Hurricanes in Paradise by Denise Hildreth (best ereader under 100 .TXT) 📗

Riley relaxed into the leather cushion of her chair.

He extended a menu. “Here is our wine list. I’ll give you a moment to decide what you would like and I’ll be right back.”

Laine took the list from his hands and perused it. Riley watched her eyes as they scanned up and down the list. “Ooh, they have Penfolds Grange. I’ll get us a bottle of that. Those are hard to come by.”

Riley knew that wine very well. It was a brainchild of Max Schubert and it was expensive. It was also wonderful. “I’m sorry, Laine. I appreciate it. But I’ll just have water.”

“At a restaurant like this you’re just going to have water?” Her warmth was gone, her condescension back.

“Yes. Just water. But thank you. That is a very nice wine.”

She set the menu down and looked at Riley. “Why don’t you drink?”

Riley felt the intimidation of this woman sweep over her. She looked at Laine, unable to figure out how she possessed the ability to make her feel like a child.

“It was a simple question, Riley. Why don’t you drink?”

Riley lifted her chin and met Laine’s gaze head-on. “Because I choose not to. It’s just a decision that I’ve made. But again, thank you for the offer. I’ll stick with the water.”

Laine never responded; she simply looked at her. Riley offered her nothing in return. She couldn’t. Laine had already drained her today. If she made it to bed sane, she’d collapse in gratitude. When the waiter arrived back at the table, Laine ordered, not even asking Riley what she wanted. She ordered a bottle of wine, the seafood extravaganza appetizer (for two), the onion soup gratin, the club house salad, and the mixed grill house specialty (for two). Riley ordered herself a Caesar salad and the Bahamian conch chowder, which was one of her favorite items.

In fact this dinner was far different from last night’s. Laine didn’t talk to her during the rest of the meal. She simply took out her little notebook, ate a few bites of each item, studied the layout of the room, questioned the servers and wine stewards, and wrote down whatever she deemed important in that leather-bound book of secrets. Riley nibbled, glancing at her watch and grieving over each fifteen-minute increment that passed, her appetite gone. Laine had pretty much ruined her appetite. By the time Laine ordered dessert, the bottle of wine was gone, a glass of cognac had arrived, and most of her questions were slurred. By the time Laine was through, it was almost eight o’clock.

When Riley was certain she was finished, she got out of her chair to help Laine up. “I canth gif myfelf outh this thair.” Her voice was loud through the restaurant.

Riley stepped back. Laine stumbled slightly from her chair and headed toward the door, her journal still sitting on top of the table. Riley grabbed the journal and followed her out the door. “Laine, let me walk you back to your room,” she said, reaching for her arm.

“I donth neef yur helf!” she shouted once they reached the corridor.

Riley wasn’t going to have this on her head too. “I know you don’t. But it’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of.” And she did, with Laine fussing and cussing all the way. She got her to her room and settled her on the sofa, setting the journal on the coffee table. Riley sincerely hoped she’d remember none of it in the morning, because somehow she knew Laine would make it her fault.

* * *

“What are you doing out here this late?” Christian’s voice cut through the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore a couple floors below.

Riley stepped out into the main foyer of The Cove and looked at her watch. It was now almost eight thirty. Gabby’s recital was over, she was certain. She had missed so much in the past two years, she hadn’t wanted to miss anything else. But Laine’s self-absorption had caused her to miss another piece of her little one’s life.

She looked up at Christian, the sight of him taking her breath for a moment. His deeply tanned skin was breathtaking against the baby blue of the linen shirt that hung over the top of his white linen shorts. She hoped he didn’t notice that she had just checked out his gorgeous legs. “I’ve been working.”

“That writer killing you?” He laughed as he walked toward her. His eyes were all but dancing. They always looked at her that way. At least they seemed to.

“Yes, and these shoes.” She walked over to one of the teak benches and tugged at the clasp on one of her shoes.

Christian sat beside her. “Here. You’re too tired to even take off your shoe.” He bent down, lifted both of her feet up onto the bench, and unbuckled each shoe. His hands against her skin made her tremble. “Cold?”

“Um . . . yeah, chilled, I think.” She was so lying. She scooped up the hem of her dress, pressing it against her legs. He set her shoes down on the floor next to them.

“I’d give you a jacket if I had one.”

“It’s okay.” She slipped her feet down quickly and rested them on the warm wood floor. Then her hands went for the knot in her neck.

“Want to talk about it?”

Riley’s head darted up quickly. “She’s unbelievable! She’s condescending and arrogant! She’s mean and snippy! She’s a beast! She caused me to miss Gabby’s recital and she’s my responsibility for five more days!”

Christian laughed. “Guess that would be a yes.”

“I could have reached across the table tonight and slapped her. I wanted to. Honest, I did.” Her words sounded more like Gabby’s than her own. She leaned against the side of the bench and took a deep breath, trying to calm her own nerves. Her voice came out calmer when she spoke the next time. “She got drunk tonight. That’s why I’m here. I had to all but tuck her