Barefoot Bay: Silhouettes on the Sand (Kindle Worlds Novella) (8 page)

The tips of his ears actually turned a dark pink. "I used to follow the best parties. This boat has been everywhere from Monte Carlo to Boston. If a party was big enough, we'd be there. Sometimes I'd start my own. But it's time to make what my fiancée refers to as the former love boat into something more family-friendly." He glanced up just as his fiancée put her hand on a woman's tummy across the room.

C.J. was taken aback by the sheer adoration in his eyes. Naughty Nate had certainly come around full-circle. And then, as though by silent communication, Liza glanced up, locked gazes with Nate, and quickly made her way over.

Liza soon-to-be Ivory sidled up to her fiancé. "Mandy looks radiant, doesn't she?"

"Absolutely. Too bad she can't hold a candle to you."

"Oh"—Liza smacked him playfully—"Suck up. You do know that I'm a sure thing?"

C.J. swallowed a lungful of ginger ale.

Liza gave her fiancé a peck on the cheek. "Go talk man stuff with your friends. I'll entertain C.J."

Nate planted a tender kiss on her cheek and wandered over to where his brothers and friends stood.

"How are you holding up with the Ivorys?"

C.J. resisted the urge to find a mirror and see what she looked like that caused everyone to ask her the same question. Did it show that she was a down-to-earth military gal, totally out of her element? "So far so good."

"Don't let them intimidate you." Immediately she raised her hand to stop C.J. from saying anything. "Not that I mean they're bullies or anything, but rich and powerful families have a force field all their own, and some people have a harder time than others functioning around them."

"They are an impressive bunch." No way would C.J. admit that this family get-together scared the crap out of her. She wasn't an actress like her sister. Standing in the middle of all this luxury, she had no idea what had possessed her to think she could make anyone believe Chase Ivory would pick a girl like her to be with. Maybe if it were a picnic in a park—though, knowing these people, there'd be linen tablecloths, sterling silverware, and chefs in white hats regardless.

"They're a good bunch. The Colonel was rather gruff to me at first, but, once he realized that Nate was a changed man, he warmed up a bit."

"Military men aren't known for being warm and fuzzy, especially not full-bird colonels."

"You're familiar with the marines?"

C.J. nodded. "Used to be."

Liza eyed her carefully. "The trick is to remember, under all the trappings, they're the same as you and me. Flesh and blood with hopes and dreams." Her gaze shifted to Mitch. "And sorrows."

"He loved his wife very much, didn't he?"

"I don't know firsthand, but it sure looks that way to me. Nate says, at first, Mitch seemed to be in a permanent fog. He hasn't fully come out of it, but he appears to be a little better. I keep hoping that, hanging around here, the resort’s motto will rub off on him."

"Motto?"

"Lacey Walker, who owns the resort, always says,
come to Barefoot Bay, kick off your shoes, and fall in love
. I suspect Mitch's problem is he hasn't kicked his shoes off."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll remember to keep mine on."

Again Liza carefully eyed C.J., then let her glance drift over to Chase and back. "I don't know about that."

C.J. stole a peek at Chase over the rim of her glass. She knew. Kicking off her shoes where Chase Ivory was involved would be a huge mistake. Oil and water never mix.

All evening Chase got the distinct impression that C.J. was avoiding him. At first she seemed stiff and distant. Nervous perhaps. Or just observing. He honestly couldn't tell with her. By the time dinner was served buffet-style on the sundeck, she'd made friends with the wives and seemed to be having a more relaxed time. He'd even caught her chatting up a bit with his brother Mitch. At first he hadn't thought anything of it. Mitch was a politician; he could make nice with anyone. Good at kissing babies and all that sort of thing.

Not until Chase had spotted them in deep conversation over dessert did he get an uneasy feeling in his gut, and, when he tried to step into the conversation, C.J. excused herself, saying she needed to use the ladies’ room. The way Mitch casually kept an eye on her as she walked away had Chase's gut doing backflips.

"You two seemed to be hitting it off." Chase made an effort at nonchalance. Normally in business that came easily. Part of that
never let them see you sweat
thing. But, in his personal life, and with this brother, he wasn't sure he could pull it off.

"Hey," Mitch responded, "any woman who wants to talk politics has my undivided attention."

"You were talking politics?"

His brother nodded. "She has some pretty grounded opinions on the military and the US role in the Middle East. Has some interesting facts too." His eyes narrowed in thought. "The Colonel is going to like her."

"The Colonel hopefully won't get much chance to chat with her. And you'd better find someone to bring along to these events, or you may find yourself on the short end of his matchmaking stick."

Mitch shook his head. "No, not me. He's got his eyes set on the single guys."

Chase stopped himself before he blurted out the painful reminder that Mitch was indeed single. Instead he forced a smile. "We'll have to see about that."

A cool breeze on the bay had the party lingering on the deck instead of moving to the air-conditioned interior. Occasionally Chase heard laughter from the women, among talk of babies and bridesmaids’ dresses and cake-tasting. The guys talked mostly baseball with the occasional diversion to Wall Street and the upcoming elections. But it wasn't until the party was breaking up that Chase spotted Mitch and C.J. once again huddled together, ginger ale flutes in hand.

Only this time C.J.'s laughter made the uneasy feeling in his gut ride up his spine and settle tensely in his jaw. He didn't need one hand to count how often in private he'd seen Mitch smile the last couple of years, and tonight—for the first time in a long while—that smile reached his eyes. And that just made Chase grind down even harder on his back teeth. He didn't like it one little bit. He'd found C.J. first.

Taking a calming breath, he closed his eyes. Their business arrangement had brought her to Mimosa Key in the first place. Of course it was only natural for him to feel protective of her. Even from his brother. As for the kiss, after she'd taken him down like a judo expert, practically lying on top of her, the kiss was a natural reaction. It didn't mean anything. Basic human chemistry. That had to be all it was.

Crossing the short distance between them, Chase stood over the corner seating area where Mitch and C.J. were chuckling. "Looks like it's time to call it a night."

"Oh." C.J. flipped her wrist. "I didn't realize how late it is."

"You know what they say." Mitch shrugged. "Time flies when you're having fun."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she angled her head. "Yes. Yes, it does."

Before Chase could shout something stupid like "She's mine" or worse "Buy your own date," he took a short step back and extended his hand. "Shall we?"

C.J. nodded, stood, but didn't take his hand. "It was nice chatting."

"Yes, it was." Mitch extended his hand, and Chase bit down on his back teeth again when she accepted and shook it.

"I guess I'll see you at dinner tomorrow."

"And, remember, the Colonel is mostly all bark nowadays."

"I'll keep that in mind." She dipped her chin and turned on her heel.

Chase spit out a neutral "Night" to his brother and spun away after C.J., without saying anything he couldn't later take back. Or doing something he could get thrown in jail for.

* * *

What she had been dreading all night loomed over her like the Tower of London in the days of executions. No matter how many thousands of square feet or how many bedrooms the villa had, none of it felt big enough for the two of them.

Swallowing hard, she spoke few words, with the exception of the benign occasional comment about the party or the pleasant weather, during their short trip back to the resort. A heavy feeling of apprehension settled over her with the blanket of evening fog.

"Here we go." Chase slid the key card into the lock and shoved open the door.

Without all the bright sunlight, the previously large space felt considerably more confining. And intimate.

"Well …" C.J. dropped her purse on the nearby easy chair and looked at the stairs.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee?"

Yes, something to wrap her hands around besides him. "Too late for coffee, but tea would be nice. I'll make some."

"No need. The maid has probably been bored all day, waiting for something to do."

"You're going to bother her now?"

Chase glanced at his watch and shrugged. "It's only eleven o’clock."

"No." C.J. pushed ahead. "I can zap a mug in the microwave as well as the next guy."

For a second Chase seemed startled by her response but hefted another lazy shoulder. "Works for me."

In the kitchen she checked a few cupboards, looking for cups.

Chase opened a drawer for spoons and napkins. "You and Mitch seemed to hit it off."

"He's a nice guy. So is Nate. I didn't get much chance to visit with Greg."

From another cupboard, Chase pulled out saucers for under the mugs. "You like talking politics?"

"Not really." Truth was, she'd felt horribly sorry for Mitch. When his guard was down, his eyes held a sadness that any stranger could see. "He loved his wife a lot, didn't he?"

Chase sucked in a big breath. "Yeah. They'd been college sweethearts. Abi was something else. Smart, sassy, and could keep all the Ivorys in line. Even the Colonel."

"I bet. I could tell from the way he spoke about her."

Setting the silverware on the table with a clank, Chase spun about. "He talked about Abi?"

C.J. nodded her head.

"He never talks about her. I mean, her name might get mentioned on occasion, but he never
talks
about her."

"Oh." C.J. pulled the hot mugs out of the microwave. "Maybe if he talked about her more, it would make moving on easier for him."

"I don't know. None of us do. Even the Colonel treads lightly around him, and treading lightly is not the Colonel's way."

"So I've heard." Leaning back against the counter, C.J. blew into her tea. "The ladies were very friendly too. I thought they were teasing me when they told me Frankie runs a goat farm."

"Don't laugh. That soap business of hers does very well."

"That's what she said. The perfect combination of business savvy with natural and organic." C.J. took a cautious sip. The hot brew burned the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed anyhow. Better her tongue than other places that were already steaming up. "I think I'll call it a night."

"Yeah. Sure." Chase set his untouched mug on the table and followed her up the stairs.

How was it that he climbed more than a step behind her and yet she could feel the heat of his body as sharply as though he were pressed up against her? And wasn't that someplace she didn't need her mind to go. Refusing to look back, knowing that, if she saw him, her military resolve might shatter, she didn't speak until she reached her bedroom door. "Good night."

Softly, from his door, Chase's voice crossed the distance, lower and huskier than usual. "Night."

Twenty-four hours with Chase and sleeping alone were already the effort of the century. How the hell was she going to make it through seven more nights?

Only six o'clock in the morning and Chase was more than ready for another cold shower. He'd taken a long one last night, until his balls had shriveled like a couple of aged walnuts. Not that it had helped him sleep any easier. When he got back to New York, he should get his head out of the office and spend a little more time with female companionship. How sad was it that an employee, so to speak, had him all bent out of shape? For now a long run on the beach might help work out some of the sexual frustration.

The only problem with that plan was C.J. herself. Waiting for him downstairs, even in a pair of maroon running shorts and an oversized khaki T-shirt, she had his morning wood threatening to come back to life.
Down, boy
.

Short boyish hair, no makeup, and a shirt big enough for a sumo wrestler should not have looked so damn good on her at the near crack of dawn. Neither did it help that C.J. had gorgeous legs that seemed to run all the way to her neck. This was a woman who definitely knew physical activity. He'd always thought himself a boob man. In that oversized T-shirt, it was impossible to tell if C.J. even had boobs, but damn did she have legs. Shapely, toned, strong, and, if he didn't start thinking of something extremely unpleasant, like Chinese water torture, he'd be embarrassing himself in no time. "Ready?"

"More than."

She had the door open and was trotting down the path before he'd taken his first step. It took a few minutes to find a rhythm that worked for both of them. He wasn't in the habit of jogging on the beach, and, until he moved to C.J.'s opposite side on the more packed sand, he'd struggled just a little. Not that he would ever admit that.