by Traci Hall
“Please sit,” Randall said. He wore a white button up shirt with long sleeves rolled to a cuff above his wrists. No tie, and the top three buttons undone. It would be a casual look, but the fabric was obviously expensive and screamed money even without cufflinks.
Heath had to pull a second chair closer to the desk before he joined Jolie. They faced Randall like school children before the principal.
“I’m so pleased that you called about a charter,” Jolie said, making sure to maintain polite eye contact. Normally she would let herself flirt a bit, but in this situation, Randall didn’t need any encouragement.
“We’re having an anniversary or something.” He waved his hand as if the minutia of business was beneath him. “The girls wanted a party, and of course I thought of you. After what you did for my friend Rocco, you remember, he owns part of Puerto Rico or Paris or…well, you remember?”
“Of course. Each of my clients is very special.” Rocco Diaz owned a string of clothing chains called Paris, not the country. Jolie crossed her legs at the ankle and tucked her feet beneath the chair, her hands folded on her knee. “He was celebrating opening a new location.”
“At my suggestion,” Randall said, his look smug.
Jolie had been on the marina the day Rocco had rented his small boat. He’d flirted with her, as men tended to do, and when she told him that she was captain of the Masquerade, he insisted on chartering the yacht for a party. He was charming in a very rich Latino way.
Randall Wallace was not. Not Latin, and definitely not charming.
However, he was a possible client, so Jolie kept her personal preferences to herself. “How fortunate,” she said.
“And Jamison mentioned that you were also a member of Ocean Green. How does that work?” Randall sat back with his hands folded across his trim stomach. “Boats have oil and all that. Killing the fish.”
She bristled. “To have your boat recognized by Ocean Green, it has to pass emission tests and a yearly check-up.” Jolie straightened in her chair. “The Masquerade passed the examination for the second time just last month, I’m proud to say.”
“It’s an older boat.” Randall sat back, raking his gaze over her as if she were an auction item. “I could go with any company I choose.”
She got that, loud and clear. “Thank you for calling us,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What were you thinking?”
“Something intimate,” he said, his voice lowered as he sat forward.
“Hmm. Dinner at sunset? For how many?” Jolie forged ahead.
“Thirty. Wine, chocolate covered strawberries, you know.” He leaned his elbow on his desk, completely ignoring Heath to stare in her eyes. “Romantic.”
“Of course.” She cleared her throat and reached for her purse and a pad of paper.
“Pen?” Randall asked, half-way out of his seat to give her one of his.
“Thank you,” she said, barely able to hide the shiver of repulsion as she accepted the engraved silver pen.
Heath interjected in a deep timber, “When do you want this party?”
Randall, unable to avoid Heath’s direct question, tapped the desk top, his annoyance clear. “In the next month or two. Janey at the front desk can give you the details.”
Jolie nodded. So why hadn’t the woman stayed to be part of the conversation? Oh yes, she knew. Because Randall was creepy, and hoped to be alone with her.
“Any preference between chicken and steak?” she asked. She liked to get that question out of the way because it helped her decide the price for the meal.
Randall licked his lower lip. “Hmm.”
“What about fish?” Heath sat back in the chair, his legs stretched out and crossed in front of him. “People like fish.”
In the world of male posturing, that was sort of a screw you, Jolie thought with a hidden smile.
Randall got abruptly to his feet. “Again, Janey will have that information. Jolie, it was lovely to see you again. I’m afraid I have a lunch date I forgot about.”
He didn’t bother to come up with a believable excuse. Jolie also rose, while Heath waited a few seconds before getting up.
“Thank you very much for using our party charter,” she said. “You won’t regret it.”
He brushed by them, opening the door to usher them out. “Make sure I don’t.”
Jolie swallowed. “Certainly.”
Heath led the way down the hall and Jolie followed, hearing the clickety-clack of her sandals against the tile and feeling the lustful gaze of Randall Wallace boring into her back.
It took every ounce of her professionalism to stop at the desk, introduce herself properly to Janey, and get the information. The office assistant had it neatly put together in a folder. “There’s a check included for our deposit.”
“Thank you,” Jolie said. Heath helped himself to another little cup of water, then opened the door so they could leave.
She welcomed the heat after the frigid air conditioning, and fumed all the way to the car. Using her remote key, she unlocked the doors and slid inside.
“You look mad.” Heath closed the door and crushed the plastic cup in one fist. “I know I am. I don’t know that asshole, but I was this close to punching him in the face for the way he looked at you.”
“I feel like I need a shower. Or a drink. Or both.” She shivered and turned the car on. Jolie didn’t have the extra money to pick and choose clients. Not yet, anyway.
“I’ll buy you a drink,” Heath said.
“Deal. But I promised you lunch. What do you want?”
“Anyplace we can get a cheeseburger?”
“That’s an easy one. Do you want an ocean view?” Jolie grabbed a clip from the visor and pulled her hair back off of her neck. “Most clients aren’t like that, or I don’t think I could stay in business. Hey, open that folder, will you? See how much of a deposit he gave us?”
“Don’t care about the view.” Heath crumpled the cup in his opposite fist, then reached for the folder she’d handed him. “Are you sure you want me seeing your business?”
“I don’t mind. We’re going to be living together so we won’t have any secrets once the month is out.” She left the town center parking lot and headed right. “Brand new marine engine can be ten grand. I’ve got a lot of work to do this summer.”
Heath’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. That’s ten times what I paid for a new engine in my Chevy.”
“Yeah?” Jolie looked at him and sighed. “We forgot to get you sunglasses.” He’d need them on the boat for sure. “Anyway, Jamison said he’ll look around for me. Let me know if a rebuilt one comes on the market. Even then, that’s five thousand.”
“Well, that’s not exactly chump change.” Heath took out the check. “Two hundred? Is that good?”
“It’s a start.” Jolie pulled into the parking lot a block down from the small town’s shopping area. Restaurants with water views, and ice cream shops and touristy things. “Aruba’s has decent cheeseburgers, but their lobster club is out of this world.” She exhaled and smiled. “We can grab a beer and Bimini bread,” she told Heath.
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “What?”
“Bimini bread. It’s sweet, but buttery, and totally delicious.” She was hungry too. Morning flew by, and look at all she’d accomplished.
“Sounds good to me.”
Jolie got out of the car, refusing to let Randall ruin a perfectly beautiful day. “Let’s go, Heath. I’ll introduce you to South Florida living. It’s actually pretty laid back, despite all of the running around we’ve done today.”
Heath got out of the car, his leg bugging him, not that he’d admit it. Instead, he focused on following Jolie as she flitted down the street in that colorful dress. She seemed like a cool girl. Interesting and smart and caring, despite being so damn beautiful.
She waved to people as they went, looking refreshed and native. He had sweat pouring down the crack of his ass, and he doubted he smelled s
o good.
Hopefully wherever they were seated would have a breeze.
Heath sniffed the air. He missed the crispness of the mountains but there was something to be said about the salt-laden humidity.
Nothing positive he could think of at the moment.
They walked into a restaurant with an amazing view of the endless horizon that immediately made him break out in hives. Next to a long pier was a shaded area with benches and games for the kids.
It smelled like coconut, he thought. And sunscreen.
The hostess greeted them with a happy, vacation-y sort of smile, assisted by the one-man-band inside the patio playing Jimmy Buffet songs. “In or out?” Jolie asked Heath.
“Outside. In the shade.”
The hostess led them to a small rectangular table against the building. Machines that sprayed a light mist kept things cool, and the view was a slice of paradise, he had to admit. Only thing missing was a couple of pine trees.
They ordered beers and bread to start with, letting the woman know they planned on taking a while. She said no problem like she meant it.
“What’s with all the lizards everywhere?” he asked, eyeing a three-inch long brown reptile that had a tail curled over its body toward its head.
“I’ll take lizards over snakes any day,” Jolie said with a shiver. “Something about not having legs gives me the creeps.”
Heath nodded. “We’ve got rattlesnakes during the summer, but the coast is clear during the winter. They’re all underground. Do the lizards bite?” He bared his teeth and chomped down.
“Not hard,” Jolie said with a light laugh. “My brothers used to take the brown anoles and attach them to their ears like dangling earrings.”
Heath rubbed his ear lobe. “Ouch.”
“Boys,” she said with a smile.
She’d given him the chair facing the water directly, though she could see it from the side. Her golden brown curls lifted in a light sea breeze, tickling her cheeks and shoulders. The heavy mass of hair couldn’t be contained by the clip.
Heath had the urge to run his fingers through the tangles, smoothing the strands. Would she smack him? Or think him as creepy as Randall Wallace?
He sat back as the waitress brought their drinks and a loaf of bread with a knife and two plates. Jolie expertly sliced them each a piece.
“Don’t be shy with the butter,” she told him, gesturing with the bread knife. “People rave about this bread.”
Heath slathered on a layer of light-yellow whipped butter and took a bite. His first thought was surprise by the hint of sugar, and then he tasted the soft savory center beneath the crust. Next thing he knew, he was finished.
“I see why. Good call.” He cut himself another piece. “Ready?”
Jolie lifted her slice, which was only half gone. “Not yet.”
He took a big bite, surveying the beach-goers as he chewed. People came in all shapes and sizes, from model-thin to just-off-the-farm sturdy. Heath loved the diversity of folks walking by as they headed toward the hot sand and cool waves.
“I’ve never been outside Utah before this last week,” he said. “I never thought I would leave the mountains.”
Jolie’s thin brows raised in surprise. “So you hate the water without reason?”
“I don’t hate the water. Love rivers. I’ve water skied on Salt Lake a couple times. It’s freezing, though, even during the high point of summer.” The sheen of gas slicks on the surface, drunk idiots behind the wheel. Worse, not knowing what was lurking on the bottom.
“The Atlantic is nice,” Jolie said, pointing to the turquoise water. “Warm, but not too warm.”
“Does anybody actually swim? I see people splashing in the waves close to shore. But it’s not like you can go all the way across.” He hid a shudder by taking a drink of his beer. “To Cuba.”
“People swim. Boat, sail, Jet Ski. Paddle-board, body board, you can do a little surfing but not much. Diving is awesome.”
“Coming face to snout with a shark?”
“I bet you’ve got great balance.” Jolie lifted her drink. “You’ll have to give the paddle board a chance.”
Heath had no clue how he’d balance in the waves. Some days it was difficult on dry land. “I don’t think so.”
Jolie took a swallow of her beer. A pale ale draft, local brew, that wasn’t too bad—she’d given him a taste. He’d chosen an amber lager. “I know you’re going to be pleasantly surprised when Sabina works her magic.”
“My leg feels fine.” The response was automatic, and almost true.
“You are such a liar. You’ve been applying pressure for the last ten minutes.” She used her beer to gesture from him to his leg. “That Advil only lasted an hour and a half. Maybe it’s time to think of something else?”
She’d been watching him pretty closely, then, he thought self-consciously. “Habit. It doesn’t hurt so much as ache, you know? Like a tooth after the dentist?”
“I guess.” She scrunched her nose as if she didn’t believe him. “I’ll schedule an appointment with Sabina for the day after tomorrow, when we’re in the Keys. She lives a couple blocks down from my folks.”
“Okay.” He wished for a moment that he’d met Jolie in his prime. Before the accident, when he was confident and knew who the hell he was.
Heath Hamilton, professional skier, ski instructor. A guy who went on dates, and had friends over for pizza and football.
Before he’d been shaken by life, and ate Advil like candy. The doctors told him to double the dose of the over-the-counter stuff, taking it every two hours so that the pain didn’t take over. Stubborn, he did his best to man-up and not take it. But it was kicking his ass.
As he watched the ocean breeze tease the curls on Jolie’s smooth shoulders, he acknowledged his attraction for her. But could he act on it? She’d sent him signals that she might be interested. What if they were making love and his leg cramped? Remembering his embarrassment over the ill-fated kiss last night, he knew he couldn’t put himself in that position.
He had to be whole.
Chapter Nine
After lunch, Jolie drove them back to the Masquerade. Heath had been super quiet as the meal ended, not even finishing his cheeseburger. He denied being in any pain, but his clenched jaw gave him away.
Maybe he was suffering some regret? She knew how that could burn. The little questions of what if, and if only.
He insisted on walking back to the car instead of letting her come get him, and once inside the Bug, spent his time staring out the window.
Jolie felt so bad for him that she didn’t even turn on the radio.
They reached the marina and she parked in her spot. She tried to bring in his suitcase for him.
“I can do it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.
There was pride, which she knew was a fragile thing, and there was being ridiculous. Jolie wasn’t sure when to push just yet, so she backed off and let him drag his suitcase down the dock toward the boat. She carried the bags of new clothes.
Climbing on board, Jolie turned to Heath and offered a helping hand. “I would do this for anybody, okay?” She regretted her snarky tone. “I’m sorry. I want to help, and I don’t know how.”
Heath accepted her hand and dragged the suitcase along as he jumped from the dock to the boat. The boat rocked as he landed but he kept his balance. “I’m fine.”
“I hate those two words.”
He exhaled, face pale. “It’s the best I can do.” Heath took his suitcase and headed below deck. He paused in the galley to grab a bottle of water.
Sleep would probably be the best thing for him, she thought. “Will you be okay here on your own? I have some errands I need to run.” She’d thought to stop and pick up the birthday cake for tomorrow on their way home from Aruba’s, but even though he wouldn’t have complained, Jolie knew he wanted to recoup. It had been a busy morning.
“Want me to come?” Heath stopped and uncapped the water bottle.
“Nope. Thanks though. I won’t be long.”
“Fine,” he said, his body language tight and closed off. “All right, I mean.” Heath waved and left.
Jolie watched him from the corner of her eye. He limped slightly as he walked down the hall. Sabina would tell her straight up if she could help Heath manage his pain.
Obviously it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
She admired his ability to get through the day. His scarring looked deep and she guessed he almost lost his lower leg. Lucky to be alive. What had happened? She knew nothing about the dangers of snow skiing.
Jolie ran a Google search and watched a few videos of people crashing down steep mountains. Stomach sick, she had to stop when a guy was carried off in an ambulance. Heath had survived something as catastrophic as that? Time, Heath needed time to heal both physically and mentally.
Turning off her phone, she jotted down a list of things she needed for tomorrow’s party the old-fashioned way: on a scrap paper from the drawer by the sink. Rajah would be with her at the helm, and the gathering was small enough that she wouldn’t need any servers.
The folder from Randall Wallace caught her eye and she flipped it open. Her jaw dropped. He wanted the cream of the crop. A complete dinner service for thirty, with caviar and champagne. A few thousand dollar evening.
Holy shit.
And the cheapskate hadn’t even given her a ten percent deposit. Her stomach knotted with tension instead of joy. Randall Wallace was the kind of client that could ruin her reputation if she made a single mistake—as town manager, he knew everybody, and rarely had a kind word unless he was name-dropping.
She tapped the end of the pen against her lower lip. Calculated risk was part of doing business. Closing her eyes, she ran down the odds of her engine making it through the summer. They did almost daily maintenance, so Jolie believed in her heart she could make it until season started and she had a bigger influx of cash.
Getting Randall’s business would get her to her goal faster.