Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2) Page 9

  Luke considered himself lucky to have met Zelda’s smart and pretty neighbor while visiting on July Fourth for the fireworks. The glitter in the night sky and the twinkle of her eyes were pure chemistry. Alexa was spunky, grounded, easy-going, and independent. He was besotted with the curve of her hips, the softness of her breasts, her hot breath as they explored each other passionately and without restraint. Adding intimacy to their relationship had deepened his desire for her. Thoughts of a long-term commitment began filtering through his subconscious.

  He adored Hannah, a feisty, bright teenager, a handful for any parent. Mike, his old college frat brother—who also happened to be Hannah’s dad—was now out of the picture. He hoped to step in as a substitute. And he wanted kids of his own. Taking it for granted that Alexa would eagerly agree, he was unaware that she had suffered a series of miscarriages, which was the reason Hannah was an only child. Playing golf and pumping weights at the gym were okay, but having someone to love—and someone who loved him back—that’s what made life ideal.

  As he walked down the jet bridge to the jumbo jet that would whisk him into his new life, he felt the weight of the past dissolve. They touched down in Palm Beach during a rainstorm as a cold front pushed through. His call to Alexa went directly to voicemail: “I’m here, landed safely. See you tomorrow.”

  He called Zelda, surprised that her machine picked up. She rarely went out at night unless she was visiting Ruth again. He hoped so. She needed a friend. “I’m in town; I’ll swing by tomorrow. This is Luke, by the way, in case you have other gentlemen callers.”

  A wave of loneliness suddenly drowned his good mood as the Uber driver sped south on I-95 on the way to Boca Raton. Texting was convenient, but so impersonal. He was tempted to call Hannah and learn the scoop. Instead, he tipped the driver, walked into the lobby of the condo complex, and signed in with the concierge. He stepped into the elevator that would deliver him to the third floor and his new life.

  Sunday dawned gray and chilly, typical for December in Florida. After stocking up on essentials, he drove to a nearby dive bar for lunch and the football playoffs. The tension of the past few weeks drained away as he rooted for his team, forming an odd camaraderie with other patrons. Yet a strange and ominous feeling crept over him. Luke suspected it had to do with Alexa’s attitude since returning from Oregon. Communication between them had been sketchy, almost as if she was avoiding him. She’d been reticent to bring up any mention of her mother.

  Wasn’t the trip for the sole purpose of spending Christmas with Sari? Yet her messages had been so cryptic he had no clue what transpired, or if anything happened at all. Since he’d paid for the tickets, wasn’t some feedback appropriate or didn’t things work that way anymore? Had society become so inured to the basic rules of politeness that even a simple explanation sent by text message was asking too much?

  Or did she harbor a deep secret she didn’t want to share?

  As he watched the sexy cheerleaders in short shorts and skimpy tops, Luke allowed his mind to drift back to Esperanza’s surprise visit and the way she made him prickle with desire. That was over. A one-off as they say across the pond. The woman he wanted was only a few miles away. His urge to see her was almost more than he could handle. Pushing his way to the bar, he ordered a bottle of Stella Artois and bourbon shooter.

  Later, they’d spend the night at his place and Hannah could sleep at Zelda’s. That would be their new normal for weekends. Satisfied with the plan, he sat back to enjoy the second half, cheering for the Steelers.

  CHAPTER 25

  THE CELL phone chirped. Alexa muted it and tossed it into the drawer of her night table. She had no energy to talk. Her eyes ached too much to text. I’m going to die here in my nightgown, without brushing my teeth or my hair, with my makeup still on. I’m going to shrivel up into a little ball and expire. Poor Hannah will be alone. Mike will fly down like a bird of prey and whisk her back to New York. At least she’ll have Grandma Marie and Grandpa Patrick to console her.

  As her fever spiked to triple digits, she wondered if Sari would come for the funeral. She wanted to send a text saying I love you, I forgive you, I’m dying, but she couldn’t.

  No doubt Hannah would run into Luke at Zelda’s. He’d bring chicken soup. He was that kind of guy. If Rick were in town, he’d bring beef and barley. The two men who held Alexa’s heart were so different, yet so much alike. Rick Harlow with his broad build, muscled arms, and corded legs was a man’s man with an easygoing, unassuming attitude. A down-home, no frills kind of guy who’d put a ring on it.

  Luke Prescott was serious and mischievous, a people-pleaser and loyal. The all-American jock and workaholic with a dimpled grin and Southern charm she found irresistible. They were smart, charismatic, and romantic. She wanted them both.

  Alexa drifted off into a feverish sleep. She heard Hannah come in and say, “Here’s some juice. Love you Mom.”

  Alexa mumbled, “Love you too, don’t get sick.”

  Waves of heat engulfed her. She kicked off the covers and began trembling. She stumbled to the bathroom, stubbing her toe on the carry-on bag yet to be unpacked. On top of it was the pink sweater. Picking it up, she inhaled the aroma of pine and resin. She tucked it under the pillow. Day turned to night and back to day again. At one point, during the worst of it, she heard Luke’s voice filtering through the fog.

  “How’re you doing?” A cool hand touched her forehead. “Wow, you’re burning up.” He moved away and returned with a cold compress. He laid it across her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  She heard the thunk of a mug being placed on the night stand. “Here’s some hot tea with honey. Try to drink a little. And here are two gel caps. They’ll help bring down the fever.”

  Alexa struggled into a sitting position, her head throbbing as she plucked the tablets from his hand and gulped the warm tea. Another round of chills began. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “I’m sorry you’re sick,” he said soothingly. “I don’t want to take a chance of passing this to Zelda so I’m leaving.”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “No worries about New Year’s Eve. I’ll take Zelda and Hannah out to dinner. We’ll bring something back. Hope you feel better soon. Oh, by the way, Hannah said she has a date with Maverick and her curfew is two a.m. Is that right?”

  Alexa couldn’t remember. Something happened at the airport. She nodded. It was too hard to think.

  Luke patted her hand gently. “Oh, is that a new ring? I think it’s a sapphire but I can’t tell its dark in here.”

  He pulled her hand closer for a better look. “Is that from your mother? You never told me what she said when you showed up. Was she surprised?”

  “Uh yes.”

  “Was she happy?”

  “Great time.”

  “The ring, was it a gift?”

  “Engaged,” Alexa mumbled deliriously.

  “It’s your mother’s old engagement ring?”

  “So tired.”

  CHAPTER 26

  SINCE MOVING to Sedona, Sari felt lighter and yet more grounded than ever. It seemed like an oxymoron, yet she hadn’t felt so content in years. The red rocks were mysterious and thrilling. The dome high above was always a magnificent shade of cobalt. The sun’s rays warmed her body. Even her spirits soared, dancing midair with the hawks. Ladder-backed woodpeckers hammered towering pines for tasty morsels and rodents scuttled underfoot. Small wild boars, known as the collared peccary, roamed freely and feisty cartoon-like roadrunners darted here and there. Sari felt insatiable, devouring every moment as though she’d been starving all her life.

  Like Goldilocks with the beds, she stretched out on every vortex and felt nothing special. But without fail, her bad mojo would slowly dissolve a few hours later, like sugar in a glass of warm water, leaving her feeling lighter and more airy.

  But nothing could rid her of the heavy burden she’d been carrying for nearly her entire life. The only way out was a full confes
sion, face-to-face. Her mother, Deidre Martin, had taken the secret to her grave. Sari had no intention of doing that.

  Instead of joining revelers for festivities in the local squares, she opted to spend New Year’s Eve alone with a small split of champagne and a bowl of pine nuts. Her furniture had been delivered and her new condo was in perfect order. She watched the festivities from Times Square and went to bed. A new year and another chance to find happiness had officially arrived.

  The second session with Sean, the so-called spiritualist at Crystal Light Therapy, was on Thursday morning. As before, he placed objects on his desk, asking her to close her eyes and imagine the outcome she wanted.

  “Mental laziness is the secret cause of all weakness. It’s self-limiting. If you want to change anything in yourself, you must change the thought process. Materialize the consciousness into action. That is the way, the only way, to remold your life.”

  “I sent a text message to my daughter and called.” Sari spoke aloud, even though Sean had cautioned her to use telepathy only. “She hasn’t replied. Is she mad at me?”

  “It’s not infusion from the outside that matters. Nobody is on your time schedule. You must find peace with that.”

  After what seemed like only a few seconds, he said, “Okay that was a success. Let’s set an appointment for next Tuesday.”

  “That was only fifteen minutes.”

  “Time is irrelevant. The blockage was released.” He gathered his cards and objects, barely managing a smile. His pale face reminded her of an albino ferret. She studied his thin comb-over and pierced nostril. Despite her best intention to quit, she booked an appointment.

  At the Tlaquepaque Arts & Crafts Village, she strolled calmly through the arched adobe gateway into the artisan village. The eclectic assortment of touristy shops was run by local craftspeople. The tangy scent of chilies and barbeque saturated the air. Meandering around, she thought about Alexa and how she’d flown to Portland expecting a family reunion and found an empty house instead. Sari felt the old tug of depression. She was glad she had one more appointment with Sean.

  As though pulled by a magnet, she found herself in the doorway of Native Woodcrafts. The welcoming aroma of pine elicited sweet memories. Pausing to allow her eyes to adjust, she saw a man in a dark shirt sitting under a spotlight, knife in hand. He carved a small chunk of wood. She stepped in and walked along shelves lined with figurines and hand-crafted objects. Selecting one, she was pleasantly surprised at the satiny finish.

  “These are amazing,” she said. “Did you carve them?”

  “Yes ma’am, I did.” He looked familiar, but definitely not Native American, as in Native Woodcrafts.

  “Are you the owner? I mean, the sign says Native.”

  He smiled, teeth white against his bronze skin. “By osmosis.”

  She nodded. “Good answer.”

  “My partner is Apache. That makes us authentic.”

  “But you do most of the carving?”

  “It’s my gift.”

  He rose from the seat, tall, broad-shouldered with dark clothes that blended with the background, as if they were a continuous entity. He led her to a wall of Kachina dolls in all sizes and with delicate feather embellishments. “These are made by my Hopi friends.”

  Plucking one off the shelf, he offered it to her, their fingers touching for a split second. She felt a zing, as though she’d stuck a pin in a light socket.

  “They’re sacred and, therefore, expensive. But we have many items at prices that you might find more attractive.”

  His voice was low, sonorous, but his comment made her feel cheap. She had money. Instead of feeling defensive, she shrugged her shoulders. At one time she would have said, thanks, but no thanks and left. Now she felt grounded. He was solid—a dark, handsome stranger, the kind her mother had warned her about. A bad boy. But she felt an undeniable attraction, sexual or something deeper.

  His face was strong, craggy with a square jaw, dark hair turning gray. A full mustache sprinkled with wiry gray strands covered his upper lip. She imagined kissing him, wondering if it would tickle. Joe was clean-shaven, hair always trimmed neatly. Turning away, she browsed along another shelf with smaller carved objects and picked one up. “What’s my special price?”

  He told her. The statue was barely three inches high but she had to own it.

  “Gift wrap?”

  “It’s for me.”

  “I’m honored.” He flashed an open smile as she felt her cheeks burn. Two short, middle-aged women entered the quiet shop, speaking loudly with Long Island accents as he quickly completed the transaction. He plucked a business card from a wooden holder and quickly jotted his personal number on the back before slipping it into the black paper bag.

  “I eat out most nights,” he said in a voice that sent waves of temptation flowing through her. “We should meet for dinner. Talk. See what happens.”

  But Sari knew exactly what would happen—and she knew that he knew.

  CHAPTER 27

  NEW YEAR’S EVE came and went. Alexa slept through it, finally crawling from her rumpled, sweat-soaked bed late in the afternoon on the second day of January. She took a long, hot shower, ate a chocolate-covered doughnut, drank a mug of tea with honey, and began to feel human again.

  “The zombie comes alive,” said Hannah, “run for your lives.”

  Alexa managed a weak smile. “Happy New Year to you, too.”

  “You had me worried for a while, Mom. That was scary.”

  “So you do love me.”

  “Maybe, but don’t go all gooey on me.”

  “What did I miss?”

  Hannah walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a container of leftover Chinese food.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Luke’s been feeding me.”

  “He has?”

  “Yep, he could’ve been my new dad, but once again you’ve blown it.”

  “What are you talking about? I was down for the count.”

  “You told him you were engaged.”

  “I did no such thing. Anyway, it’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “He came over to see how you were doing and you said you were engaged.”

  Alexa recalled a cool compress on her head. “I was delirious.”

  “He heard what he heard.”

  “I feel sick.”

  “No relapses, please.”

  “When does school start?”

  “On Tuesday.”

  “You mean Monday.”

  “Teacher planning day on Monday.”

  “So basically you have almost another week off.”

  “Basically.”

  Alexa’s stomach felt queasy. “How was your date with Doc?”

  Hannah blushed. “I can’t tell.”

  “What time did you get in?”

  “It’s best you don’t know.”

  “Did you have fun? I hope one of us did.”

  Hannah nodded, her curls bouncing, as Alexa’s Mommy Worry Meter ratcheted up to high. Five days had slipped by. The world had turned a year older and her life had gone haywire.

  She changed the sheets, unpacked her suitcase, pulled her phone from the drawer, and found dozens of messages. Some were from Rick concerned about her welfare and one from Sari wishing her a happy new year. Luke sent a few asking about her well-being before he jumped to the preposterous conclusion that she intended to marry someone in Portland. As if that could happen. She began returning messages, explaining her absence. But she needed a face-to-face with Luke to set things straight. A text wouldn’t cut it.

  Thursday she walked into Comet Communications. Nothing had changed, except Crystal’s hair, which was now blue.

  “I liked the red,” said Alexa.

  “Red is dead.”

  Not funny, she thought. “Can you buzz me in?”

  “Wait, come see my new tat.” Crystal lifted a leg to show off a snake entwining
her ankle, but showed Alexa way more than she wanted to see.

  “Nice.” She barely glanced at it. “I’m late.”

  “You look awful. That’s what hot sex and too much champagne will do—and I should know. That’s how I got this.”

  Alexa sank into her cushioned chair, booted up the computer and opened an email marked Write 4 Us Contest Rules. She wasn’t nearly ready to wrap her head around writing another novel, even if the money dangled like a tempting carrot. The prize was a year away from being in her hands, but she was determined to get into the game ASAP. But as she read the rules, her resolve began to erode.

  We want gritty drama.

  We want trope-heavy stories with a unique twist.

  High-concept romantic suspense.

  Dark historicals.

  Pulse-pounding plots.

  Sexy, contemporary romances.

  Angst-filled athletes or rough-and-ready cowboys.

  She reread the email feeling like a turnip, a rube, an idiot. Searching out Zev Humphries, she walked into his office as he quickly squirreled something he was eating into a drawer and wiped his desk with a paper towel.

  She asked, “What’s trope-heavy?”

  “It’s simple, really, and quite on trend.”

  “Please enlighten me.”

  “The word trope describes commonly recurring literary motifs or clichés.”

  “How does that translate to a novel?”

  He shrugged.

  Alexa trolled the internet and found an explanation that left her more confused than ever.

  Character Trope defines or conveys information about a character. They come in two main flavors: Characters as Device: tropes that define a given character’s role in the plot. Characterization Tropes: tropes that define a character’s personality or motivations.

  She wondered if the flu had fried her brain or if this was another one of life’s great mysteries she’d never solve. Either way she was clueless.

  Her phone rang. “Please come see me.” Helen Parry sounded serious.

  Alexa grabbed a lined pad and walked to the inner sanctum. The only perk of being sick was losing weight. The pants she could barely button in Portland now fit perfectly. She squared her shoulders, marched through the office, and opened the door. Helen wore an ivory long-sleeve sweater dress with a black macadamia bead necklace.