Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Roxanne St. Claire. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Barefoot Bay remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Roxanne St. Claire, or their affiliates or licensors.
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COLOR MY WORLD
A BAREFOOT BAY NOVELLA
By MORGAN MALONE
Table of Contents
From Roxanne St. Claire
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Dear Readers,
ALSO AVAILALE BY MORGAN MALONE
From Roxanne St. Claire
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Color My World. This book is entirely the work of Morgan Malone, a popular author who has become a fan favorite in Barefoot Bay.
Not only do we have a lovely Holiday story, we get to revisit Missy Edmonds, a favorite secondary character from Morgan’s first book in Barefoot Bay! This time, Missy’s “friends with benefits” relationship with a Mimosa Key art gallery owner is starting to heat up. Is it just the mistletoe that’s making their kisses more magical? Are those sparks from Hanukkah lights…or the real thing? Once again, this skilled author gives us a silver fox hero who can Color My World anytime!
Roxanne St. Claire
PS. If you love this island paradise, be sure to pick up one eighteen titles I’ve written set in Barefoot Bay. And there are more than sixty novellas in the Barefoot Bay Kindle World penned by other authors in the same setting. Come for a short visit or lose yourself on the beautiful beach and fall in love over and over again! All the books are listed at www.roxannestclaire.com.
Author Credits
Color My World
Edited and interior format by Deelylah Mullin
Cover Art by Kris Norris
Published by Morgan Malone
Digital Release: December 2017
Dedication
To Missy: my housekeeper, assistant, dog sitter and friend. I couldn’t function without you.
To Rich and Mike: two artists for whom I have the utmost respect and affection.
To Lorraine: you taught me how to paint again.
And for MLH. Always.
Chapter One
It was an almost perfect start to the day. Gamboge, tangerine, and violet streaked across a cerulean sky, scents of salt and sea wafted on a gentle breeze, and in his hands, the welcoming weight of a stoneware mug filled to the brim with hot, dark coffee. And ten pounds of orange fur draped across his bare feet. Meowing plaintively. He was unmoved.
Don gazed down at the large marmalade cat. She stared right back at him, her imperious green eyes demanding action. He took a long sip of coffee.
The cat rose, turned away, and flicked her tail as she strolled across the cottage’s living room toward the bedroom. When she was only two steps to the bedroom door, Don moved quickly away from the front window, reaching the kitchen in only five steps. The cat paused. When she heard the refrigerator door open, she looked at the scowling man. Her eyes brightened and she pranced back to his side. When he bent to pour the remainder of the carton into the bowl at his feet, she twined herself once around his ankles then settled to lapping up the cream.
“Lady, you are such a conniving little bitch.”
The cat looked up disdainfully, as if the epithet meant nothing to her, and returned to her breakfast.
“But, you control us with a great deal of panache, I’ll give you that.” Don’s long, lean fingers tipped the mug slightly in the cat’s direction, as if offering a toast. Putting up with a persnickety cat was a small price to pay for the privilege of being Missy Edmond’s sometimes lover. Or, as she liked to say, in her husky, Lauren Bacall voice, “friend with benefits”.
Glancing down the hall to the bedroom door, Don considered delaying his departure for his studio. Not a good idea. Now that Missy did not have to be up at the crack of dawn to ensure that Dr. Levi Gould had his breakfast, briefcase, and details of the day, she had been loving sleeping in till eight in the morning. And it had been well after midnight when they had finally untangled themselves and curled up to sleep, with the requisite foot of space between them. Missy was no cuddler—and for that, Don was grateful.
He finished his coffee in three quick gulps, washed his mug and left it on the drain board. Tossing the empty cream container into the trash, he looked around to see if Missy’s demanding feline, aptly named Lady Marmalade—both for the color of her fur and her regal attitude—was lurking about. He spied her on the fluffy indigo cushion of the white wicker rocker placed at just the right angle to catch the first rays of morning sun through the room’s large east-facing window, lazily licking at her orange and white paws. Satisfied that that both the females in the cottage would be settled for at least another hour, Don eased his feet into his scuffed deck shoes and slipped out the front door.
He loved the early mornings on Mimosa Key, especially here, at Levi’s spreading acreage on the northern coast of the island. The light was so clear, the colors so intense—gazing toward the beach through the foliage that surrounded the yard was like taking inventory of his artist’s palette. He imagined a large landscape, in oils, that might capture the play of the sunlight on the gently lapping waves, like diamonds strewn across a swath of turquoise silk. The slamming of a door roused him from his reverie. Levi strode over the broad front porch of his house, just across the wide circular drive from Missy’s cottage, briefcase in one hand and travel mug in the other. The surgeon was nattily dressed as always, from crisply knotted silk tie to perfectly polished black loafers, his salt and pepper hair—neatly combed—still damp from the shower.
Ruefully glancing down at his faded grey sweatshirt—torn cuff shoved up his right arm—and his ancient khakis with a splotch of blue paint near his left knee, Don moved silently over to his dusty black Jeep and slid behind the wheel. He loved the Doc, like a brother, but he was damned if he could put up with his annoying cheeriness at five after seven in the morning. Especially today. Better to just sit quietly in the Jeep until Levi rounded the corner of his house to the car port where Don knew he’d left his Mercedes parked the night before. Levi would never notice him.
He needn’t have worried. The Doc’s bride of four months was jogging down the drive to the house, her bright pink running gear like a flash of flamingo in the sunlight. Spying her husband, Ella broke into a dash, reaching Levi in seconds. Throwing herself into his arms, heedless of briefcase and travel mug, she planted a kiss on him that was so loud Don could hear it twenty feet away. And he felt a little piece of his heart break. Again.
Oblivious to him, and to their chocolate Lab, Hersch, who was dancing around them, the couple remained locked in a tight embrace. Don started up the Jeep and pulled away from Missy’s cottage, heading down the driveway and out to the beach road.
The cool morning breeze should have cleared his mind but memories from his troubled past crowded in. December 1, 2005. Thirteen years’ worth of pain and sorrow had been brought front and center by the sight of Ella and Levi wrapped in each other’s arms. He did not begrudge his friend his late-in-life happiness. Don was grateful he had Missy—a warm and willing woman with whom he passed many evenings and some mornings laughing and loving. But some days, and many nights, he cursed God, the Fates, the universe, and the twisty, turning mountainous roads that had destroyed his own bliss.
As he pulled up to the light at the Four Way, Don realized he was muttering in Italian. Dannazione. It was not often he slipped into his native language, but, if there was any day of the year that would pull him back into his past, it was the first day of December. He decided to forego a second cup of coffee, if you could call it that, from the Super Min and made a right at the light. Within minutes, he was pulling up to the rear of his business. It had become his home, this awkward white building with faded blue trim and a crushed seashell parking lot in the back. He strode purposefully up the short flight of stairs to the blue door and punched in his security code. The interior was cool as he entered the storage area that took up the space in the back. Passing down a short hallway to the front of his store, he did not flip on any lights. It was too early to open the gallery and framing shop that occupied most of the main floor. Instead, he took the steps of the ancient wooden stairway two at a time to the upper level. This, truly, was his home.
The second floor was what had become popularly known as open-concept. Don snorted at the notion that one huge room could now be the most-sought after design feature on all the HGTV shows Missy watched constantly. He had always preferred defined spaces, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to divide up his living space. There was no way he was going to hide the magnificent view of the Gulf revealed by the three huge windows making up the front wall. It was there, looking out at the water, he had located his studio.
He'd arranged a low table with a sofa and two chairs to break the space between his painting area and the kitchen located in the center of the large room. Behind the kitchen was a large bathroom. His sleeping space was at the back. Don had intended to grab a quick shower before he opened the shop but the early morning image of the sun on the waves outside Missy’s cottage called to him. He switched on his sound system and threw a three- by four-foot canvas up on the easel. As the strains of La Traviata flowed around him, his hands mixed the blues he envisioned for the painting. Already lost in the seascape, the sad memories of the day faded from his mind.
Chapter Two
Her fingers crept along the cool smoothness of the linen sheets, searching for the warmth of her lover. It was not until her arm was stretched almost straight that she encountered a mass of body heat. Covered with fur.
“Well, hell.” Missy’s throaty voice echoed in the high ceiling of her bedroom. “Lady, looks like it’s you and me.” The cat rolled over on her side, her paws playfully batting at Missy’s fingers, her purring competing with the soft moans of her owner, as Missy stretched and yawned into complete wakefulness. The two females, human and feline, enjoyed another few moments of languor until Missy’s eyes strayed to the alarm clock on the nightstand.
“Damn it! It’s almost eight o’clock!” Missy jumped out of bed and dashed into the adjoining bathroom. Within ten minutes she had quickly washed up, brushing her teeth in the shower, and had twisted her long, dark hair into a messy up do. Five more minutes had her clad in a simple white, long-sleeved T-shirt and faded jeans. She emptied expensive salmon cat food into Lady’s bowl while she shimmied her feet into the moccasins she had kicked off near the kitchen the night before. “Well,” she muttered to the meowing cat, “truth be told, they fell off when Don picked me up and carried me to the bedroom last night. But, who’s complaining, right?” The events of the night before made her cheeks heat up. She still felt a thrill when Don lifted her effortlessly into his arms. He was not a big guy, but he was in such great shape that every inch of him was like steel. Every. Damn. Inch. Her blush grew hotter.
A few quick pets while the cat daintily devoured her breakfast, and Missy was out the door. She paused to do a quick 360-degree turn, surveying the property with a practiced eye. Several palm fronds were down along the edge of the lawn. The white crushed shells that covered the drive were uneven in a few spots. Planters on either side of the front steps to the main house needed refreshing and her own window boxes were looking downright pathetic. Stashing her observations away in the organized file cabinet that was her mind, Missy’s long legs quickly brought her to the broad porch of Levi’s—and now, Ella’s—house. The thought of her former bad-boy bachelor boss now settled into marital bliss brought a broad smile to Missy’s face as she unlocked the front door.
Hersch greeted her as soon as she entered the foyer. “Hey, Hersch! How you doin’, boy? Did you miss me since, oh, seven o’clock last night?” Missy ruffled the fur on the thick neck of the chocolate Lab and planted a kiss on his large head, before ambling into the kitchen. The coffee maker needed refilling before she took a cup coffee, but as she set another pot to brew, the strong aroma made her slightly queasy. “I am not getting sick,” she thought, “I have way too much to do this week.”
Opting for tea instead, Missy popped a mug of hot water into the microwave. Before she had a chance to toss the lemon ginger herbal tea bag into the trash, Ella wandered into the kitchen. Her hair stood up in damp blonde spikes, a loose long-sleeved T-shirt topped pink flowered leggings and feet tucked into fuzzy slippers—evidence that the author was readying herself for a full day of work on her latest book.
“I smell fresh coffee. I am in desperate need. Thank you, girlfriend!” Unscrewing the cap of her insulated mug, Ella splashed coffee on the counter in her haste to fill her cup. “Did you know I was such a klutz when you met me, Missy? It’s a wonder I can get dressed in the morning.” Ella turned, laughing, to lean against the counter and smile at Missy.
The two women had become fast friends and allies, joined by their love of Dr. Levi Gould and their genuine affection for each other. Missy had been taking care of Doc, as she usually called him, since she had arrived on Mimosa Key three years earlier. Though Levi had been known by the nickname Dr. Hottie Rock Star because of his drop-dead gorgeousness and his skill as an orthopedic surgeon, Missy had almost immediately christened him Dr. Stray Dog Magnet. Levi had already adopted Hersch, an abandoned dog left by owners who had fled the hurricane that had eventually led to the rebirth of Mimosa Key. Within twenty-four hours of meeting Missy in his walk-in orthopedic clinic, Levi had hired her to be caretaker at the property he’d recently purchased along the north coast of the island. She had lived for months in the little cottage she still occupied while the main house—virtually destroyed by the hurricane—was rebuilt to Levi’s exacting standards. Levi had stayed at one of the villas at Casa Blanca Resort and Spa and put in long hours building up the FL-Ortho practice, while Missy supervised the teams of workers restoring the old house and extensive property. She had become the glue that held the busy surgeon’s life together: housekeeper, cook, property manager, dog-sitter, and administrative assistant. Until the Doc met Ella, Missy had been the one constant female presence in his life. And he had been the only man she trusted completely.
“Ella, I thank God every day that you are a brilliant author and terrific wife, but especially that you are a klutz who cannot cook, do laundry, water plants, or hammer a nail into a wall. It gives me job security. That you run with Hersch every morning is your one saving grace.” Missy smirked as she sipped her herbal tea. “And that you love Levi and have put light in his eyes, at last.”
The tall slender blonde laughed
at Missy’s words. “It’s true. I was never taught basic womanly skills when I was a kid. I did learn, however, how to wheedle special treats from the cook or get the housekeeper to hem my skirts a little shorter than my mom would have liked. When you are the child of a doctor and a lawyer, them’s the breaks, I guess. But, I managed to survive for thirty years or so on my own…and take-out menus, laundries that pick up and deliver, and kind-hearted maintenance guys. If you can’t do anything but your job, New York City is the place to live.”
Missy’s face froze as she listened to Ella’s assessment of her upbringing as the privileged daughter of high-powered professionals. She gulped when she realized Ella had stopped laughing and was staring at her. Ella had been a criminal prosecutor for years before she became a best-selling author and her eyes had narrowed with investigative gleam.
“What’s wrong, Missy? Did I say something to upset you?” Ella pointed to the stools that lined the kitchen island. “Come here and sit for a minute. You look positively green.”
“It’s nothing, Ella. I’m a bit queasy this morning. Either the scallops I made for dinner last night aren’t sitting right in my stomach or I’m coming down with the stomach crud that everyone seemed to be getting last week.” But, Missy gratefully eased down onto a seat next to Ella.
“I call bullshit on that, Missy. The scallops last night were delicious. And while you may be falling victim to the stomach virus that’s been making the rounds, that would not account for the bleak unhappiness I can see in your eyes. So, spill the beans, girlfriend. What did I say that upset you so much? And I’m sorry for that. You know how much we love you. Levi and I, and Hersch.” Ella patted her dog’s head before laying her hand on Missy’s clammy palm.
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