PARADISE COVE - 3 BOOK SET: PARADISE COVE SERIES

by Patrice Wilton

  “You’re sure you want me to read it?” She hesitated, looking like she’d prefer to take her wine, her munchies and get the hell out of there.

  “No, I’m not sure. You’ll probably be too kind anyway. Please don’t be.”

  “Okay.” Her eyes flickered to his, and color crept into her cheeks. “I know I can be awfully gushy and excitable. It’s just the way I’m made.”

  “You’re made just fine. Writers are known to be surly, temperamental, and filled with doubt. We live and die with fear of failure.” He gave a dramatic flick of his fingers and deepened his drawl. “It’s our artistic nature.”

  “Sounds like a terrible way to live.”

  “I had, or have, a very successful career, but this—this is the only life I want.”

  “Well then, we better do something positive about it, or you’ll be doomed to be miserable for a very long time.”

  “I have been miserable for a very long time, but it paid the bills.” And then some. He had a big fancy Manhattan apartment, the Lexus he rarely used, an enormous closet filled with two thousand dollar suits, and shirts and ties that lined an entire wall. After his marriage broke up, he lived the high life for awhile. Classy women, supermodels, limousines and a fridge full of champagne. The good life to some, but not for the likes of him—it ate away inside of him, like gut rot. It was an insult to everything he’d ever been taught, his Baptist values, the kind of man he was.

  Pushing those thoughts away, he leaned back and sipped his wine, watching her face as she read. Then he put his glass down and enjoyed the food, tasting both the chicken and the beef. He left the table to get some napkins, and when he returned she sat back and glanced up at him.

  “Well?” He frowned, trying to read her expression. “It’s just an idea. It can be fleshed out or scrapped altogether.”

  “I like it. I really do.” She smiled dreamily. “I can see it as a play. The cave. A beautiful world growing outside. A baby dinosaur peeking in, and the people awakening, catching sight of a creature they only knew from history books. Kind of a fantasy time-travel. Cool.”

  “Really?” He tried not to be pleased. After all, Brittany knew nothing about his line of work. She couldn’t judge the merits of an unwritten play by a ten page synopsis. And she was a self-confessed, bubbly, enthusiastic kind of girl.

  He refilled her wine glass. “Eat. Then we’ll go to work.”

  She bit into an empanada, licking her fingers, which was a trifle sexy he had to admit. But he forced his eyes away from her. She was astonishingly beautiful. He knew many beautiful women, having hung around New York’s finest, but Brittany was different. Natural, earthy, vital—every expression on her face was animated. She couldn’t sit still. One minute she had her knees drawn up to her chest, the next she was tapping her feet on the floor. Everything about her was in perpetual motion. She wiggled in her seat like a little girl and he imagined her with fairy wings. A six foot tall Tinkerbell with dark hair instead of blonde.

  He smiled, and she caught his expression. “What?” she asked, catching a crumb on her bottom lip.

  “You. Do you ever sit still?”

  “I can’t help myself.” She rubbed her arms. “If it’s annoying, I can go sit on the couch.”

  “No. Stay where you are.” He cautiously shared more of his ideas. “The next scene I thought I could have a group of fairies sitting around a campfire, and they might be plotting the future, or speaking about the past. A meteor strike hit earth in 2025, and ended the world as we know today. Five hundred years have passed, and now the survivors are reawakening but not into the world they once knew, but into a world without cities, automation, electronics, communication. Instead they face dinosaurs, and Unicorns. And fairies.”

  “I want to be a fairy.” Her grin teased as she toyed with the wine glass in her hand.

  “You’d make a wonderful fairy,” he answered with a fond smile. Yeah, gossamer wings, her tinkling laugh, those long legs…he could see it.

  “Aren’t I too big?” She gestured to her height.

  “No. You’re just right.”

  Her face lit up. “All my life I’ve been too big for everything,” she declared. “But that never stopped me!” She shook her head. “I remember towering over the boys in school. Not being able to wear high heels at prom. It bothered me. I wanted to be like the petite cheerleader types instead of the long legged giraffe.”

  He chuckled. “I’d hardly call you a giraffe, as elegant as those legs are. But, I don’t see why—if this play ever sees the light of day—you can’t be the Queen Fairy. Then you could be taller, grander, than all the others.”

  “Good! That’s what I want to be.” She laughed and tossed her hair back. It fell in waves down her slim back, long, thick, luxurious.

  “How come you’re not married? Why hasn’t some smart, lucky guy snapped you up by now?”

  “My fault. I choose the wrong men.” She lifted her chin and her brown eyes flashed. “I used to choose the wrong men. Not anymore. I’m changing. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have been in Paradise Cove, never mind sitting here in your cabin talking to you. Planning on being a fairy. Dressed in my jean shorts and tee, bare feet and all. I’d be all glammed up, strutting around some nightclub, dazzling men with my long legs and my tango steps.” She leaned forward on the table and gazed into his eyes. “But now I’m here and liking it. You want to take me to bed?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “No!” Shock registered on Chase’s face. “I can’t go to bed with you—I barely know you.”

  “What’s that got to do with it?” Brittany asked, slightly amused. Obviously he wasn’t used to being seduced by forward-thinking young women. Well, he should be, she decided. “I think you’re sexy.”

  His dimples flashed. “Why, thank you,” he said in his soft, sexy drawl. “But, I’m a little old-fashioned, I guess. I like to know the women I sleep with.”

  “No one’s ever turned me down before,” she said. Surprised, she gave him a pout of disappointment.

  “Well, it’s about time.” Chase leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. His eyes lingered on her face.

  “Why? I can see you’re stressed. And I thought playtime might relieve some tension.” She tilted her head, giving him an enticing smile. “Sex is good for a person. Healthy. Relieves stress, creates endorphins, all that good stuff.”

  “Not with you.” His chair had been tilted back on two legs, now he flipped it forward. “I’ve had plenty of casual sex. Doesn’t work for me.”

  “Really?” She studied him, wondering what his problem was—was he joking around? “I’ve never met a guy who complained before.”

  “Why do you proposition men?” Chase asked the question in a quiet way. “And go for the wrong types?”

  Her head shot up. “What did you think all this was leading up to?” She gestured to the wine bottle and empty tray of food. “I told you I was a party girl.” Her stomach felt knotted inside. He made her feel cheap. Unwanted. And until the past week, she’d never felt unattractive before. It hurt.

  “I thought…I expected…” he wiped a hand over his face, “that this might lead to the development of a plot for my play, and a genuine friendship between us.”

  She laughed, although there was a bitter taste in her mouth. “You should hear yourself. You sound like you’re an eighty-year-old man.”

  “I do not.” Chase dropped his hands to the table. “I sound like someone being sensible. Someone ought to be around here.”

  “Oh, so going to bed with me is not sensible? Why? I don’t appeal to you?”

  “Of course you do. It’s not that.” Chance searched the room as if looking for an escape. Finally his gaze returned and settled on her face. “I thought you couldn’t. Not so soon after losing the baby. I mean, I’m sure you must be having a period or something.”

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  He looked even more uncomfortable. “Are you always this casual about goin
g to bed with a man? Don’t you want to get to know him first?”

  “I thought we were doing that. And I have protection in case you don’t.”

  His eyes softened and he leaned forward, putting a hand on her arm. “You don’t need to do this. You’re beautiful, smart, and have a million things to offer a guy. Play hard to get, and people will respect you more.”

  She stiffened. “People do respect me.”

  “Then respect yourself,” he said gently, his eyes kind. “I think you’re great, and I hoped we could get together like this more often. But I didn’t want to take you to bed. I want what we have to be more special than that.”

  “Taking me to bed wouldn’t be special?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Why are you being so hateful?”

  “I’m sorry if that’s what you think. It sure isn’t my intention.” He stood and walked behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You are very special, and I want to treat you like that.”

  She shook his hands off. “I thought you might be a quality guy who had a rod stuck up his ass. My mistake. I was just trying to help.” She rose abruptly, wanting to go home. “Your loss.”

  He took hold of the hem on her t-shirt and tugged her close. Her chest was plastered against his, and her heart beat faster. Brittany remained frozen, unsure what he wanted, and whether she could forgive him, or if it was already too late.

  “Chase? What are you doing?”

  “I want you, Brittany. You can be sure of that. But not like this. Women have always held a special place in my heart. My mother taught me to regard them highly, and to treat them as ladies. I lost that for awhile. After my wife left I did things I regret. I don’t want to be that guy anymore.” He looked into her eyes. “If and when I take you to bed, I want to earn the privilege and be the man I used to be.”

  Brittany was at a loss for words.

  “If it’s alright, I’d like to kiss you now.” He gave her that sexy smile that made her knees weak, and her insides wanting. “Once. And then if you still feel like helping out this struggling artist, we can see where our friendship leads.”

  “But I…”

  She couldn’t say anything more because he was kissing her. Softly at first, and then his tongue pried open her mouth and slid inside. A flame licked like a fire in her belly, but she didn’t react. She let him kiss her, allowed his slow exploration of her mouth, unwilling to give anything back.

  If he wanted a lady in his bed—instead of passion, well, he was knocking on the wrong door. For she was a passionate girl, and not a good enough actress to pretend otherwise.

  She broke away before she softened and embarrassed herself again.

  “Not good?” His eyes searched her face. “You didn’t respond.”

  “I don’t kiss friends on the lips,” she told him. “Only lovers.”

  “Ahhh…I see.” A smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Well, that’s fine by me. I can’t be your lover for the time being because loving a woman demands a full commitment from me.” He shrugged, and moved ever so slightly away, but she could still feel his body warmth. “Need to get a play written first.”

  “An all or nothing type, is that it?”

  “That’s right. You might find this strange, but I think making love should mean something. Maybe that’s old-fashioned, but that’s how I’m born and bred.”

  “You are a strange guy. Every man I know would be all over this.” She stepped back, and twirled around, letting him see all that he was missing. In her short shorts, her tanned legs and tight butt had to be alluring. Unless he was blind as a bat.

  She gave him a wicked smile. “These legs would look good around your neck.”

  His eyes glittered. “You don’t give up easily.”

  “Why should I? Making love is fun.”

  “You are a strange woman if you think making love is only about body parts.” He touched her chest where her heart beat. “This is what matters. Not just getting hot and sweaty under the sheets, but the mind-blowing explosion that you feel in your heart when you love someone completely. You deserve that, and so do I.” He swallowed. “I want to have that kind of love.”

  “So you don’t want to make love to me, or anyone, until your heart explodes? Well, good luck with that.”

  She left his cabin with her pride intact and laughed softly on the way home. Maybe she’d met her match after all. Someone who felt deeply and understood the true gift of passion.

  * * *

  Chase and Max sat at a round table for happy hour a few days later. He and Brittany had been cautiously polite since the sex-no sex fiasco and he regretted his line in the sand regarding their “friendship”. She made it a point to avoid him when all he wanted was to be around her smile.

  A single raindrop fell with a splat on the plastic table top. He looked up at the fast-moving clouds in the gray sky and tossed a mini pizza roll to Max.

  The last two guests threw their empty paper plates away and hurried out of the pool area. Brittany was hosting happy hour by herself today. Anna was on a long lunch date with a girlfriend, Taylor had explained since Brittany only gave him yes or no answers. Taylor left right after delivering the appetizers. Chase was determined to wait Brittany out and get her to accept his apology.

  She was a gutsy girl, a woman used to having power over men. He knew a lot of women like that. A few of the supermodels he’d dated had used their sex appeal to get whatever they wanted. Men to buy them the best tickets in town, premiere openings, front row seats to sporting events. Places where they’d be seen and picked up by media coverage. He’d played the game long enough and had enjoyed the ride.

  Wasn’t interested in that material world anymore. And he had a sneaking feeling that Brittany might not be either. He’d watched her around her family and with the guests at Paradise Cove. She smiled, she flirted, and she laughed with great abandon. She lived life. Another raindrop fell and he shivered. Brittany quickly covered the food, studiously avoiding looking at Chase. Ridiculous.

  A gust of wind lifted the plastic cloth of the buffet table. Thunder boomed. Lightning cracked. Max howled and the skies opened, releasing a warm, steady drizzle. He got up and moved toward her, Max’s leash in hand. “Brittany, how can I help you?”

  Brittany held out her hands and instead of being angry, she laughed. “Welcome to summer in South Florida,” she said. “Tropical winds and sudden torrential rainfalls are part of the fun.” She turned sparkling brown eyes up to him. “Don’t you just love the rain?” She lifted her face, and opened her arms wide. “It’s so wild. So passionate.”

  Another loud crash boomed. The rain fell harder. Max barked and jumped on his leg. Passionate?

  “Better run off,” she said, not seeming to mind the downpour soaking her skin and clothes. “Get Max inside. The lightning can be very frightening, and it’s dangerous.”

  “What about you?” A drop slicked down his neck and he shivered, lifting his arm to cover his head.

  “Me? I’m going to sit it out right under that table.” She pointed to the rectangle table with the plastic cloth over it, where a minute before the bar was set up. “It’s too far back to my cabin—besides, I like it out here.”

  “You can’t. You just said it was dangerous.” Lightning streaked across the ominous sky. “My cabin is closer, come home with me?” He’d get her to listen to his apology one way or another.

  “Fat chance.” She shoved a brown curl from her face with a grin. “I might want to take off all my clothes and dance naked in the rain. That’s the kind of girl I am. The kind your mother warned you about.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Chase took her by the wrist as a series of rumbling thunder pounded over their heads and a crack of lightning seemed to hit just feet away. “You can’t stay here.”

  “Go.” The storm made her seem even more alive but Chase knew it was just an illusion. Her vitality intensified. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” Before she could
stop him, he lifted her up and ran her back to his cabin, sliding on the slick grass.

  “Let me down!” She beat her fists against his chest, but that didn’t deter him at all. Matter-of-fact, it had got his heart pumping and his blood running hot.

  She struggled against him but he managed to get the door open, and with Max excitedly jumping around the two of them, he’d pushed his way into the cabin.

  “Chase, how dare you drag me off like this?” She glared daggers at him, rain drops hanging on her dark lashes.

  “You can thank me later. Right now, I’m keeping you safe.” He dropped her in the bathroom, and shut the door. “Take a hot shower. I’ll bring you some dry clothes.”

  “You….you…you! I can’t find the right words to describe you right now!” She spat out some curse words he rarely heard from a woman.

  He chuckled. “Just as well you’re out of words. They aren’t pretty.”

  “Go away!” Something hit the other side of the bathroom door. Her shoe?

  “This is my place. Bought and paid for.” He whistled a cheerful tune, and picked up Max to dry him off with an old towel. Then he found a sweatshirt and a pair of clean running shorts for Brittany to wear. She was almost as tall as him, but a whole lot skinnier—it would have to do.

  He knocked on the bathroom door. “I’ve got some clothes. I’ll drop them in.”

  She ignored him, but he heard the shower running and so entered cautiously, afraid that she might be behind the door with a can of deodorant or something to attack him with. So far so good. The shower curtain was shut and a female form behind it. He tiptoed in, and dropped the clothes on the counter next to the sink, sneaking a peek at Brittany’s silhouette before leaving.

  He dressed in a pair of sweat pants and pulled a long-sleeved New York Giants tee from the door. He turned, bare-chested, when he heard Brittany come up behind him.

  Instead of wearing the clothes he’d left for her, she stood before him, long wet hair down to her butt, in nothing but a skimpy towel.

  No sign of anger in her seductive smile. “So, you got me this far. You man enough to go the distance?”