Chantal, Jillian - Surfer Bride (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Jillian Chantal

  Quincy looked at her mural and spoke to the painted figure. “I’m gonna miss you when I go.” She laughed and dragged her comb through her wet hair. It took a while to get all the knots out with one particular lock causing her to scowl. There was a temptation to just cut it all off. The whole mess was becoming a hassle. Too long, too curly, just too much to deal with on top of everything else.

  She stood with the intention of going back to the kitchen to get the shears. Once off the bed, the sash of her robe cinched tighter across her waist, she walked toward the door. The phone in the living room rang. “Guess I need to get an extension in here.” She paused and snickered. Nope. Guess I don’t since I’m leaving to move to England. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” she yelled to the phone, even though she knew it couldn’t hear her. She giggled again. I’m so tired and freaked out, I’m losing my mind, talking to the phone.

  She snatched the receiver from the cradle. “Quincy Holt.”

  It was a man with a British accent. “Oh thank God. What happened? Where’ve you been?”

  “What? Huh?” She shook her head to clear it. “This Percy?”

  “Yes, darling, it is. Who else would it be? What other man calls you?” His laugh was brittle. “What happened? We were on the phone. You were at that vile pizza place. The phone went dead, and I’ve been calling you ever since. I was on the brink of calling the Bobbies. Sorry, Police—”

  “Stop, stop. Percy.” She laughed. “I’m okay. God, I’ve never heard you so distraught. I’m fine. Really. Dropped my phone on a concrete patio. Broke it. That’s all. I’m okay.”

  “Then why haven’t you answered the house phone?”

  “I went to the beach after pizza and just got home.”

  “I’ve called and called. You had to know I was worried when the call dropped. You should have found a way to call me, darling.”

  “I may have been in the shower just now. Sorry, I never even thought about trying to call you back.” Hell, no never thought about calling him back with Fennimore Smith looming over me with all his testosterone. Kissing me with his damn penis burning my skin. Bastard. She shook herself and got back to the conversation. “Darling, I’ve never heard you act like this. What’s wrong?”

  “I love you so much, and I was worried about you. I didn’t know what happened, and it frightened me. You need to get a new mobile phone. Tomorrow. You should’ve found a way to call me and let me know you were fine. I worry about you.”

  “That’s wonderful that you worry, but I can’t promise I’ll always have a phone on me.”

  “I’m going to get one that you’ll always have to answer when I call. Tie it to you if I have to.”

  “Whoa. That sounds possessive.” She raised her eyebrows.

  “I plan to possess you the rest of your life, my love.”

  She shuddered and made a face at the phone. “I don’t like how that sounds. Sounds a little creepy to me.”

  He laughed. “You know I’m not serious, darling. I’m teasing.”

  It sure didn’t sound like teasing. “I hope so because I can’t deal with a jealous man. I travel all over the world with people of both sexes, and I don’t want to be accused of anything.” Dear God, not again. I can’t handle another man like that.

  “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not possessive like that. You know that. We’ve been together long enough with a long distance relationship that you should be aware of that.” He coughed. “I do want to talk you to about that travel, though.”

  She braced herself for what she thought was next. She feared that he’d want her to stop competing on the surf tour as soon as they married. She would quit once she was pregnant but not right away. Her voice was like ice. “What about my travel?”

  “The competition in Bali. I’d like you to fly on the Lear and not commercial.”

  “Why would I do that? I always fly commercial.”

  “I know, but since we’re going to get married, I thought you could start using one of my planes. It would be easier for you. I know those boards are hard to move around. The few times I went with you, it was hard to maneuver them. Just trying to help you out. Anything wrong with that?” He sounded a bit testy.

  “It really isn’t a problem, but we can talk about it tomorrow. I’m done in and want to go to bed. Besides, it must be two a.m. there in London. Aren’t you tired?”

  “No, I’m not tired at all. In fact, I’m in the air. Satellite phone, you know. I’m flying to Haiti. I’m relieved to find you home and okay. But I’ll let you go if you’re that tired. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll talk about the Lear. The jet is at the airport in Lauderdale. Ready for you. I’m going to insist you take it, you know, so I already have it there for you.”

  She sighed. She didn’t want to show up in Bali in a private jet. It would be too much for the guys on the tour to handle, to say nothing of the wahines. She’d never live it down. To shut him up, she said, “Fine. Talk to you later. Bye.”

  As she put the phone to the cradle, she heard him say something else and she jerked the phone back to her ear. “What did ya say?”

  “I said I love you. We never hang up without saying that. You didn’t say anything.” He stopped for a full second. “Are you sure you’re all right? You sound far away, darling. And not in miles, just in distance.” He paused again. “You’d tell me if anything was wrong, right?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Told ya I was tired. Love ya.” She hung up before he could say anything else. When the phone was down, she fell backward on the couch. “Dear God, what am I gonna do?” She put her hand to her mouth. She could still feel Finn’s lips on hers, and all thoughts of Percy vanished.

  * * * *

  Quincy had a restless night. She had lots of dreams. Dreams of Finn and sex, dreams of Finn and guns, dreams of Percy pushing her into his jet, and dreams of surfing naked. She woke earlier than usual, disgruntled and still tired, dragged on some shorts, pulled her hair back, and got down to some serious packing. The Bali trip was the next day, and the packing needed to be finished. All the boxes had to be ready for storage versus shipping to London. There were three categories of boxes; those with things to give away, those to store, and most to ship to her new home.

  Quincy planned to rent out her house for a while before she sold it. Percy had tried to talk her into selling right away, but she couldn’t do it. And, if she told herself the truth, she wasn’t sure she could ever sell it anyway. Her parents had died in it. She’d lived in it since she was a kid, and there were too many memories. Memories both good and bad. Yes, it was hard because of her parents’ deaths, but the house had always been full of love before that. And, who knew? One of her own children might want to come to America and live in it.

  Amazingly, she never felt uncomfortable in the house although she would sometimes imagine she saw her parents’ bloody bodies again in the kitchen and living room. She would see those things when she was emotionally distraught. On normal days, she only felt the love they’d had for each other and her. Sometimes, in the last two years, in her mind’s eye, she’d see Fennimore Smith kneeling in the kitchen over her dad’s corpse, her dad’s blood on his khaki pants.

  That was how she met the love of her life. She’d walked in to her home after a day at the beach. Came in to find her murdered parents’ bodies on the floor. The police were already on the scene, called by a neighbor who heard the shots. Hysterical, she’d walked into the kitchen and saw a cop, on one knee, in the life blood of her dearest father, some of her dad’s brain matter on his windbreaker. Her beloved father dead. That relationship with Finn had to be doomed to failure. What a way to start a life together. Over a dead body. Blood pooled on the tiles. No wonder they had no chance.

  This was one of those mornings when those visions came. After she packed one box of trinkets, the need for coffee overwhelmed her. When she staggered into the kitchen to make the espresso, she imagined her dad where he fell, on the floor, staring vacantly at the ceiling. She saw him as clearly
as if it had just happened. She couldn’t deal with it today, on top of feeling like she’d lost Finn all over again. Damn his hide for coming back just when she’d moved on.

  She grabbed her keys and ran to the Jeep. The need to get out of the kitchen and get coffee elsewhere triggered her flight. The desire to give the imagined body of her dad time to go back to wherever he’d come from was overwhelming.

  Quincy drove to the closest Shakespeare’s Closet to have a double espresso. It was her favorite coffee shop and right on the way to the beach. She placed an order of latte to go and drove down the street to the ocean. Her refuge. There was a selection of surf boards in the back of the Willys at all times. After she quaffed her hot drink, she got out of the Jeep and selected a long board. She peeled off her shorts, tucked the board sideways under her arm and headed into the breakwater in her panties and T-shirt. She paddled out and laid on the board for awhile, just thinking. Needing to her head in the game. She was in a competition at the end of the week in Indonesia and had so much turmoil in her gut that she knew she’d never be able to focus.

  Quincy didn’t try to do any surfing. Just lolled on the board until she felt a little calmer. The water was her security, her place to be herself and regroup. The salt water a tonic to her soul. She loved the sea. It was part of her.

  When she came out of the water, Avery stood on the shore with a towel in her hands. “Knew I’d find you here.”

  “Hey, girl.” Quincy grabbed the towel and dried herself. When she was dry, she tossed the hot pink towel over one shoulder and walked back to her vehicle with her friend. The sun was bright and even her hair was almost dry before she got to the Willys. She shoved the board back in its spot in the rear and walked around to the driver’s side, grabbed her shorts from the front seat, and thrust her legs into them. “What’s up?”

  “Went by your house and when I saw you weren’t there, I came on over to the beach. Usually, if you aren’t home, you’re here.” She stopped and looked her friend over. “You look okay. You all right?”

  “Yeah. Having a rough day. One of those days where my parents haunt me. Especially my dad.” Her eyes clouded over, and she fought back her tears.

  “Wanna talk about that kiss from last night?”

  Quincy leaned against the Jeep door and let out a ragged breath. “No. Don’t want to talk about it. Don’t wanna dwell on it. I’m trying to forget it.”

  “Should you? I mean, really? Should you? You loved Finn beyond all imagining. Hell, you almost died from the grief of losing him. It was as bad as when you lost your parents—”

  “Stop. I don’t want to think about it.”

  Avery grabbed her friend by the arm and shook it a little. “Quincy, you have to face this. You have to. You can’t ignore it. You told me last night that you were thinking you and Percy had rushed into this marriage thing. Then you told me that Finn kissed you and now, you’ve had the vision of your dad’s body again for the first time in months. You’re planning to change your whole life for Percy Hicks, and I’m scared you aren’t over Fennimore Smith. You have to face this.”

  Quincy turned to her in a rage. “Okay. You want the truth? Here you go. I’m confused as hell. A week ago, I was almost sure I was doing the right thing marrying Percy. Other than a small case of cold feet, that is. I knew he was a successful antiques dealer who adores me. He’s a wonderful man. A man I could be satisfied with. A man that has never been anything but a gentleman around me. A man I could have a nice life with. Maybe not have crazy, wild, passionate, out of control, love for, but a man I could be happy with. Have a family with.”

  Quincy’s eyes narrowed as she continued. “And all that changed last night. All of it. That freaking jackass, Finn, kissed me, and now I’m a bundle of nerve endings. He pulled me close to that damn rock hard chest, with his stupid penis searing into my belly through his pants, and I was lost. Like he never left. Like I never had another man in my bed since then. He chased all thought of my fiancé out of my head. Hell, when Percy called when I got home last night, I even thought he was being a creep—kind of a pervert, really and I know that’s crazy.”

  Avery held her hands up in front of her face. “Stop, stop. I get the picture. I get it.”

  Quincy sighed and caught her breath. When she was in control again, she said, “Sorry about the rant. Thanks for listening. Got any advice?”

  “Yeah. Take the trip to Bali as a chance to think through what you want to do. Think about both of them on the long flights. Take inventory, so to speak. Maybe even do a list of pros and cons of each guy. In other words, make a decision when you’re alone and away from their influence.”

  “Problem there, too, A. Percy’s insisting I take his Lear Jet. It’s hard to distance myself there.”

  “Did you tell him that wouldn’t look good to the others on the tour?”

  “Yes, I tried. Deaf ears and all that.” She shrugged.

  “Bummer.”

  “Yea. I know. Listen, I gotta go. Need to get a new cell phone. You know I broke mine last night, and Percy was hot when he couldn’t call me. I’m heading over to the mobile phone store now with this.” She held up her SIM card. “Will you head back to my place and finish sorting the boxes into which to ship and which to store? I’ll be there soon as I can. Gotta get those to be sent delivered to the shipping company as soon as I get back from Indonesia, and I want to be ready.”

  “Sure. See ya there.” Avery jangled her keys. “Got my key right here.”

  Quincy got in the Jeep and Avery leaned in the window. “I’d love to see Percy ‘hot’ by the way. I’ve only ever seen that cool British demeanor. The politeness. The charm.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny. He can show emotions. Believe me, he can.”

  “I’ll just have to trust you on that, my friend.” She smiled.

  “Yep. You will. See ya in a bit.”

  “See ya.”

  Quincy backed out of her parking place and headed to the mobile phone store.

  Chapter Four

  “The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea”

  Vladimir Nabokov (Russian-American writer, 1899-1977)

  The next morning, Quincy took a cab to MiamiInternationalAirport and boarded the earliest flight to HoustonIntercontinentalAirport to catch her connecting flight to Los Angeles and on to Bali. She almost always traveled commercial.

  Having to run from gate to gate was a hassle, but she felt really uncomfortable in what she called the high society planes. She knew she’d have to get used to such travel as Percy’s bride, but she hadn’t gotten to a comfort level on that as yet.

  Quincy was proud of herself for evading the private jet to Bali. She knew the Lear was at the private hanger in Lauderdale, but she had the cab driver drop her at the commercial check-in counter at a completely different airport.

  The surf community was a small group even though it had an international scope. A world champion like Quincy, who had won championships both as a long boarder and a big wave rider, could pull in a crowd of surfing enthusiasts, and she was easily recognizable at the airports when a competition was scheduled. Her blond hair which hung down her back to her waist in long ringlets was hard to miss. Much as it annoyed her, she knew it was part of her brand, and she had to force herself not chop it off when it got to be too much to deal with.

  Both of her first flights were uneventful, and she dozed in the first class section for most of them. It was going to be a long day that would get longer the farther the west she flew, so she slept while she could.

  When Quincy woke, she knew she’d run into some other surfers in Los Angeles, so she slipped into the lavatory on the plane and pulled on a logo sweatshirt from her sponsor. She already had on the pants, but she’d only worn a short sleeve T-shirt from home since Miami was hot. She also had on a pair of brown leather flip flops with the logo on the straps.

  When she stepped off the bridge way from the plane into the terminal, she saw her agent, Marta Grier, waiting in the
gate area. Marta was a short, dark-haired woman who was a hugger and a talker. Quincy braced herself for both.

  Marta barreled over with her arms outstretched. When she got to Quincy, she pulled her close and almost cracked her ribs in the hug. Marta’s laptop case strap slid down her shoulder and jerked at her elbow. “Oof. Sorry. Got so excited to see you, I forgot about this tote. Did I hit you? How was the flight? Did you get some food? Are you hungr—?”

  “Stop, stop. God, Marta, you overwhelm me. Every time. I’m fine. The flight was fine. I ate.” She stopped and grinned at her agent who had also become her friend. “I always forget how intense you are in person.”

  “Not as intense as you, Quince. You know the most adventurous I ever get is to take public transportation. I’d never be intense enough to catch a wave. Would scare the hell outta me. Hell, it does terrify me.” Marta shuddered at her own words.

  Quincy dragged Marta over to a group of chairs. They sat down. Quincy perched on the edge of her chair, always ready to jump up. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but why are you here and how did you get past security without a boarding pass?”

  Marta dug into her tote bag and waved a boarding pass in Quincy’s face. “I’m going with you.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m going to Bali with you.” Marta grinned like a maniac.

  “Why? I’m confused. You’re an agent. You stay in your office or take people to dinner. What are you doing?”

  “I got a personal invitation from the president of BongoMongo.”

  “What? Why? What’s going on?” Quincy sat back in the chair.

  “BongoMongo wants to sign you.”

  “They what?”

  “Woman, do you have any idea how many times you’ve said the word what since you got off that plane?”

  “No. Why don’t you tell me?” She grinned at her exuberant agent. “Better yet, tell me what’s going on. Like now.”