HOOKED ON YOU (Paradise Cove)

by Wilton, Patrice

  He didn’t blame her. He’d been a complete idiot back at the cafe. Coming on to her the way he did. Showing her in graphic style exactly how she’d affected him. What had he been thinking? She’d be running scared now for damn sure.

  Besides that, she was right. He had no say in who she dated. She’d made it loud and clear that she certainly did not want him—but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. At least physically. Of all the women he knew, she was the one he’d give his left nut to have in his bed. Problem was, he wasn’t looking for a wife and having buddy-sex with Taylor wouldn’t sit right. Not with him. Or her. And sure in hell not with the rest of her family. The women were close and protective of each other, and he respected them all too much to mess around with Taylor just for fun.

  Even if she wanted it—which she didn’t. He was between a rock and a hard place. The hard place was the fact he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and laid awake many nights wondering how she’d feel under him. Sometimes he thought of her when he was with another woman. She was beginning to feel like a disease.

  “How’s it going, boys?” Colt called down over the rail. He could see for himself they were having a good time, joking around, talking fish and baseball, too young to have girl problems.

  They each waved up at him, then went back to scanning the clear blue water for fish. Colt popped another Tums in his mouth. The third in the past hour. Acid roiled around his stomach. Had heartburn too. Everything hurt inside and it was her damn fault. He’d been fine all morning. This sickness hadn’t started until she’d given her number to that asshole who looked like a daytime soap star. Handsome to the point of ridiculous. That thick black hair, blinding white teeth. What did she see in that guy?

  She’d dated him years ago. Colt knew she’d slept with him—her eyes had danced with excitement when he’d whispered something in her ear. That prick had had her first, and that burned a hole in his gut.

  But it wasn’t just about sex. It was more the fact that she’d be attracted to a man like that in the first place. Maybe she wasn’t all that different—could be he had believed it, because he’d wanted to. It was easy enough to be blinded by extreme wealth—the big house, the fancy cars, trips to anywhere in the world, first class resorts and high-end restaurants. His father had provided all that. They’d had a home in the Hamptons with a half-acre lot. Tennis court, huge pool, ocean at their doorstep. His father had kept a loft apartment in the City, on Madison Avenue, not far from the art gallery he owned.

  His mother, Marjorie, had a full-time chef, a personal trainer, and never had to lift a finger except to call for one of their hired help. He and his sister Chrissy had gone to private schools. They’d had huge parties a few times a year, and Colton had been allowed sips of the best champagne from the time he was twelve. He was a connoisseur: the best caviar, the world’s finest smoked salmon, a good shot of scotch or a vintage cognac—all by the time he was sixteen. His father had wanted his son to have refined taste and be a true gentleman. What a load of crap that was.

  “Dad!” Jamie shouted. “We’ve got one.”

  Broken out of his reverie, Colt watched Jamie wrestle with a fish. He’d caught a mackerel on his line and it looked to be a pretty decent size. “Need any help down there?” he called down.

  “Nope. I’ve got this.” Jamie had been around boats all his life, and could fish almost as well as his dad, or liked to think so anyway. Jamie began to reel it in and Raul had a netted scoop in his hand.

  Colt watched as the less experienced boy reached down with the long hooked net and nearly topple over. Jamie grabbed hold of Raul by his pants and together they got the flopping silver-coated fish on deck.

  “You want this, Dad?” Jamie knew it wasn’t a good eating fish, so he was ready to toss it back.

  “Up to you. We could smoke it, or let it live another day.”

  “I don’t like smoked fish. And we got grouper at home,” he said and tossed the fish back into the sea.

  Colt liked his decision. He’d taught his son to only keep what they wanted to eat—or for him to sell, and let the rest swim free. He guided “Bait Me” closer to the reefs, and his mind drifted off again.

  Back to his dad, and how his world had come crashing down around them in an instant. Right after his sixteenth birthday, Colt woke up to learn that his father was dead, and that everything he believed was a lie. He had loved and worshipped his handsome, elegant, and brilliant father. Yet he hadn’t known him at all. The man his father portrayed was a fictional character. What lay beneath the expensive clothes and sophisticated exterior was a clever, gifted sociopath who made his living duping other people. His dad had been an extremely talented artist, but his real gift was copying famous artist’s styles and selling new work under their names. He displayed them from his well respected art gallery and had them on loan to museums. Over two decades, he’d managed to deceive the art critics of the world, and the most discerning collectors too. How he did it was anyone’s guess, but he thrived for years until the night he was found dead in his Jacuzzi tub. Vials of coke and an empty bottle of champagne—two glasses, one with bright red lipstick, scattered near his naked body.

  When the police found him, the Travis family learned that his paintings had been under investigation for some time. The law suits following his death totally bankrupted the family. By the time they settled, they were officially broke.

  Gone went the servants. No more private schools and parties. No mansion in the Hamptons, no fancy cars, or invitations, or friends. They were outcasts now, and had to get out of town as quickly as they could. His mom sold a great many pieces of jewelry and dozens of silver plates to buy their airline tickets to Miami, and with nothing but their clothes they left to start a new life.

  Colt didn’t want any stinking money. He’d had it, but what did it mean? It hadn’t brought happiness or any real, lasting pleasure. It was all a lark, a night of frivolity, and a day of fun. Nothing of substance. Nothing real.

  He didn’t want that for himself. He understood his mother and his sister and their needs. They craved what was taken away from them. They worked their asses off to try to get a glimmer of it back. But Colt…he had what he wanted. A peaceful existence. Lazy days of fishing. Camaraderie in like-minded people. Friendships developed over the pride of their catch, not the size of their boat. Lulled by the gentle waves of the ocean and the hull of his boat, he had found real happiness in Paradise Cove. It was a good life for him and his son.

  “What are you doing, Dad?”

  Colt blinked. “Daydreaming. What’s up?”

  “I’m bored.”

  “You’re bored? How about you, Raul? You bored too?”

  “No, Mr. C. I like it out here. And your boat is way bigger and better than ours.” He grinned, his teeth flashing white in his brown little face. “Shitty little raft.”

  “Don’t swear,” Colt said automatically.

  Colt was one of the few people who knew how Juanita, Miguel and Raul ended up here. Rescued at sea, and Juanita seven month’s pregnant, Dr. Sean Flannigan had taken them to his rented cottage at Paradise Cove. If the coastguard had found them they’d have been sent back to Cuba.

  “Sorry,” Raul said. “My uncle called it that. Said dad was stupid for coming across in a ‘shitty little raft’.” He shaded his big brown eyes and looked up to the bridge, trying to see Colt’s face. “What’s shitty?”

  Jamie laughed. “It’s poop, dude.” He slapped his friend’s back. “A poopy raft that almost killed you all.”

  Raul took the teasing good-naturedly. “It was. But my dad was brave. Not stupid. Look at us now. Americans,” he said proudly.

  “That’s right, Raul.” Colt spoke loudly, knowing from his perch it was difficult for the boys to hear. “You should be proud of your family.”

  “Si,” he bobbed his head. “I am.”

  Colt leaned over the railing. “Want to head back?”

  “I do.” Jamie put his rod back into the holder, a
nd turned to his bud. “Want a Coke?” he asked Raul.

  “Sure.” Raul carefully put his rod away and followed Jamie inside the cabin.

  Colt turned the boat around and headed back. It took them nearly forty minutes to reach the marina. He was walking up the path with the boys when Miguel came toward them.

  “There you are,” he called to his son. “You out fishing again?” Miguel doffed his head to Colt. “Thanks for taking my boy all day. You don’t need to do that. He can stay with me.”

  Colt knew Miguel was a proud man who understood the value of hard work, and that you don’t get things for nothing. He wanted his son to learn this valuable lesson, but Colt didn’t think it had to be done quite yet. Raul was only eleven.

  Although both men respected each other, they’d never see eye-to-eye on those issues. “Jamie likes having him around. I do too.” He ruffled the boy’s dark hair, long enough now that it fell to his shoulders. “Tell your dad how you did today.”

  “I hit a home run,” Raul said proudly.

  “That’s good.” Miguel gave a single nod. “But you can’t just play all summer long. Baseball and fishing.” His tone scolded. “Thought you were going to do some weeding for Miss Kayla.”

  “I did some yesterday,” Raul was quick to answer. “Miss Kayla says it only needs to be done every few days.”

  “Fine. See that it is.” Miguel put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Time to go home. Your mother needs help with Merica. She worked all day too.”

  Raul hung his head. “I can give her a bath,” he said.

  Colt hated the boy’s hang-dog expression. “See you tomorrow, Raul. Pick you up at seven, right?”

  Raul looked at his dad, who shook his head. “No, not tomorrow. I have to work.”

  “That’s fine. The next day then.” They reached the parking lot and he waved to the boy and his dad as they climbed into their pickup truck. Though older than his son, the blue Chevy was clean and cared for.

  “I wish Raul could play ball tomorrow,” Jamie grumbled. “It’s not fair that he has to work all the time.”

  “I know, but his father isn’t being cruel. He thinks what he’s doing is right.” Colt might not agree with Miguel, but the man was teaching his son the way he’d been taught.

  Not how to drink fine cognac and decipher the difference between caviar from the Caspian Sea, or a good domestic brand.

  Jamie was quiet on the drive, and Colt knew the day’s activities had worn him out. When they pulled up in front of the three-bedroom cabin that they called home, he told Jamie to take a shower, then stepped into his own. He wouldn’t be taking Jamie to happy hour at the Paradise Cove cottages tonight. The offer from Taylor to make pizza for Jamie would have to wait. Not only would he have a hard time facing her, but he’d likely be thrown out if he did.

  He’d let the dust settle, then somehow find a way to make things right.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Taylor was still out of sorts, although she hid it from her mom and sisters. It was near five o’clock and Colt and Jamie hadn’t shown up. Just as well, as she had a whole lot of things she wanted to say to him and none of them were pretty. But she couldn’t refrain from checking the walkway every ten minutes or so. And she was keeping an eye on her watch too.

  He disturbed her. There was no getting around it. When he’d pulled her close, she’d felt a zing from the tips of her toes to her center core, and she couldn’t remember anyone…not even Jack, affecting her so. Colton Travis should think about harnessing that sexual energy. It could get a girl interested in a real hurry.

  He didn’t want a relationship anymore than she did. Matter of fact that’s what she wanted to talk to him about. It might be a good idea if he didn’t hang around quite so much. She’d made up her mind—with gentle persuasion from Brittany—to start living a little. Not a whole lot, but going out once in awhile with the male species had to be more entertaining than spending every night here with her mother.

  It was different when there was the four of them, but with Brittany living in Miami and Kayla with her fiancé, she was starting to feel like an old maid. Sitting around playing cards with her mom and their guests, going to bed early so she could get up early. Listening to the lively chorus of crickets while lying in bed was the highlight of her evening.

  Dammit! Colt had shown her what she’d been missing, and that sexual spark had felt good. There had to be someone within a twenty mile radius who could make her feel like that again.

  “Hey, Tay, come sit with us!” Brittany waved her over to the only table of men. They were rugged guys, outdoorsy types from the Panhandle here for some fishing. Dressed in baggy tees and cargo shorts, their feet in sandals, the men were not looking for women—but had found one nonetheless. Taylor guessed their ages to be mid-forties, all were married, but no one could remain oblivious to Brittany’s many charms.

  “Later. Got to make my rounds,” she called back. Her rounds would take her all of a minute or two.

  They only had two cabins booked this week, and their guests included the three men chatting with her sister, and a friend of Anna’s with her recently divorced daughter. Anna had worked at the same school with Joan in Princeton, New Jersey for ten years. They had shared plenty of stories about their children over the years, and it came as no surprise to Anna when Joan booked the cabin for a two-week stay, saying Carole had left her husband.

  Taylor knew Carole was going through a hard time. Her ex was a verbally abusive man and still making her life miserable. Since Anna and Joan were gossiping about people they knew, Taylor took a moment to sit down beside Carole and ask about her day.

  “It was wonderful,” Carole told her. “I walked for miles, and snorkeled down by the pier. I’ve never seen such beautiful fish in my life, and the water is so clear. You are very lucky.”

  “Yes, we are.” Taylor gave her a measuring glance. “Do you like living up north? Maybe you need a change of scene. We sure could use some help around here.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that!” Carole darted a quick look at her mother. “Dad passed away four years ago, and my brother is no help to Mom at all. She needs me.”

  “I’m sure she’d like you to be happy too.”

  Taylor liked Carole—who was close to her own age, but looked haggard and thin as if she’d given up taking care of herself. Her long brown hair was pulled straight off her face into a ponytail, and when she attempted a smile it never quite reached her eyes. They were a light blue and might have been pretty once; now they looked dull and gray. Yet, by her bone structure, it was obvious that with a little weight gain and a good hair salon she would be a very attractive woman.

  “I’ll be happy once I get Hank off my back. He keeps driving by at night and calling me at all hours.”

  “Aren’t you scared? I mean if you’re divorced, then he should let you get on with your life.”

  “He’s never been physical. I’m not afraid of him. But he doesn’t want to let me go. I know what he’s doing—but I’m not going back.” She lifted her chin and there was more fire in her eyes than Taylor had seen in the past few days. “I’m living with Mom now,” she said firmly. “She needs me, and it’s good company.”

  Taylor nodded. She lived with her mother too, although the circumstance was entirely different. Anna and her sisters had come to Paradise Cove to build something together. They were protective of each other, but the door was open. Heck, Anna couldn’t wait to get her girls married and out of the house—or cabin, as it were.

  The resort cottages all had exotic names. Rhapsody, Serenity, Tranquility, and Harmony were the larger, two-bedroom units. The smaller ones facing the pool had simpler names—Bliss, Happy Days, Smooth Sailing, and Hooked and Baited. The ones closer to the office were Hibiscus, Bougainvillea, The Palms and theirs—attached to the Office, had been misnamed Passions. After the cottages had been painted, they’d changed it to Birds Of Paradise. So far two birds had flown off. Taylor was the only one left.


  Before long all the cabins would be rented and they’d need more hired help. She was sincere in her offer, and would love Carole to reconsider. “Well, if you ever change your mind, just call us, okay?”

  “Sure, but I don’t think so. I work at the library, and I’ve been there for twelve years.” That sounded about as exciting to Taylor as a pan of uncooked dough.

  “Sounds like pleasant work,” she managed, then took a long sip from her mango daiquiri. She’d love to help her, but how? There were some things in life that you just had to figure out yourself. Like she did with Colt, and Jack, and life in general. She and her sisters had lost their father in the Twin Towers on 9/11, and like all Americans they’d been devastated by this inexplicable, monstrous attack. For them it had been deeply personal. Her mom and the three girls, all teenagers at the time, had no game plan. They simply put one step forward each morning and somehow survived. Carole would learn to do that too.

  The women continued to sit and chat while the men stuck to their local beers and kept to themselves. They were eating a big plate of nachos that Taylor had whipped up, and some toasted flat bread with chicken and spinach.

  After a few minutes, Taylor excused herself so she could help Kayla serve. She picked up the tray of food, and Kayla a pitcher, and they floated between the two tables, making sure the drinks were full and their plates not empty. Brittany, being a natural born flirt, and having a penchant for escaping work, remained seated with the guys. And by the laughter at that table, she seemed to be entertaining them well.

  By six o’clock the party broke up, and the men headed back to their cabin. Kayla returned to her home in Key Largo to wait for Sean to get off work. He was a cardiac surgeon and often worked very long hours. This was agreeable to them all, as it gave Kayla plenty of hours in her day to work the resort—and now with the opening of Taylor’s Cafe her time with them was even more important.

  Taylor left her mother, Brittany, Joan and Carole to play gin rummy, and headed back home. She had worked a very long day, and with the excitement and nerves thrown in, she was bone-tired. She filled the tub with hibiscus-scented bubble bath, lit a candle and sunk in for a long, quiet soak.