Barefoot Bay: Silhouettes on the Sand (Kindle Worlds Novella) (5 page)

Fun
would be the last word C.J. would have chosen to describe the torture of shopping, especially today, but at least she already liked Missy much better than Veronica. For one thing Missy didn't look at C.J. as though she were a piece of chewing gum stuck to the sole of her Ferragamos.

"What are we wanting today?" Missy asked.

Resigned to whatever was coming next, C.J. rose from her chair. "I need two formal dresses."

"Shoes and purses to match also,” Chase added. “As well as a couple of outfits suitable for sailing—"

"Sailing?" C.J. interrupted.

"I think that's Thursday afternoon. You don't get seasick, do you?"

She shook her head. It was easier than reminding him that he'd already asked that question last night.

"Good. Miss Lawson will also be attending a barbecue."

"Barbecue?"

Chase nodded and continued, "The bachelorette party." He paused a split second, as though expecting her to interrupt, but C.J. must have already figured out there was no point in doing so. He apparently hadn't exaggerated at all when he said she had a busy week ahead of her. "A rehearsal dinner and …" He paused to glance at her, his gaze soft, appreciative. "And a dinner date at Casa Bodega this evening."

* * *

Already anxious just anticipating the plethora of engagements to play her part as Chase Ivory's date, her heart stuttered at the way his gaze locked with hers when he announced dinner tonight. Nothing about his words sounded very businesslike or wedding related. To her rusty instincts, the statement almost sounded like he'd invited her on a real date.

"We'd better get started then." Missy took a step back. "If you'll come with me a moment, I'll show you a few things to get a feel for your taste, and then I can take over from there."

Moving away from Chase Ivory was probably a good thing. She didn't like the way her skin tingled every time he looked her way. She wasn't the tingly sort of person, and she couldn't let all this Cinderella treatment blind her to reality. This was a job. A short-term job. One that ended next Sunday morning when Chase Ivory flew to his luxury home in New York while she returned to her sister’s one-bedroom rented apartment.

Across the hall, Missy brought C.J. into a circular room. A couple of comfortable leather chairs anchored the center, and loosely filled racks fit into smaller sections of the walls. Missy walked diagonally across the space toward a handful of gowns. She bypassed the few glistening with beads and bangles and instead reached for a one-shoulder dark purple dress that looked awfully good on the satin hanger.

"This should be quite flattering with your figure." Missy pulled it off the rack and held it out for C.J. to approve. "This also comes with a large floral applique on the shoulder, but you don't strike me as the sort to appreciate extra bling."

"Good call. No bling."

Missy's smile brightened. She returned the dress to the rack, and C.J. did her best to finger what she thought might be a price tag while Missy moved to another section of clothes. However, the only numbers had to be a model number of some kind, because, if it were the cost of the dress, C.J. would need a bank loan to pay for the thing.

"Mr. Ivory didn't mention what the bachelorette event entails. What sort of outfit did you have in mind?"

"Beats me."

Rather than looking down her nose at C.J. the way Veronica might have done, Missy smothered another smile. "Personally I think the world would be happier if we all could just live and work in sweats."

"Exactly. Though in Florida I'd prefer my gym shorts and a T-shirt."

"I don't know that we can pull that off for girls' night, but …" Missy curled her forefinger for C.J. to follow. At the end of the hall they stepped into another circular room, only this one was clearly meant to be the rich and famous's idea of sportswear. "White is usually the color of preference on a sailboat around here, but I find it tedious to launder." Missy held out a pair of khaki shorts and what C.J. could best describe as a matching glorified T-shirt with splotches of sea blue.

"So far that's the only thing I've seen that I might actually wear again."

"Miss Ivory loves this designer. She reminds me a lot of you."

"Me?" What the hell could a former medic-turned-registered-nurse, raised in the Miami low-rent district, possibly have in common with Beth Ivory was beyond her.

"You both have a subtle beauty that doesn't need all the trappings most of my clients rely on. I don't think I've ever seen Miss Ivory come in here wearing makeup or expensive jewelry. Seeing her on the streets, you'd never know she comes from one of the top ten richest families in the world."

Top ten? All the saliva in C.J.'s mouth suddenly evaporated.

"No one would know who her brother is."

"Which brother?"

Missy hesitated, her eyes darting around the room. C.J. got the impression she hadn't meant to say anything. "Nate."

"I don't understand."

"Well, you know." She glanced around again. "His nickname and all."

C.J. raised a brow.

"I'm sorry. I thought everyone knew."

"I've been overseas a very long time. I don't hear much."

Missy nodded and lowered her voice. "Naughty Nate. Until he hooked up with his fiancée, a day didn't go by that Nate Ivory didn't turn up on the cover of some rag magazine at the grocery store.”

The only thing C.J. knew about Nate Ivory was that he was the general manager and part owner of the new Barefoot Bay minor league ball team and how the guy was clearly head over leather loafers in love with his bride-to-be. Nate’s conversation last night had circled mostly around preschool, Dylan's spelling prowess, and whether or not he should be attending a private school, with the occasional comment about politics or baseball. Yet, one way or another, the proud father’s conversations always came back to the youngest Ivory and his five-year-old exploits. C.J. couldn't see scandal rags anywhere in that family picture. "What about the other brothers? Are they popular in the news too?"

"Couldn't say. Usually Nate did something to put the family in the spotlight. Beth occasionally mentioned the others in passing. I think she worries most about the senator."

"Senator?" Holy shit. Brother Mitch sitting beside her at dinner was
Senator
Mitchell Ivory. Crap. How had it escaped her that she was spending the week with the closest thing to American royalty since the Kennedys?

* * *

The plans for tonight were supposed to be dinner with his brothers and sister on the
N'Vidrio
, then tomorrow he'd be attending the family dinner along with any cousins, aunts, and uncles who were already in town for the wedding. Dinner at Casa Bodega for just him and C.J. was not on the tightly packed schedule. The intriguing contrast of sweet chocolate-brown eyes and her stalwart effort to fit in had the invitation slipping from his lips before he had time to give any serious thought to the consequences of dinner for two. Though, on a practical note, tonight could be used to solidify their story, should the Colonel get her alone. Hearing footsteps, he glanced up in time to see C.J. coming down the hall, a cup in each hand.

Her stride was wide, pounding, and determined. "I think I may have given Veronica another reason to boot me out of this place as a trespasser."

"What did she do?" Chase was almost to his feet when C.J. shook her head and shoved a hot mug in his face, urging him back to his seat.

"I hope you like coffee. You didn't strike me as a tea person. And to answer your question, Veronica didn't do a thing. I refused to let one of the café workers bring us the coffee."

"What do you mean,
refused
?"

"I was standing right there." C.J.'s voice rose half an octave. "I insisted I could carry the coffee myself. Veronica may have glanced in my direction at exactly the moment I'd repeated I could certainly carry my own damn coffee. I mean, seriously? Doesn't it strike you as a little absurd to walk away and have someone else bring me the coffee, when, if I waited another thirty seconds for them to pour the cup, I could bring it myself? Really just ten if you don’t count the twenty seconds it took to argue the point."

A still small voice deep in the back of his head screamed this was a test. "Perhaps."

Her gaze narrowed, and he got the distinct impression he'd given the wrong answer.

"If you want milk or sugar, you'll have to go get them."

"No." He didn't see the point in mentioning that, regardless of her insistence, shop personnel would come along any second and check on them. It was how things worked in his world. Occasionally to the point of waitstaff becoming a nuisance. "Black is fine." Looking over the rim of his cup, he noticed she drank hers black as well. That had him wondering what part of a man's world did she live in?

"Are you ready?" Missy stood in front of them, empty-handed. "If you'll follow me to the dressing area, you can try on what I've chosen for you."

Chase sat back and took another sip of his coffee. He wished he could have seen C.J. standing her ground. She was proving to be nothing like he expected. Most women would have fallen over themselves for the wardrobe he offered to buy, and yet she honestly didn't seem to want it. What he thought of as a little stubborn, she probably saw as independent. Either way, it was a breath of fresh air from the plastic women who passed through his life. He'd finished his coffee, and one of the café staff had, indeed, come by to see if he wanted another cup. He'd almost finished his second cup when the door to C.J.'s changing room finally opened.

"I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see …" His last words slipped away. Producing a coherent sentence was no longer an option. C.J. looked absolutely stunning. He'd guessed her height yesterday to be around five seven or eight, and he knew she wasn't of a delicate frame, but yesterday's loose-fitting dress and today's jeans and T-shirt hadn't prepared him for the luscious shape standing before him draped in royal purple. "You look … lovely."

So stunned with her entrance, he hadn't noticed the apprehension on her face until he saw it slide away, making room for a tentative smile and a spark of satisfaction in her eyes. "It doesn't look bad, does it?"

"You'll be the most beautiful woman in the room."

A hint of pink rose to her cheeks, and she quickly spun about to face the three-way mirror. He supposed it was another mechanism for fitting in. The standard rule for success in a man's world: never let them see you sweat. For a woman he supposed he'd have to add: and never let them see you blush.

Watching her turn left, then right, showing off every soft curve, had blood rushing uncomfortably south of his belt. One layered swatch of fabric hung over a shoulder, exposing well-toned arms that showed strength while remaining most definitely feminine. The flow of fabric drew his gaze across to the soft bare shoulder and then back down the slightest hint of cleavage. Gathered fabric hugged an hourglass figure before breaking loose in smooth flowing waves to the floor. Damn he wanted to explore what was under all those layers of purple. And he'd assured her no monkey business. Him and his bright ideas.

Much to C.J.’s surprise, Missy had found C.J. several casual outfits that didn't make her feel like a character in a theatrical production. Currently she had on the softest, most comfortable pair of slacks she'd ever worn. For almost an hour she'd tried to find the price on the clothes she'd been slipping on and off and finally sidled up to Chase. "I don't see the prices. How do I know what they cost?"

"You don't," he deadpanned.

Talking through a toothy smile so as not to draw Missy's attention, C.J. angled her shoulder away from the sales girl. "I have a limited budget." Technically she didn't have any budget at all, but she did have fairly good credit. There wasn't much call for a MasterCard in Kabul.

"Then it's a good thing I don't."

He flashed her one of his high-wattage smiles that she'd gotten used to seeing as she'd come out, wearing outfit after outfit.

"Call it the cost of doing business," he added.

And just like that she'd been snapped out of her Cinderella moment and came crashing down on a rotten pumpkin. This was all business. Fancy clothes were merely the uniform of the day. Petty cash for an Ivory.

"Thank you." Swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth, she put on a smile. "So where to now?"

"Lunch and then the resort. By the time we arrive, your new clothes should have been delivered to the villa."

"I don't need a villa. A simple room will do."

"We don't have a choice. The resort is sold out. Nate booked the siblings and the Colonel villas before the rest of the extended family could snatch them up."

"But I'm not a sibling."

"At the time I didn't know I'd have a plus one but don't fret. Our deal is still intact. Most of the villas have more than one bedroom."

Yes. Their business deal. "If the villa has more than one bedroom, why do you each need your own villa? Why not share?" The question seemed as practical to her as why shouldn't she wait to carry her own coffee, but, from the look on Chase's face, she might as well have been asking for the mathematical formula for the Pythagorean Theorem.