Moonshell Beach: A Shelter Bay Novel (16 page)

“I have no idea. Nor do I care, since I have no intention of writing a vampire into my scripts. And you know as well as I do that what Aaron’s suggesting is gratuitous sex shoved into the story solely for the titillation factor, hoping to pull in a younger male demographic—”

“Exactly! I told Aaron that you’d understand his reasoning.”

What?
“I wasn’t saying that. Okay, maybe I do understand,
all too well, what he wants to do, but what I meant was—”

There was a knock at the door. Then someone called out “Room service!”

Saved by the bell.

“Look, Tammi, the festival committee has me on a killer schedule, there’s someone at the door, and I’ve got to run. Why don’t I get back to you on this?”

“You promise you’ll call?”

“Absolutely.”

“Because you know how Aaron is when he gets an idea into his head. He’s just not going to let go of it, so if you don’t get back to me, I’ll have to keep calling. Or fly up there myself.”

“Oh, you needn’t do that,” Mary said quickly. “I promise, as soon as this morning’s activities are over, I’ll call.”

“All right.” She sounded hesitant. “But I’m letting Aaron know that we can expect to hear back from you this afternoon.”

“Absolutely,” Mary repeated. “Now I really do have to run.” She ended the call before she could be drawn deeper into an argument she was in no mood for. An argument she had no intention of losing.

On to the room service ruse that had been tried by more than one fan over the past few years, before opening the door, Mary looked through the peephole to where the object of her restless sleep was standing, holding a tray.

“I ran into the waiter getting into the elevator,” he explained, as he walked through the door she held open, as if he had every right to be invading her privacy. Which, of course, he did.

“And ended up costing him a tip,” she pointed out.

“You don’t have to worry. I took care of that for you. You’ll be glad to know that you’re a very good tipper.”

“I already know that.” Having worked at a Dublin pub while in college, she always overtipped.

“I figured you did. Which is why I knew you’d want me to uphold your image.” He put the tray down on the coffee table. “Coffee?”

“Oh, please, yes.” As he poured a cup from the carafe, she kept the fact that she’d have been willing to beg to herself. As yet another reminder that there
weren’t any secrets in small towns, there were two cups on the tray. “And feel free to help yourself.”

“Thanks. I will.” After handing her a cup, he poured the second. The pretty flowered cup looked tiny in his broad hand. His skimmed a look over her. “Bad night?”

“I have trouble sleeping in strange beds,” she said, not about to share her dream with this man. Especially since he’d played a starring role. “And then this morning I got a call from the studio.…”

She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Bad news?”

“I suppose that depends how you feel about vampires.”

He took a drink of the coffee. Considered. “I’ve never given them any thought.”

“Well, you and I appear to have something in common. Which may make us the only two people on the planet who don’t talk about them as if they’re real.”

“So why are we talking about them now?”

“Because although I conceived the selkie story as a trilogy, I recently wrote a fourth script, because, given the choice, Hollywood would rather go with a proven franchise than attempt anything new.”

“Yet you were new once.”

“True. But I had buzz. Which is nearly as good. Sometimes even better, since everyone’s also always after the next new thing. I received attention because I began garnering festival wins, which had me becoming the flavor of the month, and, although I don’t see it, because I’m certainly not the least bit curvaceous, males in the sought-after demographic groups apparently think I look good naked. Not that
I actually was,” she felt obliged to remind him. “Naked.”

“Yeah. You mentioned the bodysuit, which you’ve got to know doesn’t detract from the fantasy,” he said. “Besides, although guys may admittedly have a response to breasts built into our DNA, when it’s hard to tell what’s real anymore, they begin to sort of lose their appeal. You’re a lot like your heroine—sleek and built for speed.”

Mary shouldn’t have been so pleased by that. But she was. Too much.

“Thank you.” She picked up a strawberry from a fruit plate of berries, melon, kiwi, and mango slices, which had been arranged to resemble a flower. It was, she thought, almost too pretty to eat. And speaking of eating…

“I could call down for something more substantial if you’d like breakfast.”

“Thanks, but I already ate at Bon Temps before coming over here.”

“I didn’t realize the restaurant served breakfast.”

“It doesn’t. But I’m staying there, in the office, for the time being, so I raided Sax’s refrigerator and made up a mess of grits, red beans, and poached eggs.”

“That’s very ambitious.” She also found it curious that he’d be camping out in his brother’s office, but, after last night, didn’t want to pry. “And I’m impressed you can cook.”

“Cooking’s pretty much a guy thing in the Cajun culture. Our dad taught us, and his dad taught him. I was never as much into it as Sax was, but months on end eating MREs bring home the importance of being able to feed yourself.”

“Nora and Gran were always the cooks while I was growing up. During college, and now, in California, I’m afraid I’ve become a whiz at dialing for takeout.”

“Too bad you’re not going to be hanging around longer. Maddy Chaffee, who used to be Maddy Durand, is opening up a cooking school here in town at her grandmother’s farm.”

“Chef Madeline lives here?” Just because Mary didn’t cook didn’t mean she wasn’t addicted to the Cooking Network. “I’m a huge fan. But I thought she lived in New York.”

“She did. But there was this scandal—”

“I heard about that.”

“Yeah, you and it seems everyone else on the planet. So, she dumped the cheating French chef husband and married a guy she dated when he’d spend summers here. We all hung out together growing up. She’s catering Sax’s wedding in a couple days.”

He drained the cup and put it back on the tray. “Want to go?”

The question, tossed out so casually, confused her. Did he mean leave the suite for the parade? Or was he actually asking her to the wedding?

No. He
had
to be talking about the parade.

She glanced down at her robe. “I realize Shelter Bay has a more casual dress code than some cities, but I doubt they’d be all that pleased for their grand marshal to show up in a robe.”

“I was talking about the wedding.”

Okay. That was a surprise.

“You want me to go with you?”

“It only makes sense. Since I’m supposed to be
watching out for you. It’s not a big deal,” he assured her. “Just a few close friends and family. The only reason they’re rushing it is Kara’s mom’s a doctor with this medical relief organization, and with all the stuff happening in the world, this was the only time window she had open.”

“Are you certain Kara won’t mind?” Mary had met her briefly at the reception last night, before she’d been called away.

“Like I said, she’s the one who hooked us up in the first place. Why would she mind?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family situation.”

“They like you. You like them. Makes sense.”

When he put it that way…

“I’d enjoy sharing your family’s special day. Thank you.”

Mary’s mind sped into overdrive. She’d have to find a gift, since no way was she going to show up empty-handed. And she’d need something to wear, because she refused to wear Leon’s movie-star clothes, which would look as if she were trying to upstage the bride on her big day. But first there was something even more important she needed to do.

“About last night,” she said. “I need to apologize.”

J.T. dragged his gaze from the droplets of water on that little V of fragrant skin revealed by the neckline of the bulky white robe. “For what?”

“About sounding as if I were prying into your life. As I said, I have this flaw of wanting to know everything about people. I suppose it’s something we writers do instinctively. Gathering little bits and threads to weave into the tapestry of our stories.

“If it helps, it wasn’t anything personal. I’ve never met a Marine before. Let alone someone who was tasked with as gut-wrenching a mission as death notification must have been. So I apologize if, in my interest to know more, I overlooked any No Trespassing signs.”

Hell. She appeared honestly chagrined. It wasn’t as if she’d waterboarded him. For some reason, although he’d never discussed his last assignment with anyone, even his brothers, he’d given up the information, including those damn scrapbooks and photo albums, voluntarily. Which, J.T. reminded himself, as he suddenly found himself thinking of
sirens and temptation, made this sweet-smelling Irish actress even more dangerous.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just that I don’t usually talk about those days.” Usually being never.

“People are always telling me things,” she said mildly. “I’ve no idea why, though Kate, who’s my sister Nora’s best friend, insists it’s because I have a touch of the sight.”

“So, you’re saying you’re clairvoyant?”

He damn well hoped she hadn’t been able to read his mind when he’d been thinking about stripping that short tight dress off her, carrying her into that honeymoon suite, and doing what millions of guys probably all fantasized about while watching her movies. Even knowing that she’d been wearing a body stocking in the nude scenes didn’t make her any less desirable.

Like it or not, they were stuck with each other until the end of the festival. If she knew that at this moment all he could think about was what she was—or wasn’t—wearing beneath that thick white robe, she might be uncomfortable.

Which, in turn, would upset Kara.

Which would have Sax throwing him into the bay again.

“No. I don’t believe so, though I do get a sense of people from time to time.” She frowned into her coffee. “And occasionally have dreams that seem very real.” A bit of color rose in her cheeks, making him wish he could read
her
mind. “But that’s more women’s intuition than any powers of clairvoyance. I’m nothing like Kate MacKenna, who’s an actual druid witch.”

She lifted her gaze again and smiled. A smile that
he noted didn’t quite reach her eyes. “If I could foretell the future, I wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck whenever I had a film coming out.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

She tilted her head. “And why would that be?”

Because he doubted if she’d ever had an insecure moment in her life. And why should she? When you looked like Mary Joyce, and were rich, intelligent, and talented to boot, the world was probably pretty much your oyster.

“You’ve got to know your work is good.”

“Ah. If it were only that simple.” She sighed, glanced down at her watch, and stood up. “I’d better get ready. Hopefully we’ll be able to run by that boutique I saw yesterday between the parade and the first showing.”

“We’re going shopping?”

Just when he was thinking this might not be the mission from hell. Why didn’t they just take him out and keelhaul him?

She patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, Marine. I’ve been told I shop like a man. We’ll go in, I’ll bag some more suitable clothes, and we’ll be on our way.”

She was laughing as she left the suite’s living room.

Although it had taken a herculean effort, Ethan had managed to conceal the anger that had surged through him when Kara had told him and Phoebe about her abusive husband’s escape. He’d seen for himself, that day he’d met her in the kitchen of Haven House, the mark the man’s hand had left on her face.

And he knew, from the way she’d first behaved, like a nervous, wounded bird, that as bad as the physical abuse must have been, the beating her psyche had taken was much, much worse.

Although the transformation hadn’t been overnight, she’d begun to rediscover the girl she’d once been. He’d watched her blossoming like a wildflower opens to the sun. And now the bastard was going to try to take that away.

Over his dead body.

But Phoebe didn’t need his anger. What she needed, he’d reminded himself, was his support. And, even though she’d argued against it, his protection.

He’d already lost one woman he’d loved. In that
case, there’d been no way to protect Mia against that SUV whose driver had taken a curve on the winding coast road too fast, crossed the center line, and, in that one moment of recklessness, cost him both a wife and a son.

This time, he vowed, he would do whatever it took to keep Phoebe safe. Which meant making sure he stayed calm and collected enough that she wouldn’t pick up on any vibes that would make her feel uncomfortable staying with him until the cops caught the bastard.

So, he’d driven her to the farm, made her some chamomile tea from a collection Sofia De Luca had given him last Christmas, shown her the guest bedroom and adjoining bath, and managed to escape without embarrassing either one of them by dragging her down onto that mattress and doing what he’d been fantasizing about for too many weeks.

He’d waited until he heard her soft breathing and knew she had gone to sleep. Then went outside to the small office he’d built in the barn, and put his fist through the wall.

After a mostly sleepless night, during which time Ethan was all too aware of Phoebe sleeping in the next room, he pushed himself out of bed at dawn and went out to tend to the milking. Although the dairy operation was fully automated, which was a big change from when he’d been a kid and was expected to milk by hand, he’d always found the early-morning routine a relaxing way to begin the day.

Not this day.

He’d reminded himself of those guys who came home from the war and couldn’t stop prowling their
yards looking for bad guys. In their cases, the bad guys were in their heads, which was tough enough.

His bad guy was all too real. And he was coming after Ethan’s woman.