~ BAILEY ~“I’m sorry… whhhaaat did you just say?” Claire stares at me as though I’ve grown a third eye and perhaps an extra nose.I smirk.Her expression doesn’t change. “Bailey-soon-to-be-Angelini, aka Your Majesty… With all due respect… Are. You. Shitting. Me?”Now, I laugh.She’s learned that term from me, with the correct punctuation.I snicker at her and say, “Feel free to bring the incredulity down ten notches. You and I both know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that planning a wedding in less than a month is not the hideous undertaking you’re insinuating it is, particularly for a woman of your mad skills.”The compliment does nothing to placate her.She shoots to her feet and begins to pace, partially obstructing my view of the fountain and the large pond surrounding it, which had been expeditiously “installed” while Nick and I were in California. Apparently, if I requested it, this portion of the estate—the outer perimeters of the private apartments—would be turned into a lake t
~ BAILEY ~Every time I think I can’t be more in love with this man… I fall even deeper under his spell.My arms twine around his neck and I lose myself in yet another searing kiss. His devilish tongue does wicked things to mine, sparking endless fireworks.My heart flutters and my blood sizzles through my veins.I have no clue as to how much time passes. We only briefly gasp for air here and there before we’re engaging in another scorching lip-lock. He has one hand on my ass and the other arm encircles my waist. He’s still holding the present I’ve given him, but neither of us seem to have that on our minds.My fingers thread his lush hair, and we’re pressed together so tightly, a sheath of paper couldn’t pass between us.And yet… That still doesn’t feel close enough.Damn the fact that we have to wear clothing in everyday life!I would be perfectly happy to be naked with this man twenty-four-seven. Also tangled up with him in absolute seclusion.Not a possibility at present, though.
“Order up!” the chef calls out and I instinctively glance around the dining room to see who’s going to answer the call of duty.My bartender is engrossed in sports on the big screen that’s mounted in his corner of the restaurant.Server #1 is batting her eyelash extensions at a local sailor/fisherman, who I know owns nothing grander than a dingy dinghy with the equivalent of a play-toy motor attached.Server #2 is filing her nails and snapping her gum.Server #3 has just plopped into a rickety seat at the table where his only customer is hunkered down for the rest of the summer, it seems, and joins him in a hand of five-card draw. For money.I do a double take on that one. Seriously, the guy’s barely made ten dollars in tips today, and he’s going to play poker?I shake my head. Maybe that’s how he pays his rent.I’m clearly the only one interested in the food delivery, so I make a beeline for the window to grab the hot pastrami on rye with French fries, along with the ticket—so I can
This is precisely the place that should have lobster and champagne on the menu!The marina is packed with multimillion-dollar, private vessels and we should be in competition with the yacht club, catering to the culinary whims of every Richie Rich!Instead, we’re festering at the end of the dock, squandering our coveted views and prime real estate.I grind over this predicament for all of two seconds. My first response is to send Tanya to the yacht club’s cantina for a bottle of champagne. But I’m not sure we even have enough cash in the drawer to cover the expense.I crank on this some more. And then… Suddenly, I remember we do have a bottle of bubbly onsite.I’d bought it for an employee, end-of-summer beach bash, back when I’d been relatively new here and had still optimistically held the misguided notion that the owner was going to wake up one day and realize what a true treasure trove this restaurant could be. Once was, even.Oh, those had been bright-eyed, bushy-tailed days. Esp
I am sufficiently mind blown. And yet…“How so?” I find myself asking, riveted once again. Intrigued. Swept away.“There’s something I want,” Nick Angelini tells me, intriguing me further. “Something I’ve wanted for some time that I can’t quite wrap my hands around. No matter what angle I take, as soon as I’m close to securing this one thing that eludes me, it slips through my fingers. So I need a different course of action, a different approach. This is it.”I stare a bit harder at him. “You’ve lost me. What is it that you want, Mr. Angelini?”More accurately, what could this man possibly desire that he can’t simply procure for himself?Surely, he has the means for even his wildest ventures.“It’s Nick, remember?” he murmurs, his grey-green irises shimmering in the golden light. Seducing me even more.“Sure. Nick.”I like his name on my tongue.I especially like how he gazes so intently, so heatedly at me.I’m about to press him more deeply as to what it is that he’s in search of.Bu
Trying to concentrate on work for the rest of my shift is next to impossible.For once in my career at the woefully named Crescent Cove Crab Shack, I’m grateful for the lack of activity.However, despite not having a huge amount of work to do, my brain is whirling at lightning speed over all the things I’ve been dying to change about this place—and the fact that I could, potentially, make those changes.If I make one very significant change in my life.For nine whole months.It seems like a really long time. A small eternity.And there are plenty of sacrifices I’ll have to make.No more Sunday brunch mimosas at the dive around the corner from my bungalow or end-of-the-evening Sangiovese. No more margaritas with my Tuesday tacos.No more…Hmm.I falter here, my mind suddenly coming to a standstill.Okay, admittedly, I wouldn’t be sacrificing much more than my favorite alcoholic beverages if I were suddenly “with child.”It’s not like I have a physically demanding job at present. The go
Somehow, my feet carry me to him. Thank God something’s functioning properly. For sure, my brain isn’t. Nor is my heart. Not even my pulse. The beats are erratic and thunderous. Everything seems to be a jumbled mess within me.My entire existence has become surreal.I’m in this gorgeous house with this gorgeous view and this way-beyond gorgeous man and I’m doing everything in my power not to smile like a complete, utterly giddy schoolgirl. I’m also trying to breathe normally, but that’s proving impossible.He grabs a spoon from a drawer for me to sample the bisque as he tells me, “In addition to the soup, we’re having Blue Point oysters, soft shell crab, white fish carpaccio, lobster tails, and stuffed filet mignon, Oscar style.”I stare at him, astonished. I still can’t find my voice. And my heart is doing this odd fluttering thing now. My stomach is also getting in on the action.Eventually, I manage to say, “That’s the six-course tasting menu I proposed to Cristoff when he intervie
“Holy. Shit.”Those are the first words that tumble from Nick’s parted lips as I enter the spacious great room/kitchen and he apparently gets a whiff of my expensive fragrance and shoots another glance over one of his broad shoulders.And takes me in from head to toe. Then back up.Slowly.Sexy-slow.Turn-my-blood molten, slow.“Hi,” I say, breathlessly. And give a little wave of my fingers. Attempting to appear nonchalant.Though every single nerve ending has just ignited as his jaw drops at the sight of me.Yes. Okay. I’ve definitely rocked him. I can’t help but flirt a little. “Still me. The girl you sent off to change her clothes.”“I just thought… You might want to… You know… See the collection.” His eyes are huge. He swallows down what I can only guess to be a lump of lust. I mean, his gaze is blazing and now he’s turning toward me, fully facing me, and I can see in his expression one plainly earnest sentiment: To hell with the soup. Let it burn.I smile. Probably quite brillia
~ BAILEY ~Every time I think I can’t be more in love with this man… I fall even deeper under his spell.My arms twine around his neck and I lose myself in yet another searing kiss. His devilish tongue does wicked things to mine, sparking endless fireworks.My heart flutters and my blood sizzles through my veins.I have no clue as to how much time passes. We only briefly gasp for air here and there before we’re engaging in another scorching lip-lock. He has one hand on my ass and the other arm encircles my waist. He’s still holding the present I’ve given him, but neither of us seem to have that on our minds.My fingers thread his lush hair, and we’re pressed together so tightly, a sheath of paper couldn’t pass between us.And yet… That still doesn’t feel close enough.Damn the fact that we have to wear clothing in everyday life!I would be perfectly happy to be naked with this man twenty-four-seven. Also tangled up with him in absolute seclusion.Not a possibility at present, though.
~ BAILEY ~“I’m sorry… whhhaaat did you just say?” Claire stares at me as though I’ve grown a third eye and perhaps an extra nose.I smirk.Her expression doesn’t change. “Bailey-soon-to-be-Angelini, aka Your Majesty… With all due respect… Are. You. Shitting. Me?”Now, I laugh.She’s learned that term from me, with the correct punctuation.I snicker at her and say, “Feel free to bring the incredulity down ten notches. You and I both know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that planning a wedding in less than a month is not the hideous undertaking you’re insinuating it is, particularly for a woman of your mad skills.”The compliment does nothing to placate her.She shoots to her feet and begins to pace, partially obstructing my view of the fountain and the large pond surrounding it, which had been expeditiously “installed” while Nick and I were in California. Apparently, if I requested it, this portion of the estate—the outer perimeters of the private apartments—would be turned into a lake t
~ NICK ~How could I not request this?Other than… Well… There are the standard obstacles, of course.She’s entangled in a “should I stay, or should I go?” tug of war that involves me, a child, and a restaurant—a dream she’s had forever. One that’s significant and fulfilling, given she’s achieved it primarily on her own. What help I’ve provided is financial. She’s the true victor in this vein, with her vision, ingenuity, and initiative. With her hard work.Thus, I understand I’ve just tossed her into a new mix of uncertainty. We haven’t resolved our current situation and now I’ve gone and complicated matters to the degree that her jaw slacks, she gazes at me with wide eyes, and she’s at a complete loss for words.That’s advantageous for me, so that I can explain, “I didn’t plan that, Bailey. Not necessarily. Though… It’s been on my mind. For some time. A long time, truthfully. Even before you came here.”She blinks. I’m guessing that’s to let me know she’s heard me. She just can’t res
~ BAILEY ~Of course, I’m blown away. How can I not be?Sure, I’ve been made fully aware, at every turn, this is to be a formal event, and so I did have it in my head that no expense would be spared. However, that’s actually a vague phrase. While it’s true I can come up with some impressive dining and décor scenarios, and even went a little over-the-top with Bailey’s Clambake, I have not been sufficiently exposed to the word “excessive” in such a concentrated manner.Granted, the palace fits the term. Certainly. Though, it’s incredibly vast and spread out and not something that you take in all at once. Like, seriously, I can only process its grandeur in bits and bites.This gala, however, is in my face.There are chandeliers so beautiful, I want to weep. The one in the center of the room, hanging in the domed ceiling, is so huge, so stunning, I just can’t even… Fathom it.Coming from the gilt edges, which I have no doubt are twenty-four-karat gold (as is every fixture, I’m sure), are
~ BAILEY ~We’re trapped in some bizarre time warp where our eyes are locked and there’s an electrical current arcing between us and every second that slips by is laced with anticipation.It’s Grayson who finally breaks the ice, discreetly clearing his throat. And quietly announcing, “The limo is ready.”“Thank you, Grayson.” Nick manages to speak.He raises a hand again and his thumb skims over his bottom lip.I resist the urge to bite mine, his absent gesture being so subtly sensual. Yet I remind myself not to ruin my lipstick.He takes a couple of wide strides toward me and my breath catches. He hears it. Sees it. And there’s a spark in his grey-green irises because of it.“You picked the most striking dress of all,” he tells me.Miraculously, I’m able to reply. Albeit breathily. Like, full-on Marilyn Monroe. “It’d probably look a lot better if I wasn’t pregnant.” Not that I regret being pregnant. That’s a total no-brainer.He comprehends my unspoken sentiment and gives another sha
~ BAILEY ~I’m trying to breathe, but the gown I’m being fitted for doesn’t allow much opportunity for that. Time is of the essence today and I feel as though my entire existence is moving at the speed of light. Claire has taken over my schedule and there’s barely time to pee. Though, you know… I’m pregnant, so I must insist she build in potty breaks to avoid any sort of accident.And I won’t let her nix my daily reading with Antonio from my calendar. Unfortunately, it will be later in the morning and that will provide ample time, I’m sure, for word to reach him that I’m attending a gala with His Highness.Oh, that phrase completely curls my toes, when I actually know better—I shouldn’t let it curl my toes. Or send a rush of exhilaration through my veins. For the hour that I’ve been standing on a platform surrounded by full-length mirrors while two women work simultaneously to nip and tuck, and another one continually holds up shoes for inspection and then puts them against the dress
~ BAILEY ~Nick snickers at me.I tell him, “Don’t you dare try to separate me from lobster mac and cheese.”He carefully unravels us. Grayson assists me into the chair he’s once again pulled out.I accept the napkin. Even bounce excitedly in my seat, which pleases both men. They’re clearly convinced I’m cured of the seafood curse, whether it was a psychological manifestation, or that the peanut genuinely isn’t into fish.But the truth is, her mom can’t go long without her fix. So.To tide me over, there is a prime cut of beef with an aromatic Hollandaise sauce I’m certain Grayson would have added crab legs to if I’d previously expressed my interest in dipping my toes into the water, as it were, this evening. Or he’d have gone straight for Oscar-style.No matter. I’m instantly famished and reach for the steak knife and a fork, completely bypassing the salad he’s also delivered.Normally, he does the customary presentation of individual courses, but given the hour and how Nick and I de
~ BAILEY ~I might be building the perfect bridge.Well, maybe not totally perfect. But darn close to it.An hour of reading to Antonio leads to a half-hour of him sharing a quaint story from his childhood. One that does not involve magnificent horses and banners flying, or silver platters piled high with glorious desserts, or anything else expensive and exquisite that screams privilege. It’s simply a remembrance from when he was a small child and had wandered off in the forest during a group hunting expedition. He was alone and had panicked that he might not be able to find his way back. But he learned a handy trick. Look to the sky.The sun at noon offers a southern alignment. Since it rises in the east and sets in the west, Antonio was able to gauge an appropriate direction by the movement and shadows. He navigated toward the hunting encampment by the western lakeshore. His father had not yet sent out a search team for him. He’d allowed Antonio the opportunity to get his bearings a
~ BAILEY ~“His baby mama?” I inquire, my brow raised.Her eyes pop again. “Absolutely not what I was going to call you! No one’s used that term. You’re his special guest. Though…” She turns more conspiratorial now. Even glances about to see if anyone’s within earshot. Satisfied no one will overhear us, she says, “Between you, me, and the lamppost—”“You know that phrase?” I’m surprised, truthfully. Despite her being quite capable of keeping up in our conversations without hitting language barriers too often.She squares her shoulders this time and tells me, “I’m well-versed in colloquialisms favored in numerous countries. However, I’m mostly fascinated with American adages. You have a very rich and diverse culture. I’m particularly intrigued with your musical stylings—such as hip-hop.”“You listen to hip-hop?”“Oh, yes! I have an extensive playlist. Anyway, I see why His Highness takes a great interest in your country.”A golden nugget is embedded in there, somewhere. I sense it. I j