Barefoot Bay: Silhouettes on the Sand (Kindle Worlds Novella) (2 page)

All set to ask “What negotiations?” since her sister didn't seem to have any answers other than a 10K salary and a one-week time frame and something about fooling an old man, C.J.’s mind suddenly registered that Bev held a sweater. "Why are you packing cold-weather clothes for Mimosa Key?"

"Oh, well, that's what I was getting around to explaining."

That pixie twinkle in Bev's eye was never a good sign. As a kid it could have meant anything from teaching the unwilling cat to swim to homemade hair dye. Neither of which had produced stellar results. "Then explain. Again."

"Okay." Bev flipped her long blonde hair behind her shoulder and sucked in a deep breath. "Chase's brother is getting married in eight days. It's a big family wedding. All the siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles will be there. Even their mom, who is practically a hermit somewhere in Europe, is coming."

C.J. bobbed her head, encouraging her sister to get to whatever part of this plan she hadn't already told C.J.

"So Chase has this grandfather."

"Yes," C.J. quipped a bit impatiently. "You've mentioned that too. He wants to see all his grandchildren married. I got that part."

"Well, the Colonel—"

"Colonel?"

"That's the grandfather. He was a marine."

"
Is
," C.J. said without thinking.

"Oh, yeah." Bev sighed and echoed with her sister, "
Once a marine, always a marine
."

"Right." C.J. nodded again, sorry she'd derailed her sister's story.

"To avoid the grandfather harassing and annoying and prodding and matchmaking and creating family drama at his brother's wedding, I've been hired to be his date. Like
Pretty Woman
."

"You do remember she was a hooker?"

"Julia Roberts?"

Lord, C.J. loved her sister. Really she did. But the girl had tested C.J.’s patience from the day their parents had brought Bev home from the hospital. "Vivian—the character in the movie—Vivian was a hooker."

"Oh, yeah. Whatever. He offered me 10K to be his date." Bev stopped and, biting on her lower lip again, raised her gaze to the ceiling in thought. "Maybe it was
girlfriend
." Smiling, she bobbed her head. "That was it. His girlfriend for a week."

"
Girlfriend
." C.J. could hear the whine in her voice. She hated people who whined. "And you didn't ask about sleeping arrangements?" Why couldn't Bev be something normal, like a manicurist or receptionist? Why an actress? "Never mind. Can we get back to the clothes?"

"Oh. Right." Bev perked up. "This morning I got a call from my friend Gloria. You remember Gloria?"

C.J. nodded. She had no clue who the hell Gloria was, but C.J. had no intention of letting this conversation go down another rabbit hole.

"Gloria got a small part in John Cipro's new movie. It's a minor character, but they need a lot of extras because they're filming out in the middle of nowhere, and she got me on the list of extras! If they like me, I might even get to say something." Bev practically jumped in place with glee.

"At least that's a legitimate gig. When does filming start?"

"Monday."

"This Monday?" Now C.J. was really confused.

"Yes. In Canada, where it's cold."

At least that explained the sweater. "So, why are we having this conversation, if you're not taking the job in Mimosa Key?"

"Because you are."

"Are you seriously bringing an actress to an Ivory family dinner?"

Hefting a casual shoulder, Chase turned to his sister. "Who better?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe, say, a date. A real one." Beth tossed her eldest brother a pointed glare.

Pouring himself a drink, Nate merely shook his head at Chase. "You won’t fool our grandfather, and, even if he does think you're dating, that only shifts the focus from dating to marriage and babies."

"Maybe, but more likely"—Chase lifted his glass to examine the smooth honey-colored liquid within—"it will shift his focus to the others. Either way, it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I'm only sorry I didn't think of it myself." Greg raised his glass to Chase. "Certainly would have saved me that insufferable night escorting Gwyneth."

"Come on, guys." Beth frowned. "She's not that bad."

All but Mitch whipped their heads around.

"Okay, so she's no looker—" Beth started.

"Or talker," Greg interrupted. "I'm not a complete ass. A woman doesn't have to look like a movie star to draw my attention, and I can certainly ignore her Victorian taste in fashion, but it helps if she could carry her half of the conversation. Hell, I would have settled for one-tenth of the conversation."

Mitch, the brother whose fund-raiser had been at the root of the problem, and the only brother not to react to Beth's earlier comment, pushed to his feet. "Cut Gwyneth some slack. Growing up with Prudence Van Klein as a mother couldn't have been much of a picnic. As I remember it, even as a kid she hated crowds."

"That's right." Nate snapped his fingers. "Weren't you her escort for her coming-out party a hundred years ago?"

Mitch nodded. "She didn't say a word to me until the end of the night, and even then all she said was
thank you
. But I do remember thinking that her eyes seemed to be saying more."

Chase caught the way his brother Mitch, gazing out the window, appeared to be lost in another place and time. Two years ago his wife had been killed in a car crash. Since then, unless he was in front of a podium or a camera, Mitch always seemed to be somewhere else. "Which brings me back to the perfect plan," Chase continued. "This way I have no worries that a real date will fall in love with the estate, the money, the perks, and come up with heaven-only-knows-what plan to stay in my world. No thank you." They'd all been down that road before, and Chase had run out of financially stable socialites to parade in front of his family.

"So how did you find this woman?" Beth asked.

"Community theater. Since I arrived in Mimosa Key earlier than expected, Nate and Liza were in Orlando with Dylan. Lacey Walker, the resort owner, suggested I try out the new theater. That's when I got the idea and approached Bev after the show. She agreed over dinner."

"I don't know." Greg plopped his ankle over his knee.

"No matter what Mitch thinks, I'm certainly not giving the Colonel a chance to stick me with a wedding date like Gwyneth Van Klein." Chase kept an eye on the harbor as the captain steered the cabin cruiser into the slip. "What about you?" He lifted his chin at his sister.

"Jack Preston."

"My friend?" Nate's brows curled into a V. "From the Niners?"

Beth nodded.

Chase leaned forward. He knew the name. Jack was not only a fellow recreational ball player, he was also a cohort in crime from Nate's "Naughty" days. Why hadn't Chase heard about this? "Is it serious?"

"Yeah," Nate echoed, his tone laced with discontent.

"It's not like that." Beth shook her head.

"So what's it like?"

"Just friends with mutually compatible bank accounts."

"Ah." Relieved, Chase leaned back in his seat. "Leech repellent."

"God, I hate it when you say that." Beth set her glass on the table. "When is your date arriving?"

"Soon. She's joining us at the resort restaurant for dinner."

"I made reservations for all of us on the veranda," Nate said. "This way everyone can get to know my bride and Chase's date better before the Colonel arrives tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan." Chase stood with the rest of his siblings. The cabin cruiser from the yacht had docked, and he was anxious to get this show on the road. He especially wanted to visit a little more with Liza. Except for flying down briefly for Dylan's birthday, they'd hardly spoken in person. Every time he and Nate had arranged to be at the family estate for the Colonel’s regularly scheduled Sunday dinner on the same date, some crisis or other that only Chase could deal with had come up and kept him in Manhattan. This time he had vowed, even if the world spun off its axis, he would not miss Nate's wedding. "Any chance you'll let me drive that little Aston of yours?"

Nate shook his head back and forth multiple times. "Not in my lifetime."

"Come on. Who taught you how to drive?"

"And
that
"—Nate raised a finger in the air—"is why you're not driving the Aston."

A few minutes later their various cars pulled into the Casa Blanca Resort and Spa. For such a secluded place, the hotel’s and the restaurant's reputations were both five star. Chase had been looking forward to relaxing and recharging. Another reason he'd chosen to hire his companion for the week. Trying to please a woman was more work than running a Fortune 500 company. And certainly more exhausting.

"Do you see her?" Beth asked, scanning the crowd in the small restaurant.

"No. But it's still a few minutes before seven."

"Welcome." Chef Ian Browning rushed from the kitchen two steps ahead of the hostess to greet Nate. "It's always a pleasure to have you dine with us, Mr. Ivory. Especially for you, we have added lobster thermidor to this evening's menu."

"Superb, Ian."

"Carolyn will escort you to your favorite spot on the veranda."

Scanning the surroundings, Chase followed behind, not paying attention to the chef's recitation of this evening's specials. Nate hadn't exaggerated about the place. The entire resort would easily fit in on any of his favorite islands. White sandy beaches, beautiful blue waters, and, if he were in the market for a woman, prime scantily clad specimens. Too bad this week was intended to be strictly uncomplicated. Beverly Lawson was definitely a looker. Exactly the arm candy his grandfather would expect his grandsons to be seen with. And, fortunately, not one Chase would be expected to marry. Though hopefully, if Beverly did her job right, the Colonel wouldn't figure that out until after the reception and Chase's flight back to New York.

The high standards the Colonel expected every Ivory descendant to follow quickly culled the pool of prospective spouses. Mimsy, Chase's grandmother, had been the daughter of a general. The Colonel claimed to have fallen in love with her the moment she had walked into the room at her father's side. A woman used to hard work and strict discipline, who could host a state dinner with her eyes closed, Mimsy had set the standard every Ivory offspring was expected to follow in finding a mate. A task Chase’s father, the youngest of the Colonel’s sons, had failed at—four times.

The Colonel had originally approved of Millicent Bainbridge Ivory, Chase’s mother, or at least of her pedigree. However, after bearing Chase's father four healthy sons and a daughter, his mom proved to be emotionally incapable of surviving the Colonel's military harshness, coupled with her husband's propensity for skirt-chasing. By the time Beth, the youngest offspring from his union with Millicent, was in school, their father had moved on to wife number two. By the time he'd moved on to number three, Millicent had become a social recluse. By the time Beth had graduated college, their mom had packed up the handsome home she'd been left in the very untidy Ivory divorce and dug into a house of her choosing in the Belgian countryside.

Glancing at his computerized watch, Chase hoped Beverly wouldn't be one of those women who believed in keeping a man waiting. For what she was costing him, she'd better understand that, when he said 7:00 p.m., he didn't mean 7:05.

"Excuse me, sir." The pretty young hostess stood awkwardly between him and Nate. "A woman is asking for Mr. Chase Ivory."

Exactly 7:00 p.m. on the nose. This was going to be an easy week. "That would be me." Chase pushed to his feet and walked into the main restaurant. Beverly might be getting paid for her services, but that didn't mean he could let decades of good breeding fall by the wayside. A man never left a lady standing alone, waiting. Except the only person standing alone was not Beverly Lawson. Tall with short chin-length dark hair, the stranger stood ramrod straight, and her expression told him she was less-than-pleased to be here.

Years of training told him to turn around and let the staff handle this, but an instinct deep in his gut propelled him forward. "I'm Chase Ivory."

C.J. had to be out of her ever-loving mind. The idea of hiring out as a date for a billionaire was insane. The Cinderella
happily ever afters
her sister so loved only happened in movies. With C.J.'s luck, she'd wind up chained to a bed, like in a
Criminal Minds
episode. For a precious hour she and her sister had argued that very point. But—with debt out the wazoo and the carrot of an expensive trip to Canada dangling in front of Bev—in the end, C.J. had agreed to do what she'd done her whole life: help her sister out of a jam. After all, better for a battle-trained marine to take on whatever kind of lunatic her baby sister had gotten entangled with than for her delicate dreamer of a sister. So C.J. had spent another hour picking out a few affordable articles of clothing, none with desert camo, and these ridiculous shoes the sales girl had talked her into.