by Tracy March
…
Monday crashed down on Cyn. The Queen had been right. The garden party was only weeks away and Cyn had been way too focused on Trent’s quest for romance while other tasks needed tending to as well. Over a quick bowl of cereal, she reviewed her two-column, 105-item to-do list—at least it seemed that long. Column one: Garden Party. Distribute posters… Get maypole out of storage… Rent: tables and chairs… Column two: Jamaica. Trent’s date with Claire. There were countless details to follow up on. In addition to everything else, she’d work a half day Tuesday and all day Thursday at Sweet Bee’s.
Her heart hammered as she scanned the to-do list. How could she possibly get everything done? She stepped over to the sink and washed her dishes, the exact place she’d stood with Trent—staring into his eyes, thinking he might kiss her.
Cyn’s cell phone jangled on the tiny kitchen table. She dried her hands, picked up the phone, and tapped the screen. “Hello.”
“Sorry to call so early.” Jamie sounded wide-awake.
“Mrs. Hawthorne doesn’t consider seven thirty early. I’m up, fed, and dressed—almost out the door. Otherwise I’d be down, hungry, and broke,” Cyn joked. “I’m so buried underneath everything, I feel like I’m running behind already and the day’s barely started.”
“From what I’ve seen, you’re a superhero. You’ll get it all done—and you’ll do a bang-up job,” Jamie said. “And I’ve got some great news that might make things a little easier on you.”
Cyn’s heart stuttered. Had Trent “officially” fallen for Naomi? “What’s that?”
“Gordon and I had a chat with Trent about next weekend, you know, the plans and logistics for the shoot. We’re hoping to get a lot of useful footage in Jamaica.”
Cyn clutched the phone tightly. Jamie hadn’t said that Trent fell for Naomi…yet. That was good—but bad, right? Cyn pressed her fingers against her forehead. Wishing for one thing one second and the opposite the next was giving her a headache. “For sure.”
“We still have to finish up the release paperwork with Claire,” Jamie said. “And there are some wardrobe details I need to cover with her. Since you’re so bogged down, why don’t I take over getting everything else settled with her this week?”
Cyn hated to delegate her responsibilities, but she trusted Jamie. “Are you sure?”
“There’s no need for both of us to be pestering the poor girl all week,” Jamie said, a smile in her voice.
If Jamie took care of Claire, that would free up Cyn to knock out lots of the garden party to-dos. Besides, Cyn’s real work kicked in at dinner with Claire Friday night. Cyn exhaled loudly.
“Did a tornado just blow through the line, or was that an okay?” Jamie teased.
“It was an okay, for sure. Thank you.”
With her load a little lighter, Cyn escaped seeing the Queen by going into town and distributing posters for the garden party—the number one to-do in the garden party column. The posters revealed for the first time that the Queen would be giving away a trip for two to Adormecio at the party, so attendance should be better than ever.
Cyn made her first delivery at the drugstore. Everywhere else she went in town afterward, people were already abuzz about the giveaway and eager to hear more about her visit to Adormecio.
“The Queen’s really giving away a trip to one of her fancy resorts?” Paige’s dad, Mr. Ellerbee, asked when she stopped by his barbershop. Cyn and Paige had called Mrs. Hawthorne the Queen for as long as Cyn could remember, and the nickname had quickly been adopted by the townspeople. Rumor had it that the Queen was well aware of the teasing term of endearment—even proud of it—but no one dared to use the nickname in her presence.
“She is.” Cyn smiled at the hopeful gleam in Mr. Ellerbee’s eyes. He’d recovered well from his recent stroke, and he and Lane’s nurse, Alice, had struck up a romance over the last several months. That seemed to be happening for lots of folks lately. “Adormecio would be a great place for you to take a certain special lady.” Cyn winked.
Mr. Ellerbee’s face reddened and he gave Cyn a wry smile. “You think so?”
Cyn nodded.
“Then wish me luck.” His eyes sparkled.
“Fingers crossed,” Cyn said. Paige and Mr. Ellerbee were like family to her, family that let her be herself without wanting to change her.
Cyn’s next stop was at the library. Hopefully she’d see her mom there, so she had saved that stop until last. Posters in hand, Cyn smoothed her hand over her hair and stepped inside the tomb-quiet Maple Creek library. Her mom sat at the registration desk, wearing half-moon reading glasses yet still squinting at her outdated computer monitor. She glanced at Cyn, a glint of surprise in her eyes.
Cyn smiled and waved, and walked over to the desk. “Hi, Mom.”
“Cynthia. What brings you here?” Smiling, her mom came around the desk and hugged her. She sounded as tired as she looked. Clearly financial worries were wearing on her. Cyn was dying to tell her about the bonus, but she had to wait until Trent officially fell for one of the Queen’s girls.
“I brought garden party posters.” Cyn put the posters on the desk, facing her mom.
“It’s that time again already?” As usual her mom had no clue what was the lowest hanging fruit on Maple Creek’s gossip grapevine. She never had. When Cyn was growing up, she’d found out about things days or weeks after they happened—if she heard about them at all. She’d longed to be one of the normal kids whose families knew what was going on in town. The ones who got to go to Maple Creek Elementary, Middle, and High Schools. Play sports. Eat lunch together in the cafeteria. Go to prom.
Cyn nodded. “It’ll be here before you know it. I’ve worked so hard to make it even nicer this year. There’ll be chamber music and delicious food and a maypole. People can play games and go in the boxwood maze—” Cyn tripped over the thought of kissing Trent there, and wished it would stop haunting her. “It’s going to be lovely, really.”
“I’m sure you’ve done a great job,” her mom said, seeming preoccupied.
“You and Dad should come.” Cyn shrugged her shoulders. “Dad could say the blessing.”
Her mom traced her fingers over the poster—vibrant with blooming colors and trailing greenery—then stopped short and tapped her index finger next to the copy about the trip giveaway. “This is way too similar to a lottery,” she said. “Your father and I can’t be associated with something like that.”
Cyn sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep herself from explaining that the giveaway wasn’t similar to a lottery, and their coming to the party and her father’s saying a blessing—or not—wouldn’t associate them with it, either.
“But the artwork is remarkable this year,” her mom said. “Better than ever, I think.” She tipped her head toward four posters from previous years’ parties that lined the wall near the nonfiction section. “We’ll have to frame one and add it to our collection.”
“That’d be nice.” Cyn appreciated that some of her work was displayed, but she’d rather have her parents at the party.
“I think about you every time I look at them,” her mom said.
A prim, gray-haired lady approached the checkout desk, several books that looked as old as she was nestled in the crook of her arm. “I’d better go,” Cyn said.
Her mom glanced at the gray-haired lady and nodded at Cyn. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“Me too, Mom. Tell Dad I said hello.”
Chapter Fourteen
Friday finally came. Trent would swear it had been the longest week ever. He’d stayed up late most nights, trying to focus on work, but mostly thinking about how things would go in Jamaica. And how things might go with Gran afterward, since she had no clue about his plan. He’d never taken such a huge business risk without consulting her, and he hoped it would pay off. Otherwise…
Eager to make sure everything was ready, Trent had flown to Jamaica this morning and arrived at the Hawthornes’ Ocho Rios resort midday. No
w he was hanging out in the living area of the most coveted cottage on the property—high on the hillside and private, with one of the most captivating views he’d ever seen.
Trent swirled the spiced rum in his glass and took a hefty slug, hoping to take the edge off his nerves while he waited. He stepped out onto the spacious balcony, which was covered by a vibrant canopy of lush, tropical foliage. The bright blue tiles in the adjacent plunge pool glistened like a faceted topaz in a patch of late-afternoon sun. Focusing on the view, he leaned on the rail and took a deep breath. Beyond, rugged rocks jutted from the sea. Waves crashed into them, sending sprays of water skyward and foam swirling beneath. Swatches of golden-sand beach curved between the rocks, forming rustic, inviting coves.
His phone rang and he grabbed it and glanced at the screen.
Gordon.
“Everything set?” Trent asked.
“Ready to move in as soon as we get the word from you,” Gordon said.
“Thanks for coming early.”
“No worries, mate. We’ll just relax with a Red Stripe while we wait. Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re paying us for this,” Gordon teased.
Trent had insisted on kicking off his plan alone—no cameras, no company. “Enjoy it now.” He kept his tone light. “Hopefully you’ll be working full-time the rest of the weekend.”
“Sooner than later, I think. Jamie just got a text. Everyone else has arrived.”
Trent’s heart hitched. “I appreciate the heads-up.”
“Good luck to ya.”
Trent slugged back the rest of his rum. “Thanks, man.”
I’m gonna need it.
Seconds later, the lock on the cottage door clicked. Trent had alerted Fergus the bellman that he’d be waiting there. Stepping inside, he left the oversize French doors open to the balcony. He set his glass on the wet bar just as Cyn’s voice wafted through the jalousie windows in front.
“This is so cool,” she said. “I feel like I’m in a rain forest.”
“Wait ’til you see the view,” Fergus said with a thick Jamaican accent. He opened the door and gestured for Cyn to step inside.
Trent clenched his jaw at the sight of her in a turquoise sundress that showcased her unforgettable legs—legs he’d thought about more than a time or two since he’d first seen them in the Bahamas. Her hair fell past her shoulders, loose and windblown, her eyes sparkling with wonder. He almost regretted not having Gordon there with the camera.
Fergus caught sight of Trent and nodded. Cyn followed Fergus’s gaze to Trent. Her eyes widened and her perfect lips parted. Trent hadn’t forgotten for a second how soft they’d felt when he kissed her.
She furrowed her brow and blinked several times. “Trent?” She shifted her gaze to Fergus and back to Trent. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “But there’s been a change in plans for this weekend.” His pulse swished in his ears, totally out of rhythm with the sound of the waves outside. Was his new plan really a good idea? “Why don’t we have a look at that view Fergus was talking about while he tends to your luggage.” Trent gestured toward the balcony.
Cyn seemed to notice the view for the first time and her mouth fell open. “Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “Are you sure I’m supposed to be staying in this cottage? Because it’s…” She gazed around. “It’s not for the help, that’s for sure.”
Trent’s gut twisted. He had to get her out of that mind-set, fast. And that was only the first of his challenges. “Yep, this is the right cottage.” He stepped over to her, cupped her elbow, and guided her outside. “The right pool. The right view.” Her citrusy scent caught on the breeze, and he inhaled a satisfying breath of it. “And there’s only one like it on the entire resort.”
“Really?”
Trent loved the way she seemed wowed by things, as if she took nothing for granted and was pleased if something happened to come her way. They stopped at the railing overlooking the steep hillside and the kaleidoscope sea with ever-changing hues of blue and green.
Cyn looked at him curiously.
Those eyes…
“It seems like Claire should be staying here,” she said.
“That’s the thing. You see, Claire had to postpone.” His words came out unnaturally fast. He didn’t have a lot of practice at stretching the truth, and he hated to have to do it now.
Panic flickered in her eyes. “Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, no. Whatever it is, it might be my fault.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I was kind of buried with a mile-long to-do list for the garden party and I had to work at the bakery and I needed to firm up plans with Claire for this weekend. Someone offered to help me by covering all the last-minute details with Claire, so I let them.” Cyn shook her head, her silky hair skimming her face. Trent wasn’t the only one talking fast.
He squeezed her bare shoulder, her skin satiny to the touch. “It’s okay. Jamie’s worked everything out. She rescheduled my date with Claire—we’ll meet here in Jamaica in two weeks.”
Cyn scrunched her nose, her brow furrowed. “So what are we doing here now?”
“That’s the thing,” Trent said tentatively. “Gordon needs to wrap production on the marketing campaign way before that.”
“Then is Naomi coming back this weekend?”
He shook his head. “I’m still not sure how I feel about Naomi—or Ava.”
Cyn blinked several times.
“And I’m afraid my uncertainty might sabotage the campaign,” he said. “So we’ve decided to hire someone that I feel more comfortable with right now to help us out.”
Her expression clouded with confusion. “Hire someone? To be the girl in the ads with you?” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as she let the idea sink in. “Who?”
Trent wished he still had his drink. If ever there was a time for a slug of straight rum, this was it. “You,” he said, and held his breath as the idea hung in the sultry island air.
Cyn’s eyes bugged, looking even bluer with more white around them. “Me?” She took a step backward. “Seriously?” She swiped her hair away from her face and twisted it in the back, revealing the smooth curve of her neck. “With all due respect, boss, you’ve lost your mind.”
Trent exhaled, but not with relief. “Lost my mind how, exactly?” No need to suggest objections she might not be thinking of.
“Number one,” she said, pressing down one of her index fingers with the other, “I know nothing about acting. Two”—another finger—“you and me?” She winced.
Trent drew his head back. “Why not you and me? Or me and you? Whichever. I thought we had some good chemistry that would work well for the camera. Gordon and Jamie think so, too. They already have some candid footage of you that looks incredible. You’re perfect for the job.” Was that out of bounds? He wasn’t sure. All the lines seemed kind of blurry at the moment.
“Gordon and Jamie know about this?” She pressed her hand to her cheek and dragged her fingers down to her chin.
“They’re all in.”
“But how could you possibly square this with the company’s no-fraternization policy? I mean, there’s bound to be some…” She pressed her lips into a tight frown.
“Close contact?” Trent asked, and she nodded. He would’ve preferred that the idea not bother her as much as it seemed to. “That’s addressed in the contract.”
Cyn faced the view, clutching the deck railing tightly. “There’s a contract?”
“Detailing everything, just waiting for you to sign it.” He stepped closer to her and propped his elbows on the railing, as if he was relaxed. “Just imagine. You’ll be in a nationally televised advertising campaign—maybe even international. It’s an awesome opportunity.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I’m not a looking-for-fame type of girl. If that’s what you think, you’ve got me all wrong.”
Trent squeezed his eyes closed for a second. “
That’s not what I meant. So many girls would jump at a chance like this without thinking twice. And you’re up to at least three times, if I’m counting correctly.” He grinned, trying to lighten things up.
She gave him a sidelong glance, a corner of her mouth curling upward. “You’re not. I’m up to ten, at least.”
“C’mon, Cyn,” he said, and risked smoothing his fingers from her shoulder down to the crook of her elbow. “I think we could make this work.” And while that might sound like a line to anyone else—maybe even to her—he really meant it. Trent had tried like hell to shake his growing feelings for her, but they just kept getting stronger. He had to see where things might go with her before he continued dating other girls. Now that she was here, he couldn’t wait to get started.
She stared out at the sea for a while, giving nothing away. “Does Mrs. Hawthorne know about this?”
Trent’s pulse pounded in his temples. “We’re going to surprise her. We’ll need to keep it a secret from her until the campaign is ready for her approval.”
Cyn appeared stunned for a second, then gave him a this-could-get-ugly look. “But I work for her, specifically. She’d never go for her assistant being the girl in those ads with you, and I can’t afford to lose my job.”
Pins and needles prickled in Trent’s stomach. She had a point, and he was putting her in an awkward position, asking her to keep secrets from Gran. He’d managed to convince Gordon and Jamie to keep his plan on the down low with Gran, and Jamie had worked it out with Claire so the information about postponing their date wouldn’t leak from her or her family. Gran had always been forthright with him, and guilt tugged at his conscience. He hated to admit it, but she wouldn’t have approved his plan to feature Cyn in the marketing campaign. But now he’d backed himself into a corner. They’d have to produce the campaign first, then he’d smooth things over with Gran.