Authors: Marie Force
“Um, boss,” Patty said, flitting nervously about the small store. “Should I put away the cheese?”
Tiffany glanced at the table they’d so lovingly put together with red plates and napkins, crackers, cheese, veggies and dip, and other treats for first-day customers. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”
While Patty got busy clearing off the table, Tiffany wandered to the front window. Across the street, a Gansett Island Police SUV sat in the grocery store parking lot. Blaine was probably glad her store was a bust. It would mean less trouble for him if people didn’t patronize her place and she went quietly out of business. She thought about the stack of bills she’d ignored while pouring every dime she had into her store. Going quietly out of business simply wasn’t an option. She had to do something to drum up some business, and she had to do it right now.
Feeling energized, Tiffany turned away from the window and marched over to one of the more scandalous racks of lingerie. She knew exactly what she was looking for and found it toward the back. Holding up the naughty nurse outfit, Tiffany smiled. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She took the outfit into the changing room and put it on, once again carefully hanging up her silk blouse and skirt and then donning her spike heels.
When she saw Tiffany emerge from the fitting room, Patty’s mouth fell open. “Um, boss, what’re you doing?”
“Just a little advertising,” Tiffany said as she adjusted the white bustier over her breasts. “How can they know what we’re selling if we don’t show them?”
“Well, um, don’t you think the name of the store kind of speaks for itself?”
“That’s only half the story. I’m going to show them the other half.”
“But Tiffany, there were cars crashing earlier. What if that happens again?”
“How is that my fault?”
“Oh, um, well…”
“Wish me luck,” Tiffany said on her way out the door.
“Good luck,” Patty said warily.
When Blaine saw Tiffany emerge from the store, he sat up from the slouch he’d slipped into as he kept an eye on things across the street. “What the hell?” he muttered before he groaned. She was going to be the death of him—the living, breathing
death
. While the horny male part of him took a good long look at the luscious skin and long, firm legs, the cop recognized the potential for further traffic mayhem and reached for the door handle.
But then he stopped himself. What exactly did he plan to say to her? That she couldn’t strut around half dressed? Well,
half
might be giving that outfit too much credit. That she couldn’t cause a traffic hazard by distracting passing drivers? He’d tried all that before, and she’d brushed him off as skillfully as any woman had ever brushed off a man. He couldn’t deny that she’d been right earlier when she’d said it wasn’t her fault the men involved with the accident hadn’t been paying attention to their driving.
Watching her prance around, waving to and flirting with passersby, trying to entice them into her store, Blaine seethed with jealousy. If he were being truthful, he didn’t want anyone else to see her creamy skin and tempting curves. It wasn’t like he had any kind of claim on her—yet. But if they were together, she certainly wouldn’t be dancing around mostly nude in public. That much was for sure.
She bent in half to wave to a passing driver, and Blaine went hard at the view of barely covered breasts. He’d had more hard-ons today than he normally had in a week! God, she was beautiful. Every guy in town was no doubt talking about her, and Blaine wanted to march over there, cover her and drag her off to bed where he’d quickly uncover her again.
Project alert!
Oh shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!
Damned his cursed conscience. His mother’s voice was hardwired into his brain, reminding him of how he’d been taken advantage of in the past. That didn’t mean it would happen again. He heard his mother reminding him of what he’d gone through with Eden and Kim before that. Tiffany was nothing like them. She was smart and driven and working toward a goal. Eden and Kim had used and abused everyone they encountered, and the only goal either of them ever had was to find someone else to take advantage of. Even though he’d spent less than an hour total alone with Tiffany, he knew she was wasn’t like that, which was why his heart broke a little watching her try so hard to entice someone,
anyone
, into her new shop.
For two hours, she worked it hard, pouring on her special brand of Tiffany charm to anyone who ventured a glance her way, but no one stopped. Blaine watched her start to wilt under the hot sun, but her smile and enthusiasm never faded until she had no choice but to concede defeat. As she walked inside, her shoulders dropped with uncharacteristic despair.
Blaine pounded the steering wheel with a tightly rolled fist. The longer he sat there, the more obvious it became to him that he was going to do something stupid. Really, really stupid.
While Grace worked the day shift downstairs at the pharmacy, Evan McCarthy whiled away the Saturday working on his latest song and practicing his guitar. He’d also spent an hour on the phone with the sound engineer he’d worked with on his album, trying to entice him to take a chance on a start-up recording studio on Gansett Island.
The Starlight Records bankruptcy proceedings that had Evan’s debut CD tied up in court had also put Josh Harrelson out of work. Evan was working hard to convince Josh to move north and be part of Island Breeze Records. Josh had agreed to think about it, which was all Evan could ask at this point.
He’d been fooling around with a new song that he was calling “Amazing Grace,” which he hoped to make the first single released by the Island Breeze label. The equipment they’d ordered was due to arrive any day now, and the old barn on one of Ned’s properties they’d be using for the studio was all ready. Evan had spent months reconfiguring, sanding, painting and turning the once-dusty, abandoned space into a recording studio.
Above the studio, his father and Ned had helped him to install four bedrooms as well as a kitchen, bathroom and living room to accommodate visiting musicians. He’d offered Josh a free place to live in exchange for taking a chance on his upstart studio, and Evan was praying he’d take the bait. Without a decent sound engineer, his studio would be sunk before it ever even opened. After a long winter of hard work and planning, everything was coming together, and Evan was itching to get to work.
A knock on the door interrupted the flow of the song, which aggravated him. His family and friends knew to leave him alone during the day when he was often writing and composing. Without bothering to put on a shirt, he pulled open the door, prepared to chew out whichever one of his brothers had once again forgotten his rules about daytime visits. The zinger he had ready died on his lips when he recognized Grace’s parents from a photo of her family she kept in the loft. They were both pear-shaped with dark hair and eyes. Right away, Evan could see that Grace looked like the mother who was staring at him suspiciously.
“We were told downstairs that we’d find Grace here,” Mrs. Ryan said.
“She’s not at the pharmacy?” Evan asked.
“They said she left a while ago.”
He remembered her saying something about seeing his cousin Laura at the Sand & Surf Hotel after work. “She should be home soon if you want to come in and wait for her.”
“Who’re you?” Mr. Ryan asked, his eyes scanning Evan’s bare chest and feet.
“I’m Evan.”
They exchanged perplexed glances.
“Her boyfriend?”
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Mrs. Ryan said.
“Ah, I’m quite certain she does,” Evan said, flabbergasted to realize Grace had never told them about him. He stepped aside to admit them to the loft. “For about eight months now, in fact.”
Mrs. Ryan stopped short at the sight of the rumpled bed, the surfboard propped against the wall, the guitars leaning against the sofa and his size-twelve sneakers under the coffee table.
She spun around to face him. “You’re
living
here?”
Evan had no idea what to say to that, so he went with the truth. “Have been. For a long time.”
“Well, isn’t this enlightening, Bill?”
“Yes,” Mr. Ryan said, continuing to eye Evan as if he was Jack the Ripper or someone equally unsavory. “Very enlightening.”
Evan supposed that finding out your daughter had been sleeping with a guy for close to a year and hadn’t bothered to mention it to you might be a little shocking. Hell, it was a little shocking to him that she hadn’t told her parents about them—and a little painful, too.
“No wonder why she never has time to come home.”
“She’s been home,” Evan said in Grace’s defense.
“Three times in eight months,” Mrs. Ryan said, taking a close look at every corner of the loft.
Evan felt slightly violated by her scrutiny and wondered if Grace would be annoyed with him for letting them in. If she was, they’d be even, because he was kind of annoyed with her at the moment.
“And what do you do, young man?” Mr. Ryan asked.
“I’m a musician,” he said, gesturing to the guitars. “And a songwriter.”
“You make any money doing that?”
“Enough.”
“Do you pay rent to live here?” Mrs. Ryan asked.
“I’d say that’s between Grace and me.”
“Which means you don’t,” she said, giving him a knowing look.
“It doesn’t mean that at all. It means it’s none of your business.” The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. These were Grace’s
parents
, he told himself. Tread lightly. “Let me see where she is.”
As he picked up his phone from the coffee table, the screen door burst open, and Grace came in, carrying grocery bags. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, and her silky dark hair curled at the ends, thanks to the humidity. “Hey, babe. I’m home. Sorry I’m late, but Laura wanted to show me the new guest rooms at the hotel—” When she saw her parents standing in the kitchen, the grocery bags slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor.
The distinctive sound of glass breaking had Evan rushing over to her. He took her hand and guided her around the mess on the floor. “I’ll clean it up.”
She glanced at his bare chest and then at her parents and then back at him. “Did you, have you… You met Evan?”
“Indeed, we did,” her mother said. “And now we know why we’ve seen so little of you since you moved out here.”
“She’s been working really hard at the pharmacy,” Evan said, as he scooped up glass, spaghetti sauce and torn brown bags. A dozen eggs had also been lost in the crash. “She’s the only pharmacist on the island, so she works almost every day.”
She sent him a grateful smile, but he could see the concern in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she asked her parents.
“We wanted to surprise you,” her mother said. Glancing at Evan, she added, “But the surprise was on us.”
“I was going to tell you…”
“When?” her mother and Evan said at the same time.
When Grace winced, he wished he hadn’t piled on. They’d have time later, when they were alone, to discuss why she hadn’t bothered to mention him to her parents.
“I’d invite you to stay for dinner,” Grace said, glancing at the mess on the floor, “but…”
“We’ll go out,” Evan said, sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan. “My treat.” This was said with a meaningful glance at Mr. Ryan.
“You don’t have to do that,” Grace said.
“I insist. I’ll make reservations. The Lobster House at eight?”
She nodded and added a smile for him because he’d chosen their favorite restaurant, the place where they’d had their first official date. To her parents, she said, “Where’re you staying?”
“At the McCarthy place,” her father said with an air of distaste. “No air-conditioning or television! Can you believe it?”
Grace bit her lip as Evan choked back a laugh. His mother was damned proud that her hotel was a throwback to simpler times.
“We’d never stay there again,” her mother added. “We tried to move somewhere else, but none of the hotels have TVs or AC. What’re we supposed to do when we’re in the room?”
Evan raised an eyebrow and made the mistake of glancing at Grace, whose face had turned red from the effort not to laugh. He knew exactly what she was thinking—they’d have no need of a TV or any other form of entertainment in a hotel room. As long as they had each other, they were all set.
“You could try talking to each other,” Grace said.
Her parents looked at each other and then at her as if she’d said something in a foreign language.
“Come on, Bill. I’d like to get changed, and it’s a long walk back to the hotel.”
“You
walked
here?” Grace asked, seeming surprised.
“We’re exercising every day,” her mother said in a snippy tone on her way out the door. “There’re other ways to lose weight besides going under the knife, you know.”
Evan bit back the comment that was burning to get out about how courageous Grace had been to have the lap band surgery that enabled her to lose more than a hundred pounds. But he held his tongue until after her parents had departed. Squirting cleaning solution on the floor, he wiped up the last of the mess and stood to find Grace watching him.