Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) (9 page)

“Are you in the family business?” another woman at the table asked.

“Not really,” Beth said absently, sipping wine as her attention veered from the conversation to someone or something across the lawn.

Emma followed her gaze, where it landed on a man who was just coming into the party, his commanding good looks and height drawing more than a few eyes. Another one with a great body. Only, something about him looked more wiry and less gym-toned than Law Monroe. His hair was more pepper than salt, and his dark gaze was intense as he scanned the party, obviously looking for someone.

“Oh, there’s Ken Cavanaugh,” Mark stood, spotting the same man. “Excuse me while I end his life slowly and with great pain.”

“Why?” Beth asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

“Because he was not supposed to let them sign me up to dance, which means he broke the bro code.”

“Ken?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like something he’d do. He’s a firefighter, you know.”

“I do know, which means he has a guy’s back for his profession, and still he let mine get stabbed. I’ll make him miserable first, and then let him eat with us.”

He left to walk over to Ken, and Emma could have sworn Beth Endicott sat up straighter and her blue eyes sparked at the idea of the firefighter joining them.

“Oh, I know that guy,” another one of the men at their table said, taking a look at the new arrival. “Captain Cav. That’s what they call him at his station in Fort Myers.”

His wife admired the view as well. “Oh yes, I was talking to him today at the meeting. Very nice guy. What do you want to know about him?”

“Everything,” Beth said under her breath.

The woman leaned closer, clasping her hands under her chin. “Well, I can tell you this. He is divorced, but very much single. And, he’s on the market.”

“The market?” her husband asked with a small choke.

“The market,” the woman confirmed. “In fact, he told me that the one thing he wants most in this world is a family, and he doesn’t have one yet.”

Beth stared at her, and Emma could have sworn some color drained from her face. “He said that?”

“Not in quite so many words, but yes. We were talking in a group about where all our lives have gone since high school.” She shot a tight smile to her husband. “Of course, I told them how happy I am.”

“Of course,” he agreed dryly, running a hand over his shiny dome. “You love your old, fat, bald husband.”

“I do and—”

Beth put her hand on the woman’s arm. “What did he say?”

The woman glanced as if to check to be sure the center of her gossip was still out of hearing range. “He said his biggest regret was not having kids yet,” she said. “He said he’d love to have a family, and I told him he most certainly can.”

The husband harrumphed. “With a much younger woman.”

“Donald, that isn’t true anymore. Women have babies in their forties, right?”

Beth didn’t answer, but her gaze drifted back to the man in question and softened to something akin to sadness. Then she looked down at the untouched plate of food in front of her.

“Oh, here he comes,” the other woman said as Mark and Ken walked closer. But Beth didn’t look, Emma noticed. She was folding her napkin and pulling her phone out of her purse.

“Your fiancé is pretty nice-looking, too, Emma,” the chatty woman said. “I think I heard the collective sound of single women’s hearts breaking all over the island when Lacey told us Mark is engaged.”

Then mission accomplished, Emma thought as she laughed lightly. “I consider myself quite lucky,” she said, taking a sip of water and hoping that was suitably vague.

Mark returned with the other man, the two of them laughing about something, but Emma noticed that the moment “Captain Cav” spotted Beth, his expression changed. Laughing with Mark morphed into…intensity.

“Hey, Beth.”

Like no one else was at the table.

“Hello, Ken.” She suddenly looked at her phone, which had not buzzed, dinged, or vibrated. “Oh, I have a call. Excuse me.” She smiled at Ken. “This seat’s open.”

His face fell with obvious disappointment, but he recovered instantly, letting Mark do a round of introductions, reminding Emma that the chatty woman’s name was Linda and her husband was Frank. They all kept up the small talk, but Ken was quieter than the others, except for a few jokes with Mark and answering Linda’s many questions about life at his fire station. The minute everyone was done eating, Ken excused himself and disappeared.

“Dance of the Decade planning is next!” Linda announced, elbowing Mark’s side. “You two better win for the eighties!”

“There’s a meeting about it?” Mark asked with a groan.

“Can’t miss that,” Emma said, leaning back. “We promised Lacey.”

He pushed up and pulled Emma’s chair back for her. As he did, he put a hand on her shoulder and leaned close to her ear. “You’re killing this, by the way,” he whispered, his breath warm and mouth wonderfully close.

You’re killing me.
“Thanks,” she whispered, standing up and out of his touch before he felt her shiver.

Just then, Lacey came up to their table to invite them to the patio to talk about the dance program.

“We’re on our way,” Emma assured her. “As soon as I swing by the ladies’ room.”

Lacey sidled up to her and gestured her toward the house. “It’s through the family room, Emma,” she said. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Thanks, I’m sure I can find it.”

“I’m going that way.” Lacey stayed close as they walked across the patio and into the house, greeting guests as she passed, but as they reached the counter bar in the kitchen, Lacey stopped and put her hand on Emma’s arm. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh, sure…” A sudden warmth rose up in Emma’s chest, somewhere between a full-on blush and a blast of liar’s fear. Was this going to be about Julia? A few questions about Emma’s engagement? She felt completely confident in the “game” when Mark was next to her, but didn’t want to blow it with a mistaken fact, even though Lacey was younger than Mark and not in his class. She still might have some kind of personal knowledge that could throw Emma’s game.

“What is it?” Emma asked.

Lacey’s golden eyes searched Emma’s face, all the sparkly warmth fading.

“Can you explain why you were trying to check into the resort today for a reservation under another name that had been canceled?”

Emma stared at her, that heat in her chest intensifying, knees weakening, and palms suddenly damp.

“And when the clerk at the front desk told you the reservation was canceled, you started crying?”

Emma blinked, speechless.

“And that one of our security personnel reported you rolling your two suitcases to the villa, but when they went back to check, you were inside with Mark?”

She felt like a stowaway discovered by the captain, dragged out of a storage closet, and thrown onto the deck for all to see.

“You see,” Lacey continued, her voice very soft, private, but dead serious. “We have security cameras at the front desk, and I always review them at the end of the day so I know who our guests are.”

“That is…smart.” And something she and Mark had never even thought of.

Lacey lifted her brow, waiting. No accusation, but no sly grin of shared conspiracy, either. Could Emma trust her? Or would their little secret be blown, making things even worse for Mark?

Considering she’d already lied openly to Lacey once, telling her the truth now would make them both look bad.

“I was so confused,” Emma said quickly. “You know Mark and I have been traveling so much, all over the world as he does, and we flew in on separate flights because he was in…” She gathered a breath. “Somewhere I can’t even remember, but he told me the villa was Blue Casbah, and I saw that on the reservation list over the clerk’s shoulder, and I read the name… Chambers, was it? Anyway, I thought maybe Mark had registered under an alias, because he does that sometimes.”

Oh Lord, only a copywriter could lie like that on demand.

“That makes sense, sort of,” Lacey said. “But you were so upset.”

“Oh, the wedding planning is killing me,” Emma said. “I’m so tense. It’s so close. We haven’t known each other that long, and you have no idea how much I’ve looked forward to this vacation. This resort! It’s fabulous.”

“Thank you. We’re proud of it.”

“You should be! Ever since Mark brought the brochure home, well, I’ve practically memorized it! ‘Sweeping views of soft sandy beaches and sunsets that will melt your heart and your stress.’”

Lacey finally smiled. “You think we went overboard with that?”

“Not one word. It’s genius.”

“Oh my God, Lacey, you snagged her!” A woman came out from the hall, presumably leaving the bathroom, her eyes bright with just a touch too much wine. “You know that every woman here is dying to talk to the future Mrs. Solomon.”

“Well, here I am,” Emma said quickly, insanely grateful for the diversion. “Emma DeWitt. What’s your name?”

“Karen Stevenson, class of ’82. Congrats on getting the ungettable.”

Emma felt her smile freeze and her unstoppable chatter suddenly dry up.

“You know,” Karen said, lowering her voice and getting closer. “Mark spoke at Julia’s memorial service here on Mimosa Key and, honestly, the women were circling like hawks, but I knew he wouldn’t be one of those men who gets remarried in a year. Or ever. You know why?”

“Karen,” Lacey said, putting her arm around the other woman’s shoulder. “I don’t think Emma needs to hear the details—”

“Oh, she needs to hear,” Karen insisted with that slightly wrong emphasis fueled by an extra glass of wine, or three. “How else will she know what she’s up against?”

“What am I up against?”

“Karen,” Lacey said more firmly. “Go drink some coffee and get ready for our meeting. We’re discussing the dance contest over dessert, and I know you have opinions on…everything.”

Karen shot her brows up, crinkling her forehead and spearing Lacey with a harsh look, but Lacey very subtly guided the other woman out of the kitchen. “Now, please do me a huge favor and round up the wayward guests so we can have a quick discussion about the dance contest.”

Karen glanced over her shoulder, taking the hint, but sending one last look at Emma. “He’ll never really be yours,” she whispered.

“Karen!” Lacey scolded.

“She ought to know the truth. I’d want someone to tell me if I were going to marry a man who—”

Lacey gave her a solid nudge toward the sliders, just as her husband, Clay, was walking in. “Honey, help Karen pull together the schedules and possible playlists for the dance contest, will you?”

They shared a look that only happily married people managed, somehow exchanging hours of dialogue and information with nothing but a quick gaze and flicked eyebrow.

Clay guided Karen out with ease, leaving Emma standing with Lacey.

“Well,” Emma said with a quick laugh. “That was awkward.”

“Not at all,” Lacey assured her. “Karen’s so green with jealousy she blends into the grass.”

“Does that mean you aren’t going to tell me what I’m…up against, as she put it?”

“You’re not up against anything except the stress of a wedding,” Lacey said kindly. “If you want to spend a few minutes with our on-site wedding planners, just for a second opinion on things, I can arrange that for you.”

The offer was so kind and sincere, it tweaked Emma’s conscience. “Maybe,” she said. “But I think I have things under control.”

At Lacey’s dubious look, Emma added, “Kind of under control.”

But she sure wanted to know what she was up against, fiancée or not.

Chapter Seven

They left the party with an address of a local dance studio and a schedule of rehearsals for the next week. Oh, Mark left with one more thing, too, he thought as he took Emma’s hand and led her to the beach instead of the path.

The strongest desire to kiss his fiancée.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked as they reached the sand and he stopped to kick off his shoes.

“Back to the villa.”

“The path is faster,” she said.

He shot her a sideways look. “The beach is empty and the moon is full.”

“Aren’t you a smooth talker?”

“Hanging out with a copywriter,” he teased, scooping his shoes off the sand.

But she didn’t make a move to slip off her sandals. “Makes me wonder…what I’m up against,” she said.

“Not up against anything.”
Yet
. “Come on, kick off your shoes.”

“And fall in love.”

He inched back. “Or walk on the beach.”

She gave him a playful tap. “It’s the resort slogan, big guy. No worries. I couldn’t fall in love again if someone paid me a billion bucks. Bought that load of hooey and had to clean up the mess with a shovel.”

“It’s dangerous, you know.”

“Love?”

“Mixing those bitter pills with wine.”

She smiled. “Nope, I switched to water when the meeting started. Wanted to have a clear head when we had to discuss whether to dance to
How Will I Know
or
Caribbean Queen
.” She added a playful elbow to his side. “Some horrific music you eighties kids had.”