Barefoot Bay: Silhouettes on the Sand (Kindle Worlds Novella) (4 page)

"Me? I'm not a part of this."

"This week you are." Chase rattled off an even longer list of events, covering just about every minute of every day right up to the wedding ceremony next Saturday night. "So you see, it will be much easier for sanity's sake to have you nearby."

"And where would I be sleeping?" She might as well lay her cards on the table.

A sly grin teased at one corner of his mouth. "I don't need to buy that sort of companionship."

C.J. didn't respond. He was probably right, but, since she didn't really know this man, what did he expect for his ten thousand dollars?

"It's a big yacht and a big resort. Either way you'll have your own room."

"Fine. I can drive home tonight and throw a few things in a bag and return tomorrow."

Chase ran his hand over his face, and, for the first time all evening, she noticed how tired he looked. Not just from a long night but his eyes held a weariness that came from more than a single long day. "Let's do this," he said. "I'll follow you home. I have a few calls I can make while you pack, and then I'll help with your bags."

"That won't be necessary. I don't have much to pack so it won't take me long, and I certainly don't need you to tag along simply to carry my suitcase." Even if she had a massive wardrobe, she could handle this on her own.

Chase studied her again, and C.J. got the feeling he was carefully considering his next words. "I must admit, I've never known a woman who could pack a week's worth of clothes, including attire for two formal dinners, quickly."

"Formal?"

"The wedding is black tie."

She probably should have realized the main event would be formal. But why two gowns? Immediately her mind jumped to her bank balance. She'd hoped to stretch her savings until she'd had time to decide about her future; eveningwear didn't come cheap. "Why two?"

"Family dinners with the Colonel are always a formal dress event." Slipping his hand around the small of her back, he nudged her forward. "Let's finish this conversation on the way to your house."

"Apartment. It's Bev's." That was a stupid thing to say, but her mind scrambled to organize all the details she hadn't considered when she'd agreed to fill in for her sister. Apparently C.J. had a lot more to worry about than whose bed she would be expected to sleep in.

* * *

The flaws in Chase's brilliant but hasty plan were beginning to show. It had never crossed his mind that Beverly, or in this case C.J., would think he'd expect sex as part of the business agreement. Sex had a way of complicating things, and the last thing he wanted was complicated. Assuming that a community theater actress, never mind a last-minute substitute, would have a wardrobe suitable for any major Ivory family event was another glaring misstep on his part.

"If you let me have your garment sizes, I can have a personal shopper pick out a few things for you to wear this week."

C.J.'s steps slowed. "Personal shopper?"

Was he mumbling? Babbling in tongues? Why did she repeat everything he said in the form of a question? "I'm sure Nate can recommend someone suitable in the area."

"I don't think I can do that."

"It's quite easy. We use them all the time. Certainly makes shopping for Christmas and birthday gifts much easier."

"I'm sure it's quite easy, but no one has picked out my clothes for me since I was a toddler. I'd feel like a Barbie doll if someone tried to dress me like your sister." C.J. felt the heat of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. "That didn't come out right. What I mean is, trendy fashions look great on someone sophisticated, such as Beth, but I'd feel like a kid playing dress up—badly—if someone outfitted me like a cover model."

Until now he hadn't given much thought to C.J.’s appearance. She looked nothing like her sister. Where Bev was a head-turning petite blue-eyed sunshine blonde with long hair worthy of a shampoo commercial, C.J. was tall, of average weight but on the sturdy side, with short light-brown hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate. At first sight she didn't leave much of an impression, but, now that he took a moment to really look at her, she reminded him of a young Demi Moore with sun-bleached hair. That embarrassed flush softened her hard edges. Under the gruff demeanor, C. J. Lawson was an attractive woman. "I'm sure you'll look lovely in whatever you wear."

"Thank you, but trust me on this. I'm not high-fashion material." She blew out a soft sigh that suddenly left him very aware of how closely they stood.

Her gaze flickered left, then right. He could see her mind analyzing, debating, and then her moment of decision. This sudden change in casting could prove to be interesting. Unlike his original lead for this week's production, C.J. was both pretty and smart.

Standing straight with resignation, C.J. nodded. "It does, however, look like I'll need to get a few things for the rest of the week."

"All right. If the personal shopper is out, how about I pick you up tomorrow morning around ten? We'll shop for whatever you need and then check into the resort. Sound like a plan?"

Her brown eyes narrowed in thought, and he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her answer. On another soft sigh, she nodded her head. "Ten o'clock."

"Ten o'clock," he repeated, plastering on his encouraging smile. At least one of them should look pleased about shopping. Even if, like everything else about this week, it was all just for show.

With every passing moment C.J. was more convinced of her unsound mind.
Shopping
. Her closet consisted mostly of uniforms, and, when she did wear civvies, she relied on a few pairs of jeans and a collection of comfy T-shirts she'd accumulated through the years. As it was, yesterday she'd sifted through racks of discounted clothes for a dress to wear last night before finding something. The simple straight-lined dress didn't make her look like a kid playing dress up but fit in with the sort of people who could afford thousands of dollars for a date. At least she hoped it had. After all, what the hell did she know about people with that kind of cash to piss away?

Nonetheless, at 9:55 a.m., she and her carry-on bag, filled with little more than underwear and toiletries, waited for Chase to arrive. In complete contrast to how little she looked forward to hitting a department store, she was definitely more enthused than she should be about seeing Chase again. Their arrangement was strictly business—and by default no less. He'd wanted to play footsie—or at least pretend to—with her sister. Not with her.

So why did she feel a tiny rush of anticipation waiting for Chase? Another stupid question. How about because she was a red-blooded female and Chase was handsome enough to make that red blood sizzle. Or maybe it had something to do with the end of the previous evening, when he had looked at her like she was a desirable woman. After years of blending into a man's world, C.J. had almost forgotten she wasn't a man.

The trill of the doorbell pulled her back to reality. A day of shopping-mall hell. For a foolish moment as she opened the door, she wondered if there was such a thing as a camo evening gown.

On the other side of the threshold, Chase stood, smiling. Charm and charisma oozed from his pores. She had to wonder why a man with so much natural sex appeal needed to pay for a date, though he had clearly stated he did not need to buy intimate companionship. Hiring Bev made no sense.

"Ready?" he asked.

"All set." She raised her bag to show him and almost bolted backward from his touch when he tried to take it from her. "I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can, but that's not the point." His smile widened in complete contradiction to his pointed gaze. "Besides," he continued, "my grandfather would never let me hear the end of it if he knew I let you carry your own bag."

The urge to let his hand remain on hers for the rest of the day was why she relented. Keeping a safe distance just became a priority. "There's a nice mall not far from here. They have some good sales going on."

Reaching the car a few steps ahead of her, Chase nodded and opened the passenger door. She could see his eyes daring her to object. She knew when to pick her battles. This wasn't one of them. Sliding inside, she strapped in and waited for him to toss her bag in the back and take his place behind the wheel. Then the engine roared to life.

"Turn left at the end of the road." She pointed ahead. "A couple of lights later you'll see the signs for the freeway."

"Actually"—Chase shifted gears and took a second to flash her a wily grin—"Beth recommended a place she thought would work."

Like C.J. could afford anywhere an Ivory shopped. "I really think the mall will be—"

"C.J.," he interrupted, his gaze softer, "let me handle this. Please."

She had the strangest feeling that the
please
had been hard for him to say. Something she didn't think he did often. And something she couldn't say no to. Even if her credit card might not agree.

* * *

Beth had told Chase that Le Magasin would be the perfect one-stop place to take C.J. shopping without trying his patience. Driving his brother's Mercedes sedan with the plates IVORY II, it was no surprise to Chase when he pulled up to the door that the valet addressed him by name. When the shop manager greeted him at the door, he knew his sister had phoned ahead.

"Good morning, Mr. Ivory. My name is Marguerite." The picture-perfect woman—anywhere from thirty to fifty years old, depending on her genetics or plastic surgeon—introduced herself. Walking beside her, a younger but equally well-dressed woman waited to be introduced. "This is Veronica. She will be taking care of you today."

Veronica looked C.J. up and down. "Size 8?"

C.J. tightened the two-fisted grip on her purse strap. "Ten actually."

"We'll try both. Most of the clothing from our designers tends to run smaller than … other brands."

While Veronica had maintained a steady tone and pleasant smile, he didn't need to be at the helm of a multibillion-dollar company, nor carry the weight of the Ivory name, to recognize the sales girl had very politely but disrespectfully put C.J. in her bargain-shopper place. And he didn't like it one damn bit.

"Very well," the manager said, waving toward a small lounge with scattered seating and a single door leading to what he knew to be a private dressing room. "I will leave you in Veronica's competent hands."

He had to think fast. "Thank you, but my sister mentioned another name." Beth had, of course, said nothing about which salesperson she used or if she even had a preferred individual at the store, but this wouldn't be the first time Chase had tossed out a vague presumption in hopes of luring in wanted information.

"I see." The older woman looked to Veronica, then back at Chase. "I do believe Melissa usually works with your sister, but she's with another customer."

Chase didn't move, didn't say a word. He let his silence hang for a long uncomfortable moment, and then, when he could see the manager's confident gaze begin to mire with concern, he added, "Perhaps we should come back another time."

With only a gentle nod in Veronica's direction, Marguerite had made her decision. Veronica slipped quietly from the room. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Ivory," the manager continued. "If you'll have a seat, I'm sure we can arrange for Melissa to assist Miss …"

"Lawson," C.J. supplied.

"May I offer you some refreshment while you wait? A cup of tea perhaps? Or something cold?"

Rigidly standing in place, C.J.'s nearly white-knuckled hold on her bag was his only clue that she wasn't as calm as she might appear to a casual stranger.

"Nothing for me, thank you," she said.

He didn't know much about C.J., not even her full name he realized, but he recognized she was uncomfortable as hell, and yet she'd calmly responded and even managed a smile. Pretty, smart,
and
tough.

"And you, Mr. Ivory?" Marguerite asked.

"No, thank you." He forced his focus from C.J. "Nothing for me either."

"Very well."

Once the woman was out of sight, Chase turned to C.J. "We might as well sit down."

The way she looked down at the chairs, he'd have thought snakes lay curled there, waiting to strike.

"I'm sure we could have found something at the mall."

"This will be faster." He gestured for her to take a seat.

Relinquishing the death grip on her bag, C.J. eased into the chair.

“What’s your full name?"

Her shoulders relaxed. "Cassandra Jane."

"Cassandra. That's a lovely name. Why do you hide behind your initials?"

On a heavy sigh, she answered, "Most of my adult life I've lived in a man's world. Cassandra or even Cassie brought more femininity to the table than I wanted to deal with. C.J. was simply easier."

That could explain the tough shell C.J. wore like a shield. He realized now exactly how little he really knew about her. "What sort of work is it you do?"

"I'm a nurse. I've recently—"

"So sorry to keep you waiting." A young woman with an infectious smile came calmly rushing into the lounge and extended a hand to C.J. first, then Chase. "I'm Missy. I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet one of Miss Ivory's brothers and Miss Lawson." Without waiting for Chase to respond, she spun around to face C.J., then slapped her hands together and rubbed enthusiastically. "So, are we ready to have some fun?"