No Sunshine When She's Gone (6 page)

The door opened before she could ring the bell. A woman with curly blond hair and a warm smile welcomed them. She wore a yellow tank top and cutoff jeans. Her feet were bare. “Jill and Carrie, I presume,” she said, shaking their hands, and then motioning them inside. “I’m Shaye. So glad you could join Trace and me for supper. James Lawless speaks so highly of you.”

“We’re excited to be here,” said Carrie.

“We’ll be calling Barefoot William home for the next year,” added Jill.

Shaye took the salad bowl from Carrie. “You’ll love our town,” she said. “I travel with Trace on occasion, and whether we’re away for a day or a week, I can’t wait to get back to the beach. I will always have sand between my toes.”

She led them into an enormous foyer. Two glass-enclosed staircases rose on either side of the entrance hall, connecting to the second story landing area with a wide balcony. The cream marble floor was richly polished.

“You have a beautiful home,” Jill complimented as she and Carrie followed Shaye down a long hallway.

“The house was a wedding gift from my brother Aidan,” she said easily. “His construction company started with residential homes before he turned to commercial buildings. We trusted Aidan with the architectural plans, and he added a lot of extras. Trace and I love it here.”

This was a house that Aidan had built
. Jill’s jaw dropped. His company did amazing work. She was impressed. The living room looked out over the Gulf and seemed to stretch forever. The furniture was formal yet comfortable and blended soft buttery leathers with overstuffed chairs and ottomans.

A three-tiered bird cage sat in one corner of the room. A gray parrot perched on a swing. It bobbed its head, fluttered its wings, and set the swing in motion.
“Company’s here,”
the parrot squawked as they passed.

Shaye stopped near the cage. “How’s my favorite girl?” she asked.

“Hanging in,”
the parrot replied.

“Meet Olive, my very vocal Quaker,” Shaye said. “She just turned five.”

“Happy Birthday to me!”

“She’s social, intelligent, and has a big vocabulary,” Shaye added. “She can’t keep a secret and mimics what she hears.”

“I’m a smarty pants,”
said Olive.

“That she is,” Shaye agreed. “Don’t say anything around her that you wouldn’t want repeated. I swear she can hear through walls.”

“Time for a quickie,”
came from Olive.

Shaye’s cheeks pinkened. “Enough said.”

Jill couldn’t help but grin. If Olive could be believed, then Trace and Shaye had gotten busy before they’d arrived. The parrot liked to gossip.

Olive cocked her head and asked,
“Who you?”

Jill stood before the cage. “I’m Jill,” she said.

“Carrie.” Her friend joined her.

“Olive is good with faces,” Shaye said. “She’ll remember your names. She recognizes every family member and most of our friends.”

“Like Aidan best.”

Shaye laughed. “My brother spoils her.”

“He loves me.”

Shaye nodded. “That he does. His work takes him out of town, but when he’s home, he spends a lot of time with her.”

“Gifts, gifts!”

“Aidan always brings her a special present,” Shaye explained. “Olive gets all fluttery and excited. She screeches when she sees him.”

Jill took it all in. She and Olive had something in common. Aidan made her heart beat faster, too. She looked forward to seeing him again. Under better circumstances.

The Quaker gave a long-suffering sigh.
“Olive hungry.”
She sounded pitiful, as if she were starving.

Shaye tapped the tin food bowl hooked on one side of the cage. “You have sunflower seeds,” she said.

Olive blew raspberries.
“Orange, please.”

“Nice manners,” said Shaye.

“Thank you.”

“Hope you don’t mind,” Shaye said to her guests as she rolled back one corner of the Saran Wrap on the glass bowl. Oranges made up a layer of the salad and she selected a small piece. She slid the fruit between the bars.

“Juicy.”
Olive took the orange in her beak and made a sucking sound.

Jill couldn’t help but grin. “She sounds human.” Shaye smiled, too. “She can throw her voice, and often sounds like me. Trace has sworn I was in the house when I wasn’t even home. Olive is that good.”

To prove her talent, the parrot finished her bite of orange and said,
“Love you, babe,”
sounding just like Shaye.

“Love you, too,” said Shaye before continuing down the hallway. Jill and Carrie followed her.

A wall of sliding-glass doors opened onto a wide gray slate patio. Shaye drew back one of the sliders and waved to the tall, dark-haired man attending an enormous outdoor kitchen. Jill had never seen anything like it. She stood and stared, awed by the sight.

Shaped in a horseshoe, a commercial stainless steel grill with access doors anchored the male cooking realm. A double burner and storage and warming drawers spread to the left, and a beverage area with an outdoor refrigerator, ice machine, and sink and faucet curved to the right. It was a man’s grilling heaven.

“Trace,” Shaye called to her husband, who wore a white chef’s apron over his blue short-sleeve button-down and navy slacks. “Come and meet Jillian Mac and Carrie Waters.”

Trace added more charcoal to the grill, then approached them. After shaking their hands, he put his arm around his wife and pulled her to him. He kissed the top of her head, then commented on the glass bowl she was holding. “Nice salad. It will go great with the chicken and ribs.”

“Tonight is informal,” Shaye said as she slipped from her husband’s side and crossed to the refrigerator. She opened the door and set the salad on the top shelf. “Select something to drink,” she encouraged. “There are pitchers of peach iced tea and pink lemonade, soft drinks, and beer. Glasses are in the cabinet above the sink. Help yourself.”

Jill looked to Carrie. “Iced tea?” She knew her friend’s preference. When Carrie nodded, Jill went to get their drinks.

She was bent over, her back to the group, when a deep male voice cut through the twilight, followed by heavy footsteps. “Sweet sister, I hope you have enough food for a couple of uninvited guests,” the man said. “We don’t come empty-handed. I have farmers’ market corn and sweet potatoes. Mike picked up dessert from the bakery. Sadie came along for the ride.”

Jill nearly toppled over. She clutched the refrigerator door for support.
No, it couldn’t be. Not three times in one day!
However, a glance over her shoulder confirmed Aidan Cates’s approach. She’d had no idea he’d be coming to dinner, but then neither had Shaye or Trace, given their surprised expressions.

Fate had played her, she realized. She’d wanted to put her best foot forward and favorably impress the Saunders family. She’d hoped to appear competent and capable and worthy of fitting into their community. Unfortunately, Aidan could blow her good intentions.

She stood and forced a calm she didn’t feel.

She knew Aidan, but wondered who Mike might be.

And who was Sadie? His date?

“Aidan!” Shaye came to give him a hug. He handed over his contributions to their dinner. “I heard you were in town,” she continued. “Dune sent a text that he’d seen you at the psychic fair with Lila, and that you were getting a reading. I figured you would show up eventually for a meal. Tonight is fine.”

Aidan frowned. The psychic fair and the accompanying reading were best forgotten. He only wished he could get the brunette out of his head, yet she stuck with him. He might never see her again, and for some reason, that bothered him. They had unfinished business. In his thirty-five years, no woman had refused to give him her name. Not until today. He didn’t like evasive women. He appreciated truthful and straightforward females.

“It’s Thursday and traditionally Trace’s night to barbecue,” Aidan said to his sister. “His ribs are legendary.”

His brother-in-law joined them. “Good to see you, man.” The men bumped fists, thumped each other on the back. “We’ve got guests, but you’re welcome, too.”

“Guests?” Aidan felt bad he hadn’t called ahead of time. “We can come back tomorrow.”

“Not a chance,” Shaye assured him. “You’re here, you’re staying.”

“You’re sure?” He didn’t want to impose.

“Your timing is perfect, actually,” Trace stated. “You can meet Jillian Mac and Carrie Waters. The ladies are with the Rogues Organization. They manage community affairs.”

“Ladies, come and meet my brother Aidan.” Shaye motioned to the two women. “He’s the contractor for the spring training facility. You’ll be working closely together.”

Aidan had been so focused on Shaye and Trace that he hadn’t noticed the twilight silhouettes near the refrigerator. A second later, the automatic timer for the pathway and landscape lights clicked on, illuminating the patio. That’s when he saw
her,
the psychic imposter. He felt sucker punched.

This had to be a joke; that was the first thought that ran through his mind. He had hoped to see her again, but not under further pretense. Yet there she stood, staring at him, her expression closed, as if they’d never met. Once again she was pretending to be someone she was not. He was sure of it. There was no way she worked for the ball club. She was too damn flighty.

Shaye was not easily fooled, yet somehow this woman had pulled a fast one on his sister. The lady owed them an explanation. He would get answers.

The shorter of the two women approached him now. She was wholesome, pretty, and tentative. She tilted her head and gave him a shy smile. “I’m Carrie,” she said, and he noted her braces.

“Nice to meet you,” Aidan returned, keeping it friendly yet professional.

Jillian
came next. Her steps were measured and her gaze was sharp. Her expression held the right amount of interest as if meeting someone for the first time. She gave nothing away. Carrie made the introductions. “This is my boss, Jillian Mac.”

“Jillian,” he acknowledged. He liked her name. He could almost taste the woman on his tongue.

“I prefer Jill,” she returned easily. “It’s a pleasure, Aidan. I had hoped to meet you when you were in Richmond this past October, but I was away from the stadium during your visit.”

“We were involved with the local Chalk Walk,” Carrie explained. “The event brings ballplayers together with the community. Fans pay big money to produce colorful chalk pictures alongside their favorite Rogue on the sidewalks downtown. Viewers donate a few dollars to vote for their favorite drawing. All proceeds go to cancer research.”

“The team sponsors numerous events throughout the year,” Jill went on to say. “My favorite is the St. James River Canoe Race in the summer. The Rogues paddle for Homes of Hope, houses built for single mothers.”

“Jill and Carrie plan to raise fan awareness in Barefoot William,” Shaye added. “The town is already psyched for spring training next year.”

Carrie crossed her fingers, looking hopeful. “You build the stadium and we’ll fill the seats.”

“We’re pushing toward the same goal,” said Shaye as she carried the potatoes and corn to the butcher block counter near the sink. There, she washed the produce, then wrapped the vegetables in aluminum foil. She passed them to her husband, who placed them on the grill.

Aidan watched as Trace retrieved his tongs and turned the chicken and ribs. He then dipped a pastry brush in a container of sauce and spread it on thick. The sweet-tart scent of molasses, brown sugar, and a hint of vinegar drifted his way. Barbecue was a rite of summer. In his family, it was more than food; it was close to a religion.

He slowly returned his gaze to Jill. The woman knocked him off his game. Aidan wasn’t sold on the idea of their working together. However he had little choice in the matter. He scratched his chin and said, “You look familiar, Jillian.”

She dismissed him with a shrug. “I’m often mistaken for someone else. I have one of those faces, I guess.”

Aidan disagreed. There was nothing common about her. She was stunning. She didn’t look like anyone he’d ever met. Men would walk into walls, checking her out.

“I’m pretty sure I saw you on the boardwalk today,” he insisted.

“You’re mistaken.”

He refused to let up. “You didn’t attend the psychic fair? Didn’t get a reading?”
Or give a reading?

Her mouth tightened slightly. “Sorry, no.”

“You’re absolutely certain—”

“Aidan?” Shaye looked at him strangely. “Stop interrogating our guest.”

He backed off for the moment, for his sister’s sake. “My apology,” he said, not meaning it for a second.

He stared at Jill, trying to figure her out. A light breeze off the Gulf pressed her sundress to her body. The lady was slender. He liked her bare shoulders. Her arms were sleek and toned. Her breasts were high and firm. She didn’t need a bra.

A second gentle gust flattened her skirt against her belly, then snuck between her legs like the slide of a man’s hand. There was no panty line. Her bracelets jangled. She wore the same sandals she’d had on earlier that day, the pair with the missing beads. Her toenails were painted a deep purple. He liked the color.

Jill was tricky; she turned the conversation on him. “Your sister mentioned you’d met with a psychic,” she said.

“How did it go, Aidan?” Shaye asked as she started setting the round patio table that would easily seat six. She withdrew woven sea-grass placemats from a drawer, along with bright green plastic plates. Carrie assisted her, collecting matching glasses and silverware.

“People have e-mailed and phoned all afternoon,” Shaye told him. “I’ve heard only good comments on the event. Who gave you the reading?”

Aidan set his jaw. He could tell Shaye the truth, point his finger at Jillian Mac and accuse her of pretending to be psychic. The woman in question stood before him now, her gaze unwavering. Only the rapid pulse at the base of her throat gave her away. She was nervous. She expected him to out her.

She was momentarily on a solid professional footing with Shaye and Trace. She’d put on her best face with them. His sister and brother-in-law would never hold Jill’s prank against her. They would find it amusing. Shaye would praise her ingenuity for saving his ass. Trace wouldn’t give it a second thought. They were good sports.