe. The rapid fire of Spanish flowed around her, adding to the general sense of disorientation, as if she’d somehow landed in an alternate universe.
By the time she entered the main terminal, exhaustion hung on her limbs like a heavy wool coat. Isabella had arranged for a rental car, but as Emma stumbled down the long corridor, she wondered how she’d find the strength for the drive north.
“Emma!”
How strange. She couldn’t imagine anyone in Miami International Airport knowing her. Fearing she was hallucinating, Emma spun toward the voice, and then blinked in disbelief as she spotted the familiar figure waiting for her.
“Mom?” she breathed in disbelief.
Mary Bertram had to dodge a hundred other travelers, but she reached Emma’s side in moments, enfolding her in a strong hug. “Oh, honey.”
Emma could only stare in stupefaction. “Mom, what are you doing here?”
Mary Bertram sent her a look. “Emma, your father just died. I’m not about to let you go through this alone. Besides, you shouldn’t be driving now. You must be exhausted, and you’re dealing with a trauma. You’re liable to get yourself killed, too.”
Now Emma knew she’d landed in an alternate universe. Her mouth dropped open. “You’re coming with me to Shellwater Key?”
“Of course.”
“But you haven’t been back in fifteen years.”
“I know how long it’s been since your father and I divorced,” her mother said with asperity.
Of course she would know. Mary Bertram’s life had been ripped apart as well. She’d lost her husband and then left Shellwater Key rather than watch Thomas Bertram set up house with his new wife. The fact that her mother was willing to face the curious masses of their former hometown for her sake, made Emma’s heart swell with love and a fierce sense of protectiveness.
“Mom, I can’t put you through that,” Emma said, determined not to make her mom suffer. “I’ll be fine.”
She’d forgotten how stubborn her mother could be. Mary Bertram’s expression hardened with firm resolve. “Honey, we’re not arguing about this.” She rested a hand against Emma’s cheek. “I know you’re fully capable of looking out for herself, but please let me help you. Besides, I’m going for your father, too.”
Annoyance pushed aside sleep depravity. “What could you possibly owe dad after what he did to you?”
“I owe him because of you. No matter what happened in our marriage, he gave me a wonderful daughter,” Mary said, in her usual matter-of-fact manner. “Now, let’s go or we’ll miss the funeral.”
Having run out of arguments, Emma allowed herself to be led out to her mother’s car. She settled in the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Now, she had two and a half hours to figure out how to say goodbye to the father she’d vowed to hate at fifteen.
Chapter 2
If flying into Miami seemed like entering an alternate universe, arriving in tiny Shellwater Key, Florida felt a lot like arriving on another planet where the modern world had failed to encroach. A tropical, hot, and humid Brigadoon perched on the southwestern coast of the Sunshine State. On any given day, storms could roll in, bringing torrential rain and thunder. Ten minutes later, the storms could be over. Today, the day her father was to be buried, the sky was so blue it seemed almost perverse. There shouldn’t be such beauty when tragedy had struck.
Emma could swear she smelled the salt-tinged air long before they crossed the city line. Up ahead, she spotted the brightly painted wooden welcome sign, with the high relief carving of the familiar snowy white egret. Shellwater Key’s only high school went by in a flash, and then they reached Gulfview Park, which marked the start of “The Strip”, the cute moniker given to the two-mile long stretch of shops, restaurants and businesses overlooking the Gulf of Mexico.
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