Falling for You (35 page)
“When I’m hungry, I usually grab whatever’s cheap and easy.”
“Cheap and easy? Mmm... I could be talked into that.”
She stopped and faced him with the surf at her back and the wind playing in her short hair. “You know, as much as I’m enjoying this little double-entendre thing you have going here, let’s get one thing straight. We are not on a date. We are going to dinner so I can get it through your head that I’m not going to help you.”
“I thought we were going to dinner so I could proposition you.”
She turned to stomp back to her ship but he slipped a hand around her elbow, stopping her.
“Sorry, you’re right.” He tried for a sheepish look.
“Since this really is a business dinner, I’ll try to behave myself.”
She studied him a moment before nodding. “All right.”
“Although if it weren’t a business dinner, I’d be compelled to ask... has anyone ever told you, you have a great mouth?”
Her head snapped back in surprise. “A smart mouth, you mean.”
“No, I was being quite literal.”
“Come off it.” She laughed and blushed. Imagine that. Jackie Taylor could blush. “My mouth isn’t anything but big.”
Adrian stepped closer, just enough to invade her space. “Your mouth is a work of art. I can’t imagine any man alive who could look at your lips and not want to taste them.”
She glared up at him, but the color in her cheeks spoke more of pleasure than anger. “You call this behaving?”
“Behaving is a new concept for me. It may take me a while to get it right. You’ll have to be patient.” He tugged gently on her arm and smiled when she fell in step beside him. “Let’s see, what were we discussing? Ah yes, I remember. Food.” He glanced at her sideways. “My second favorite subject in life.”
Jackie rolled her eyes but didn’t take the bait. He was a man, so she knew his first favorite subject without even asking.
When they reached the restaurant, Adrian held the door and she stepped inside, where fishing nets and life preservers hung on weathered wood paneling.
An impossibly perky hostess glanced up from the
bamboo podium. “Hi,” she greeted them cheerfully until she saw Adrian. Then her mouth actually fell open.
“Two for dinner,” Adrian said, seeming unaware that the girl was about to drool on his boots. Not that Jackie blamed her. The man looked particularly drool-worthy in a pale blue shirt open at the collar, unbuttoned gray vest, and dark blue trousers.
“Two. Yes, of course.” Perky Girl grabbed menus. “If you’ll just... follow me.”
Jackie trailed behind as the hostess led the way. A few locals had gathered around the bar in the middle of the room, swapping fish stories, but the tables and booths were empty.
“I guess you get your pick of tables.” The hostess smiled up at Adrian.
“How about the one in the corner with the killer view?”
“Oh, good choice.” Perky Girl sighed in admiration as if he’d just announced the cure for cancer. As they took their seats, she handed them each a menu. “Sandy will be your server this evening, but can I get you anything while you’re waiting? Water? Wine?”
My body
, Jackie added silently, reading the invitation in the girl’s eyes.
“Water would be nice. Thank you.” Adrian smiled and the girl nearly melted before hurrying off.
Jackie turned to him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.” He opened his menu.
“Do you do that intentionally, or does it just come naturally? You know, like breathing?”
“Do what?” He frowned.
She resisted the temptation to whack him over the head. “Send women into a swoon.”
He looked confused for a second, then amusement registered, crinkling the corners of his eyes and carving long dimples to either side of his mouth. “Jealous?” he asked.
“In your dreams.” She snapped open her own menu. Any woman fool enough to fall for a man like Adrian deserved to have her heart broken. Unless that woman liked to share—which Jackie didn’t.
Their server, Sandy, arrived—a no-nonsense woman who refrained from ogling, thank goodness—and they placed their order.
“Okay.” Jackie folded her hands on the table. “Down to business.”
“Naw-uh. Our food hasn’t even come. First we eat, visit, watch the sunset, then we’ll talk about the offer.”
“Well, if you’re planning to offer me part of the salvage rights, save your breath. I’m not stupid. Texas doesn’t grant salvage rights, so the minute you and your sisters brought the Texas Historical Commission into this, you lost everything that was on that ship. If you wanted to go after Lafitte’s treasure, you should have just done it”
“Are you kidding?” A scowl lined his face. “First of all, that would be illegal, and second, the bulk of the shipwreck is buried under mud from the nineteen hundred hurricane. Do you know how much excavating it will cost?”
“I have a pretty good idea, which is what confuses me. Why is everyone suddenly so hot to go after a worthless artifact? I explained to the writer guy—”
“Scott Lawrence.” Adrian supplied the name of the famous suspense novelist who had called her a few months ago claiming to be researching a new book.
“Yes, him. I explained that the so-called treasure is
nothing but a powder horn. It’s not gold. It’s not some valuable jewel. It’s a stupid powder horn my ancestors jokingly referred to as ‘Lafitte’s treasure.’ So, what’s the big deal?”
“Ah, and here’s our first course.” Adrian smiled as the server brought an appetizer of shrimp cocktail and a bottle of wine. Jackie drummed her fingers as he went through the ritual of tasting. When the woman was gone, he turned back to her. “So, how do you like running a charter ship?”
She narrowed her eyes, wondering when he planned to answer her question. Of course, since Lafitte’s treasure was her least favorite subject, she shrugged it off. “The work is never-ending, tourists can occasionally be a pain in the butt, and I barely make enough to cover my expenses.”
“You hate it that much, eh?” He grinned knowingly, as if he could see through to the truth: that her ship meant the world to her, and she’d fight tooth and nail to keep her business going, a battle she was currently losing.
“How about you?” She dipped a chilled shrimp in cocktail sauce. “Do you like running a B and B?”
“Most of the time.” He popped a sauce-drenched shrimp into his mouth and wrinkled his nose. “Too bland. Mind if I doctor this up a bit?” At her nod, he rummaged through the condiments on the table. “I could do without getting up before dawn to start breakfast every day of the week, but it beats the heck out of filling orders off a menu in someone else’s kitchen.” He tried another shrimp. “Mmm, better. Try it now.” He dredged a shrimp through the sauce and held it to her mouth.
She pulled back with a wary frown.
“Come on...” he coaxed.
She hesitated, then opened her mouth and took the shrimp. His fingertips brushed her lips, sending a shot of tingling heat through her, followed by the spicy chill of the sauce.
“Delicious, huh?”
She nodded, trying to focus on food, not thoughts of what Adrian might taste like. “So, who’s cooking while you’re gone?”
“My sisters, Rory and Alli. They aren’t exactly slouches in the kitchen, even if they’re no match for me.
“You should get that ego checked.” She waved a shrimp at him. “I think it may be growing.”
“No, it’s always been this big.”
She laughed, thinking his charm would be so much easier to resist if he took himself more seriously. He clearly didn’t, though, and his easy manner lulled her as effectively as the wine over the next half hour. Their conversation flowed between bites of blackened redfish and creamy pasta. By the time they’d finished dinner, other patrons were scattered about the restaurant. Candles had been lit, lending a touch of romance to the rustic decor. Outside, dark had fallen so that only the white crests of the waves shone in the lights from the pier.
Jackie relaxed back in her chair as the server cleared away their plates and asked if they wanted dessert. When Jackie said no, Adrian ordered something for himself and two cappuccinos. Taking up his wine glass, he leaned back as well and turned slightly toward her. The move created an odd sense of intimacy, as if they were lounging side by side somewhere private, rather than sitting at a table in a semi-crowded restaurant.
He studied the wine in his glass. “How much do you actually know about the powder horn?”
The question jolted her. During dinner, she’d almost forgotten why he’d taken her out and what he wanted from her.
“Now, don’t get all stiff on me,” he said in a lazy drawl. “I just want to know if you’re aware of the whole story.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know the powder horn once belonged to Jean Lafitte. He gave it to my ancestor, Jack Kingsley’s grandfather, before sailing for South America. Several of the pirates who had followed Lafitte from New Orleans to Galveston decided to stay in Texas and start a new life. Jack’s grandfather was one of them. In an impromptu ceremony, Lafitte presented the powder horn to Reginald Kingsley as a memento of their adventures together. Since Lafitte liked to refer to the horn as his ‘most treasured possession,’ my family called it ‘Lafitte’s treasure’ as a joke. Unfortunately, the joke has gotten out of hand over the years.”
“Do you know why Lafitte called it that?”
“No. I only know that every treasure hunter out there thinks there’s a chest of gold somewhere, and that—as a Kingsley descendant—I should know where it is. Only, there is no chest of gold. It doesn’t exist.”
“What if”—Adrian looked directly into her eyes—“I told you the powder horn was worth more than gold?”
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
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~ ~ ~
Read on for an excerpt for
Almost Perfect
, book one in the
Perfect
trilogy
Voted Best Single Title Contemporary by the readers of
Affaire de Coeur
magazine
by Julie Ortolon
Chapter 1
“How to Have a Perfect Life.”
Maddy shook her head in wonder as she read the title of the slick hardcover book she held in both hands. “
Ten Steps to Outrageous Happiness
, by Jane Redding.”
“I still can’t believe Jane, our Jane, is now published. On top of everything else,” Christine said, staring at her own copy.
“I can.” Amy smiled with pride as they moved away from the autographing table where a line of Jane Redding fans waited for their chance to meet the TV-anchor-turned-motivational-speaker.
“Actually, I can too,” Christine admitted as the three of them headed toward the coffee shop in the corner of the bookstore. “Jane was always so disciplined and hardworking back in college. She’s the only person I know who studied harder than I did. And considering I was premed, that’s saying something.”
“You were both driven, which is the only thing you had in common,” Maddy said as she and her friends passed a decorative handrail that created the feel of a sidewalk cafe. She breathed in the rich aroma of coffee. Light jazz mingled with the buzz of conversation and hiss of the cappuccino machine. “In fact, given how different the four of us were, I’m amazed at how well we got along as suitemates.”
“Opposites do attract,” Christine said as they joined the order line.
“That’s certainly true for you and me.” Maddy smiled at her friend of fourteen years. Most people saw Christine Ashton as an intimidating combination of Ice Princess and Rocket Scientist, with her elegant height, sleek blond hair, and cool gray eyes, but Maddy knew the wicked sense of humor that lay beneath.
“I think the key for us,” Christine went on, “was having you and me in one half of the dorm suite and Amy and Jane in the other. Can you imagine if Jane and I had been paired together?”
Maddy laughed. “Amy and I would have been taking bets on which one of you would commit murder first. Perfect Jane the Neatnik or Pristine Christine who is secretly a slob?”
“No,
you
would have been taking bets,” Christine corrected. “Amy’s too sweet to profit from a friend’s demise.”
“True.” Maddy gave Amy a one-armed hug. “Mother Amy would have been wringing her hands and begging you children to behave.”
“Actually Jane was a lot of fun.” Amy frowned at them. “And for the record, I always hated my nickname.”
“Yeah, me too.” Christine gave Maddy one of her aloof looks. “So watch the name-calling, Gypsy Girl.”
“Hey, if the nickname fits…” Maddy twisted her hips to make the tiny bells along the hem of her skirt jingle. Colorful beads and shiny charms adorned each wrist and a scarf circled her head from nape to crown, holding back a bonfire of red hair.
Four roommates couldn’t have been more different, or fit their nicknames better. Amy Baker was an intriguing blend of wisdom and whimsy with a need to nurture. Men, unfortunately, never seemed to look past her plumpness and notice her sensual side. Of course, the fact that Amy wore glasses that obscured her big green eyes, dressed in baggy jumpers that made her look frumpy, and kept her glorious, waist-length brown hair confined in a tight braid didn’t help.
And then there was Jane. Glancing back at the signing table, Maddy realized the petite brunette hadn’t changed much in the ten years since graduation. She was still immaculately put together and still glowed with an inner light of intelligence and determination. She sat behind the table piled with her books, wearing a stylish purple suit, her shoulder-length bob swinging slightly as she laughed. Her brown eyes smiled up at one of her fans, who stood with a book clutched to her chest, gushing with praise.
Envy snuck up and gave Maddy a painful bite. “God,” she sighed. “Jane really did make it, just like she always wanted. But it’s not just the fame and fortune. She looks so dang confident!”
“And she’s still so beautiful,” Amy added with genuine admiration in her voice.
“She looks happy,” Christine said with no inflection. “Really happy. Can I kill her?”
“Christine!” Amy gasped. “What a thing to say.”
“Aw, c’mon, Mom, can I?” Christine clasped her hands together. “Please, please, please?”
Amy laughed in spite of herself. “You are so bad.”
“Which is why we love her,” Maddy insisted, since a part of her felt the same way. She was thrilled for Jane’s success, but it made her feel like a failure for never achieving her own dream of becoming a professional artist. She’d met and married Nigel, a sweet but admittedly geeky accountant, right out of college. Nigel had loved her art, believed in her wholeheartedly, and insisted she stay home and pursue her art career full time.
Unfortunately, two years into the marriage, he’d been diagnosed with cancer and she’d spent the next six years taking care of him while helping him keep his accounting firm open. If not for the moral support of Christine and Amy, she wasn’t sure how she would have made it through those years.
Jane had long since moved to New York, and they’d rarely heard from her. Although they’d certainly heard a lot about her lately, with her marriage to a sports announcer, her “lake house” in Austin on the cover of Homes and Living, and now her best-selling self-help book.
When Maddy compared her own lack of accomplishments to all that, she couldn’t help but feel inadequate.
“Next!” called the tall, skinny kid behind the counter and Maddy realized she’d reached the front of the line.
“Oh.” She looked up at the coffee menu hanging overhead. “Hold on. Give me a second.”
“Come on, Mad, you can do this,” Christine whispered encouragingly. “Make a decision.”
“The pressure, the pressure.” She touched her fingertips to her brow, like a fortune-teller communing with the other world. “Okay, I got it. I’ll have a Mocha Madness. With extra whipped cream. And caramel swirled on top, please.”
The kid called out the order to the harried woman manning the industrial-size machine.
After Maddy had paid, Christine stepped up without even looking at the board. “Coffee. The gargantuan size. No fluff and stuff. Just give me caffeine and an IV tube.”
Maddy frowned at her. “I thought you were going to cut back on caffeine.”
“Damn! You would remember that.” Christine made a face. “Okay, make that decaf.”
The kid relayed the change in her order and started to ring it up.
“No, wait.” Christine reached out and grabbed his arm, desperation lighting her eyes. “Make that decaf with a depth charge of espresso.” She made a face at Maddy. “I’ll cut back more seriously when my residency is over.”
Obviously used to dealing with coffee addicts, the kid rang it up without batting an eye.
Amy came next, chewing her lip and eyeing the pastries. The light from the case shone off her glasses. “I’ll have a sugar-free vanilla cappuccino.”
“Did you want a pastry?” the kid asked.
She hesitated, but held firm. “No. Just the cappuccino. Skinny, please.”
Maddy started to tell Amy to go for a pastry, but reminded herself not to sabotage her friend’s diet. Personally, she thought Amy looked just fine and should stop starving herself. Sexy came in many shapes and sizes. Maddy was no Skinny Minnie, but she’d learned to celebrate, rather than hide, her abundant curves. Nigel had certainly enjoyed them in the early days, before he’d become too weak to enjoy much of anything in life.
“So,” Christine said after they picked up their orders, “shall we grab a table and look at this book?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Maddy headed for an empty table near a colorful display of coffee mugs and gift items. “I’m dying to know the ten steps to outrageous happiness.”
“Me too.” Christine opened her copy of the book as soon as they were seated. “After the last few years of all work and no play, I could use some happiness, outrageous or otherwise.”
“But you’re making it.” Amy smiled at her. “A few more months and you’ll be a doctor. Surely that makes you happy.”
“If I live that long,” Christine said as she read the contents page. “Let’s see. Step one,
Know What You Want
.”
“That’s easy.” Maddy sipped her sweet coffee, then licked whipped cream from her lip. “A winning lottery ticket that makes all the bills go away forever.”
Christine frowned at her. “I thought you were doing okay financially, what with the life insurance and selling the accounting firm.”
“I am, but you know I hate balancing a checkbook, or anything else related to numbers. Plus, I wouldn’t mind having some money to travel.”
Christine squeezed her forearm. “I think traveling would be a good idea. It doesn’t have to be an expensive trip, just something that would get you out of that empty house.”
“You’re probably right.” Maddy thought about the letter lurking in the bottom of her purse. The job it described would certainly get her out of the house.
Waaay
out of the house. If she had the guts to apply for it. “What’s step two?”
Christine looked down. “Oh, this sounds cheery. Face Your Inner Fear.”
Maddy snorted. “Well, hey, I’ve got that step down at least, since I’ve just gone through years of facing fear on a daily basis.”
“True. Let’s see what she has to say on the subject.” Christine flipped forward to that chapter. The minute she started skimming the page, her eyes widened. “The bitch!”
“What?” Maddy straightened in surprise.
“She used us in her book.”
“You’re kidding! She mentioned us by name?” Maddy craned her neck to read the page.
“No, but still, she says, ‘I had three friends in college who are excellent examples of how women frequently let fear hold them back from pursuing their dreams.’”
“Does she go into detail?” Amy chewed her thumbnail.
Christine ran her finger down the page. “Let’s see, ‘I had an artist friend’—gee, I wonder who that could be—‘who let her fear of rejection stop her from going after an art career with any real dedication or enthusiasm.’ ”
“That’s ridiculous!” Maddy set her coffee down with a thud. “I didn’t pursue an art career because I had a dying husband to care for.” Even as she said the words, she knew they didn’t explain why she wasn’t pursuing an art career now. “What else does she say?”
“Oh, get this.” Christine read further. “Apparently my fear is that of parental disapproval. ‘My med-student friend spent so much time trying to win her father’s approval, she frequently sacrificed her own happiness.’ ” Christine looked up, her blue eyes blazing. “How dare she print her interpretation of things I told her in confidence? Besides, what is wrong with me trying to please my father? Yes, it’s hard to live up to his standards and I’ve complained a time or two, but he’s a great man, a leader in the medical community, and a brilliant surgeon. Just because Jane’s mother was an alcoholic and her father skipped out what right does she have to criticize me? In print!”
“At least she didn’t use your name,” Maddy said.
“She might as well have! Anyone who knows me knows I roomed with her at UT. What if my dad reads this?”
“A self-help book for women?” Maddy raised a skeptical brow.
“Well, someone else could read it and show it to him.”
“What does she say about me?” Amy asked in a small voice.
Christine resumed reading. “Apparently your fear is that of taking a risk. According to Miss Perfect, ‘My other friend was so afraid of trying anything new and failing, she’d rather stay in her safe routine than take a risk that might bring her a more satisfying life.’ ”
“That’s such bull!” Maddy contemplated marching over to the autographing table and giving Jane a piece of her mind.
“Actually, it’s true,” Amy said quietly.
“But you own your own business,” Maddy argued. “That took risk.”
“Not much.” Amy sighed. “Traveling Nannies is a franchise, so it was fairly safe. And since I’m the owner, no one can fire me. It’s about as low risk as you can get.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean you’re an unhappy coward,” Christine insisted.
“I guess not.” Amy dropped her gaze to the table.
“Amy?” Maddy ducked her head to see her friend’s face. “You are happy, aren’t you?”
“Mostly.”
“But…?” Christine made a beckoning gesture with one hand. “I definitely hear a but in there.”
Amy hesitated. “I just wish, sometimes, that I was one of the nannies I place with the rich and famous who are traveling on vacation. They go to some really exciting places, stay at fabulous hotels, eat at fancy restaurants, and meet interesting people. I’ve never been outside of the Austin area.”
“Is that really so bad?” Maddy asked. “Considering you have no sense of direction—as in absolutely zip—it’s only natural that strange places terrify you. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It is if I let it rule my life.” Amy raised her chin, determination on every round curve of her face. “Look at Christine. She’s afraid of heights, but every Christmas back in college she went to Colorado with her family and got on a lift so she could ski.”
“Actually…” Christine looked back and forth between them. “I didn’t.”
