Finding Paradise

by Barbara Dunlop

  “I wasn’t going to blubber on about anything. But after a while, some of what she said made sense.”

  Marnie was fascinated now, wondering if an epiphany had brought Ethan to see her.

  “I know I can deal with the physical stuff,” he said. “I can find a job, get a place to live, feed myself in a new city.” He met Marnie’s gaze. “But what about the rest?”

  “The rest?” What Ethan had just outlined sounded like a great starting plan to her.

  “How do I let go of the way we were raised, our values, our world view, the core of our psyche?”

  “Is that Dr. Sackett talking?” Marnie joked.

  Ethan stayed serious, and she felt bad for making light of what he was saying.

  “I don’t want to think like him,” he said. “I don’t want to react like him. I want to leave everything about Merganser and Tumbleweed in the dust.”

  “That’s a lot to take on.”

  “You did it.”

  Marnie had tried. But now she thought back to the barbecue in Paradise, where she’d fit so comfortably into the event, how easily she’d taken to the shooting and the ax throwing, how she’d been attracted to Cobra of all men, so immediately and completely. He’d fit in fine in Kansas—the antithesis of the sensitive and urbane men she’d dated here in LA.

  “I don’t know that I have,” she admitted, not wanting to mislead Ethan.

  He looked around the apartment again, then he raised a slice of pizza. “Look at the class of this place, and you like goat cheese and eggplant now.”

  “I just took first place in a sharpshooting contest.”

  Ethan grinned. “Good for you.”

  “I entered ax throwing too. Does that sound like I left my past behind?”

  “They have ax throwing in LA?”

  She shook her head. “I was in Alaska.”

  Ethan drew back in obvious shock at that statement. “What were you doing in Alaska?”

  “It was for work, and I have a friend up there.”

  “Ahh,” Ethan said, as if something had just dawned on him.

  “What, ahh?”

  “Mountain man who came over to Wichita with you.”

  “He’s from Alaska,” she admitted, wishing Cobra hadn’t come up.

  “He’s sure into you,” Ethan said. “I could tell. We all could.”

  Marnie didn’t answer, but her chest tightened, and her heart beat deep and solid. She took a swallow of her beer, hoping to cool her skin. It would be mortifying to blush in front of Ethan.

  “Where is he now?” Ethan asked.

  “In Alaska,” she answered.

  “Oh.” Ethan looked puzzled. “I thought you two were a serious thing.”

  She swallowed, giving herself a moment. “Just temporary.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Ethan twisted his bottle back and forth on the table. “I learned a lot about men while I was inside. I learned to pay attention to their expressions and their body language.” He paused. “That guy was ready to launch himself across the table and throttle Dad.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “I know. But he wanted to. I’m surprised he’s not still here.”

  “He’s—” Marnie struggled to put it into words. “He’s like Kansas. He’s part of what I need to leave behind.”

  Ethan’s gaze narrowed. “Wait. You think that guy’s like us?”

  She nodded.

  “Marnie, that guy’s nothing like us. Dad wanted to use you. I couldn’t save you. Alaska would protect you or die trying.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cobra stood at the door of Marnie’s apartment, bracing himself for his next move. He’d walked into her lobby behind a repairman and a couple who were obviously returning from a shopping trip. Nobody asked any questions as he rode the elevator upstairs. Then again, he was a whole lot neater and cleaner than usual, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a steel-gray blazer.

  His goal wasn’t to impress Marnie, only to put her mind at ease. It also didn’t hurt not to stick out like a sore thumb. But if she thought he cleaned up nicely, well, he’d take that too. He had the signed letter from the board tucked into his inside pocket and a peace offering in his hand.

  She might not appreciate the peace offering, but she was sure to be happy about the letter.

  He took a breath and knocked.

  There was the sound of footsteps inside, and he felt a wash of relief. At least she was home.

  But a man opened the door.

  Jealousy hit Cobra with the force of a twelve-gauge. Had she forgotten him already and moved on? What the hell was this guy doing in her— And then he recognized Ethan. Marnie’s brother was standing in front of him dressed like a pirate.

  Cobra would have been flat-out furious at Ethan for tracking Marnie down after everything he and his father had put her through, but he was thrown by the pirate costume. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, Alaska,” Ethan said, clearly surprised to see Cobra, but not the least bit confrontational. “Marnie?” he called over his shoulder as he stepped back to let Cobra inside. “Someone’s here for you.”

  Cobra entered the tasteful apartment, package in his hand, taken aback by the turn of events. The door swung shut behind him.

  “Who—” Marnie stopped short in a doorway, her emerald eyes going wide. She was dressed as a ballerina in a pale pink bejeweled tutu and a pair of satin slippers.

  Cobra looked from Marnie to Ethan and back again. “I’m going to guess Halloween party?”

  “Cobra.” Marnie seemed to recover. She looked gorgeous with her hair in a neat dancer’s bun, her makeup bold and exaggerated. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have—” He stopped himself, looking to Ethan, wondering why he was even there. “You left Kansas?”

  “I’ve got permission.” Ethan met his gaze. He showed no animosity but no defensiveness either.

  Cobra looked back at Marnie. “And you’re good with . . .” He canted his head Ethan’s way.

  “We’ve been reconnecting,” Marnie said. Then her tone and gaze turned wary. “Why are you in LA?”

  “I brought you something.”

  She glanced to the package in his hands.

  He’d planned to lead with the joke, but now he was having second thoughts. She didn’t seem to be in the mood for humor. And he sure hadn’t expected an audience.

  “Brandywine Specialty Cupcakes,” Ethan said, reading the name on the box.

  Marnie blinked then swallowed. “You brought me a cupcake?” Her tone was incredulous.

  “Not only a cupcake.” Cobra tried to salvage the situation.

  “A very fancy cupcake,” Ethan put in.

  Cobra slanted him a glare, but Ethan only looked amused. Brave of him, considering how Cobra was starting to feel.

  “It’s not my birthday,” Marnie said, the first hint of softness coming into her tone.

  “I didn’t want to wait for your birthday.”

  She moved hesitantly forward. “What kind of a cupcake?”

  “Confetti vanilla with pink buttercream, silver sprinkles and a star on top. They custom design.”

  “You remembered,” she said.

  “Of course I remembered. Who could forget your crime spree?”

  “Crime spree?” Ethan asked.

  “I’ll tell you about it sometime.” Marnie gave her brother a playful grin.

  “I take it the reunion is going well?” Cobra asked, thinking maybe he should tamp down his animosity toward Ethan.

  “She’s taking me to a Lafayette party,” Ethan answered.

  “That’s tonight?” Cobra asked. Mia had mentioned Henry and Hannah were putting on a party, but he hadn’t known it was for Halloween. He wouldn’t
have guessed rich people liked to dress up in silly costumes.

  Not that Marnie looked silly. She looked more beautiful by the second, and he was fighting a powerful urge to reach out to her.

  He cleared his throat. “My real reason for—”

  “Can I see it?” Marnie asked, coming closer still and testing Cobra’s resolve to keep his hands to himself.

  He held the box out. “It’s all yours.”

  She took the box then set it down on a small island counter. She took a knife from a drawer and sliced through the seal, opening the lid.

  Ethan moved in to get a look.

  Marnie smiled, and Cobra’s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes lit with humor. “They got it pretty close.”

  “All I had to go on was your description.”

  “Are you going to share?” Ethan asked her.

  Cobra scowled at him again, but it was good-natured this time. “Back off. It’s her cupcake.”

  “I’ve been eating prison food for years,” Ethan defended himself. “And that’s a really big cupcake.”

  Marnie laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

  Cobra removed the envelope from his pocket and handed it to Marnie.

  She eyed it suspiciously. “You got me a card?”

  “It’s not a card.”

  Ethan took a step back, obviously sensing this was the real purpose for Cobra’s visit.

  Marnie watched Cobra’s expression while she opened the envelope. Then she looked down as she unfolded the letter.

  She read the first few lines then grasped the edge of the counter, reading further. She blinked hard and looked up. “This . . . ?”

  “I didn’t know,” he said.

  “And they all . . . just . . .”

  “I asked them, and they did.”

  Ethan had to be burning with curiosity, but to his credit, he didn’t ask.

  “Thank you,” Marnie said, holding the letter against her chest, a catch in her voice and relief in her eyes.

  “I didn’t know it was such a big deal.”

  “I tried to tell you.”

  “And I didn’t listen. I know. I was too busy trying to push you into something you didn’t want to do.”

  Ethan’s posture stiffened and his expression tightened.

  “You were right,” Cobra said to Marnie. “You were right about everything.” Then he turned to Ethan. “I got her to sign a paper, that’s all.”

  Ethan’s guard didn’t go down right away.

  “It’s fine,” Marnie said to Ethan.

  “She stood up to me,” Cobra continued, taking in her delicate ballerina costume, thinking how effectively it hid her strength. “She’s smart, and she’s tough, and she was right.”

  Silence fell over the room.

  He hated to leave her, but there was no reason left to stay. He’d indulged in a version of this reunion that ended with Marnie in his arms forgiving him. But that obviously wasn’t going to happen—especially not with Ethan standing there watching.

  She was clearly grateful for the letter confirming the Klondike Challenge board unanimously accepted her two-week residency as being valid for the competition. It could never come back on her now, and Cobra was glad for that. But it obviously hadn’t changed anything between them. He wasn’t the kind of man she wanted—end of story.

  Fighting hard against the dejection that was overwhelming him, he took a step backward for the door, striving hard to speak in a measured tone. “I’ll let you two get—”

  “Want to come to a party?” she asked him.

  * * *

  * * *

  Cobra had brought blue jeans and a T-shirt in his overnight bag, and they’d borrowed Marnie’s neighbor’s tool belt to make an instant construction worker costume. He looked sexier to her than ever across the great room in the Lafayette mansion.

  The house was full of costumed partiers, spilling from the great room into the big front foyer and out the opposite corner into the conservatory. The conservatory was extensively and thematically decorated with glowing pumpkins, purple tree lights and waves of white gauze hanging beneath the glass panels of the ceiling.

  The music was quieter there so that people could carry on conversations. Earlier, Marnie caught a glimpse of Scarlett in the conservatory. She was dressed as a mermaid, talking head-to-head with a fortysomething cowgirl. Marnie hoped the cowgirl was from the film industry.

  “It looks like your Alaska trip was successful,” Hannah joked, nodding Cobra’s way. She was dressed in a very classy Halloween-themed dress—a black bodice with lace cap sleeves, tight at the waist, with a full, flowing skirt covered in bright orange pumpkins and cat silhouettes. She looked beautiful in subtle glitter makeup with an orange band holding back her thick brunette hair.

  “He’s just passing through,” Marnie said, keeping her tone light.

  “Well, he sure looks like he could conquer the wilderness.”

  “He’s definitely got skills.” Marnie had yet to find anything Cobra couldn’t do.

  “Marnie?” Scarlett appeared at her elbow in a shimmer of aqua and purple with a sparkly tiara on her head. The cowgirl was still with her.

  “Hi.” Marnie put on a friendly smile for them both.

  “Natasha Burton, this is Marnie Anton, and Hannah Lafayette is our host.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” Natasha said from under her white Stetson. Then she looked to Hannah. “It was generous of you to invite me.”

  “I’m happy you could come,” Hannah said.

  “Natasha directed Off the River last year,” Scarlett told them.

  “I saw the trailer for that,” Marnie put in, recalling the title on her streaming service. The film had looked action-packed. “It’s just been released, right?”

  “To acclaim,” Scarlett said. “Critics and viewers are loving it.”

  “Congratulations,” Hannah said.

  Marnie caught Cobra’s gaze from across the room, and he gave her a smile. She couldn’t help smiling back, her chest expanding with a mash-up of emotions. Attraction, sure. And gratitude too. She was grateful to get the letter from the board. But she was also anxious—worried that seeing him again would mess with her resolve.

  She should have let him leave right away instead of inviting him to the party. But she’d given into temptation, and she was imagining his arms around her even now.

  “Do you think that would work, Marnie?” Scarlett was asking.

  Marnie quickly tuned back into the conversation. “What would work?”

  Hannah gave her a sly smile, obviously noticing where her attention had wandered.

  “Bringing Natasha up to Paradise to scout out the location and meet with Mia,” Scarlett repeated.

  “Mia’s the executive producer?” Natasha seemed to be asking Marnie.

  “Yes.” Marnie had set the business structure up that way. “We might look for a few other investors, but Westberg Productions will remain the majority shareholder.” She caught Cobra’s gaze on her again and fought against the distraction.

  “So?” Scarlett prompted her.

  “You two have an agreement already?” Marnie asked, surprised Scarlett had found a director this fast.

  “There’s a reason I put her on the guest list,” Scarlett said. Then she looked guiltily at Natasha. “I confess, I targeted you.”

  “Target away,” Natasha said, sounding delighted. “The story has a great premise. I love a good high concept.” She looked to Marnie. “Scarlett’s going to send me the script, but I’m not worried if we have to polish it up. When the bones are good, there’s always a way to make it work.”

  “Wow,” Marnie said, surprised and pleased that the event had been so successful so quickly. “Then call Mia and set it up.”

  Scarlett and Natasha began to excitedly talk logisti
cs, while Hannah was approached by another guest.

  Marnie glanced Cobra’s way to find his conversation group had broken up. She felt a disconcerting flash of emptiness and told herself to buck up. It was a party, a fleeting evening—nothing had changed.

  “Hey there,” Cobra’s voice startled her from behind her left shoulder.

  She turned to meet his dark eyes and smiled.

  “Thirsty?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She fought the urge to take his hand, lean in, stretch up for a kiss. It was far too enthralling to be near him again.

  They headed for a bar that was set up in the formal dining room.

  “Witches’ Brew or Magic Margaritas?” Cobra asked as they came to a display of premade thematic drinks.

  “I like the look of the Black Magic Punch,” Marnie said.

  “Is it possible to get a beer?” Cobra asked the bartender.

  “Certainly, sir,” the man answered with a smile, extracting a bottle from a well of ice and producing a frosted glass.

  Cobra handed Marnie one of the highball glasses filled with what looked like pomegranate juice and a skewer of blackberries.

  Drinks in hand, they made their way through the crowded great room into the dimly lit conservatory. It was more peaceful there, with lush plants and furniture groups dotting the glass-enclosed space. A storm had burst in the skies above and fat droplets streaked their way down the panes.

  They settled into a corner in two upholstered armchairs with a small wooden table between them. Ferns dangled above their heads while the trees blowing outside added to the spooky atmosphere.

  A wave of calm contentment came over her, and she took a sip of the drink. It was tart, with a distinct vodka burn.

  Cobra leaned forward. “I missed you.” His deep voice sent a shiver of awareness through the deepest reaches of her body, lighting her up, frightening her with the intensity of her emotions.

  “Don’t—”

  “I’m sorry I chased you away.”

  She struggled for an equilibrium. “You didn’t. I was leaving anyway.”

  “I know . . . but—”

  “There can’t be any buts.” She forced a lightness into her tone that she was far from feeling.