Barefoot Bay_Paradise by Design

by Barbara Barrett

  He pressed his lips together, then expelled a long breath. “I’m at a crossroads, Drew.” He held up a hand. “Don’t ask. I can’t discuss it right now.”

  Disappointment made her throat catch. He still wasn’t ready to talk. “Later? I’d be happy to listen.” When he didn’t reply, she continued. “Maybe not. I ended those days of sharing confidences with you.”

  His head jerked toward her. “No, that’s not what I meant. I value those times. I could tell you anything. The thing is, I just came off an exhausting shoot. My brain needs to recharge.”

  Nice way of telling her it would be nice to talk but there’d be no time. “Oh. Okay.” She pushed off the wall where she’d been leaning. “If we miss each other in the morning, there’s always the phone.” Like that would ever happen.

  He grabbed her hand. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  Was there a hidden meaning in his statement or was she just too damned hopeful? “Uh, sure.”

  Before she could examine and re-examine his words as well as the brief contact, the others called him. “Tonight, we feast on gourmet goodies,” Ainsley said.

  Tony raised his flute in a toast. “To no paper plates, fast food or eating on the run.”

  “Sure you don’t want to join us, Drew?” Bo asked. “How often do you get caviar?”

  As much as she enjoyed their company and had liked being part of a team that worked together rather than knifed each other in the back—like Kerry had done to her—Drew sensed they needed this time together, just the four of them. Their very own wrap party. “I’m still stuffed from my meal earlier. I think I’ll hit the sheets. Ainsley, I’ll leave a light on for you. ’Night, everyone. See you in the morning.”

  It was the right thing to do, leaving the four of them to their impromptu festivities, but it wasn’t easy. Keegan might decide it best to leave early in the morning to avoid running into her again. That wouldn’t necessarily end things, there was still the phone and email, but they’d lose the momentum of this reunion.

  The novel she’d planned to check out before sleeping was a good read, but she couldn’t focus. Her brain leapfrogged from one idea to another. She tried not to think about any of them. Instead, she closed her eyes and attempted to conjure up new designs.

  She hadn’t taken any photos of Casa Blanca, but she was pretty sure she could recall some of the flowers and trees if she put pencil to paper. Maybe create her own floral prints? Better yet, what about the North African influence; could she do something with that? She’d go online in the morning and search for the type of garb worn there and incorporate the colors of Casa Blanca: the vanilla white of the exteriors, the dark brown of the rich African wood in the floors and the yellow beach umbrellas.

  Who could sleep with all these thoughts percolating in her head? She retrieved a pad of paper—she always had one near her bed—and sketched a caftan-type robe, a cover-up for the pool. Not quite see-through, just enough transparency to reveal the body beneath. She licked her lips. She hadn’t been this excited in months, other than last night with Keegan.

  In the time before Ainsley showed up for bed, maybe forty-five minutes, Drew conceived four totally different pieces: the pool cover; a strapless evening gown from a floral print of dark, almost black palm fronds reminiscent of the canopy shading the resort’s winding path; tan palazzo pants; and a hem-length shawl the bluest of blues, like midday on the Gulf.

  She studied what she’d done, her eyes moving from one to the next and back again. Was it the low light? Or fatigue? Or…were her eyes not deceiving her? These were actually good. Every one of them. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. And more.

  Her creativity was back. At long last.

  Then an amazing idea, more amazing than the designs, occurred to her. What if she put on a showing here at Casa Blanca? Would Lacey Walker be willing to take a chance on an unknown? Wait. Who said she’d always be an unknown? If she applied herself and didn’t stop to question her talent, as she had been doing, she could make herself known in a year or two. Then she’d return here, a star on the rise.

  Did she dare dream this? Finally, after all this time, after putting her needs on hold so long and after the dreadful false start with Kerry, was this the beginning of a new life? She wanted so much to discuss it with Keegan. Would there be time…and opportunity…in the morning?

  Having milked her creative juices to their limit for the night, she relaxed enough to pull a blanket over her body and turned on her side to feign sleep when Ainsley came to bed. She didn’t want the other woman to see the smile she couldn’t wipe off her face.

  Eventually she drifted off. The next thing she saw was a young girl with a sandy blonde ponytail who was painting something. As the vision cleared, that something turned out to be a small ceramic vase. Three roses adorned one side. The girl was applying blue paint to one clay rose. She seemed pleased with herself until another girl approached her. When the other girl observed what she was doing, the girl called for the others in the group to come see what was happening. “There’s no such thing as a blue rose,” they said. “Ours are pink and red and yellow. Not blue. That’s dumb. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  The girl with the ponytail told them she liked the color. So real roses weren’t blue. This was her project, and she could do whatever she wanted with it.

  But the other girls persisted in their taunting, one of them calling to an older woman, the group’s leader. Though the woman had been kind, she repeated that roses weren’t blue. The girl stuck to her guns, for a while, but she was new here, an outsider who desperately wanted the other girls to like her. By the time all the vases were set in a line to dry so they could be fired, the blue rose was now red.

  Drew woke with a start. That girl with the ponytail had been her when she was ten. Her parents had moved to another town in Wisconsin, uprooting Drew from all her friends. She hadn’t thought of this incident in years, but the more she recalled it, the more she remembered how after that episode with the vases she’d never tested the limits again. She’d found friends in that new town, but she’d “gone along” with popular opinion rather than rock the boat.

  Was that when she’d begun to consider herself unworthy, less important than others?

  Maybe. Maybe she was looking for an easy explanation for a much more complex belief. Whatever the cause, it was more important that with Keegan’s help she’d discovered this clue to her actions. Perhaps now she could move ahead.

  The dream had been so real, the discovery so comforting, she wanted to share it with Keegan.

  She sprang from the mattress, nearly tripping over the sheer draping surrounding the bed. As quietly as she could, she padded barefoot across the room and out to the patio. Being worthy of him meant she had a right to find out what was bothering him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Keegan stared at the sky. It was a clear night over the Gulf. It seemed like one could simply reach up and pluck a star from the heavens to brighten their own universe.

  He’d been so excited with today’s shoot, especially Clay’s interview, he’d come close to making his decision. If he stayed, he could implement the format changes that were surefire ratings boosters. The idea of spinning their wanderings a new way appealed to him. Though becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the show, he hadn’t realized how tired he’d become of the tried and true structure until he’d played with the concept of adding the architects’ opinions.

  Then that little tyke showed up with his mom, and Keegan glimpsed a vision of something that could be his, if he could bring more normalcy into his life. Would taking the job with Jensen Acres give him that? He could be busier than ever if he accepted their offer. Would that be fair to…someone else?

  Sleeping in this hammock was a worse idea than walking on the beach earlier. He thought he’d be able to doze like a babe, swaying out here in the fresh air, but a massive pile-up of conflicting thoughts jammed his brain. Probably them rather than the hammock pre
venting sleep. Most likely, he’d be awake for hours, unable to drop off until he lounged in his seat on his morning flight.

  “Keegan?”

  Night creatures?

  The voice floated over to him again. “Keegan?”

  “Who’s that?” He kept his voice a whisper.

  “It’s me. Drew.”

  He twisted his head trying to see her, and set the hammock swinging faster for his efforts. Had to plant a foot on the floor before the device got completely out of control. “Come over here.”

  Within seconds, she stood before him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Though she was wearing conservative knit shorty pajamas, heat that had nothing to do with this warm summer night rushed to his lower parts. It would be so easy to give in to his needs. Quench the ongoing desire that still raged within his belly since he’d first seen her two days ago, despite last night’s lovemaking. But he’d zipped that one away earlier in the day and didn’t dare now revisit how much he wanted her, or he’d say or do something neither could handle.

  He didn’t want to be brusque, but if she stuck around, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist her. He’d already rebuffed her attempts more than once today. “Stay clear of this hammock. It’s got a mind of its own. I’ve nearly fallen out twice.”

  She drifted closer. “Ah, but you’ve forgotten the hammock in my parents’ backyard. I spent many a summer day…and night…out there. I’m no stranger to their challenges.”

  Damn! She wasn’t heeding his warning. A few more steps and… “Stop!” Did he have to sound so menacing?

  She pulled up, turned to leave, then just as swiftly pivoted to face him. “Look, Keegan. I can’t sleep until we’ve talked. You said whatever is bothering you doesn’t have to do with me, but I can’t buy that. If you’re still ticked off at my breaking our engagement, that’s one thing. But I thought we worked our way through that and you understood why I felt I had to end things.”

  Why didn’t she get it? He was so close to asking her to get back together. But if he did and she turned him down, he wasn’t sure he could survive the pain a second time.

  “Go back to bed, Drew. We both need our sleep.”

  “But…”

  “I told you, no hard feelings about your calling off the marriage. That’s all you need to know.” His voice raised, he hated snapping at her.

  She took a step back, then hesitated. “No. I’m sorry about your sleep, but we’ll never have as good an opportunity as now.”

  “Opportunity? For what, Drew? Surely you don’t think the fact that I can speak to you after all this time and that we can still get it on in bed means there’s a future for us?” He regretted his words as soon as they were out, but this was his last resort to get her to leave.

  Her hand covered her mouth and her eyes grew wide as the shock of his words penetrated. “I…I wish you’d just said as much when we talked earlier. You had every right to still be angry with me. But instead, I got the impression we could maybe be friends again. Maybe more. I’m sorry. I misread things.”

  She spun around and ran for the door.

  Damn, double damn! He just wanted her to go away before he risked getting hurt. Instead, he’d hurt her. “Drew! Come back. I didn’t…” He flipped off the hammock in an attempt to catch her, but he caught his foot in the netting and went down with a thud, hitting his shoulder on the patio floor. For what seemed like ages, he lay there, stunned, his foot imprisoned.

  Finally, his surroundings clicked into place, though his shoulder ached like crazy. He attempted to remove his foot, but the angle at which he was sprawled kept him trapped. Hell, just…hell. Why hadn’t he taken a chance at disappointment instead of rebuffing her? Now, he couldn’t even go after her. His entire upper body hurt, his foot was growing numb and he hated his cowardice.

  “Oh, my God, Keegan. Are you okay?” To his amazement, Drew had returned. She bent over him and ran her smooth cool hand up his arm and over his head. “At least there’s no blood.”

  “What?”

  “I came back. Don’t ask why. Something told me you needed help.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Let’s get you out of this.” She was able to separate the ropes enough for him to remove his foot. Once both his legs were on the ground, she ran a hand over the rest of his body, checking for more injuries.

  Her ministrations sent his blood south despite his other aches and pains. “I tried to come after you.”

  She rewarded him with a slight smile. “And the hammock had its way with you.”

  “Perfect example of how I’ve fallen for you all over again.”

  “You have? Then why did you send me away?”

  “That was my pride speaking. Thought if we talked much more, I’d ask something and might not want to hear the answer.”

  “Ask?” She raised a brow. “As in ask me to get back together?” Her voice grew very low and hoarse.

  He’d put himself out there, might as well go for it. “That was the general idea, although I’m hoping for more.”

  “More?” Her one-word response scared away whatever breath still remained in him after his tumble. The world stood still, the night sounds faded until she replied.

  She closed her eyes, bit her lips. When she opened her eyes again, they held tears. She grabbed his hands and held them. “I never believed we’d get a second chance. It’s all I’ve thought about since I saw you the other day, but I was afraid to hope.”

  “Apparently the prospect scared us both.”

  “Guess we have that hammock to thank for causing me to return.”

  She helped him stand and guided him over to one of the lounge chairs, pulling another close for herself, all the time holding his hand. “I should let you sleep. I’ve learned what I needed to know.”

  “You think I could sleep now with so much on my mind?”

  “About our future?”

  He squeezed her hands. “Definitely that. I’m happy just to know there will be a future. But I’m not sure where that future will be.”

  She angled her head. “What do you mean?”

  Her question struck a familiar chord. “I’ve missed these discussions. You were the one I shared my job frustrations with and the one who first encouraged me to take the plunge at setting up my own firm.”

  “Aren’t you happy with your TV show?”

  “It’s been coming to that. I was tiring of the routine.”

  “The routine of traveling the world and staying at the most exclusive resorts and hotels? Of being paid a huge salary and gaining a national reputation?”

  “Believe it or not, that lifestyle gets old. Not that I’m complaining about the money and celebrity, but it also comes with sweltering heat, torrential monsoons and pretentious, fame-seeking egotists. Clay and Lacey Walker are the exceptions.”

  “What would you do instead—return full time to architecture?”

  He told her about Jensen Acres.

  She swooped in to hug him. “Keegan, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you. And proud of you.”

  He loathed the idea of releasing her, but she needed to hear the full story. “They want an answer by later today. If I accept, I’ll have to fly back to Wisconsin for a news conference in the next few days, but I should be able to finish out the show’s season before officially moving into the job. After this experience at Casa Blanca, though, for the first time interviewing the architect who designed the place, I’ve gotten excited about the show once more.”

  “Oh.”

  Was there an underlying tone of disappointment in her reply? “My firm wouldn’t lose the business if I remained with the show. My partner would become lead architect instead.”

  “That’s what you meant by your future. Whether to stick with the show or accept this new job.”

  “Yeah. You reduced it to one simple question. Wish the answer would come that easily.”

  “It probably doesn’t help for me to point out that you have
two incredible choices.”

  He sought her eyes. “Could you…would you…join me either way?”

  She offered the same smile that had caught his attention the first time they met. “It would be great to have you back in Wisconsin. But this is your decision. I’ll be there for you whatever you decide.”

  Though her response warmed his heart, something about it made him wonder. “What? What aren’t you saying?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Drew sucked in her lips. He remembered that tell. She wanted to share with him whatever was on her mind but didn’t want to complicate things.

  “I have my own career decision to make.”

  “Something to do with your dad’s project?” He suspected otherwise, Burgess having told him about her moodiness.

  “No. My experience helping Mrs. Farrell yesterday was the first time in months I was pleased with my fashion efforts. I haven’t been able to design since my so-called partner stole my sketches from our loosely formed partnership and took them to my old employer. Her betrayal, on top of the other stresses in my life the last few years, sent me spiraling downward.”

  “Drugs? Booze?”

  “Inability to do much of anything after I learned there was no way I could prove what she took was my work. They were simply preliminary concepts. Enough for my no-talent partner to finish and sell to my former fashion house in return for a job.”

  “Tough situation.”

  “I shouldn’t have let her deception get to me. But it did. Rather than holding her accountable, I blamed myself for not insisting on a formal partnership agreement which would have protected my intellectual property. My creative energies fizzled and I retreated into depression. I’ve been mulling over what I admitted yesterday, that I don’t feel worthy. Deep down, I think I felt I wasn’t meant to succeed. Either in fashion or, in a relationship with you.”

  He took her hand. Checked her eyes. “You seem okay now.”

  “I do, don’t I? Thanks to Dad and his project. It got me using my brain for the first time in months. The documentation helped me realize he couldn’t have known what Harvey Powell was doing, the rat was that good at covering his tracks. Hanging out with you and the team allowed me the time and friendly environment to process that discovery. Hope bloomed.”