Left Turn at Paradise Read online

  Without another word of explanation, Noah turned back to her crazy relatives.

  “This is a beautiful place,” he said, turning in a circle to take it all in.

  Aunt Grace clapped her hands together. “She is, isn’t she? Most people don’t see that at first,” she said, casting a speaking glance toward Gran and Layla. “They only see the problems.”

  Noah smiled. “I’m not afraid of problems.”

  Nope, and he was amazing at dodging a question.

  “Good because our problem right now is painting these walls,” Layla said. “We need to get started.”

  Gran and Aunt Grace went in search of Chester while Layla and Noah finished spreading the tarps and started opening cans to pour in the plastic troughs.

  “Should we leave those three alone together?” Layla asked, as the trio disappeared backstage.

  “Oh, your relatives will be fine.”

  “I was actually more worried about Chester,” she said, with a sly grin.

  Noah chuckled, and then she heard a stirring behind her. She turned to see Grayson framed in the doorway.

  “I see you started without me,” he said.

  Layla’s breath caught on a surge of adrenalin, and she told herself to stop it. Grayson was here to paint. Nothing more. This time he was dressed in faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt.

  Her mouth went dry.

  Seriously? Jeans and a t-shirt and she reacted like one of Pavlov’s dogs. She deliberately turned her head, only to find Noah watching her with an amused expression. Great, if a stranger could pick up on her feelings, she was in big trouble.

  “What?” she snapped out at Noah.

  He shrugged, but didn’t bother containing a grin. “Nothing.”

  Grayson walked toward them. He leveled a long, deliberate stare at Noah and then turned to Layla.

  “Um… Grayson, this is, Noah Johnson. I’ve just hired him to be our carpenter,” Layla said. “Noah, Grayson Kendall our director.”

  Grayson didn’t smile in greeting. “You have any experience building sets?”

  If Noah was bothered by the question, he didn’t show it. “My church used to put on A Christmas Carol every year. My dad and I always did the sets.”

  “A church play?” Grayson asked, leaving no doubt as to his thoughts about the value of that experience. “No professional theatres?”

  Noah shrugged. “Not till now.”

  “I’m sure he’ll do fine,” Layla said, jumping in before swords could be drawn. “Noah, maybe you should go after Chester and see if he needs help with the ladders.”

  “Sure.”

  Noah disappeared backstage. Blowing out a breath, Layla bent down to pour paint into one of the troughs.

  “Here, I’ve got it,” Grayson said, reaching for the can.

  “You’ve got something,” Layla muttered.

  He swung around. “What?”

  “You have any experience building sets?” she parroted. “What was that?”

  “Maybe I was trying to protect you,” he said. “Make sure he has the qualifications we need. Did you check his references before you hired him?”

  The words had Layla’s temper flaring. “I read his résumé, and he has a lot of experience. Besides, I think I can manage to hire people without your say-so.”

  His own temper seemed to ignite, but then Grayson reined himself him in and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re right. Sorry. It’s your theatre; you can hire whomever you want.”

  Layla took a deep, calming breath. “Let’s just get these troughs ready. We’re already behind schedule, and we can’t afford to let even a few minutes slip by.”

  Without another word Grayson filled the troughs while she screwed the rollers onto the long, wooden poles. Being mad at him was good, she thought. It kept her from noticing the way his jeans hugged him in all the right places as he bent over.

  Or not.

  Her anger really started to cool when it occurred to her that maybe Grayson had been jealous of Noah.

  Which was ridiculous. There was no reason for jealousy. Absolutely none.

  There was a loud commotion backstage and then Chester and Noah emerged with two ladders, while Gran and Aunt Grace followed behind. Aunt Grace admonished them to be careful not to crash into anything. As if another mark on the wall would even be noticed. Meanwhile, Gran was giving tips on the proper way to lift and carry without throwing out their backs… or breaking a hip.

  “Lay off Doc,” Chester grumbled. “Think I know how to pick up stuff pretty well by now.”

  “Well, of course he does,” Aunt Grace said in a soothing tone. “Big, strong man like you.”

  Chester nearly toppled off the stage.

  Noah looked over at Layla as he set down his ladder, laughter shining in his eyes. “Think you were right about poor Chester.”

  Grayson cleared his throat… loudly.

  “Oh, Grayson, you’re here!” Aunt Grace called out. “Just what we needed. Another big strapping fella to help us.” She looked from Grayson to Noah to Chester. “Can’t remember the last time I was in a room with this much testosterone. It’s quite exciting. Aren’t we lucky, Barbara?”

  The testosterone-laden men in question looked at each other in bemusement.

  “Have the paint fumes gotten to you already, Grace?” Gran asked, staring at her sister. “You’re talking crazy.”

  Layla burst out in laughter. The men looked even more confused. “Welcome to my world, gentlemen,” she said, gesturing toward her elderly relatives.

  Grayson and Noah chuckled, while Chester grumbled some more.

  Finally, Noah called them all to order. “Chester and I will help Dr. McCarthy and Ms. Carter with this section, while Layla and Grayson start a little further down. We’ll meet up in the middle.”

  Then he winked at Layla. Noah had been an employee for all of five minutes and already he was being cheeky. Since there were witnesses she couldn’t brain him with a roller. Instead, she got to work with Grayson. Soon, the first swipe of color was going onto the wall.

  “Sorry if I was out of line,” Grayson said, keeping his eye on the wall. “Noah seems okay.”

  “I like him,” she said, without looking his way.

  He put more force behind his stroke. “I can tell.”

  She heard the scowl in his voice and couldn’t prevent a tiny smile.

  “What’s so funny?” Grayson asked, stopping mid-stroke.

  “Nothing.”

  He set the paint roller down and stepped closer. “Be careful about teasing me, Layla,” he said, his voice rumbling through her like a soft caress. “I just might take you up on it sometime.”

  Layla waggled her eyebrows to cover her reaction. “You could try.”

  Releasing a little huff of laughter, Grayson went back to coating his part of the wall.

  “So, tell me about your theatre in Chicago,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “You started it yourself?”

  Grayson seemed more than happy to change the subject. “Yes. I renovated one of the historic theatres in the city—”

  “A renovation?” she asked, a smile blooming. “You have a habit of taking on hard luck cases?”

  He chuckled. “The Royale was over a hundred years old, and she was still in better shape than your Paradise. It took some elbow grease, though.”

  “How did you afford it?”

  A slight hesitation came before he answered. “I came into some money from my mother. I didn’t like the idea of taking anything from her, but my love of The Royale outweighed my pride.”

  “Why didn’t you want to take money from your mother?” she asked, curious about the odd statement and wondering if they both had mommy issues.

  “Long story,” he said, without offering any more details.

  The urge to push for more was strong, but she sensed “long story” was all she was going to get. “So, once you had the money, you were set?”

  “Not even close,” he said,
with outright laughter. “First, I had to assemble a troupe of actors. I found a bunch of very young, but very talented and hungry, principals. Even then it took years to make an impression. “Low Budget Productions” was our middle name.”

  She smiled, caught up in his enthusiasm. “Something must have gotten people’s attention.”

  “My two leads. Annaliese Matheson and Brent Atwood. We did a production of Oklahoma. Not very original or edgy, but it’s a crowd pleaser. A critic saw the show, and he was impressed with them. We got an amazing review, which allowed us to do more. We could stretch and take risks. We slowly gained a reputation. Both Annaliese and Brent eventually went on to Broadway.”

  “I’ve seen the movie, but never a stage version,” Layla said.

  He grinned and then burst into the opening number. “Oh what a beautiful morning. Oh what a beautiful day…”

  A crash sounded from down the wall. Layla started and spun around to see that her great-aunt had dropped her paint roller and was staring at them in shock.

  “Grace, what in heaven’s name?” Gran said, voice sharp with alarm. “Are you hurt?”

  “No…” Grace said. “Sorry. It’s just been so long since I’ve heard that song.” She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and looked at Gran. “Derek was in Oklahoma.”

  Some of the tension went out of Layla’s shoulders, and she sighed.

  Grayson glanced over at her in confusion. “What’s going on?”

  “Derek the Wonderful,” Layla said. “He’s the reason we’re all here.”

  “Derek the what?”

  Aunt Grace must have heard because she turned. “Derek was in a musical here many years ago. He was the first man I ever loved, and we were planning to run away together when the show ended.”

  “But he died before they could,” Layla said, filling in the end of a story that she could have recited herself. “He and a couple of the other actors went out after a show, and their car went off the road on the way back to town. Derek was killed.”

  Grayson left Layla’s side and went to put an arm around Grace. “I’m sorry if I brought up painful memories.”

  “Oh no,” Grace said. “It’s been so very many years since it all happened. A lifetime ago, really. I moved on, married, and had a very blessed life with a wonderful man. But when you sang that song, so many memories came flooding back. I hadn’t expected that.”

  “If this is going to be too painful for you, we can take care of everything,” Layla said, a rush of concern filling her. She hadn’t thought about how hard it might be for Aunt Grace to be in The Paradise every day, confronted by the memories of her lost love at every turn. “There’s no need to make yourself a martyr for Derek’s sake.”

  Aunt Grace straightened her shoulders. “I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice strong and clear. “He is the reason I bought The Paradise in the end. When I heard the theatre might be torn down, I knew I couldn’t let that happen. It would have been like losing Derek all over again. At least now, I still have a piece of him.”

  Layla crossed to Aunt Grace and kissed her cheek. “Then we’ll make it the most beautiful theatre you can imagine,” Layla said. “We’ll do it for you, and for your Derek.”

  Chapter Six

  Layla pulled into the driveway of Grayson Kendall’s house. Although, technically it was his aunt and uncle’s house. She surveyed the quaint bungalow, which could have doubled for the home from The Golden Girls. She and Grayson were supposed to discuss their plans for updating the stage and theatre equipment. It was also the first time they were going to be alone together since that first meeting at Joe’s Crab Shack. All the other times there’d been people around to distract her.

  Layla had been giving herself pep talks all day. The fact that she had to psych herself up in order to be in the same vicinity as Grayson Kendall made her angry enough to chew nails. She didn’t let men get to her. Not anymore.

  Except, she couldn’t deny that she was vulnerable to him in a way she’d never been with any other man.

  And that scared her to death. Hence the minor freak out.

  “This is ridiculous,” she muttered aloud. “Just go in there and get to work.”

  Grabbing a file folder from the passenger seat she got out, and strode up the walk with a determination she absolutely did not feel. She banged the large brass knocker and a moment later the door opened. A tall, slender woman answered the door. Her dark hair was tinged with gray, and her face creased slightly with age. Layla realized she was looking at a feminine version of Grayson. The older woman even had the same piercing gray eyes.

  “May I help you?” she asked with an inviting smile.

  “I’m Layla McCarthy. I’m meeting Grayson here to discuss the production at The Paradise Theatre.”

  Her eyes warmed. “Of course. Grayson mentioned this morning that you were stopping by. I’m Helen James, Grayson’s aunt.”

  “I figured. It’s hard to miss the resemblance.”

  She chuckled. “Yes. My own daughters look nothing like me, but Grayson is a Kendall through and through. If you could see pictures of my father when he was young, you’d be amazed. But where are my manners, keeping you standing outside in this heat? Come in, come in.”

  Layla stepped across the threshold. The inside of the house was cool and inviting. A small entryway led into the living room where the Spanish tiled floors were softened by colorful throw rugs, which accented an ivory-colored couch and love seat. Sliding doors along one end opened to a patio and lush backyard.

  “How long have you lived here?” Layla asked.

  Helen started down the hall. “My husband and I retired to Shellwater Key a few years ago, and we just love it. Everyone is so friendly. Your Aunt Grace is one of my favorite people. When I started going to the quilting circle, about the only thing I could do was sew on a button. Grace took me under her wing, and now I can finish a quilt in less than three weeks.”

  “The walls of our house are covered with her quilts,” Layla said.

  Helen smiled over her shoulder. “I know. I’ve seen them. She’s quite an artist. If she wanted to, Grace could probably make a fortune selling them, and your grandmother… what an inspiring woman. To become a doctor, a surgeon no less, growing up in the time she did. Simply amazing.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  They’d reached the kitchen by this time. It was obvious the room had been upgraded. Black granite countertops and gleaming stainless steel appliances complemented honey-colored wood cabinets.

  “Is Grayson here?” Layla asked, wondering why he hadn’t appeared yet. Had he forgotten? How lowering would it be if she’d spent the whole day with her stomach in knots only to discover Grayson hadn’t thought of her at all?

  Helen James’ smile dimmed a degree. “He’s in the den.”

  The words were simple enough, but there seemed to be a deeper hidden meaning. Her expression became distant and sad. She was clearly worried, and for some reason, Layla’s pulse kicked up.

  “Mrs. James, is something wrong with Grayson?”

  Her head swiveled back as if she’d been somewhere far away. “Sorry, dear. It’s always a difficult day for us. Especially for Grayson.”

  “Why?” Layla asked, even more curious now.

  “Why what?” a deep voice said from behind her.

  Layla turned to see Grayson himself lounging in the doorway.

  His aunt fluttered a hand in the air. “Oh, nothing dear. I was about to show Layla the way.”

  Grayson straightened. “I can take her from here.”

  Helen James sent Layla another smile and then disappeared.

  “After you, Layla McCarthy,” he said, gesturing for her to proceed down the hall. “Second doorway on the right.”

  She shivered, sending up a fervent hope she’d stop reacting to the sound of her name on his lips. Soon.

  Grayson led her to a den. It was even cozier than the living room, with fat chocolate-colored leather couches and a beige carpet that i
nvited everyone who entered to slip off their shoes and sink their toes in. A huge television took up most of one end, while a carved, wooden bar stretched the length of the opposite wall.

  “Can I get you a drink before we start?” he asked, gesturing to the bar.

  She glanced at the coffee table and spotted a glass with amber liquid. “What are you having?”

  “Iced tea. My aunt makes gallons of it every day.”

  She glanced up, brow arching in question. “Just tea?”

  “I gave up alcohol years ago.”

  Layla paused, unable to stop herself from speculating about that cryptic bit of information.

  His mouth quirked as if he’d guessed her thoughts. “I never had a problem. I simply found my judgment became much clearer when I removed booze from the equation.”

  “Tea’s fine,” Layla said, wondering what other mysteries surrounded the famed director.

  Grayson dropped several ice cubes in a glass and poured. He handed her the drink and then went to retrieve his.

  “Have a seat,” he said, shoving a badly folded newspaper onto the floor. There was evidence of breakfast and even lunch on the coffee table, too.

  “You really did forget I was coming today,” Layla said, unable to suppress her disappointment.

  He sighed. “I didn’t forget. I had other things on my mind.”

  Layla didn’t see the difference, but decided not to press. She wasn’t eager to hear how little time Grayson spent thinking of her, especially when she couldn’t seem to stop thinking of him. Grayson picked up his tea and downed almost the whole glass. She watched his throat work, becoming mesmerized by the rhythmic rise and fall of his Adam’s apple.

  And if watching a man swallow had become a turn on, she really had lost her mind.

  He lowered the glass, his eyes settling on her. “You’re even more beautiful when you blush.”

  “I don’t blush,” she ground out, willing her color to return to normal.

  He reached out and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. “What’s this then?”

  “It’s hot outside,” she said, fighting not to lean into his touch.