Left Turn at Paradise Page 20

  “Does it bother you that reporters might not care what you do anymore?”

  She felt his whole body expand and deflate as he breathed in and out.

  “I guess it would be hard to go back to being anonymous after you’ve been in the spotlight for so long, even if it was mostly reflected light,” she said when he didn’t answer.

  “I don’t miss that kind of attention.”

  “But you miss what you had,” she said, her heart twisting at the thought that he still pined for Skye Malone.

  “I loved my life,” he said.

  She stiffened and tried to step back, but he grabbed her hands. “I loved my theatre, the creative energy there, all the people I worked with. When Skye left I stopped loving it. I stopped feeling anything. That’s what I miss—the feeling of being alive.”

  “What about being here? I know The Paradise is nothing like your theatre in Chicago, but Greta’s special in her own way. She needs you more. We all need you more.”

  He framed her face in his hands. “Even you?”

  She knew answering would be like jumping off a cliff. So she took the step and hoped he’d catch her. “Especially me.”

  His chest expanded again. “I’m not sure you should trust me.”

  She shrugged. “One of us has to be brave.”

  “Are you calling me a coward?” he asked, one brow arching.

  “Bak bak bak.”

  His hand moved behind her neck and he urged her closer. “Careful,” he said, pressing his lips across hers. “I know you think I’m this gentle director, but I’m still a man. Issue a challenge, and I’ll take up the sword.”

  She would not be distracted. “You want to prove yourself? Then come to a party with me.”

  He paused in his exploration of her ear. “Going to a party will prove I’m not a coward?”

  She almost told him to go back where he’d been, but she had a mission. “It’s a fundraiser for the hospital. Gran isn’t up to it, so I have to go in her place, and I can’t face all those people by myself. Not with my mother’s return.”

  “So, I’d be going to keep all the gossips at bay?” he surmised. “Or would we just create our own gossip by going together?”

  “I’ll take a little speculation about our relationship, over having to endure everyone asking how I feel about my mother returning to the fold,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m a good enough liar to pretend we’re all one big happy family. Please come with me. It might even be fun. And it’s for a good cause.”

  He still looked wary, but he nodded. “When do I pick you up?”

  The air was still and warm, with a hint of dampness that never really went away in the summer, even at night. As Grayson helped her from the car, Layla was careful to allow the high slit in her dress to fall open. Grayson’s eyes went where she’d wanted them to go, and he didn’t look away, not even when he handed his keys to the valet.

  “Will I ever get a full reveal of what’s under that wrap?” he asked, placing a hand at her back to guide her inside the Country Club.

  “Patience is a virtue,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

  He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “What did I say about issuing challenges?”

  “I know, your mighty sword,” she drawled. “I’m waiting breathlessly for it, believe me.”

  They’d reached the door attendant so he didn’t have a chance to respond. She handed over her invitation, and they were ushered inside. The main ballroom of the Shellwater Key Country Club had been transformed. White silk draperies hung from the walls, and purple lights reflected off the silk, giving the whole room a soft, ethereal glow. Potted trees with twinkling lights abounded. Along one wall was a long buffet, and in the center of the room were more than two-dozen round tables shrouded in white cloths. In the middle of it all was a table with an ice sculpture of a woman holding a baby.

  “Exquisite work,” Grayson said.

  “They’re raising funds to build a new maternity center,” Layla explained as he studied the artwork.

  She didn’t get a chance to say much more to her date for the next hour because, as predicted, the citizens of Shellwater Key came to investigate their arrival. Layla and Grayson parried inquiries about their relationship with as much grace as possible. Grayson didn’t bolt either. He stayed by her side. Or rather he kept her by his side. He managed to touch her no matter where they were. A brush over her hand, pressure against her back, standing slightly behind her and resting his hand against her stomach.

  “Are you staking a claim tonight?” she asked. His fingers were currently playing in the silky curls tickling her neck, and she had to fight not to lean into his hand and purr.

  “Just taking up the sword, My Lady,” he said in his own sexy drawl.

  She mock-punched him in the shoulder. “Well, I’m hungry.”

  “Whatever My Lady requires.”

  “I’ll find a table outside. Hopefully, we can manage not to answer any questions about our future plans for at least twenty minutes.”

  He bowed his head as any humble servant would and departed for the banquet table. Layla turned to make her way outside and froze as she saw T.J. standing only a few feet away. He took a step toward her, but Tammy-Lynn appeared behind him. Layla didn’t wait for a word of warning or accusation, but spun around and pushed her way through the throngs of people.

  She didn’t stop until she burst out onto the patio. Layla forced herself to take a deep breath. Willed her body to relax. T.J. couldn’t hurt her. Tammy-Lynn didn’t matter. They were all adults now, and they could figure out how to live in the same town without killing each other.

  Eventually, Layla found a secluded table overlooking the golf course. During the day, one could see the rolling greens and azure waters of the Gulf beyond. Tonight, all she could see were the stars and a full moon.

  By the time Grayson found her a few minutes later, Layla had herself under control again. He came bearing a single plate piled high with food and two champagne glasses.

  He held two forks aloft. “For you, My Lady.”

  She smiled. “I could get used to this lady of the manor treatment.”

  Since they were outside and away from the cool air of the ballroom, she finally slipped off her wrap and hung it over the back of the chair.

  Grayson stilled, his gaze traveling softly from her face to her toes. Banked fire reflected in his eyes when he looked up again. Layla had almost forgotten what she was wearing, but now she was reminded that her dress – one of the rescued gems from her Miami condo – was a column of sapphire-blue silk that molded to her curves like a glove. The square neckline showed her assets in abundance and the back…

  He twirled his finger in a circle. “Turn around.”

  The back was…backless essentially, gathering just above her hips.

  “Good thing I didn’t catch a glimpse of this at your house,” he said, his voice like gravel.

  She decided to play. “Why?”

  “Because we never would have made it here.”

  She smiled. “See what happens when you take a chance?”

  “I’m not sure if that dress is my reward or a punishment.”

  They sat down and did manage fifteen minutes of peace, with only the occasional interruption when others stopped to say hello as they strolled along the patio. In fact, the remainder of the evening was remarkably calm. Once the initial surprise of their arrival wore off, everyone treated them normally. And no one was bold enough to ask Layla directly about Beth. They danced, they bid on items in the charity auction, and generally had an amazing time.

  As the evening began to wind down, Layla found herself regretting the end. She’d never seen Grayson so relaxed before. She loved listening to him talk about his plans for The Paradise. Loved watching the excitement rise in his eyes, the way his whole body told the story. She began to understand what he must have been like before. Before Skye broke his heart and stole his passion for his work. Layla couldn’t help but w
onder what it would feel like if he channeled that energy and passion toward her.

  She shuddered, thinking she might not survive. She might call him a coward, but she was just as terrified.

  The guests began to make their way outside. Knowing there would be a wait at the valet, Layla decided to make a trip to the ladies room. The hallway leading to the restrooms was deserted when she went in, but not when she came out. She jumped when she noticed a man waiting in the hall. Every cell in her body slowed as T.J. stepped away from the wall. She told herself not to be afraid. He couldn’t do anything to her here. There were people everywhere, including his wife.

  Still, her inner speech did little to quell the rising panic as he drew closer, blocking her escape.

  “T.J., get out of my way.”

  “This is an amazing dress,” he said, reaching out to trail a lazy finger across her midriff. “I bet you spent the whole night wondering how many men wanted to rip it off you.”

  Her stomach muscles clenched, and she grabbed his wrist. “Stop it.”

  She tried to push past him, but his arm was around her. “We’re just getting started.”

  “Let go!” She rammed her elbow into his gut, and he grunted, but his grip didn’t loosen.

  Then suddenly the clamp around her middle was gone. T.J. stumbled back, aided by a shove from Grayson.

  “You heard the lady,” Grayson said, his voice almost a growl. “Hands off.”

  “Butt out,” T.J. spat. “This is between me and Layla. We’ve got unfinished business.”

  “Your business is over. Come on, Layla, before I kill this guy.”

  T.J.’s lip curled, and then his fist swung out, clipping Grayson near his mouth. Layla cried out as Grayson stumbled back.

  Grayson touched a finger to his mouth. “Thanks,” he said, his gaze never leaving T.J.

  T.J.’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

  “For giving me an excuse to do this.”

  Grayson’s fist slammed into T.J.’s nose. Layla heard a crunch, but T.J. didn’t even have a chance to react because a second blow landed on his chin, knocking him flat.

  Layla heard a scream behind her and turned to see Tammy-Lynn. “Terrence!” Tammy-Lynn raced by in a flash of silver. She squeezed past Grayson and knelt on the floor next to her husband.

  Grayson ignored her, his focus on Layla. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded.

  Tammy-Lynn was still screaming. “What have you done? How dare you attack my husband! I should have you arrested.”

  “Go ahead,” Grayson said. “Then I can explain why I had to defend Ms. McCarthy’s honor.”

  “Honor? Layla?” Tammy-Lynn laughed. “I guess your girlfriend forgot to tell you about her reputation around here. When I tell my father—”

  “Stop it, Tammy-Lynn,” T.J. said as he struggled to his feet.

  “Oh honey, let me help you up,” Tammy-Lynn said, taking his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

  He shrugged her off. “Just shut up.”

  Grayson took Layla’s arm and hurried her away. They didn’t have to wait long for the valet to bring his car around. Layla didn’t speak on the way home, and he didn’t press. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window, trying to still her quaking limbs.

  When he pulled into her driveway, she turned to look at him. His mouth was swollen and dried blood crusted his lips.

  “You should come inside and let me clean you up,” she said.

  “I can nurse my own lip.”

  She reached for his hand. “If you’re going to play knight errant, you deserve some pampering. Besides, I don’t want to be alone yet.”

  He followed her inside. The house was dark, as both her grandmother and great-aunt were asleep.

  “Go on in the family room,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”

  She slipped into the bathroom and found a washcloth and antiseptic cream. She ran the cloth under warm water and then carried both to the family room. Grayson sat on the loveseat in the dark. Layla snapped on a lamp and went to sit next to him. His lip was definitely swollen and getting bigger.

  “That’s going to hurt in the morning.”

  “It hurts now,” he said. He tried to grin, but winced and rubbed his mouth. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been punched in the face.”

  She stroked the damp cloth over his mouth, cleaning off the blood as gently as she could. “I’m sorry you got hurt trying to defend me.”

  He reached for her wrist. “I could never be sorry for defending you.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to rescue me,” she said, self-disgust rising in her. “I should have gotten away quicker. Instead, I panicked. My brain short-circuits every time T.J. gets near me.”

  “Is T.J. the guy that attacked you?”

  She nodded and went back to cleaning his lip. “I don’t think he really would have tried anything tonight. Too many people around, but he likes rattling me.”

  “And he’s the reason you had a bad reputation back then?”

  She snorted. “No, that was all Tammy-Lynn’s doing. She spread all the rumors. T.J. just went along to save his reputation.”

  “Then I’m glad I knocked him out.”

  She laid the washcloth aside and picked up the antiseptic. “Me too. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but I like it when you go all Warrior Man.”

  “You like that I can pummel another guy?”

  She grinned as she swiped a dab of cream on the cut. “I know, not very modern-woman of me. I guess we females still want a man who can defend the castle.”

  He took her wrist again, but this time to kiss each finger. “Guess I’m not a modern man, either. When I saw him holding you, I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands.”

  She shivered. “You say the sexiest things.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What?”

  He angled his chin in her direction. “Don’t you think the fair maiden should give the warrior a reward? A kiss to make it better?”

  She smiled into his eyes. “Well, since you really did take up a sword for me.”

  She leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then another and another and another. Until he released a soft groan and took over, gathering her against his side and angling her head for a proper kiss.

  “Ow…ouch…da…” He pulled back abruptly and rubbed his mouth.

  “Sorry, I forgot.”

  He groaned again. “So did I,” he said, with real regret. “This might have to wait.”

  “Poor baby,” she said, with a soft chuckle.

  He shifted on the couch. “Yeah, poor me.”

  She settled closer again and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “What did your friend mean about telling her father?”

  “Tammy-Lynn is not my friend,” she said, sitting up to give him a glare.

  “Never mind about that,” he said, waving his hand. “Who is her father? Is he a Sheriff or something?”

  “Higher up. He’s the Mayor. Tammy-Lynn’s family is sort of the ruling dynasty of Shellwater Key.”

  “That’s probably not good,” he said, with a frown. “Do you think she could cause trouble?”

  “For you? I doubt it. Like you said, if they pressed charges we’d only tell everyone what happened. Even if some of them believed Tammy-Lynn’s version there would be plenty of others who wouldn’t. She won’t want to risk T.J.’s good name by going after you.”

  “I’m not worried about me,” he said. “You’re right. I don’t think she’d risk T.J. being accused of assault. You are another story. She has a real vendetta against you.”

  She tossed her head. “I’m not scared of Tammy-Lynn. I’ve dealt with way more powerful people. She’s nothing but the tyrant of a very small kingdom.”

  “Yeah, but Shellwater Key is her kingdom. Are you sure there’s nothing she can do to hurt you?”

  “
No, what could she possibly do?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Going out in public with Elizabeth McCarthy made a person feel like they were the main act in a carnival sideshow.

  Step right up and see The Bearded Lady!

  Prepare to be amazed by The Dragon Boy!

  Ladies and Gentlemen, we present, The Shameless Hussy!

  Layla had decided to take her mother along to run some errands in town. A move she regretted once they hit The Strip. All along the street, people stopped to stare. Literally, stopped in their tracks. When they entered a store, conversations screeched to a halt. Shop owners watched as if they were afraid Beth was going to take off with the good silver. Ladies tucked their purses tighter under their arms. If Layla and Beth turned into one aisle, whoever was already there suddenly made like a prairie dog and ducked back around the nearest shelf.

  “Last stop,” Layla said as they walked into the hardware store. She bared her teeth at an older woman who was doing a good impression of someone who’d just stepped in dog poop.

  The temperature was brutal, and after running all over town on a day that was sauna stuck on melt-your-brain hot, Layla’s temper was beyond frayed. Especially because she was beginning to feel sorry for her mother. Meanwhile, Beth had endured every slight. She hadn’t reacted to the gawking or the whispers or the outright snubs by so much as an eye twitch.

  Layla couldn’t help wondering if this was the kind of treatment Beth had been forced to endure when she’d been growing up. If she had, Layla could almost understand running away from Shellwater Key.

  “We need paint for the lobby,” Layla said, as they headed to that section. “I was thinking a berry color. Something soothing and rich. Plus, gold paint for the coat of arms.”

  “Coat of arms?”

  “The Comedy-Tragedy Masks above the stage,” Layla said.

  “Oh…okay,” Beth said so softly Layla almost didn’t hear the reply.

  Layla looked over her shoulder. Beth was standing in the middle of the aisle, and her cheeks had gone white.

  “Mom…” Layla said, alarm shooting through her.