A Holiday Romance (8 page)

The chorizo sausages were somewhat familiar, bringing her back to winter mornings on the island when she was a child. Ocean wind rattling the windowpanes. The house chilly. But the kitchen was always warm, with her mother at the stove making breakfast and Alice at the table with Jay. They were usually teasing each other, squabbling back and forth until the food arrived. Stacks of blueberry pancakes, real maple syrup warmed in a battered saucepan, piles of hot, spicy sausage cakes.

Alice looked out across the golf course. The emerald-green grass was cut here and there with sand traps, which curved into question marks. A border of towering
palms with upthrust fronds looked like the frazzled paintbrushes her students had used in the classroom.

Four years after Alice had moved back to the island, so did Jay. He’d given up lobstering after his divorce to become a sort of nouveau hippie vegan potter, claiming his surname was Destiny. His ten-year-old daughter and three-year-old twin boys spent part of their summers on Osprey in happy squalor at Jay’s bachelor digs.

As their mother’s disease had spread, he’d spelled Alice during the worst periods, giving her some relief from the strain. That had been a help, along with having the children near their grandmother. Alice was the loving aunt, the one who stopped by with new storybooks and took the kids on picnics and babysat whenever Jay needed her. She’d enjoyed it, except for the uncomfortable feeling that she’d settled too easily into spinsterhood.

“Well, well, look what I found. Miss Alice Potter, sitting here all by herself.”

“But, oh, you look so pretty in that sun hat,” a second woman put in breathlessly.

Mags and Mary Grace from the condos. Alice had crossed their gang’s path several times since her arrival but always had a horseback ride or lunch to get to.

The gaudy colors in Mags’s kaftan clashed with the orange-red of her boisterous curls. “Darling Alice.” Her eyes skimmed the otherwise empty patio table. “How are you enjoying your vacation?”

“Very much. Although I confess I’m a little homesick this morning.”

“Buck up, toots,” Harriet Humbert said briskly as she joined their group. “We’ll take care of that.”

Oh, dear.
Warily Alice tilted up the brim of the floppy
straw hat she’d bought in one of the resort gift shops. “You’re all dressed up.”

Mags twirled her long strings of wooden and turquoise beads. “We’ve a wedding to attend.”

“A wedding.” Of course—the cake. “How wonderful that you’re invited.”

Harrie gave a husky laugh. “Who said we’re invited?”

Mary Grace raised a finger to her lips. “Harrie. Hush.”

Harrie crossed her stringy brown arms over a belted fuschia safari jacket. She wore matching walking shorts with orange Crocs. “We’re wedding crashers, not felons.”

Mary Grace was turning pink around the edges. She giggled nervously. “The boys refuse to join us.”

“But you look like a gal with a sense of adventure.” Harrie eyed Alice. “Want to come?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Heh.” Harrie raised her eyebrow skeptically. “Got another lesson?”

“No, but…” Alice was dismayed by her lack of daring. Did she need to take lessons on how to have fun, too?

The thought of the wedding cake put her over the top. She’d love to snap a photo of it on display. Her camera was in her bag.

“All right,” she said after one last scan of the remaining guests and the picked-over buffet table. No sign of Kyle. “Why not?”

“Atta girl,” Harrie crowed.

The trio led Alice around to an area of the resort she hadn’t yet seen, an immense formal garden with covered terraces at several levels and adjacent parking. A spacious gazebo with white lacy fretwork was the focal point. Rows of occupied chairs fanned out on either
side of a paved path covered with a long white runner. The floral arrangements that dressed up the area were already wilting in the hot sun.

“We’re late,” Harrie whispered hoarsely as they slipped into chairs in the last row.

“We always take the bride’s side at the indoor ceremonies,” Mags confided to Alice. “More of a crowd to blend with. But the outdoor weddings are less formal.” She settled herself and gazed at the gazebo, where the bride and groom were exchanging vows, flanked by attendants. “We’re lucky it’s so cool today.”

Eleven in the morning and probably a hundred degrees, even in the shade. That was not cool to Alice.

Several people had turned to examine the late arrivals. One man stared suspiciously. Alice fixed her gaze on the members of the wedding party, copying Mags’s innocent expression until the awkward moment had passed. Surreptitiously she wiped away the beads of sweat where her hat met her hairline.

Despite Harrie’s occasional caustic aside, spoken out of the corner of her mouth like she was in a spy movie, Alice lost herself in the tradition of the exchange of vows. The beautiful words, the linked hands, the couple speaking from the heart.

“Lovely.” Mary Grace sighed as the bride and groom kissed.

“Preggo,” said Harrie. And indeed, the bride did appear to be somewhat rotund around the middle. That might explain the hot-as-Hades July wedding.

“Oh, dear,” Alice said. “Here they come.” She ducked beneath her brim as the guests rose to applaud the perspiring newlyweds parading down the aisle.

“That was a good one,” Mags said after the couple
had gone by. She looked at Alice with a honeyed sympathy. “You’ve never tied the knot?”

“Not yet.”

“Three times for me,” Harrie put in. “But never as fancy as this. I’m a justice-of-the-peace gal.”

“I want a real church wedding,” Alice said, surprising herself. She hadn’t thought much about weddings since her one and only shot at tying the knot had unraveled.

“Something small, but nice,” she added, thinking of a simple ceremony in the rustic white clapboard church on Osprey Island. Handpicked bouquets, friends and family, a cake she’d baked and frosted herself.

Uh-huh. All she needed was a groom.

Harrie winked. “White dress?”

“Or ivory.” Alice tried not to sound defensive. She was only thirty-four. No longer the dewy virginal type, but not past the age when a white dress was inappropriate.

“Don’t worry,” Harrie said. “You’ve got it going on. You’re still a hot young babe.”

“But you’d better not wait
too
long.” Mags craned her neck, eager to join the milling crowd.

Alice was happy to change the subject. “What do we do next?”

“On to the reception, of course.” Harrie rubbed her gnarled hands. “This is the fun part.”

“How can we possibly…?” Alice looked at the stirring crowd. Although it was sizable, her companions had a way of standing out.

“Confidence,” Mags said. “If we act like we belong, no one questions us.”

“Personally, I welcome the curiosity. Gives me a chance to brush up old skills.” With a wink, Harrie joined the stream of guests moving toward the terraces,
where tables and chairs had been set out beneath oscillating fans. “If anyone asks, I’m the groom’s great-aunt Gertrude, just back from an archaeology dig in Egypt.” She and Mags marched off.

“Smile and keep moving,” Mary Grace advised Alice as she took her arm.

Alice nodded, also planning to avoid all eye contact. “I’m only staying for a few minutes.” Long enough to see the cake.

They skipped the receiving line and went directly to where the white-jacketed staff from the resort circulated with tall frosty mimosas and Bellinis. Alice was parched and took one gratefully, if guiltily.

She moved to the edge of the top terrace where an immense fan blasted cool air that lifted the damp hair clinging to her neck. Air-conditioning the outdoors? Now that was luxury.

The bride and groom were out of sight. She felt foolish for hoping to catch sight of them again.

Glass doors opened off the terrace to an indoor reception room busy with activity as final touches were being made to the wedding breakfast. The cake would be in there. Sidling closer, Alice got a glimpse of it, set up on a festooned table at the back of the room.

A commotion distracted her from creeping closer. Somewhere among the guests, Mags was saying in an insulted voice, “I have
never
…”

Alice’s stomach dropped toward her knees. Mary Grace scurried out of the crowd, her round face bright pink beneath her silver hair. She pulled on Alice’s arm. “We’d better go.”

Alice put down her drink. “What’s happening?”

The wedding guests parted; Kyle Jarreau appeared.
He escorted Mags and Harrie in a way that might have seemed benign if Alice hadn’t noticed the grip he’d locked around their elbows.

“Honestly,” Mags was blustering, “this is absurd. Of course we were invited.” Harrie only grinned, enjoying the upset.

Alice exchanged a look with Mary Grace. She wished she hadn’t hesitated at the woman’s first warning.

Kyle stopped at the sight of her. “
Alice.
Not you, too?”

“I, uh, came to see the cake.”

“I came for the champagne.” Harrie held up a glass. “It’s delish.”

Kyle’s jaw tightened. “Put that down and come along. All of you.”

Mary Grace and Alice followed meekly as he marched the other two women out of the wedding reception. Once they were beyond earshot and eyesight, he dropped his hands. “Ladies. Never again, do you understand? This is your final warning.”

“Aw, hell,” Harrie said, “we didn’t harm anybody.”

“No? The management has had complaints.”

“Complaints? Why would there be complaints?” Mags said loftily. “What nonsense. I make an exemplary wedding guest.”

“Only when you’re invited.” Kyle shooed them along. “Try this again and I’ll be forced to employ security to keep you out.”

Only Alice seemed cowed. Harrie was practically capering. “Security to keep a few little old ladies out of a wedding party. What a hoot! I never heard of such a thing.”

“You’re an exceptional case.” Kyle’s scowl deepened. “Incorrigible woman.”

Alice detected a thread of humor in his tone and felt much better.

The three women went off in high spirits, no doubt to gloat to the rest of the Cocktail Shakers about being kicked out of the reception by the head honcho himself. Alice and Kyle strolled more leisurely.

“You’ve been corrupted,” he accused her.

She crossed her arms, holding on to herself. Crashing the wedding had been a small thing, but she felt different inside, as bubbly and light as the finest champagne.

“My corruption might be a good thing,” she said, ready to float away.

Was she high after one mimosa?

Kyle let the comment pass. “How did you get roped into their scheme?”

“It was what I said. I only wanted to see the cake.” Alice remembered her goopy reaction to the wedding. A blush crept into her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I mean, I’ve never done…never been the type to, you know, flout convention.”

“Never mind. You didn’t rob a bank.” He nodded toward the other women, disappearing around a corner. “I was trying to put a scare into them.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure it worked. They don’t seem to recognize my authority.”

“They
are
sort of undaunted.”

“You might want to keep your distance.”

“What for? I’m already corrupted.” Alice laughed. “Never fear, I can handle myself.” Which was a disingenuous thing to say when she’d almost panicked at being caught crashing the wedding. She was a boringly law-abiding citizen and probably always would be, but
Kyle didn’t have to know that. “I’ve been in my share of trouble.”

“Like what? Illegal photocopying of knitting patterns?”

She inhaled with a gulp. “Ooh.” She touched him with her elbow. “Low blow.”

Kyle glanced sidelong at her. His smile came easily, creasing the corners of his eyes and making him seem less forbidding. “Sorry. I’m sure you’ve caused all sorts of mayhem in your time.”

“Humph. My time’s not over yet.”

“I can see that.”

He’d stopped and looked at her—in an intriguingly thoughtful way—but she kept walking, putting a skip in her step as she whirled around to face him. She called, “I’ve got to run! I’ve got another lesson before the sunset trail ride,” while continuing to move backward, without looking, without knowing, for once, exactly where she was headed.

“M
AY
I
HELP YOU, MA’AM
?
Are you looking for something special?”

Alice faced the salesclerk, a girl too young to look so polished. “Not quite this special.”

Everything on the racks seemed to demand a gold or platinum card, but Alice was strictly a standard-issue creditor. “I’m looking for something casual, but slightly
dressy, you know? None of the new things I brought with me seem right.”

“What’s the dress for?”

“Dinner.”

The girl’s gaze swung to the expensive racks.

“An informal dinner,” Alice said firmly. “At least I think so. I know we’re not going to any of the hotel restaurants.” Denver had been definite about that, probably because they weren’t supposed to go out together at all. “There might also be dancing.” He’d mentioned music.

“Country music? Line-dancing? That sort of thing?”

“Probably, but I don’t know for sure.” Alice lifted her shoulders. “You see the problem. I need a nice, versatile outfit.” She cast a longing look at the slinky, sexy, expensive garments. Denver was the casual type, but maybe if it’d been
Kyle
who’d asked her out…

“Separates might be the way to go.” The clerk’s gaze traveled up and down Alice. “Size six?”

“Eight.”

“Skirt or pants?”

“Probably a skirt. I’m afraid pants wouldn’t look right if he takes me to a nicer place.” Except that Denver seemed like a beers-at-the-bar kind of date. What would she do if he showed up in jeans?

Thirty minutes later, after much debate, the clerk had solved Alice’s dilemma with a pair of dressy black pants, a matching lightweight cardigan in case the air-conditioning was chilly and a tank top the color of a purple pansy. A delicate beaded design at the neckline added a touch of sparkle.

While folding the garments into tissue, the clerk’s eyes lighted on a display of strappy sandals with impossible heels. “What about footwear?”

The amount on the register’s digital readout was already frighteningly high. Alice shook her head. “No, thanks. I have sandals.” Low-heeled, which was necessary. The group trail ride and then yesterday’s beginner rock-climbing outing had given her a new set of sore muscles. Even a long walk around the grounds that morning hadn’t completely unkinked her. Perhaps because she’d spent half the walk parked on benches in the shade.

“Jewelry?”

“This is fine.” She pulled out her credit card, promising herself that there’d be no other large charges. The traveler’s checks she’d brought along would have to suffice, even if that meant she’d have to forgo her journey through the entire dessert menu.

Walking out of the boutique with one of the signature shopping bags bearing the Prince Montez crest made Alice feel as if she truly belonged among the high-class clientele. She swung the bag gaily, too busy goggling at a coterie of new arrivals to watch where she was going.

She bounced off an older woman’s solid body. “Sorry!” Alice said, turning so quickly she stumbled. Her shopping bag fell, spilling everything she’d bought across the tiles.

“Let me help,” said the woman she’d bumped into.

They knelt and gathered the packages. The woman lingered over the beaded top before refolding the tissue. “Nice threads. Got a date?”

Alice nodded.

“I’m Lani. Kyle Jarreau’s secretary.”

“Yes, I remember.” Alice offered her hand. “Alice Potter.”

Lani looked across the lobby at the boutique, one of
several upscale shops in the complex. Her lips pursed. “I shouldn’t say this.”

The back of Alice’s neck tingled.

Lani gave a quick glance over her shoulder. “I love the boutiques here, but their markups are ridiculous. You’re better off shopping in Phoenix or Scottsdale.”

“I didn’t want to take the time. I’m going out—” Alice had followed Lani’s last glance “—tonight.”

Kyle was there. Suited up and talking in serious tones with a couple who reeked of privilege. A bellman wheeled past a cart loaded with Gucci luggage worth a schoolteacher’s annual salary.

For a second, Kyle’s eyes skimmed across Alice. His expression and posture didn’t change. She might have believed that he hadn’t noticed her at all if not for the hot-and-cold shiver along her spine.

“Fast work,” said Lani.

Alice tore her attention away from Kyle. “Me?” She blushed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m serious. There aren’t a lot of single available men around this joint, especially this time of year. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

“I’ve noticed the lack,” Alice said, relieved. “Younger men, that is, like under seventy.”

“All too soon that won’t be a deterrent for me.” Lani touched her silver-streaked black curls. “Too bad the staff is off-limits.”

“Yes,” Alice said, uncertain if the secretary referred to herself.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Gulp.
Alice didn’t have the nerve to tell Lani a lie, even if she’d been able to come up with one. Did she dare tell? Denver hadn’t said they needed to keep the
date a secret. “Oh, well, it’s…Denver.” She searched her memory. “I guess he never said his last name. But you must know him. The cowboy who works in the stables?”

“Denver.” Lani blinked. “Sure, I know him.” She looked at Kyle. “Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought he’s your type.”

“I don’t have a type. Denver asked me to go out for dinner and maybe listen to some music, so I said yes.” In fact, he’d turned his full charm on her during the trail ride, to the point of a fireside serenade. She’d been flattered and had said yes, even if that meant Denver would be flouting company policy.

She could ask Lani not to tell, but Denver was a big boy. He knew what he was doing.

So did Alice. The taboo lent an air of danger to the date, which played right into her new persona.

“I realize he’s a cowboy Casanova,” she said, to get that much straight. She wasn’t naive. “I’m not expecting anything except a good time.”

“Of course. I understand, even if
some
people might not.”

Although Lani didn’t look at Kyle again, Alice knew he was the someone. But why? Was it the fraternization rule that they were so obviously flouting, or was Lani hinting that Kyle really would be jealous?

Alice preferred the latter.

Laughter built up inside her. At home, she’d never have encouraged two men at once. The only playing with hearts she’d done had been card games with her mother.

Kyle had concluded his conversation. He caught Lani’s eye. “You have fun,” she said to Alice, giving her a wink. “I’ll be discreet.”

Discreet? Alice opened her mouth, but all that came
out was “Uh…” There was no way to say that she hoped to make Kyle consider her as more than a guest. On the other hand, she didn’t want to get Denver into trouble.

“Must run,” Lani said. “The boss probably has a list of special requests from Mr. and Mrs. Fancypants.”

Alice fumbled with the string handles of her shopping bag, holding off from looking at Kyle again until he and Lani had reached the elevators. She didn’t want to see the professional distance in his eyes. Or worse, disinterest.

But she needn’t have worried. He didn’t even glance at her.

She turned away with a sigh. There was always Denver, and her new clothes. But somehow the gloss was gone from the evening out. Kyle would disapprove, but only professionally.

K
YLE DIDN’T
give in until the end of the day. With deliberate intent, he strolled to the outer office and sat himself on the corner of Lani’s desk. Nothing odd there. They often wrapped up the day that way, going over tomorrow’s agenda. Lani would tell him what she’d planned for her evening and twitter at him about the emptiness of his own.

“So,” he said, fiddling with his tie, “did you find that particular brand of sparkling water Mrs. Symon requested?”

“I did. Imported from the Swiss Alps at about a jillion dollars per case. It’s being couriered from Phoenix as we speak, gently cradled in a bed of chipped ice.”

“Good work.”

“I’m afraid the genuine Arctic ice was a no go.” Lani smiled serenely and handed Kyle a letter to sign. He used her pen to do it, leaning on one arm, looming omi
nously above her as she folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He drew back. “What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t even read the letter.” She sniffed. “One typo in three years and still you always read every word.” She applied a stamp and dropped the letter into the out basket. “But not this time.”

“That was a lapse. It won’t happen again.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I hope not. I might get the idea that you trust me.”

“Lani—”

“Stuff it.” She poked at his thigh. “What’s on your mind, boss?”

“Nothing. Oh, maybe the Symons. You know they’re in tight with several members of the board. Including Walmsley, the head of the review committee. Their stay must be perfect. The wife is already bitching because she hates being here in the off-season.”

“The staff is fully informed and on the case. The princess won’t feel a single pea through her hundred-thousand-thread-count sheets.”

He looked around the office. “So.”

Lani tapped a shiny nail against her chin. “So?”

“Oh, hell.” He stood. “Go ahead, get out of here.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Have a good night.”

He thrust his fists into his pockets and stood there glowering while Lani made her preparations to depart. He would’ve sworn she took twice as long as usual.

“I couldn’t decide if I should tell you,” she said finally, turning back from the door. “But Denver has a date.”

Kyle recoiled, as if she’d landed an unexpected uppercut. “Denver? Why are you bringing
him
up?”

“Isn’t that what was on your mind?”

“You know it wasn’t.” Dread leached beneath his skin. “Wait. Why are you telling me that?”

Lani’s voice went soft and quiet. “The date’s with Alice Potter.”

“T
HAT WAS FUN
.”
Alice slipped her hand out of Denver’s and surreptitiously wiped her sweaty palm on the jacket wadded in her lap. She could have blamed the heat, but she knew she was nervous because of the man beside her. He’d been touching her all evening: stroking her hair, tracing a finger along her collarbone, holding her close, holding her hand. Holding her attention because she’d never been out with a man as handsome and glib as Denver.

The attention amused her. Even aroused her. But it was too much for her to handle.

“I don’t get out dancing very often,” she confessed. They were returning to the resort from Scottsdale.

“You did fine.” Denver took his eyes off the road and flashed her a grin. “Once I got a couple of beers in you.”

That was true. Worrying about getting caught breaking the rules had made her stiff and uncomfortable until the alcohol had loosened her joints. If she hadn’t stopped at two, the touching and squeezing might have been more welcome. Even returned. As it was, the thought of the moment when he’d try to kiss her was melting her into a puddle of uncertainty.

She wanted his kiss, and yet she didn’t.

Alice tilted her head back, trying to find a draft. The air-conditioning was on, but it didn’t seem to put out more than a tepid stream. Denver might play a cowboy for the guests, but he drove a well-used Ford Fiesta, not a pickup.

“I don’t drink a lot, either,” she said.

“Damn, girl. What
do
you do?”

“Let’s see.” Life on the island seemed very distant. “I bicycle and bird-watch. I read a lot and hold game nights and movie nights for friends and family. I garden a bit. I’ve been collecting shells since I was a kid and sometimes I make artsy-craftsy things with them that I sell at the local gift shop.” She squinted an eye at him. “Not very exciting, is it?”

Although Denver withheld comment, she could guess his opinion. He’d been greeted at the bar by a crowd of rowdy revelers. Throughout the evening, tales of his cussin’, drinkin’ and fightin’ had flown fast and thick.

“Got a boyfriend back home?” he asked.

“Two of them. But nothing serious.”