Wendy Etherington - Breathless on the Beach

Calla had no such restraints and soon was ready to take the controls of the craft herself. Jared stood on the shore, watching to be sure she didn’t run into trouble, and wondering why the buxom blonde didn’t move him the way her friend did.

In all his travels, he’d learned some bits of truth. Don’t grab live stone crabs without gloves or a high pain threshold. Don’t hang glide with anybody after three cocktails. Don’t trust an African tribal guide who says crocodiles are “babies at heart.”

To that knowledge he’d add that chemistry wasn’t always a definable concept.

Calla was delightful. But Victoria was trapped in her orderly, fluorescent-light world, and he desperately wanted to release her.

“Any chance of getting Victoria on a Jet Ski?” he asked her friend after he tied off the machine and they’d climbed back onto the dock.

Calla’s gaze met his before quickly skittering away. “I don’t see how.”

“She’s here on business, not fun.”

“As always.”

“What kind of men does she date?”

Calla’s steps faltered, as if she hadn’t expected him to be so direct, but she recovered quickly. “Jerks,” she muttered with a shrug.

“Jerks?” he repeated, as if that was music to his ears.

“Rich jerks.” She waved her hand. “Oh, they all have great hair and pretty faces, successful careers, 401Ks and portfolios. But they’re superficial and—” She clamped her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She broke into a brisk stride.

He caught up to her, bringing her to a stop. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I shouldn’t have answered.”

“We had a … moment earlier.” He wasn’t sure that was the way to describe the intensity of the spark that had ignited the instant Victoria had touched him, but that was all he had. “I was only wondering if she’d be interested in somebody like me.”

Calla grinned. “You like her.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Calla’s gaze trailed over him. “Great hair and pretty face, check.”

When she paused, he finished her thought. “But a 401K and portfolio, not so much.”

“You don’t have either, I guess?”

He did. But why should that matter? Why did it always matter? “Do I need them?”

Calla frowned, and he knew she was thinking of a way to let him down gently, to tell him that Victoria was particular and, being a successful woman herself, only hung out with guys who moved in her same circle.

He could move in those circles. He simply chose not to.

Too much artifice. Too many hangers-on. Too many people who clung because he had the means to buy a round for the house.

Been there. College in L.A. had schooled him in more ways than business management.

“She needs a regular guy,” Calla announced to Jared’s surprise. “Clearly, her pattern of brief relationships with shallow men isn’t working out. And if she ever stops focusing on her career twenty-four hours a day, she’ll see that.”

“Would she really? I’m a regular guy,” Jared said confidently, since he was—sort of.

Calla widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Are you? What an amazing coincidence.” She winked. “You two could make a great couple.” She jogged toward the house, calling her thanks as she left him.

Smiling, Jared turned for the shore. He hadn’t expected details from Victoria’s friend, especially since he’d had no right to ask about her love life in the first place.

Rich jerks who don’t hang around long, huh?

Good thing he usually concealed his ownership of the company. His clients thought he simply worked for the firm, same went for the host and guests this weekend.

One regular guy at your service, Ms. Holmes .

TWO HOURS LATER, DRESSED FOR dinner, but still missing her usual confidence, Victoria strode into the kitchen. “I need a martini, stat.”

While Shelby continued to chop vegetables, Calla jumped off the counter where she’d been sitting and headed to the fridge. From the freezer side, she pulled out a filled and frosted glass. Two extra-large olives speared on a toothpick floated inside the liquid.

Calla handed over the drink. “We figured you’d come asking for this.”

Victoria took a grateful sip, the harsh bite of the olives and liquor suiting her sour mood perfectly. “Where’s Mrs. Keegan?”

“In the wine cellar,” Shelby said. “So vent away.”

“What the hell does Richard think he’s doing?” Victoria asked her friends.

“Haven’t got a clue,” Calla answered, returning to her perch on the counter.

Shelby dumped chopped celery into a mixing bowl. “It’s got to be some kind of ego thing. Like having two dates to the prom.”

“Why would you want to have two dates to the prom?” Calla asked.

“ I wouldn’t.” Shelby shrugged. “But some people would.”

“This is business,” Victoria reminded them. “Not social hour. And highly unprofessional.”

Calla shook her head. “Shelby’s got a point. There’s nothing technically wrong with it, apart from being underhanded and sneaky. But that’s business as usual for you.”

“He invites me and my friends for a relaxing weekend, tells me about his supposedly top secret new safe, then asks my competition to tag along and work directly against me for his contract. How do you figure that’s business as usual?”

“It’s like an on-the-job interview,” Calla said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Obviously, Coleman’s retirement isn’t the big secret you thought it was, and Richard wants to pick the best person to replace him for the ad campaign.”

Victoria contemplated the remaining contents of her glass and wondered if downing it in one swallow would make her look as desperate as she felt. “Thanks for your support, best friend.”

Calla sighed. “You have my support, as always.”

“Come on, hon,” Shelby added. “A competition between you and Peter hardly seems fair. Maybe you should spot him ten points or something.”

“Let’s not go that far,” Calla said. “Didn’t you hear him bragging earlier? The sooner he gets knocked out in this bout, the happier we’ll all be. And you …” She waggled her finger at Victoria. “We’re not happy about what Richard did, but you have to admit it makes sense. Frankly, it seems like something you’d do.”

Victoria’s jaw dropped. “Take that back.”

“Since when did you get so thin-skinned?” Calla asked.

“Since my mother called me and wanted to know why I hadn’t been promoted yet. And did I realize she’d been the youngest senior VP in the history of the company, and did I know I hadn’t met that goal, and did I want her to call Coleman Sr. and put in a good word.”

Silence fell.

Calla’s face went red, and Shelby paused her dinner prep. “When did this happen?” Shelby asked gently.

“A few days ago.” Victoria was already regretting her outburst. She wanted to earn her promotions. Wanted to be a success without her mother’s help. “Same old, same old. I don’t know why I let her get to me.” Victoria waved her hand in dismissal. She would never live up to The Legend. But, damn, she wanted to make a respectable race out of it. “How was the Jet Ski?”

Calla smiled widely. “That is one hot cowboy.”

The spurt of jealousy that shot through Victoria caught her off guard. “I thought you were crazy about Detective Antonio.”

“I am sometimes,” Calla said, “but he’s mad at me right now.”

“Why?” As far as Victoria had been able to tell, the attraction went both ways.

Calla rolled her eyes. “Who knows? He’s as ornery as a wet cat.” Looking smug, she added, “Anyway, Jared’s interested in somebody besides me.”