Hopefully whatever spell I’d managed to put Jason Delany under was still potent when I saw him. Because so far, flirting wasn’t shaping up to be my best soft skill.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day I turned over the rooms at the Paradise in record time. Despite my protests, Granny cleaned the last two rooms with me.
"The sooner you get that boy's nose open, the sooner we can be rid of all this," she said.
I appreciated the vote of confidence, but I still didn't have a plan to get Jason Delany to open up to me. He already seemed to like me. At least, his baffling tendency to tell me way more information than I needed seemed to suggest as much.
Maybe it wouldn't be as hard as I thought. I kept telling myself as much on the drive to Key West. But forty-five minutes later, I stood inside the printer-shaped office building staring at Jean's desk. And I didn't have the first clue how to get Jason to tell me what I needed to know.
Time to improvise. I straightened my skirt, took a quick glance down at my top to make sure I wasn't indecent, and stepped inside.
"Hi! Jean, right?" I plastered the sweetest smile I could manage on my face and waltzed right up to her desk. But I didn't touch it. "How's your day been?"
Jean lowered her head and looked me up and down. "Mr. Lambert is out of the office today. You should try again tomorrow. Better yet, call next time."
The receptionist's icy reception wasn't what I'd hoped for, but I wasn't going to let Jean's cold shoulder stop me. My family couldn’t afford for me to.
"Actually, I was hoping to speak with Mr. Delany,” I said. "Jason. Is he around?"
She blinked in obvious surprise. "He… just came back from lunch. I'll see if he's available."
While Jean summoned Jason to the front, I turned to look out the window, putting my back to her and using the chance to take a breath. This was my last chance to follow Reid's instructions. Whatever I learned and passed on to him, I would have to deal with the consequences.
The glass door to the main office opened with a soft swish.
"Hey, Laura," Jason said. "Don't tell me that Caroline decided all the groomsmen need to wear silk cravats during the photo shoot and you're here to measure my neck."
The guess was so outlandish I couldn't help but furrow my brow in confusion.
"Is… that something she would do?" I asked with creeping dread. So far, Caroline hadn't made any requests I would call crazy. But now I couldn't help but worry that she might.
Jason shrugged, but a wide smile erupted on his face. "No, but Simon's definitely the type to suggest we all do a shirtless shot. Hope your nerves are steady." He winked.
My skin tightened. It had been a long time since a man flirted with me so openly and even longer since I'd flirted back. But it had to be like riding a bicycle, right?
I made a show of letting out a sigh of relief and settled into an easy smile. "You've got jokes, but you wouldn't believe some of the requests I've gotten."
"I bet I would," Jason said. "But seriously, what can I do you for?"
Nope, this wasn't going to be difficult at all. In fact, the hardest part would be pumping the breaks. I searched for a quick excuse that left just enough room for misinterpretation.
"I've been thinking about starting an online shop," I said, tilting my head to the side. "Nothing fancy like you and Simon. And honestly, it probably wouldn't be worth your time."
"I don't know about that," Jason said. "The best part about being my own boss now is I get to decide how I spend my time. You're looking for a consultant? Or maybe a mentor?"
Jean the receptionist snorted quietly at that. Jason shot her a look. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes snapped back to her monitor. Maybe Jason wasn't exaggerating his newfound power around the office. Then again, how could he be? The owner was about to become his brother-in-law.
When Jason Delany turned back to me, his face was a perfect picture of calm as if the outburst, and his reaction to it, hadn’t happened. The breezy smile settled on his face again as his gaze slid to me.
I cleared my throat. "Like I said, what I’m thinking of is nothing compared to your outfit. And I don’t really have the money for a consultant fee."
"You’re really not talking yourself up here, Laura." Jason put his hands into his pockets.
"Better to be upfront, right? I know a place nearby that makes the best cup of coffee in the Keys. I'll take only as much of your time as it and a sandwich are worth. Your choice on both, of course."
If I had to guess, I'd say my proposition would buy me somewhere between five and fifteen minutes of Jason Delany's time. If nearly a decade of client consultations had taught me anything, it was that you could learn a person's whole life story in that time if you knew what questions to ask.
Jason's gaze wandered over my body. His lips pursed. "I have a counteroffer. You let me buy you dinner, and you can ask me as many questions as you want. The more, the better."
My mind went blank with shock.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think Jason would counter my request for a coffee date with one for a dinner date. I’d only come to ask questions; I wasn’t trying to score a date!
Jason was good looking, and he wore his newfound confidence well, but I really wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to lead him on, but… I needed to find out more about Charlie and Simon.
I skewed my lips to the side, considering his offer. Really, I was buying myself time to calm down.
“Come on, don't tell me you have to organize something for the wedding. I happen to know Caroline and Simon are spending the weekend at my parents' estate.”
"That makes it sound so Victorian England," I said. "Will there be a butler in a black tail-coat?"
"Pfft, in this heat? Linen pants and a button-up shirt. My parents aren’t cruel." Jason said it so matter-of-factly that I genuinely couldn't tell whether or not he was joking.
"If I were to agree to dinner, when and where did you have in mind?" I asked. What else was I going to do?
"Tonight," he said. "And only Bastian's will do. You'll have to try the Oysters Rockefeller. It's to die for."
Interesting choice of words. "You think you can get a reservation for Bastian's on a Friday night with fewer than four hours’ notice?"
Jason Delany's unshaken expression told me that yes, he believed he could do exactly that. "I'm not hearing a no."
Part of me wondered what would happen when reality asserted itself. Bastian’s was the most exclusive restaurant in the area, boasting a world-famous French-Caribbean fusion menu. Thanks to several well-timed reviews and a featured role as an exterior location on a popular cable drama, Bastian’s was also infamous for its jam-packed reservation book.
Maybe Jason could score a reservation that fast, but I couldn’t be ready for a date.
Oh, why not?
"I’m dressed for a coffee date, not a dinner date," I said. "Make your reservation for tomorrow night, and I’ll meet you there."
I brushed past Jason on my way to leave. He caught my hand and held it, caressing my knuckles.
"How about I pick you up? I already know where you live."
The reminder sent a slight chill down my spine.
I covered by shrugging my shoulders gently as I pulled my hand away. "Thank you for the offer, but I'd rather do it my way. I'm not used to my family getting a bird’s eye view of my love life."
"Then I'll text you when I've confirmed the reservation." He paused and leaned down until his forehead was almost touching mine. "And I'll see you tomorrow night."
The second Jason disappeared behind the glass door, I hightailed it back to my car. I didn't even say goodbye to Jean. My attempts to win her over hadn't been successful, and I had bigger things to worry about. Like where on Earth I was going to find a dress in my budget that was appropriate for Bastian's.
With every step back to the car, my stomach tightened.
I didn't have a dress that fit that restaurant. I wasn't the woman who we
nt on dates like this. Karaoke, ice cream, and the pinball museum were my go-tos back in Seattle. If a man couldn't loosen up enough for any of those, he'd never survive me or my family.
Not that I needed or wanted Jason Delany to survive us. I just needed to make it through one evening with him. That couldn't be too hard, right?
By the time I pulled into the parking lot of the Paradise, my stomach was in full revolt. I walked right past the garden cottage and to the garage. As much as I loved Granny, there was only one person in the world I would go to for dating advice.
Despite their names implying similar purposes, the parking lot and the garage were at opposite ends of the grounds.
In Andrew's grandparents' era, you could drive from the highway to a private driveway, through the grounds, and right up to the garage. Over the years, the private drive turned into the walking path. There were two electric golf carts in the garage now, but we almost never used them.
When I got to Danielle's, I knocked twice and opened the door. She was sprawled out on her couch; Baby Benjamin was balanced on her chest and happily snoozing. The image combined with Danielle’s deep love of mid-century reproduction furniture created an image I desperately wanted to capture.
"Hey," she whispered. "This is a nice surprise. Well, nice for me. Ben’s milk-drunk."
That made me want to do an impromptu photoshoot even more, but now wasn’t the time.
"I wish it was a social visit, but actually I need help." A pang of guilt flickered in my chest. "I have a date tomorrow night and I don't have a thing to wear. Like legitimately not a thing."
Danielle furrowed her brow, pushed Ben lower down on her abdomen, and held him in place with one hand. She sat up, bracing one elbow on the sofa. "That’s great! I’m sure I have something you can borrow. Where's the date."
I swallowed. Granny and I had decided it was best if Danielle didn’t know I was looking into Charlie's murder. I’d decided alone it was best if I didn’t tell either of them about Reid’s threat to arrest me.
At the time, it seemed like the best decision. The less Danielle and Andrew knew, the less risk to them. I hadn't counted on needing to go on a dinner date. In twenty years, I'd never gone on a first date without giving my sister a pre and post evening rundown.
I would have to thread this needle very carefully.
"Bastian’s," I said, hoping the status of the restaurant would distract Danielle.
She blinked. “For a first date? If you think you can just drop a bomb like that without more details, you're dreaming!" A grin spread over Danielle's face that I swear made her look like Granny's spitting image. "For starters, what's his name?"
"It's Jason Delany."
Danielle's lips parted in shock. "You… when? How?"
I shook my head and plopped down on the floor next to the sofa. "It's not what you think. This isn't a real date."
"Oh, now you definitely have to explain this to me." She folded her legs on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. "It's not like you to go on a date with a guy you're not interested in."
"I'm interested in what he can tell me about Charlie Porter. I think he might know who killed him."
A look of panic snapped onto Danielle's face. "Well then, call the sheriff. No, I mean that one detective. What was his name?"
"Reid," I said. "Detective Reid, and I will once I have something to tell him. Right now, all I have is a date with Jason."
"Laura, you can't go. You just said you thought he killed someone!"
"Jason Delany didn't kill anyone."
I really believed that. Sure, his newfound lease on life had turned him into a minor creep, but it had only kicked in after Charlie died. And he still wore it like a teenage boy wore his first suit, with a confidence anyone could see he didn't feel and fear in his eyes that someone might catch on.
"So he just knows killers? That's not any better!"
A knock on the door interrupted us. The door swung open and Granny puttered in, her hair freshly set in tight curls. She looked from Danielle to me and frowned.
"Figured you'd be here when I saw your car and you weren’t home. What did you do to your sister? You two aren’t too big for me to punish, you know."
"My rear end we're not," Danielle said. "Laura's going out with a man she thinks is a murderer. Granny please, help me talk some sense into her!"
"Oh, you got that boy to agree!" Granny grinned. "I'm impressed. Where are you going and when?"
Danielle gaped at her in shock. "Granny, you knew?!"
My grandmother shrugged her bony shoulders but didn't answer.
I reached for my sister's hand. "I'll be safe. I promise."
Danielle didn't look convinced. “You can't do this. It's too much. If anything happened to you––”
"It's my decision, Dani. If you think I'm going to sit by while everything my baby sister has been working for crumbles around her, you've forgotten what Fisher women are like."
Danielle stared at me in silence. Then tears flooded her eyes, and she sobbed softly. Granny came over and plucked Ben from her arms. The second her hands were free, Danielle grabbed me in a crushing hug.
“Figured you'd told her already,” Granny whispered to me reproachfully.
“Just came to borrow a dress,” I said. “I didn't have a good excuse.”
"If you entertained gentlemen more regularly, you wouldn't need to excuse it when you did," Granny sniffed as she settled down into the love seat next to the sofa.
"Thanks." I leaned back to look at Danielle. Tears streaked her red cheeks. She looked scared to death… and grateful.
"Please… be careful," she whispered.
I smiled. “Always.”
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, I woke up with a knot in my stomach that wouldn't go away. I checked my phone half a dozen times while I turned the guest rooms over. No calls from Jason Delany. I half-expected a slightly embarrassed text in which he would shift the location of our date from Bastian’s to a restaurant with a shorter waitlist. Maybe he'd even pull a Hail Mary and offer to cook for me himself.
Instead, at around three in the afternoon, I got a text from Jason.
7 p.m., Bastian’s. Can’t wait.
Short, simple, to the point, and casually optimistic. As early communications with a potential suitor went, it was a safe play. If this were a real date, I would be equal parts impressed and frustrated with Jason’s external cool. Since all I wanted was information, I took it as a sign that Jason hadn't seen through my lie.
Bastian's occupied a two-floor French colonial mansion across the highway from the Paradise Bed and Breakfast. The founder was a chef who'd found the property for a steal and had the structure and outbuildings custom built-in white clapboard that positively glistened at sunset. A second more casual restaurant took up the beachfront real estate. But part of Bastian's charm was its casual-chic atmosphere. The price tag of a three-star gourmet restaurant with none of the restrictive dress codes. That made it a perennial favorite among the affluent, tourists and locals alike.
To be honest, I would have rather had dinner there watching the sun set. Or I would have if this were a real date.
I started getting ready at five. By 6:50, I was in my car in the parking lot behind Bastian's in the only dress of Danielle's that fit me, an off-the-shoulder black A-line made of buttery-soft rayon.
My sister was shorter and thinner than me. On her, the flowy black dress likely fell around the calf. On me, it fell just below my knee. With an updo and a nice pair of earrings, Danielle probably looked like a respectable career woman with a slight penchant for vintage style in the vein of Audrey Hepburn.
Me? I looked like I was auditioning for a ‘50s-themed jukebox musical.
Fortunately, when I met Jason Delany at the entrance, he didn't seem to notice.
"Devastating!" he said, taking a step back to let his eyes comb over me. "Not that I expected any less."
"Umm, thanks. You too."
/> Actually, Jason didn't look half bad. He'd picked a deep blue button-down shirt and khakis for the night. Somehow, he managed to look put together without trying too hard.
"I hope you brought your appetite," Jason pulled the door open and gestured for me to pass first. "There's nothing more tragic than people who can't enjoy themselves for fear of keeping up appearances."
As I went, he gently touched the exposed spot on my back. A middle-aged host in a black button-up and trousers took Jason's name and verified our reservation. He led us through the dimly lit dining room to a secluded table for two with a floor-to-ceiling window with a picturesque view of the ocean.
Jason pulled my chair out. For a second a flutter of nerves wormed through my stomach and chest. Jason Delany was a good-looking guy. As far as first date venues went, this was an appropriate choice––if a little uninspired. This was a perfect first date for some woman. Just not for me.
You're not here for a good time, Laura. You're here for information. I sat down.
"Your server will be with you shortly," the host said. "In the meantime, can I start either of you with a cocktail? Or perhaps you'd like to see the wine list?"
A white ale sounded heavenly, but before I could ask if they had any on tap, Jason cut in.
"We'll have a bottle of the 2016 Grace Amabile Rosso." Jason turned to me and flashed a smile. "You'll love it. It's fruity and light. Do you like fish?"
I raised an eyebrow. "I grew up in Florida."
"If I may?" When I nodded, Jason turned to the host. "We'll have the shrimp bisque to start. My friend will have the snapper. I'll have the New York Strip au Poivre. And we'll finish with the banana beignets."
Had I been in the host's shoes, I would have gently reminded Jason that it was the server's job to take our order. He seemed to take it in stride, nodding with his hands clasped together and disappearing with a lowly uttered "very good."
And then it was just Jason and me. He went right for the getting-to-know-you questions. Had I always lived in Paraiso? Where had I gone to school? Was I really a self-taught photographer? I mirrored his questions, only listening closely enough to the answers to give appropriate responses. Really, I was waiting for an opening––any opening––to bring up Simon or Charlie.
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