Trouble in paradise

If Lindy Bell had her way, she’d still be in L.A., partying and angling for her next acting job. But a crisis at the family’s resort has surfaced, and who can ignore the call of duty? Still, duty would be easier to take if she didn’t have a bratty kid making trouble. Too bad the dad, Gabe Weston, can’t seem to put down his phone long enough to see his daughter needs his attention.

When Lindy points out to Gabe the error of his ways, sparks fly and she has his undivided attention. Unexpectedly, the three of them—Lindy, Gabe and his daughter—bond in a serious way. Such a serious way, in fact, that Lindy may be auditioning for a new role she never considered before....

“I don’t do casual.”

Gabe’s solemn expression added weight to his warning.

“And I don’t do relationships...at least not well,” Lindy amended with a subtle frown. “So what do we do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I don’t think that’s going to work. We’re both dealing with some hefty attraction, right? I mean, I know I’m not in a one-sided situation in this. So...maybe we should just kiss and get it out of our system and see what happens.”

“I know where kissing leads,” Gabe said, his eyebrow lifting in a sexy yet sardonic arch that Lindy found insanely attractive. “Don’t you?”

“I have an idea,” she murmured, biting her lip against the surge of arousal that followed his silky statement. “And that’s bad?”

Dear Reader,

Lindy and Gabe...what can I say about them, other than wow. Simply put, I loved writing their love story because both needed to grow and change before they were ready for the commitment of a relationship. And they did so, beautifully.

Peeling back the layers of complex people is one of the perks of my job as a writer, and I had a ball exposing these characters’ vulnerable spots for all the world to see. It’s a deep, soulful journey that I hope you will enjoy as you spend some more time at Larimar with the Bells as they live and learn as a Family in Paradise.

You won’t want to miss Lilah and Justin’s story, Something to Believe In, coming in January 2013.

Hearing from readers is a special joy. Please feel free to drop me a line via email through my website at www.kimberlyvanmeter.com, or by snail mail at Kimberly Van Meter, P.O. Box 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361.

Kimberly Van Meter

Kimberly Van Meter

Playing the Part

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kimberly Van Meter wrote her first book at sixteen and finally achieved publication in December 2006. She writes for the Harlequin Superromance and Harlequin Romantic Suspense lines. She and her husband of seventeen years have three children, three cats and always a houseful of friends, family and fun.

To my firstborn son, Sebastian,

as he finishes one journey to start another.

I hope you find every success out there

in the world. I love you.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

LINDY BELL STARED in growing horror, the plunger dangling from her fingertips ineffectual against the choking, gurgling and overflowing toilet that was burping water all over the tiled floor of Bungalow 2 at her grandparents’ resofrt, Larimar. She jumped out of the way before disgusting toilet water washed over her flip-flops. Oh, yes, most definitely, without a doubt—this was hell. And she was going to kill her sister for dragging her here and then putting her on maintenance detail just because she knew the difference between a Phillips head screwdriver and a flat head.

Normally, Heath Cannon—her sister’s boyfriend—was in charge of the maintenance but he’d fallen off the roof and banged himself up pretty bad so he wasn’t going to be any help for a while. It wasn’t that she minded pitching in—hell, she was here, wasn’t she?—but right now, she wanted to murder someone.

She caught movement at the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see a small blond head duck and disappear as light laughter tinkled after her.

“You monster,” she muttered, dropping the plunger to chase after the girl, not caring at the moment that she was supposed to be the adult because she was about to tie the little nuisance to the nearest tree. “What did you stick down there this time?” she shouted, rounding the corner and nearly skidding into a tall man who was sheltering the aforementioned monster in his arms as if Lindy were the villain and the kid was actually a victim.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, rubbing the girl’s back with soothing and gentle motions, as if Lindy had traumatized her. If anyone was suffering from an emotional upheaval it was Lindy. Being dragged to Cruz Bay in the Virgin Islands on family business and forced on janitor duty was punishment for crimes she hadn’t even committed yet. Unemployment sucked but unemployment in the entertainment industry was downright brutal. Her last gig had lasted only a few months and now she was on the hunt again, or rather, her agent should be hunting. In the meantime she had no choice but to stick it out at the resort with her sisters. At the moment she was looking at troubleshooting a clogged toilet—joy of all joys—that seemed to have been filled with sand, by the looks of it.

“May I ask why you’re chasing my daughter with murder in your eyes?” the man asked.

“Probably because I want to kill the little brat,” Lindy quipped, her kicked-up heart rate keeping time with her temper. “She filled the toilet with sand.”

“How do you know it was Carys?” he asked stiffly, but Lindy suspected it was an act. Anyone with a kid that wretched had to know they had the devil’s spawn on their hands. “Maybe the problem is simply the fault of the plumbing.”

“Yeah, sure. It can’t have anything to do with the beaches’ worth of sand she poured down its throat. Or the fact that this isn’t the first time maintenance has been called for problems with your toilet. Last week we fished five ties—presumably yours—from the trap.” At his startled look, she smirked. “You ought to check your underwear drawer. She might be throwing your boxers away next.”

“She’s lying, Daddy,” the little heathen shouted before burying her face in his Hawaiian shirt. Nothing said I’m on vacation more than a rayon shirt with giant magnolias on it. Lindy looked away in disgust as the girl fervently assured her father. “I didn’t put the sand in the toilet, Daddy. I swear it.”

“This is the first I’m hearing about the previous incident,” he answered, having at least the grace to look discomfited by the revelation. “Five ties?”

“Yeah. Five. Expensive looking, too. We threw them out because they were mangled.” Ugh. That kid of his was a great testament as to why some animals ate their young.

“Perhaps it was an accident....”

“Whatever,” Lindy said, exasperated and severely annoyed by the whole situation and the man’s inability to admit that his precious daughter was a nightmare. Turning on her heel, she added over her shoulder, “Expect to see a plumbing bill on your invoice. Thanks for staying at Larimar. Please feel free not to come again.”

Lindy stomped away from the two, her temper still percolating, and abruptly changed direction toward the beach. One of the perks of living on a tropical island was the ready access to paradise and right about now, she needed a good dose of calm before she dealt with any more resort issues.

As she walked the path to the private beach belonging to Larimar, she realized someone was calling after her.

She turned and groaned. Great. Little Miss Perfect’s Deaf Dumb and Blind Father. What she wouldn’t give for a guilt-free plane ticket back to Los Angeles. “What?” she asked when he’d caught up to her, thankfully sans the hellion. Maybe he’d dug a pit and pushed her into it. Ha. One could dream but she wasn’t holding out hope. She couldn’t help the irritation in her voice or her expression. Too bad his kid was such a pain in the ass. He wasn’t half-bad-looking for a lawyer type, which wasn’t her type, per se; she liked rugged guys whose trucks were usually crusted in mud from four-wheeling through rough terrain. This guy, with his clean cuticles—probably got manicures—and short-cropped dark hair—probably paid a fortune for that look at some high-priced salon—likely drove some overpriced European number—either a Saab or an Audi—and paid a valet to park it. But even with all those points against him, Lindy had to admit...he wasn’t hard on the eyes.

* * *

GABE WESTON STALKED after the striking long-haired honey-brown brunette, choosing to focus on his ire rather than the fact that she was wearing a lemon-

yellow bikini top that lovingly cupped her breasts and a sarong that hugged the womanly swell of near-perfect hips. She pushed her white, wide-rimmed sunglasses atop her head and fixed him with a look that was both appraising and annoyed, if there was such a thing.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, mentally cringing that he’d actually said those words. He sounded like a pompous ass but her casual dismissal poked at his ego and frankly, after the situation with Carys, the filter he usually reserved for his mouth had fallen off, allowing him to spout crap he wouldn’t under normal circumstances. But seeing as he was already making a fine impression, he might as well go all the way. “My name’s Gabe Weston and I’m the one spending gobs of money at your resort right now during a down economy so I think a little respect or at the very least professional courtesy is warranted. An apology wouldn’t be out of line, either.”

“I agree. Your kid is a brat. I have a feeling there’s probably a long list of people she ought to apologize to.”

He didn’t appreciate her quip—it hit too close to the truth. Carys was a handful and nearly everyone she came into contact with wanted little to do with her for long. Secretly, it horrified him that his daughter had become such a terror but he couldn’t seem to find the answer as to how to return her to the little girl she’d been before his wife died.

“I want to speak to your manager,” he said quietly.

“Good idea, and while you’re at it make sure you let her know how your kid flushed a pound of sand down the toilet and how it’ll likely take three plumbers to figure out how to unclog it without having to rip open the sewage line. It’ll save me a trip.” She smiled. “Somehow I think I’ll be forgiven for my less-than-courteous delivery. And if not, oh well. My family owns this resort. So, do your worst but don’t get your hopes up. Like as not, I’m here for the duration.”

“That doesn’t give you license to abuse your guests,” he said.

“And it doesn’t give our guests license to be destructive. Listen, we don’t have a whole lot of rules here at Larimar but when your kid is doing her best impression of a rock star by trashing the place, someone has to say something and—lucky me!—I got the short straw. So, get control of the kid or we’ll have to ask you to find another place to chill. We savvy?” She slid her sunglasses back in place, obviously finished, and continued down the sandy walk to the beach, both him and his daughter seemingly forgotten.

Gabe stared after the woman, half tempted to follow but what did he have to say? Not much. His daughter was a hellion. And he didn’t have a clue as to how to change that fact.

Biting off a string of silent curse words, he returned to the bungalow, hoping against hope that Carys hadn’t destroyed something else in his short absence.

He found the bungalow eerily quiet, something he’d grown to mistrust, and went to Carys’s bedroom door. “Are you in there, honey?”

“I didn’t put sand in the toilet,” she called out with a watery sniff. “That woman was lying.”

He sighed. Yeah, he suspected someone was lying but it wasn’t the brunette who had every right to be pissed off.

In a Time magazine article about the modern-day shark in the boardroom, Gabe, CEO of Weston Enterprises, was once described as being a man who ate his competition with all the violent, single-minded focus of a great white. In short, he bit and chomped and what he left behind wasn’t enough to feed a goldfish.

And yet, as he struggled to rein in the desire to pound on the bedroom door of the rented bungalow, he was most certain an eleven-year-old girl was going to be the death of him.

Or more specifically—an eleven-year-old girl who bore half his DNA and was bound and determined to turn every single strand of his hair gray.

“Carys Deanne, I’m not playing around. We need to talk about this latest stunt,” he said, feeling more than a bit foolish for speaking to a door but unwilling to invade his daughter’s privacy. “This is very serious business, which will likely be very expensive to fix. You’re lucky we have two bathrooms in the bungalow or else we’d be in a jam when either one of us needed to use the restroom.”

“I said she’s lying! I hope she drowns in the ocean for what she’s saying about me,” shrieked his daughter in a shrill voice, eliciting a frown from Gabe. “Why do you believe her—a stranger—over your own daughter?” There was a short pause, then a barely audible, “Mom would’ve believed me.”

He winced even as he recognized the ploy to manipulate him. “Carys, leave your mother out of this,” he said sternly. “The issue is about the property damage. You’re going to apologize.”

“Will not.”

“You will.”

“You can’t make me. I’ll spit in her face. Try me.”

“That’s not very nice, sweetheart,” he chided her gently. “I know you don’t mean what you’re saying.”

“I do mean it. And if you try to make me, I’ll stay in my room until I die,” Carys said with the theatrical flair that had always made him and his wife laugh when she was smaller. But since Charlotte’s death a year ago, Gabe had found little to smile about when it came to his daughter’s antics.

He’d brought them to Cruz Bay, St. John, with the hope that a change of scenery would help his daughter’s increasingly bad attitude. But she’d just managed to terrorize and scare away the second nanny in as many weeks and he wasn’t sure what to do any longer. He’d hoped to find a way to channel her destructive behavior into something productive but she’d sabotaged the art classes, sulked through the native dancing classes, and flat-out ditched the music lessons he’d managed to find on the small island.

He was plain out of ideas and patience. “Carys, you will apologize even if I have to drag you from that room and plop you in front of the woman you’re so adamant is the one lying. Your behavior is out of control. Time to get a grip, kiddo.”

“You can’t make me!”

“Yes, I can,” he said, tight-lipped. He sent a quick look toward the heavens where he liked to think his wife was watching and chuckling over his bumbling attempts at being mom and dad and muttered, “I need a little help here.... At this rate, she’s not going to live to see twelve!”

He stalked away from the door before his temper got the best of him and went to the kitchen to find a bottle of water. What was he going to do with her? His daughter’s behavior was nearly beyond his ability to handle.

He knew she was grieving—losing Charlotte had been a blow to them both—but it didn’t seem as if Carys was even close to healing. His daughter was mired in anger and plenty comfortable in her own little mud pit of sorrow. He cracked the top of the plastic bottle and swigged the water. The humidity was brutal that day. It was hurricane season in St. John, which meant temperamental weather. One minute it was sunny and hot, the next it was time to batten down the hatches and tie down the patio furniture.

His smartphone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out. A work call. He paused a moment, torn between taking the call and having another conversation with Carys, but the decision became easier when he heard something hard and heavy thump against Carys’s closed door. His little darling had just thrown something. He closed his eyes for a brief second and then walked away. “Hey, Gary,” he answered, switching gears almost gratefully. “How’s the Mercer and Jones acquisition coming?”

Standing at the helm of a multimillion-dollar company was easier by far than handling the fickle emotions of one eleven-year-old girl.

Heaven help him.

CHAPTER TWO

“SERIOUSLY?” LINDY gaped at her older sister, Lora, both incredulous and irritated all over again. “Did you not hear what I said about the toilet? The same toilet that the plumber fished five ties from?”

“Yeah, I heard you. She’s a terror, I get it,” Lora said, pinching the bridge of her nose and pulling her long, thick black hair into a quick ponytail to escape the smothering humidity of St. John. “But we can’t afford to be scaring off patrons, especially during the off-season. If you’d take a minute to sit down with me and look at the numbers you’d see we need every penny. Larimar is in serious trouble, Lindy. It’s time you set aside your natural inclination to say and do whatever you like and go apologize to Mr. Weston for calling his kid a brat.”

“She is a brat,” Lindy countered mulishly. “And I’m not apologizing.”

“Lindy,” Lora warned, looking as exasperated with Lindy as Lindy was with the whole damn situation. A few weeks ago she’d been cruising Mulholland Drive with freshly colored hair to lighten her natural mousy brown, living the Hollywood dream—or nightmare, depending on the day—and now she was back home in St. John, working with her sisters to save the family resort because she didn’t have it in her to say sayonara to the whole situation. To make matters worse, after a few weeks in the Caribbean sun and salty water, her very expensive dye job was going to turn into an ugly mess. So much for making an investment into her future.

Okay, so she wasn’t as cavalier about some things as she’d like to let on, she grumbled to herself. But Lora was on her last nerve and making it increasingly difficult to keep from boarding a plane back to California, right now. “C’mon, is it really so hard to just say the damn words?” Lora asked.

Lindy shot her sister a cool look. “I don’t know. How hard is it for you to apologize?”

Lora had the grace to flush, effectively ceding the point but she didn’t give up. “Yes, the kid is a monster, but do you realize Weston is paid up for the entire month? That’s serious cash and we need serious cash. The next IRS payment is due around the corner and I can’t liquefy any more assets without steep penalties. So, in order to keep the peace and keep Weston from taking his money and going elsewhere, I suggest you march your ass to his room and put those acting skills to work and pretend that you’re contrite.”

Lindy clenched her fists, fighting the urge to stomp her feet like the kid in Bungalow 2. “This is bullshit,” she spit out just as her twin sister, Lilah, drifted into the room humming. She stopped short when she saw the standoff.

“What’s going on?” Lilah asked, her sudden frown marring the clear, dewy skin of her twin’s face as she played nervously with the long strands of her blond hair. Although many thought Lindy and Lilah were identical, in truth they were not. While Lindy’s hair color came from a bottle, Lilah’s was simply sunkissed naturally. Lindy had often wondered how Lora had been graced with such dark hair while Lindy and Lilah had landed on the lighter side. In their most heated spats, Lindy had often tried to convince Lora she’d been adopted. It might’ve worked if their faces weren’t so similar. “Anything wrong?”

By the anxious tone to her voice, Lindy knew Lilah was fearful of the answer. Lilah hated confrontation and generally avoided it, but as of late she’d gotten a bit tougher it seemed, if only marginally so. “The little demon spawn in Bungalow 2 has been up to her usual antics.”

“What’d she flush down the toilet this time?” Lilah asked.

“Sand. Lots and lots of sand,” Lindy answered.

Lilah made a face. “What are we going to do? Should I have Celly call the plumber again?”

“Yes, please. And while you’re doing that, our sister dear is going to apologize to the demon spawn’s father for being so rude,” Lora said.

Lindy narrowed her stare at Lora. “If you want an apology, why don’t you go give one and say it’s from me and call it a day? I’m afraid if I go near the kid I’ll commit a felony.”

Lilah shared a look with Lora—and the fact that her twin seemed ready to side with the big bad older sister gave Lindy momentary pause—then said, “Lindy, I know you don’t want to but Lora’s right, we can’t afford to lose him as a patron. Larimar needs his money. I’m sorry. Just get it over with and then I’ll make sure to handle the calls for Bungalow 2 from now on if you think that would help.”

“Forget it,” Lindy muttered with a scowl. “I’ll do it. But I just want to go on record as to say that this sucks and you both suck, too.”

“Duly noted,” Lora said drily, then gestured. “Go before they start packing.”

Lindy bit down on the impulse to tell Lora where to stick it and headed toward Bungalow 2. It wasn’t Lora’s fault that Larimar was sinking in financial quicksand. Lindy understood they were all doing what they could to save a beloved sinking ship but Lindy was not above feeling a bit emotionally manipulated into helping when she had her own life to live.

In Hollywood, it was crucial to be seen. How was anyone going to see her here? Before leaving L.A. she’d been hoping and praying that she’d landed the national commercial gig she’d auditioned for but she’d been sorely vexed, as the St. John locals would say, to discover the part had been awarded to the woman who’d no doubt said yes to the director’s vulgar suggestion that had involved her mouth and his genitals. Disgusting little pig of a man, she thought, remembering with a shudder. Oh, who cared? Who wanted to be in a tampon commercial anyway?

Lindy trudged through the sand to Bungalow 2 and, drawing a deep breath, knocked on the door and tried channeling a calm and peaceful vibe when in fact, she was still sporting a distinctly uncooperative attitude.

The little bugger herself opened the door. What luck, Lindy thought drily. Just get it over with, she told herself.

“Is your dad here?” Lindy asked, forcing a smile that she didn’t feel.

The girl, Carys, had the look of a child accustomed to getting her way at the expense of others. Lindy knew this look because half the kids in Hollywood wore it well. “What do you want with my dad?” she asked, lounging idly against the door frame. “Gonna tell him more lies about me?”

Lindy ignored that and bared her teeth in a wretched facsimile of a wider grin. “So, here or not?”

“Your hotel sucks,” Carys announced, watching for Lindy’s reaction. “We’ve definitely stayed in better, you know. In places with toilets that actually work,” she added with a sly look. The brat was trying to bait her. If Lindy collected a paycheck she would’ve said she didn’t get paid enough to deal with this crap.

“I take it he’s not here,” Lindy said, cocking her head to the side, openly assessing the kid. “Otherwise you’d be watching your mouth a little more closely. I get your act, kid. You play the sweet innocent girl for your dad but when his back is turned you show your true colors. You’re spoiled, mean, selfish and cruel,” Lindy said, taking pleasure in the way the girl’s face had begun to redden. “Oh, and chances are no one really likes you, which is something you probably know but pretend not to care about because, let’s face it, being a jerk is a lonely life. But let me fill you in on a secret, short stuff, this lonely childhood of yours is only going to get worse because unless you change your attitude, no one is ever going to want to be around you...not even your dad.”

“Shut up,” Carys said.

“Hey, kudos, kid, for the lip tremble,” Lindy said, being quite brutal, probably more than what was required but Lindy was still pissed about the toilet. “Pretty convincing. If I wasn’t already wise to your act, I might’ve bought it.”

At that Carys’s eyes actually welled and Lindy felt a pang of remorse for taking it to that level but the kid had it coming, for sure. Today Lindy was Karma’s handmaiden.

“I’m telling my dad,” she whispered, her voice cracking a bit. For a split second Lindy actually saw something in the girl’s raw expression that smacked of genuine emotion. A moment of doubt crossed her mind as she thought to soften the harsh words but the moment passed as quickly as a tropical storm and suddenly Carys screamed before slamming the door in Lindy’s face, “My daddy is going to sue you for every penny you own for being so mean to me!”

“Yeah, well good luck with that!” Lindy shouted back, forgetting her earlier doubt. Then she added, “Brat!” for good measure.

Well, that hadn’t gone well. But surely Lora had to have known it wouldn’t. Maybe her sister had set her up. Customer service wasn’t her specialty or niche. And curse her own stubbornness. Maybe she ought to have let Lilah handle the situation with Bungalow 2, after all, because clearly Lindy simply wasn’t cut out for this touchy-feely stuff. Damn, damn, damn, Lindy thought grumpily. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well for anyone. At this rate, she might’ve single-handedly ruined Larimar’s chances of pulling through this disaster in one day. Good job, Lindy!

* * *

“AND THEN...AND then...” Carys’s voice hitched on a hysterical hiccup as Gabe cradled his daughter as she sobbed in his arms. “And then, she called me...she called me...a bad...n-name, Daddy!”

“What sort of bad name, sweetheart?” he asked, barely holding his temper in check. “Go ahead, you can tell me. I’ll take care of this once and for all if you just tell me what happened.”

Carys ground the tears from her eyes and then wailed, “She called me a...b-word!”

The b-word. Hmm...well, the range could land between a whole lot of different insults from mild to harsh. He’d only been gone for an hour and a half, just long enough for Carys to calm down so they could discuss her behavior, but in the space of that time, that woman had apparently returned to the bungalow to call his daughter names. A small niggling doubt worried at his thoughts even as his temper reached a dangerous place. Carys was only eleven; the woman had no right to call his daughter names no matter what she’d allegedly done to the damn toilet. Still, that one percent of doubt countered with grim logic. Carys was...a handful. The b-word was the least of the insults recently hurled at his daughter. In fact, her last nanny...well, he was pretty sure the woman had called her something quite unpleasant in Swedish.

“Honey, why would she just show up and start calling you names?” he asked, unable to bury that small doubt under his instinct to defend his daughter. “Maybe it was a misunderstanding....”

“Daddy, you don’t believe me?” Carys’s head popped from his shoulder, her eyes hard and mean.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, sweetheart,” he said evenly. “But sometimes there are misunderstandings.”

“I’m not stupid or deaf. She called me a b-word. How am I supposed to misunderstand that?”

Ah hell, he’d walked into that one. Carys was much too smart to pull off that kind of deflection. He sighed and shook his head. “Carys...be honest with me.... Why do you think a relative stranger would just start calling you names? That doesn’t make a lot of sense. Did you, possibly, say something that might’ve been offensive?”

“Why are you taking her side?” Carys said, openly wounded and rapidly growing angry. “You’re supposed to be on my side! Not hers. She’s a nobody. I’m your daughter! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does,” he said sharply, not liking what was happening between them but it seemed to happen more often these days. “I’m just saying—”

“Don’t you love me, Daddy?” she cut in impatiently, wiping her nose with a quick swipe of the back of her hand.

“Carys,” he warned, disappointed by her obvious attempt at manipulating him. “Stop it.”

Her lower lip trembled and she pushed away from him, the action actually skewering him in the heart. “I hate you,” she said quietly. “Mom would’ve believed me. She was the only one who truly loved me.”

“Damn it, Carys,” he said, growing angry himself, but mostly doubling over inside from the pain of what was happening between them. It was as if Charlotte’s death had taken the light and laughter from his daughter and he’d been left with the dark and dour shell that could neither laugh nor smile and he was at a loss of what to do. “This has to stop. Just stop it already, all right?” His voice almost sounded desperate and if he could hear it, so could she. He moved to the window, a mass of equal parts frustration and despair, as he felt the need to escape. No, he told himself firmly. Fix this. Somehow. “Listen...” He turned to try again, to apologize for being short with her but before the words could leave his mouth, she was running out the door.

“Carys!”

* * *

CARYS RAN AS fast as her legs could take her, as fast as she’d ever run before. Her bare feet slapped on the dark asphalt road as she burst from the private grounds of the resort where her father had imprisoned her; running almost blindly as tears sprang from that empty, yet strangely painful place she held deep inside. She hated it here. She hated her father. She hated everything and everyone. No one understood what she was going through, how every day felt worse than the last.

Her father didn’t care. All he cared about was his business and making money. She hated money. Hated that her father took business calls at all hours of the night, during dinner, when he’d promised to read to her, when he’d canceled their snorkel tour. Everything came before she did—everything!

He probably wouldn’t even care if she dropped into the ocean and sank to the bottom and got eaten by a...a...stingray! A sob broke from her chest and she heaved as her side screamed in pain from the all-out sprint. She held her side as she limped, realizing with a cry her big toe was bleeding. Somehow she hadn’t noticed that her big toenail had been partially ripped off. She sank to the side of the road and held her foot, crying. Nobody cared. Nobody!

“Momma...” she whispered. Just saying the word made her heart spasm with raw grief. Everyone had told her time would heal the hurt, but they’d lied! Every day was more painful than the one before and she didn’t care anymore what anyone thought or said about her. She just wanted her mom again. And if that meant...well, then that’s what she meant.

She wished she were dead, too.

CHAPTER THREE

LINDY STORMED PAST the reception desk where Celly, the local Crucian woman Pops had hired, arched her thin brow and clucked at Lindy’s angry pace. “You got a bee in yah bonnet, supahstar?” Celly asked, using the nickname she’d given Lindy once she learned she was an aspiring actress. Funny thing was, Lindy wasn’t quite sure if she was being facetious or complimentary.

“You could say that,” Lindy muttered. “Where’s Lora?”

Celly shrugged. “Not that woman’s keepah, you know dat,” she said, adding with a sniff, “she likely eatin’ young children’s souls for breakfast somewhere.”

Lindy would’ve laughed because that was damn funny, but she was too keyed up to appreciate Celly’s wry island humor. She had to talk with Lora before the she-devil in Bungalow 2 had her daddy bellowing to bring the resort down. Maybe if she gave her side of things... Oh hell, why even bother. She’d been harsh, but the kid had needed to hear a few harsh truths. She probably deserved to have her mouth washed out with soap, too. Luckily for Carys, Lindy hadn’t had any on hand.

“Yah got murder in yah eyes, girl,” Celly warned with a chuckle. “Must be good, whatcha got?”

“The spoiled monster in Bungalow 2... Lora told me to apologize for having the audacity to call the kid out for flushing two tons of sand down the toilet but I didn’t quite manage the apology part.”

“No?”

“Not quite. I probably made it worse,” Lindy admitted with a private grimace. “But in my defense, I told Lora I wasn’t in the mood to play nice with that little brat and so it’s really sort of Lora’s fault for making me do something I knew wasn’t going to go well. She never listens.”

“None of yah do,” Celly said, chuckling. “Yah all de same. Stubborn, de lot of yah.”

“Oh, really? And suddenly you’re an expert on the Bells?” Lindy quipped wryly. “You’ve worked here for all of a year or so?”

“Dat mouth de same as de rest.” Celly tapped her dark head. “Hard as sea coral and just as rigid.”

Yeah, well, maybe. But she didn’t have time to argue the finer points with Celly so she let it go. “If you see my sister can you please tell her I need to talk to her?”

“Yah,” Celly said, though Lindy wasn’t quite sure if Celly was just saying what Lindy wanted to hear or if she’d truly give Lora the message. Lora and Celly didn’t get along. Under normal circumstances, anyone who bumped heads with Lora was an automatic friend to Lindy but Celly was different. She wasn’t all that friendly and she rarely did what anyone told her to do unless it aligned with what Celly had already planned for herself. Lora had tried to talk Pops into letting Celly go but the man had stubbornly refused. Plain and simple, he liked the ornery woman. So she remained. The only one who didn’t seem to rub her wrong was Lilah, but honestly, her twin had the disposition of a wet sea sponge—as in she gave absolutely no resistance to pressure; she simply caved. So of course Celly would have no problem with Lilah.

It was one of Lilah’s most aggravating qualities to be honest but Lindy would never say that to Lilah because, well, everyone protected Lilah. It was their thing.

Lindy exited the lobby and ran smack into the very person she didn’t want to face just yet—Gabe Weston.

She opened her mouth to defend herself but he blew past her, wearing an anxious expression. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach and she hurried after him against her better judgment. “What’s wrong?” Lindy asked.

He barely acknowledged her, but answered tersely. “Carys is missing. She wasn’t in her room and she wasn’t down at the beach.”

“I’m sure she’s just hiding out,” Lindy said, swallowing a really big lump of something that tasted like apprehension. Had she caused this kid to do something stupid like run away? The island was a safe place, mostly, but it certainly wasn’t smart for a kid to go wandering around by herself. “I’ll help you look.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said, cutting her a short look.

“I know the island and two sets of eyes are better than one, right?” she said, trying to appeal to his logic, but she saw an arctic storm blowing behind his eyes. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. “How long has she been gone?”

He made an agitated gesture that spoke of private guilt as he admitted, “I don’t know, exactly. We were having a discussion and then she got really upset and ran out the door.”

“Did she say what had upset her?” Lindy asked, though she could guess.

“Actually—” he stopped to pin Lindy with a sharp stare “—she said you called her the b-word.”

Lindy gaped. “The what?”

“The b-word, which I can only assume is bitch. Is that true?”

“No,” Lindy answered truthfully. “I hate to break it to you but your little angel lied to you. I called her a brat but I’d never call a little kid that other word, no matter how much they deserved it.”

Gabe processed her answer and slowly came to his own conclusion. “I was afraid of that.” He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I’ve been having some...issues with Carys.”

“I can only imagine,” Lindy said wryly. “But we’ll find her, don’t worry. There are only so many places she can hide on this island.”

“I thought she probably needed a little cooldown and went to the beach but after about thirty minutes I went to find her. She wasn’t anywhere.”

She could hear the guilt in his voice and felt bad for him. She wasn’t a mom and didn’t know what it entailed but she knew for certain, she wasn’t interested in the job description from what she knew so far. “Okay, so she’s either gone to Hawksnest Beach or she went to town. My vote is for town. I’m guessing she has cash or a credit card?”

He looked discomfited, as if Lindy’s assumption only solidified her opinion that Carys was a spoiled rich kid, but he nodded nonetheless. “For emergencies,” he clarified, as if that made a difference. In Los Angeles, a rich kid’s emergency could mean there was a new pair of Jimmy Choo ballet slippers at Nordstrom. Lindy supposed rich kids were the same no matter the zip code.

“Well, that’s good. If she has cash, she’s probably blowing off some steam in the shops. I mean, isn’t shopping its own brand of therapy?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t particularly like to shop. That was my wife’s department,” he answered grimly.

Wife...likely a divorcé and he ended up picking the short straw with the kid this vacation. “So where’s the missus right now?”

“She passed away a year ago.”

Ouch. She bit her lip and the pink of shame heated her cheeks. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she said and actually meant it. She knew how it felt to lose a mother. With a pinch of conscience she grudgingly saw Carys in a different light. Maybe the kid was hurting and lashing out because she missed her mom and buttoned-up dad wasn’t cutting it in the emotional healing department. She skewed her gaze at Gabe and another apology hovered on her tongue. He started to veer toward the parking lot where his rented luxury car waited and she tugged at his magnolia-

covered shirt, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon, I’ll drive. I know my way around and some of these roadways are tricky.”

He seemed poised to argue but thought better of it and followed her to the Jeep. They hopped in and after Lindy fished around under the seat for the spare key, they were rumbling out of the parking lot.

“Do you always keep the spare in the vehicle?” he asked, clearly a bit incredulous. “I mean, anyone could just take off with your vehicle.”

“They could but they don’t. It’s a private resort and everyone’s pretty honest.” She barked a laugh at a private memory. “We’ve only had one car thief in all the years we’ve owned Larimar,” she shared without shame. “And it was me. I took the Jeep and skipped off island to St. Thomas, where a few friends were having a party, and I didn’t come home until morning. In my defense, how was I supposed to know that the ferry didn’t run past 11:00 p.m.? I was grounded for a week after that escapade but it was worth it.”

He shook his head, not quite sure what to think of her. Lindy didn’t take it personally. She was a bit of an odd bird, so she’d been told. “Oh, come on, you mean to tell me you never did anything crazy when you were a kid?” she asked, trying to take his mind off his daughter and ease the frown on his face.

He exhaled a short breath as if he was wise to her attempt but he answered with a short shrug. “I guess. But it feels a whole lot different when it’s your kid doing the crazy stuff.”

She bit her lip, her smile fading. Yeah, she supposed that was true. Now she wished she hadn’t tried to make light of the situation. “We’ll find her. It’ll be okay,” she said. “I grew up here and it’s pretty safe. Almost boring. In fact, in St. Thomas they call St. John St. Yawn if that tells you anything.”

“She’s only eleven,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but something tells me she’s pretty damn resourceful, even for an eleven-year-old. Am I right?”

At that he nodded grudgingly, rubbing the skin above his brows. “Yeah. I guess you could say that. She can be a bit precocious.”

“Yeah,” Lindy agreed. “I recognize it. That’s how I was, too. My grandmother had her hands full with me, but I turned out pretty well, so likely she will, too.”

They drove into the plaza where the shops converged in a marketplace hub and Lindy grabbed the first parking space she could find, sliding into a tight spot that barely qualified as legal. Gabe looked uneasy at her parking job but she simply hopped out and waited for him to follow. She waved away his concern. “I know it looks illegal but it’ll be fine. Besides, we’ll be gone before anyone starts to raise a fuss. Trust me,” she said, scanning the plaza. Several tourists were snapping pictures of an iguana lazing on a tree branch at eye level until he tired of the attention and lumbered farther up the tree. Lindy turned to Gabe. “Let’s split up. We’ll cover more ground if we do. You take the upstairs shops and I’ll take the bottom level. We’ll come back to this spot in thirty minutes. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said and struck out, his pace brisk. She blew out a short breath and focused on where an eleven-year-old kid would likely want to hang out. The shops in this plaza were mostly geared toward tourists and she doubted the kid was looking to buy a coffee mug or T-shirt. Lindy closed her eyes and thought hard. If she were a kid with money at her disposal and she was so angry and hurt that she just ran away, where would she go?

Off island. The answer seemed simple enough. A rich kid with resources and enough savvy was going to try to find a way off the island, possibly to purchase a plane ticket in St. Thomas to fly back to wherever she came from. Knowing Carys, the kid probably knew her way around a terminal. The wealthy were usually well traveled; some kids in L.A. were bicoastal with divorced parents so a plane ride was as natural as hitching a cab in New York.

Lindy jogged to the marina and began scanning. She spied her old friend Billy Janks, unloading scuba gear from his charter. She waved and grinned when his dark brown face split into an easy smile.

“Yah a sight for sore eyes,” he exclaimed when she stepped aboard and gave him a fierce hug. “Heath told me yah were here but I couldn’t believe yah left all dat Hollywood glamour for little ol’ St. John.”

“I didn’t leave permanently,” Lindy said, smiling. “Just a little break until things get more settled with Larimar.” She admired his beautiful boat. “Man, you’ve come a long way. I remember when you were just a snot-nosed island kid like the rest of us. Now you own your own charter company? That’s damn sweet, Billy.”

He grinned and nodded. “Saving up for yah to make me an honest mon, sweet.”

Lindy laughed. “As if I’d keep you from all the ladies who want a piece of that dark island candy,” she teased. “I’d never be able to live with myself if I kept you all to myself.”

“True dat,” he said, laughter in his voice. “So what da real reason yah here? Come for a ride?”

She shook her head. “No. Unfortunately not. But I’ll take a rain check on that, though. Actually, I was wondering if you saw a little imp of a girl come through looking to pay someone to ferry her to St. Thomas. She has serious cash but she’s only about eleven.”

Billy sobered and nodded. “She came tru here about fifteen minutes ago. I told her to go home. She plenty mad when I say dat. I tole her to cool off with a cold drink at the boathouse.”

“Thanks, Billy,” Lindy said, relieved. At least Carys hadn’t found a way off island yet. She waved at Billy and headed toward the boathouse. She stepped inside and spotted Carys immediately. She was trying to haggle with a captain Lindy didn’t know.

“I have cash,” she said, her small face gathering into a dark scowl. “What’s the problem? I’ll even pay you more than the trip is worth! I mean, you’d be stupid to pass up a deal like that!”

Lindy could tell the kid was about to get tossed into the water headfirst by the annoyed captain and for a split second, Lindy was tempted to let him. The kid deserved that and more, but in the end, not even Lindy could allow herself to let that happen.

“C’mon, kid, your dad is worried about you,” she said, startling Carys until she saw it was Lindy, then her face screwed into a fierce glower. “I know, I know, you’re mad. You can be mad in the car. Your dad is about to turn this whole island upside down to find you and you can’t even comprehend how that will make my life hell and I think you’ve done enough of that for one day.”

“My dad doesn’t care,” Carys shot back, but there was a slight tremble to her lip that gave her away. Beneath all that bravado and bad attitude, the kid was hurting. Lindy sighed and wondered why she had to be the one to see it first.

“You know he does so let’s stop with the games and the lies.” Lindy drew Carys away from the clump of island natives and took her to the bar.

“I’m not lying,” she shot back heatedly.

“You told your dad that I called you a b-word. You and I both know I didn’t do that.”

Carys slid her gaze away. “I didn’t say which b-word. It’s not my fault he jumped to the wrong conclusion,” she said with a shrug. “He didn’t believe me anyway.”

“That’s not the point. You can’t just make up stuff about people. Someone could get hurt.”

“If he loved me, he’d believe whatever I said.” Lindy’s surprised laughter caused Carys to scowl. “What’s so funny?”

“You, kid. Loving someone doesn’t give you an all-access pass to being a manipulative brat,” she said, pausing to order two Shirley Temples. “I don’t know your dad but he seems like a decent guy. You and I both know you were the little twerp who ruined our plumbing so let’s just get that out of the way right now. I see what’s going on, though. You’re trying to get your dad’s attention because you’re hurting but trust me, this way isn’t productive and it just hurts you in the end.”

“How do you know?” Carys said, her voice small but defiant. “You don’t know anything about me or my dad.”

“True. But I lost my mom when I was really young and I remember how it felt.”

The defiance in Carys’s body language lessened a bit as she asked, “Really? How’d your mom die?”

“Cancer,” Lindy answered candidly, surprised when the admission still had the power to sting. She straightened and focused on Carys. “How about your mom?”

“Same. Dad said she didn’t suffer too long, though. By the time the doctors found the cancer, it’d spread everywhere,” Carys said, her small voice getting even smaller.

Lindy blinked back an unexpected show of tears. It’d been a long time since she remembered everything her mom had gone through. It’d been tough, but fast, too. Lindy had always wondered if her mom had simply given up because of her divorce. Her mom had never quite recovered from the shock of her husband splitting without warning.

“Dad doesn’t like to talk about it, though,” Carys whispered. “He says it’s not going to bring her back so we shouldn’t dwell on it.”

“How do you feel about that?” Lindy asked.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah, I would, too. My mom was a special woman. I’m sure yours was, too.”

“She was.” Carys sniffed and swallowed. “She was the best mom in the world.”

“And I’m guessing she thought you were pretty awesome, too. I mean, something tells me you didn’t act like this when she was around.”

A hint of pink crept into Carys’s cheeks and Lindy smiled in understanding. “Listen, how about this... I’ll make a deal with you. If you promise to stop trying to kill our septic system with your antics—” Lindy took a deep breath, shocked about what she was going to offer to the kid “—I’ll make a promise to listen to you anytime you want to talk about your mom. We can share stories about our moms if you want. Moms are special ladies. They deserve to get a little shout-out, even if they’re not with us anymore. Is that a deal?”

“You’d listen to me talk about my mom? About anything I wanted to say?” Carys asked.

“Yes,” Lindy answered, realizing she was making a big promise but deep down she knew the kid needed it. “Anything you want. Your dad is trying to do the best he can but you have to cut him some slack, you know? He’s probably hurting, too.”

At that, Carys’s eyes watered and Lindy knew she’d hit a nerve. Carys didn’t really want to hurt her dad but she was a little girl who was lashing out because that’s all she knew how to do. “Okay,” Carys said, nodding. “Want to shake on it?”

“Absolutely. A deal’s not a real deal unless we shake on it. And maybe spit, too.”

Carys hesitated and then spit in her hand before holding it out to Lindy. Oh damn, Lindy thought with a grimace. She’d been kidding about the spit part. But what the hell and after spitting in her own hand, she sealed their deal with a squishy shake.

“Great,” Lindy said, quickly wiping her hand on the seat of her sarong. “Now can we get out of here and get your dad before he has a heart attack?”

Carys grinned. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Lindy nodded and, as they walked out, knew she’d just made a reluctant friend in an eleven-year-old girl.

CHAPTER FOUR

GABE’S HEART WAS racing and his stomach had turned queasy. He’d pushed Carys too hard; he should’ve backed off. But he was at a loss as to what to do with her. He knew deep in his bones that Carys was guilty of all the things she’d been accused of and probably even a few things that hadn’t been caught yet but he just couldn’t understand why she was being such a terror. He’d tried about everything under the sun to help her heal—

Disneyland, a new pony, the best birthday party money could buy—and it seemed her attitude only worsened.

And now this? If something happened to her he’d never forgive himself. He never should’ve listened to that woman when she talked him out of going straight to the police. They needed a search party right now. Changing direction, his thoughts almost manic, he startled when he heard Carys’s voice behind him.

“Hi, Daddy,” his daughter said, smiling as if she hadn’t scared the living daylights out of him. She walked beside Lindy as if they were old friends, which made him do a double take. An hour ago Carys had been hollering for the woman’s head. Now they were buds? Lindy’s brow went up ever so slightly, as if encouraging Carys. His daughter drew a deep breath and—Lord help him, he was going to have a heart attack—apologized. “I was real upset but I shouldn’t have run off like that. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

With his daughter looking up at him with those gorgeous baby blues, appearing more sincere than she had in months, Gabe found himself floundering with the wind sucked from his sails. He’d been prepared to yell, cry, kiss and chastise but instead he simply nodded, unsure of what to do. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, shooting an uncertain look Lindy’s way. He was willing to bet she had something to do with this remarkable transformation.

If he wanted answers, he would find them with the woman he really wanted to avoid. When Charlotte had been alive, he’d been a faithful man and even after her death that hadn’t changed. He knew he wouldn’t be much of a partner to anyone new after Charlotte died and he’d wanted to make sure he was making good choices, particularly now that the parenting burden fell squarely on his shoulders. So that meant smothering the inevitable awakening of his libido, which chose to flare to life at inopportune moments. And up until that moment, he’d been successful. But there was something about this woman that made his decision to remain single and celibate very difficult.

“I’m hungry,” Carys announced, grabbing her dad’s hand. “Let’s go to that hamburger place we went to the other day...Sailor’s, I think?” She looked to Lindy for confirmation and Lindy nodded.

“Best burgers on the island, maybe even all the islands, but then I’m partial. I’ve been eating there since I was a kid.”

“You grew up here.” Gabe suddenly remembered, wondering if her unique, exotic environment had created the slightly wild persona he saw now, or if it’d been her nature to begin with. A shudder threatened to shake his spine as his thoughts touched on an off-limits area. Of course, she had a body men dreamed about, but there was more to Lindy Bell than her body. He had to admit, he was curious. Which was exactly why he needed to steer clear. Curiosity led to seeking answers and sometimes the answers only spurred a deeper hunger for information. There was no way he was going to get mixed up with this wild woman. If he were truly ready to start dating, he’d start looking in more traditional pools, such as the country club, or the endless stream of fundraiser dinners that he was invited to because he owned his own Fortune 500 company. Realizing late that Lindy and Carys were already engaged in a conversation that didn’t include him, he interjected himself with a firm smile. “Thank you, Ms. Bell. I think we can take it from here.”

“I drove you here, remember?”

“We can take a taxi back to the resort.”

Carys’s expression fell, clearly displeased, but he needed to have a conversation with his daughter that didn’t include strangers. Lindy seemed to understand his need for some privacy and smiled. “Well, sounds like you have everything under control here. Glad the rug rat is safe and sound.” To Carys she said, “And remember what I said...” She held up her hand and pointed at the center of her palm, which appeared empty to his eyes but to Carys there seemed to be something of value there. “Catch you later, kiddos.”

Once Lindy was out of earshot, he turned to Carys and asked, “What was that all about?”

“We made a deal,” Carys answered without hesitation but failed to elaborate. “I’m starving, Daddy. Let’s go. Can we walk to Sailor’s from here?”

Distracted, he glanced around, not quite sure how to find Sailor’s from the plaza. He hadn’t been paying enough attention, and even though the island wasn’t overly large, one could still get turned around. “We’ll find a taxi, sweetheart. Now tell me more about this deal you made with a stranger?” he prompted, trying to keep his voice light and amused, but really he was uncomfortable with the idea that Carys had made some sort of deal with a woman she barely knew.

Carys turned and seemed to evaluate him, as if testing whether or not he could be trusted with the information and then when she simply shrugged, he realized he must’ve failed the test. Pressing his lips together, he made a mental note to talk with Lindy herself about what was going on, then switched gears and hailed a cab for them.

Once they had their burgers and were eating their weight in perfectly cooked beef—Lindy might be right, the burgers at Sailor’s were pretty damn good—he tried to strike up a conversation with his daughter. Once they used to talk about everything under the sun; now they barely managed two words without it turning into a fight. “I was thinking we could take a drive to see the sights tomorrow. Maybe go parasailing or something?”

Carys shrugged without answering and continued eating her thick-cut fries. “Lindy is pretty cool,” she announced, clearly demonstrating her attention was nowhere near the conversation Gabe had been having. He withheld an aggravated sigh and shrugged, not quite sure how to answer. What did he know about Lindy Bell aside from the superficial? She was hot-tempered, but beautiful in a way that made his teeth ache, and he had to focus really hard not to allow his imagination to run wild with all the pent-up desires he’d been trying his best to smother for over a year.

Carys continued, thankfully oblivious to Gabe’s struggle. “I didn’t like her at first but she’s better than I thought. She’s just got this way about her that’s, I don’t know, really cool. Like when I talk to her I feel like she’s really listening.”

“I listen,” he countered, mildly offended. He felt as if he’d been bending over backward to get Carys to open up to him but she’d rebuffed his every attempt. “You know if you ever want to talk—”

“What if I want to talk about Mom?” she queried sharply and he shifted in discomfort.

He knew he needed to tread carefully but talking about Charlotte... It was so painful for them both so why would he want to encourage that? “Your mom would’ve wanted us to go on with our lives, not wallow in sadness. You know that, right?”

“When people die it’s sad,” Carys countered bluntly. “Lindy said it’s good to talk about it. Somehow it makes you less sad.”

He drew back, freshly irritated. “Talking isn’t going to bring Mom back,” he told Carys firmly. “Of course we miss her. But the best way to honor her spirit is to move on with our lives in a positive manner.” At that Carys’s eyes flashed and she shoved a fry in her mouth. He was losing her again. Damn it. “Carys, you know I loved Mom more than anything, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answered, shrugging.

“What do you mean, you guess?”

Carys glared. “If you loved her like you say you did I don’t understand why you won’t ever let me talk about her. You never even mention her name. It’s like you’re trying to erase that she ever existed.”

“That’s not true,” he said, stung. “I just don’t want to get stuck in an unhealthy pattern of emotional pain. And I don’t want that for you, either.”

“What are you talking about?” Carys asked, confused and annoyed. “I don’t even know what that means. Emotional pain? What else are you supposed to feel when someone you love dies? I guess I didn’t get that memo on what’s supposed to be healthy and whatever.”

Somehow, once again, their conversation had eroded into an angry standoff and he was bewildered how they got there. He sighed and gestured at her cooling food. “Eat your burger.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Fine. Then we’ll take it with us. You can eat it later.”

“Whatever.”

“Can we not do this?” he asked, hating that he was pleading with his daughter.

“Do what?”

“Fight.”

“I want to talk to Lindy,” she said, folding her arms across her small chest.

“What?”

“I want to talk to her.”

“About what?” he asked, incredulous. Carys’s mouth tightened, telling him he wasn’t going to get an answer. He signaled for the check with a brusque motion. “This is getting ridiculous, Carys. I’ve tried to be understanding. I’ve tried to be accommodating but you’ve stonewalled me at every turn. What does Lindy Bell—a stranger, I might add—offer you that I haven’t?”

“You wouldn’t understand because you don’t listen,” she muttered, glancing away. “She understands because she lost her mom, too. And she says it’s good to talk about it.”

Gabe stared, hit by the knowledge that in one conversation Lindy had managed to reach his daughter when he had failed repeatedly. He also realized that Lindy had forged a tenuous bond with Carys through a similar experience. But Lindy wasn’t the kind of person Gabe would like his daughter hanging out with on a regular basis. From what he could tell, it was likely Lindy didn’t care about the things he felt were important and hoped to instill in his daughter. Maybe it was unfair to judge a book by its cover but he didn’t have the luxury of getting past the surface when his daughter was involved. “I’m sorry, Carys. I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t know Lindy very well and she might seem like a very nice person but I’d rather not invite strangers into our business.”

Once again he was the bad guy, he thought with an unhappy sigh. But he had broad shoulders. He could take it. Carys would realize someday that he was only doing what was best for her.

He just hoped their relationship didn’t sustain irreparable damage between now and then.

CHAPTER FIVE

LINDY RETURNED FROM the marina and went in search of something to eat. She found her grandfather puttering around in the kitchen, fixing himself a sandwich. She slid onto the barstool and smiled with love in her heart for the old guy. He hadn’t changed much physically. Maybe his hair had a bit more gray and he wasn’t as robust as he once was but he still had that same indescribable quality about him that made him Pops. Even if he was slowly losing his grip on reality.

“Whatcha got there, Pops?” Lindy asked, bending to take a sniff of his plate and opening her mouth as if she were going to gobble it down right there in front of him.

“Hey now, get your own,” he warned and pulled the plate from the snap of her jaws. “There’s plenty. Celly just stocked the pantries.”

Lindy cocked her head. “Celly?” she asked, curious. “She does the shopping now?”

“Well, your grams...she’s hard to find these days for the little stuff, like grocery shopping and whatnot, so Celly offered to do the shopping. She’s also a great cook. Have you tried her boiled bananas yet? Damn near as good as anything they sell at The Wild Donkey.”

“The Wild Donkey,” Lindy murmured, remembering the popular local hangout. “I can’t believe they’re still in business.”

“Nothing much changes around here, just the people,” Pops remarked, taking a hefty bite of what appeared to be a turkey and cranberry sandwich with lots of sprouts. “Mmm...that’s good,” he said with a grunt of approval. “Your grams talked Celly into all this healthy stuff and at first I was skeptical, but damn if she doesn’t have me eating like a rabbit and liking it, besides. Wonders never cease, huh?”

Lindy smiled as she pulled the fixings for her own sandwich. “So...Pops...how is Grams feeling these days?” she asked, feeling out the framework of Pops’s elaborate fantasy. “She okay?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” Pops answered with a faint scowl as if he were annoyed that Lindy had even asked. “Why? She say something to you?”

Lindy’s mouth curved in a faint smile as sadness brushed across her thoughts. She’d been fifteen when Grams had gotten sick. It’d been a horrible time. Sometimes she wished she could forget, too. Lindy blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes and focused on her sandwich. “Nope,” she answered brightly, slathering mayo on her bread. “Just making sure everyone’s good and healthy. I’ve been gone awhile so you know, just want to make sure I haven’t missed anything important.”

“Everything’s fine, sugar bird,” he assured her with a smile, biting into his sandwich. “Everything’s just fine.”

“Good.” She dumped a handful of turkey on her bread with a little more force than necessary. Pops looked up with a quizzical expression and she forced a laugh. “Oops. My bad.”

Pops switched subjects without her needing to, saying, “Lindy...I’m worried about Lilah. I think she’s going through something...and you two have always been so close. Maybe you could talk to her?”

“Sure, Pops,” Lindy answered, sprinkling her sandwich with a liberal dose of salt and pepper. She liked it almost inedible to most tastes. The first time her friends had watched her doctor her Subway sandwich they’d nearly fallen over in shock. Of course, it could’ve also been for the fact that she was eating a full six-inch instead of cutting it in half to save for the following day. She sank her teeth into the sandwich and groaned in happiness. “What makes you think Lilah is bothered by something?” she asked around the bite in her mouth. “She seemed okay to me yesterday.”

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, now that she thought about it. But then Lilah had always orbited her own planet and no one thought to question her flight pattern. Lindy loved her twin desperately, but she did worry about her at times. She’d tried to get her to move to Los Angeles, but even as the offer had fallen from her mouth she knew that was never going to happen. Lilah in Los Angeles would be like feeding a lamb to the lions. She’d stick out like a sore thumb in Lindy’s circles; worse, some sleazy producer type might try to sleep with her. Lindy sighed and took another bite. “Yeah,” she repeated, mostly to herself. “I’ll talk to her, Pops.”

“I knew I could count on you.” He rose from the table and tossed his trash, then brushed a quick, smacking kiss on her cheek. She smiled at the contact and watched as he went on his merry way, likely to go find his wife.

How did someone lose their grip on reality like Pops? He seemed completely lucid, unless you considered the fact that he held conversations with a woman who’d been dead for almost ten years. It broke her heart, but what could she do? Pushing reality on him seemed to make it worse—Lora had learned that the hard way—but eventually his grip on everything was going to slip, right? She hated to think of that moment, so she didn’t. Finishing her sandwich, she burped with total satisfaction just as Lora walked in and gave her a disgusted look. “What? In Europe that’s considered a compliment to the chef.”

“We’re not in Europe,” Lora reminded her. “Hey, I’m glad I found you. We’re going to have a family meeting tonight to discuss the situation with Larimar. It’s time to start implementing some strategies.”

She groaned at the overly bright light in Lora’s eyes. In her previous life—before she lost her job and Heath dragged her back to St. John to help fix this mess facing the resort—she’d been something of a marketing shark. And judging by the look on her face, she missed the action. Likely, if she saw a spreadsheet she’d shudder with ecstasy. But Lindy wasn’t hardwired that way. She hated the words marketing strategy, loss leader and anything that would compel someone to open an Excel spreadsheet. But she hadn’t returned home to hang out and spruce up her Caribbean tan. She was here to pitch in. More’s the pity. She sighed grumpily. “What time?”

Pleased with the fact that Lindy hadn’t tried to get out of it, Lora actually smiled as she grabbed a banana on the go. “How about seven? That way dinner is out of the way.”

“Good. And drinks can follow,” Lindy quipped, adding drily, “and they should. Lots of them if we’re going to get through the evening without killing one another.”

Lora’s smile faded, but she didn’t call Lindy out for her bad attitude. Thank God for small favors. Lindy wasn’t in the mood to start a word war with her older sister.

“Did you apologize to Mr. Weston?”

Lindy chewed her bottom lip as she quickly processed an easy answer to her sister’s pointed question. She could tell the truth, but then that would lead to all sorts of exclamations and recriminations over her bad attitude and the consequences of her sharp tongue—blah, blah, blah—and since it had all turned out fine in the end...

“Yep,” Lindy answered with a short smile.

“Good.” Lora smiled, seeming relieved. “I have to confess I was a little worried you might make things worse.”

Lindy scowled. “If you thought that, why’d you insist I apologize?”

Lora’s smile widened. “It was a leap of faith. I think.”

Lindy bit back the sarcasm dancing on her tongue. She supposed she couldn’t be too peeved; in a way her sister’s fear had been accurate. But at least Lindy had managed to fix things, and that’s what counted anyway.

“One less reason to worry. Thanks, Lindy,” Lora said and breezed from the room.

Lindy rubbed her full stomach and headed to her room to grab her iPod. She was hoping to catch some rays before the day was finished, and the sun was quickly sinking into the horizon.

Of course, as luck would have it, that was not in the cards.

“Miss Bell?” A voice called out at her back and she grimaced, recognizing the firm timbre as belonging to Carys’s father, Gabe Weston. She pivoted on her heel and pasted on a perfunctory smile for his benefit in an effort to be nice.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I wondered if I might talk to you for a minute.... It’s about Carys.”

A ripple of unease followed. “What’s wrong? Everything okay? What’s the kid done now?”

“Nothing,” he answered with a faint scowl.

“Oh, c’mon. You and I both know the kid’s got devil juice running through her veins. Don’t get me wrong...I like her, but...yeah, she’s a handful. We pulled out another tie, by the way. Would you like me to show you the plumber’s bill now or later?”

“Another one?”

“Well, to be fair, we think it was part of the original batch she sent whizzing down our pipes, but it got stuck and the plumber managed to fish it out. Something tells me you aren’t going to want it back.”

“Ah...sorry about that. Send me the bill. I’ll cover it.”

“Oh, it’s on your bill,” she assured him with a smile. “At this rate, the plumber is going to send you a fruit basket in appreciation.”

At his sharp look, her grin brightened and he faltered, clearly not quite sure what to think of her. She didn’t hold his confusion against him. Most people didn’t know what to think of her. It was part of her charm. At least, that was how she liked to think of it. He recovered after a moment and returned to his original train of thought. “Listen, my daughter seems to have taken a shine to you....”

“Yeah? That’s cool. I take back what I said about the devil juice. She’s obviously a kid with a great judge of character.”

“Uh...yeah, about that,” he continued, uncomfortable. “Here’s the thing, I’m just going to give it to you straight—”

“Great. I hate when people blow smoke up my ass. Makes me burp.”

At that he almost laughed and she was struck by how handsome he could be when he wasn’t acting like a stiff jackass. She regarded him with as much seriousness as she could muster. She was already bored with the conversation—mostly because she had a feeling whatever he was struggling to tell her wasn’t going to make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside—and she wanted to get it over with.

“You have to understand, my daughter is very impressionable and it’s not personal, really, but—”

“Oh wait, this sounds like a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ conversation, which is funny because we’re not even dating. Also funny because I’m usually the one delivering that line.”

He flushed and shot her a short look as if to say, will you stop interrupting so I can finish this difficult conversation? But she was way ahead of him and simply said with a sigh, “I get it. You don’t want her hanging out with someone as ultracool as me—an almost famous celebrity—because you wouldn’t want to set her up with an unreal expectation of what life can be like. I get it. It’s okay.” She patted him on the shoulder. “But honestly, Gabe— Can I call you Gabe? Okay. Good. Here’s the thing. I think we should give kids a high bar to reach for. You know? So they can rise to the occasion. But that’s just me. You do what you feel is right. She’s your kid.”

And with that, she left him, staring with his jaw open slightly and a serious what-the-eff just happened? look on his face. And Lindy tried not to laugh.

Lindy left a lot of people with that very same expression. She suspected one particular director had pegged it precisely: she simply didn’t accept anything she didn’t want to hear and therefore created her own reality.

Now that she thought about it, maybe she had more in common with Pops than she realized.

Huh. Interesting.

But she had to admit Gabe Weston was not hard on the eyes. Not at all, she thought as she grabbed her beach towel and sunscreen.

Too bad she didn’t date guys with kids. That was a deal-breaker in her book.

No matter how hot they were.

No matter how much she kinda liked the kid.

No. Matter. No. How.

Rules were rules, which ordinarily she delighted in breaking, unless they were her own rules, then she stuck to them religiously.

Yep. She was funny like that.

She spied Lilah and waved. “Hey, wanna hit the beach with me?”

“You bet. Gimme a sec.” Lilah grinned with a nod before disappearing to grab her own towel and beach bag.

While she waited for her sister, Lindy’s gaze strayed in the direction of Bungalow 2 for just a minute, then she sighed.

What a tragedy.

Rules sucked.

* * *

GABE WAS FAIRLY certain the hot woman had just bamboozled him.

Worse, he wasn’t sure how it’d happened or how he’d allowed it to happen.

He supposed that was the foundation of a good bamboozle—the element of surprise.

Gabe was still thinking about Lindy when Carys came into view. She looked adorable in her pink bathing suit and for a moment he let his guard down. It didn’t matter how she infuriated him, the love he felt for this kid was beyond comprehension. She’d been their miracle child, part of the reason she was an only child. Charlotte had struggled to get pregnant and they’d gone through several IVF cycles to finally conceive. They used to joke that Carys had been their million-dollar baby because when it was all said and done, the medical bills had been astronomical.

“She better be the next president,” he’d joked a few months after Carys had been born and another wave of bills had come through. Charlotte, her blond hair tucked in a messy knot at the back of her head, simply graced the sleeping baby in her arms with an adoring smile and he forgot all about the dollar amount it’d taken to get their bundle of joy. All that had mattered was the love they all felt for this tiny person who’d come into their lives on a cloud of hopes and dreams. He’d pressed a kiss to her downy head, inhaling the soft sweet scent at her crown. “She’s worth every penny,” he’d admitted to Charlotte. Charlotte’s eyes had watered and she’d lifted her mouth to his, sealing their lips with an

emotion-filled kiss.

“You’re an amazing husband...and an even more amazing father,” she’d murmured. “I love you.”

Gabe closed his eyes, wincing against the hurt that always followed when he thought of Charlotte. It’d been a year since she’d died. Sometimes it felt as though it were yesterday. He shook himself free of the pain wrapping itself like a band around his chest and forced a smile for Carys’s benefit. “Hitting the beach?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Carys answered, for once giving him a straight answer instead of one laced with sarcasm. He took that as a good sign. “Wanna come with me?”

Doubly pleased that she thought to include him without his prompting, he agreed quickly. “Let me just go get my BlackBerry and—”

“No phone,” she returned with a faint scowl. “Can’t you go two minutes without your emails and whatever?”

He hesitated but he could see she was waiting for him to choose her over his work. It was an easy choice if a choice was given but that was the thing...he was the boss. He had to know what was happening at all times. A lot of lives depended on him making all the right decisions for the company. He knew this was a concept an eleven-year-old girl couldn’t possibly understand, but someday he hoped she might and forgive him for being a workaholic. “It’s not that simple, honey,” he said finally, hating the disappointment in her face. “But I tell you what, tonight at dinner...no phone at all. It’ll just be me and you. I promise.”

Carys regarded him with a knowing expression that bordered on distrust and it cut him to the core. Finally, she shrugged and started walking. “Whatever,” she added over her shoulder and he swore under his breath. He should’ve just agreed to leave his phone behind. What was an hour or two incommunicado? But it was too late now and he was expecting an important phone call, besides. He sighed and walked to the bungalow, his heart heavy. Things had to change. But how was he supposed to make it change if he couldn’t even spend the afternoon with his daughter without it devolving into a fight? He didn’t have an answer.

That was the problem. Lately, when it came to Carys, he never had the answer.

He missed his wife—her smile, her easygoing nature, her way of smoothing over the rough spots—but most of all, he missed the way his daughter was when Charlotte was alive.

Just as he’d been unable to prevent Charlotte from dying, he felt incapable of stopping the downward slide in his relationship with Carys. Soon, she’d leave behind the preteens and head straight into the dreaded teenage years and everyone always said those were worse. He groaned softly. He couldn’t even imagine.

He grabbed his phone and saw a missed call from the very person he’d been waiting for. “Damn,” he muttered and quickly checked his voice mail.

This call couldn’t wait. There was a three-hour time difference between here and California, which was where his office was located. With one final glance toward the beach, where he saw Carys setting up her beach gear, he quickly dialed his associate. He’d make it a brief call. Ten minutes tops.

Forty-five minutes later, deep in a tricky contract negotiation, Gabe knew all hope for time at the beach with his daughter had evaporated.

And it made him sick to his stomach. He made a mental promise to make it up to her at dinner.

Somehow his guilt felt like Charlotte’s disapproval. He was a poor substitute for a mother.

CHAPTER SIX

LINDY AND LILAH headed down to the beach, chatting as they went. It felt good to reconnect with her twin; sometimes Lindy forgot how deeply she missed their unspoken connection until they were together again.

“So tell me about life in Hollywood,” Lilah said, smiling. “Your emails are always so short.”

Lindy made a face. “You know I hate writing. If you’d get a cell phone with text capability...”

Lilah grimaced with the same intensity. “That’s all I need. I hate the concept of being at anyone’s beck and call. The idea of a cyber tether makes me squirm.” However, she shrugged as if she might actually consider the idea. “But if it meant I could stay connected with you easier, maybe I’ll think about it some more.”

“That’s progress,” Lindy remarked with a smile and stopped to spread their beach blanket on the soft sand. “So what’s new, Li?” she asked as they both settled on the blanket. “It seems like something’s bothering you.”

“Why would you think that?” Lilah asked.

“Well, Pops mentioned something and I thought if something were bothering you, you might open up to me if you were inclined to open up to anyone.” Lilah nodded but remained silent. Lindy tried again, saying, “Of course, you don’t have to, but I hate the thought of you being in pain over something when I might be able to help.”

Lilah’s sad smile said it all. Lindy’s heart sank a little. She’d been hoping everyone else was just imagining things, but the proof that her hope had been misplaced was currently staring off into the distance, with a bleak light in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Lindy asked, concerned.

“It’s hard to describe in a way that you could understand,” Lilah answered.

“Try me.”

Lilah sighed. “Have you ever felt that you just don’t have a place in life? That no matter what you do, you’re still standing on the outside looking in?”

Lindy shook her head. “No.”

“I didn’t think so,” Lilah said with a short cynical smile. “You’re the kind of person who walks into a room and all eyes are drawn to you because you shine with a light that’s hard to ignore. When I walk into a room, no one notices.”

“That’s not true,” Lindy protested. How could Lilah see herself like that? How could Lilah not see that she shone with a different kind of light, one that was soft and gentle and kind? “You have an ability to see the good in people, for smoothing over the rough spots in a person’s personality... I mean, that’s a true gift.”

“Some gift,” Lilah muttered, clearly not impressed. “Hardly useful if you ask me.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. It’s difficult being sandwiched between Lora and me. We’re both in-your-face type of personalities but that doesn’t mean that you don’t stand out in your own way.”

“It’s not just that, Lindy,” Lilah admitted softly. “It’s that I don’t seem to have anything that I’m good at.” As Lindy started to protest, Lilah held up her hand with a gentle admonishment. “No, wait. Let me finish. It’s all part of that knowing-your-place-in-the-world feeling that I was describing earlier. You’re an actress. Lora is a businesswoman. What am I? The flighty sister who can’t be trusted to handle tough jobs, the one who breaks under pressure. Not exactly the most flattering picture of myself, you know?”

“You’re an amazing artist,” Lindy interjected firmly, not willing to buy into Lilah’s assessment. “Teachers always said you had an uncanny way of knowing how to bring emotional depth to your work, even without much formal training. If that’s not talent, I don’t know what is.”

“What teachers said in high school certainly doesn’t do much good now. I was adequately talented with art. And now that Heath isn’t able to fire the glass for his glass fusion pieces, I’ve been filling in, but I’m just following his template. Any monkey could do what I’m doing.”

“That’s not true. Lora can’t do it. Heath told me that he loved the woman but if she tried to fuse another glass piece it might ruin their relationship.”

At that Lilah smiled. “Okay, you’re right. Lora isn’t any good with artistic mediums but she’s such a sharp businesswoman, she doesn’t need another talent. I’d like to be good at something. Anything.”

Lindy didn’t know what to say. It hurt her heart to hear her twin so candidly admitting how lost she was and it hurt worse knowing that Lindy couldn’t fix Lilah’s feelings about herself. She bit her lip, almost unable to believe the words were going to leave her mouth given her low opinion of therapists, but she knew her sister needed someone to help her through this. “Maybe you ought to see, like, a counselor or something,” she said, wincing at the words. “Or I don’t know...maybe read a self-help book?” she suggested, floundering for ideas.

“I’m fine,” Lilah said, shaking her head. “It’s my problem and not a new one. I’ll get it figured out...eventually.”

They were the right words, but Lindy sensed not even Lilah believed what she was saying and it scared Lindy. What scared her worse was that bleak expression on her sister’s face, the way she seemed resigned to...what? Giving up? Fading away? Lindy didn’t like any of those choices. “Move to L.A. with me when I go back,” she said impulsively, almost desperately.

“You and I both know that’s a terrible idea. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to fit in there. I’d slowly die inside without my island.”

“It kinda looks like that’s what’s happening now,” Lindy risked murmuring, shooting Lilah an uncertain glance. “You’re not happy.”

“What’s happiness?”

Lindy rolled her eyes, mildly irritated. “Don’t go all philosophical on me. You’re deflecting because you don’t want to think about what’s happening.”

“That’s all I do is think about it. I’m tired of thinking about it,” Lilah returned a bit sharply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap but you’re wrong. It’s not like one day I woke up feeling melancholy and lost. It’s a feeling I’ve had for a long time and it’s just gotten worse.”

“You sound depressed,” Lindy blurted out, panicked by the utterly calm face of her twin as they discussed her situation. Shouldn’t there be tears? Or anger, or something? Lindy had once read that suicide victims often knew weeks in advance of the day they were going to kill themselves and when they did finally do it, they were very peaceful about their decision. Lindy suppressed a shudder of dread as the horrid thought seized her mind. “Don’t walk into the ocean and just disappear!”

Lilah did a double take, with a strange look. “What are you talking about?”

“Well...you’re acting so...like the people who are about to kill themselves and I couldn’t take the thought of you doing that so I figured I ought to throw it out there so you know that I’m not okay with that plan. You know?”

Lilah chuckled and the laughter actually reached her eyes, for which Lindy was inordinately grateful. “I can promise you I’m not interested in killing myself. I’m sorry to have put that idea in your head. I’m just sad, okay? Not suicidal.”

Lindy let out a deep breath. “Oh, thank God,” she said, feeling a weight lift from her chest. “Sad I can handle. Suicidal tendencies I cannot.”

Lilah chuckled and as her gaze traveled farther down the beach, she frowned. “Isn’t that the little girl in Bungalow 2?”

Lindy followed Lilah’s gaze and indeed, saw Carys walking down the beach, her feet splashing in the surf in a sullen manner. Lindy sighed. “Yeah,” she said and stood up. “I better go see what’s going on.”

Lilah nodded and Lindy walked to Carys. “What’s up, kid? You trying to ditch your dad again?”

“No, he was supposed to meet me down here but he hasn’t come yet. I guess he changed his mind.”

Inside, Lindy winced at the forlorn tone couched within the thinly veiled sarcasm. This kid was hurting. Couldn’t Gabe see that? How could he be so blind? She propped her hands on her hips and made a split-second decision. “Come hang out with me and my sister Lilah. She’s cool—you’ll like her. I promise.”

Carys’s gaze lit up hopefully but she held back, unsure. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I didn’t say you did. I just thought you might like to hang out with the cool kids, you know? But if you’ve got something better to do...”

“No,” Carys said quickly, smiling. “That sounds fine with me.”

“Great,” Lindy said, returning the smile as they walked back to the blanket where Lilah was sunning herself. Lindy stole a glance at Carys, troubled by the fact that she cared more than she should for this kid. She wasn’t the kind of person who adopted people or causes. That was Lilah’s gig. Lindy preferred her relationships easy and superficial. But for some reason, she couldn’t turn a blind eye to Carys’s pain. So how could Carys’s father not see that his daughter was clearly losing the battle against her grief and sadness? Stop it, she ordered herself. Gabe was the kid’s father; he’d figure it out. But what if he didn’t? That same voice she was trying to silence was irritatingly persistent.

And Lindy didn’t know what to do about it.

* * *

CARYS DIDN’T WANT to admit it, but she was grateful Lindy had invited her to hang out with her. Even though Lindy had promised to be available if Carys needed her, Carys was a little shy about actually hitting her up on her promise. But Lindy and her sister Lilah had happily dragged her along as if it weren’t a huge inconvenience to have a kid hanging around and it made Carys feel good inside.

“Lindy said you guys lost your mom when you were young?” Carys prompted, sipping at the coconut-and-pineapple smoothie Celly had created for them as they sat on the Bells’ private terrace.

Lilah and Lindy shared a look and Lilah nodded. “Yeah, and then our Grams died when we were teenagers. But Pops doesn’t remember that, so we try not to remind him.”

Carys frowned. “Huh?”

“Pops is losing his memory and it’s easier on him to think that she’s still here,” Lindy explained, her expression dimming for just a moment. “So if he tries talking about Grams just try to pretend that he’s making sense.”

“That’s weird,” Carys said. “Can’t you take him to the doctor or something?”

Lindy sighed. “I wish it were that easy. You can’t fix dementia.” Then she glanced at Lilah quickly. “You can’t, right?”

Lilah shook her head. “No. The doctor said the damage to his brain is irreversible. All we can do is manage his care, and since all of us agree that we are not going to put him in a home, that means he’s here with us. We just have to do what we can to keep him safe.”

“Kinda like babysitting, but for old people,” Carys said.

Lindy laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. But I ain’t on diaper duty, that’s for sure. That job can go to Lora.”

Carys’s expression mirrored Lilah’s as they both said ewwww in unison.

“I can’t believe you went there,” Lilah said, fighting a laugh. “God, Lindy. You’re so gross.”

“Hey, you were thinking it, too. Don’t give me that,” Lindy said.

Carys grinned at the warmth between the two sisters, wanting to bask in that sensation for as long as possible. Grieving for her mom was hard, but the loneliness sucking at her insides felt worse. Being around Lindy and her quiet yet mysterious twin seemed to ease that awful feeling inside. “Do you miss your grams a lot?” she asked.

Lilah’s expression turned wistful. “Oh, yes. Sometimes it’s a weird comfort to pretend that she’s just around the corner or at the store or something like that so I don’t have to acknowledge the fact that she’s gone.”

Carys considered that for a minute and slowly came to understand. “Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend that my mom is in the other room, in the kitchen or something, making dinner or washing dishes. For a second it makes me feel better, but then I remember she’s gone and then I feel worse.”

“Well, imagine if you got locked in that feeling before you realized it was all in your imagination,” Lindy said. “That’s where Pops is at. He’s locked in that feel-good place, and when we remind him that she’s gone, it kicks him into the sad place but the sad place scares him because he doesn’t understand. Ultimately, it’s just better if we leave him to whatever he believes. It’s not hurting anyone and frankly, it seems a small concession to keep things running more or less smoothly.”

Carys nodded. Her dad would have a fit if she constantly wandered around having conversations with her dead mother. It might be the straw that broke the camel’s back, as her mom used to say. “What was your grams like?” she asked.

At that both Lindy and Lilah shared a smile, but it was Lindy who spoke first. “Well, she was a kick in the pants. Strong like Lora, feisty like me, talented like Lilah. I guess we all got a piece of her personality.” Lindy cast a speculative look Carys’s way. “She would’ve loved you. You have just the right amount of piss and vinegar that Grams found amusing.”

Carys grinned. “Really?”

Lindy nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. Grams had a habit of gravitating toward extremes. She said love or hate them, they were never boring. I think the only thing Grams found more tedious than boring people was when others insisted she do things their way.”

“Yep. The quickest way to get Grams to do the exact opposite—”

“—was to insist she do it whatever way she didn’t agree with. She could be a little contrary,” Lindy said, adding with a slight lift of her brow, “I guess I come by it honestly.”

Lilah laughed. “Yes, well, you take it to another level. Even Grams agreed, you were just downright difficult by nature.”

Lindy pretended to take offense but Carys could tell they were just joking. She giggled at the sisters and wished for the umpteenth time she hadn’t been an only child. It probably would’ve sucked less if she’d been able to share her grief with a sister or brother, even. But she’d never know because her mom was dead and it wasn’t as if her dad was in a hurry to get married again—thank God.

“So what was your mom like?” Lindy asked, swinging the conversation back around to Carys. “Was she like you?”

Carys shook her head and grinned. “No. She was nice.”

Lindy cracked up and playfully slapped Carys on the arm. “Not bad, kid. There’s hope for you yet. So, seriously, tell us about your mom. We’ve got time to kill before dinner, right, Li?”

“Sure,” Lilah said, sipping at her smoothie. “I’d love to hear about your mom.”

Carys took a deep breath and cast a nervous look Lindy’s way. She’d never really talked about her mom to anyone before. It was something she kept locked away in a private place where no one else could judge, or touch. Oddly, she trusted Lindy and her sister Lilah. Somehow she knew they were genuine, unlike the dumb shrink her dad had hired right after Carys’s mom had died. Dr. Dippity-Do, as Carys had privately named him when she’d seen how stiff his hair was from all the product he’d gooped on, had been a complete and total idiot as far Carys was concerned. He’d always spoken to her in a low, monotone voice that she supposed he thought was soothing, but really it made Carys want to bounce a basketball off his head. So, yeah, that hadn’t ended well. The doc had diagnosed Carys with a personality disorder and had prescribed medication. Thankfully, her dad had agreed the doc was off his rocker and hadn’t insisted on any more shrinks.

“My mom was supersupportive of everything I wanted to do, even if it was stupid,” Carys admitted a bit shyly. “I mean, she never rained on my parade by saying something negative. I always knew I could tell her anything and I miss that.” She glanced at the sisters. “Was your mom like that?”

Lilah frowned and Lindy answered with a sigh, “Not really. Our mom was...I don’t know, timid. She was quiet and reserved, from what I remember. We were

really young when she died. Lora might remember something different about her, but for us she always seemed sad.”

“Why?”

“Well, our dad left and it was hard for her to take. It really threw her for a loop. I don’t think she ever recovered from it.”

“Oh,” Carys said. Her father would’ve never left her mom. At least, she didn’t think he would. He worked too much to spend time looking for anyone else, at the very least. “I’m sorry.”

“Ancient history, kiddo,” Lindy said brightly, though Carys heard the fake happiness in Lindy’s tone. Lilah must’ve caught it, too, for she sent her sister a quick look. But Lindy had moved on, saying, “It sounds like even though your time with your mom was cut short, at least you had some quality time with her, right? You have great memories to hold on to.”

Carys nodded but it was hard to be grateful when there was so much she still needed her mom to be around for. “She’ll never see me get married. Or go to college,” Carys said quietly. “I won’t have anyone to call when I need, you know, advice about stuff. I mean, it’s not like I can ask my dad about girl stuff. When I asked my dad if I could get a training bra he turned six different shades of red and then said I didn’t need one yet. How does he know? My friend Yasmine said if you don’t get a bra right when your boobs start growing, they’ll sag like an old lady’s. I don’t want old lady boobs!”

Lindy didn’t even try to hold back her laughter and let loose with a huge guffaw. “Old lady boobs! Ha! I remember thinking that, too.” After a few more chuckles, Lindy said, “Listen, hon, your boobs are going to be fine. But if you really want a training bra, I think I could take you out shopping for one, though it might give your dad a heart attack if he knew. But take it from me, bras are a pain. Which is why I rarely wear one.”

“And why your boobs are going to hang down to your knees by the time you’re thirty,” Lora said, surprising them all when she announced her presence behind them.

“They will not.” Lindy sniffed as if offended. “For those of us who weren’t cursed with porn star cans, we don’t have to worry about gravity as much, so there.”

“Lucky you,” Lora remarked drily. “Hey, while you ladies are out here enjoying the sunset, Celly’s been busy making dinner. If you’re hungry, dinner will be served in the formal dining room.”

“Ohh, the formal dining room,” Lindy said in a pseudo-British accent that made Carys giggle. “So fancy these days! In my apartment, I have a formal dining recliner that also serves as a guest bed for when friends crash for the night.”

Lora grimaced and rolled her eyes while Lilah laughed, too. “Sounds divine. Dinner is ready in five.”

“You hungry?” Lindy asked Carys. “Cuz there’s always room for one more in the Bell household.”

Carys nodded eagerly even though that smoothie had filled her up. She wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to hang with Lindy and her crazy family. It was far more interesting than anything happening back at her place, where her dad would spend all night on the phone or on his laptop doing whatever it was he did aside from pay attention to her. “I’m starved,” Carys said, grinning. And it didn’t even matter what was on the menu.

* * *

GABE SCRUBBED HIS face and tossed his phone, tired and frustrated by the turn of events. A simple phone call had turned into a major time-suck and now it was much too late to take Carys to the beach. Likely, she’d already returned and was now hiding out in her room, like an angry little chinchilla just waiting for the right opportunity to snap his fingers off.

Even worse, though, was he had a feeling she’d given up on him way before he’d given her the chance to believe he’d keep his word.

But damn it, it wasn’t so easy to just drop everything when you were the boss. Livelihoods were balanced on his ability to make profitable decisions for the company. He wished he could make Carys understand. Ahhh, hell. Justifications, that’s all they were. He’d let her down—again.

Time to face the music.

He went to her room and knocked. “Carys, honey? You hungry? Want to grab a bite? You name the place.”

No answer.

He sighed. Not this again. The silent treatment was getting old. He tried again. “Carys, come on. You know I can’t always control how long a business call lasts. Trust me, if I’d had my choices, I’d rather have spent the time with my feet in the sand with you.” More silence. He frowned and cautiously opened the door, only to find it empty. He swore under his breath. Now what? He returned to the living room and grabbed his phone from the sofa where he’d tossed it. He dialed her phone. With a spike of alarm, he heard the muffled music of her ringtone sound from somewhere in her room. Damn. She didn’t have her phone. Don’t panic. She was probably...with Lindy.

Somehow, intuitively, he knew his daughter had sought out the company of the one person he’d rather she steered clear of.

“Carys...if you’re with that woman I’m going to tan your little hide,” he muttered, though it was an idle threat. It was likely why she was such a holy terror. He and Charlotte had never spanked Carys; it hadn’t been their parenting style. And now, with hindsight being twenty-twenty, he wasn’t above admitting maybe if he’d given her a little wap on the butt to put the fear of God into her when she’d been younger... Now it was too late. “Charlotte,” he said to the ceiling, hoping his wife was up there, watching, listening. “I need a little help here.... She’s twice as stubborn as I ever was. How did you handle it?”

“And here I thought only my pops talked to people who weren’t there.”

The voice at his back caused him to jump. He saw Lindy framed in the open doorway with a smirk on her face.

He had the grace to blush. She’d caught him in a vulnerable moment. It wasn’t often he prayed or pleaded with the divine. His mouth tightened, hating that Lindy seemed to see right through to the raw wound inside him that he did his best to cover, and his voice came out sharper than he intended. “Where’s my daughter?”

“You know, she’s much too young to be left to her own devices,” she admonished him instead of answering his question. He frowned and opened his mouth to offer a rebuke but she kept talking, eclipsing his opportunity. “Here’s the thing—she’s your kid, I know that. But it seems to me that you don’t have a clue as to what you’re doing and that kid is hurting. Big-time. And if you take a kid with a great big emotional wound weeping inside of them and pair that with an absent parent...disaster is only one dirtbag with a creepy smile away. You get me?”

Oddly, yes, he did, but he chafed at the idea that Lindy plainly saw what he didn’t want to see. “She’s my daughter. I would appreciate it if you minded your own business.”

“Yeah, that’s the smart thing,” she agreed, as if irritated at herself for her part in this drama, which he found baffling. “But I’ve never been accused of doing the smart thing. I’m an actress, for crying out loud. Doesn’t that tell you something about my decision-making

process? Don’t answer that, it’s written all over your expression. Your daughter is with my sister Lilah. She’s got a knack for lost things—cats, kids, dogs, birds...you name it. Right now, they’re helping Pops set the table for dinner, which brings me to why I’m here right now.”

“Which is?” He had to admit, he was curious as to what would drop from her mouth next. The woman was oddly fascinating...and it didn’t hurt that just looking at her made him momentarily forget that he wasn’t interested in dating.

“I’m inviting you to dinner. I think Carys, even though she denies it, would like you to be there.”

Dinner...with the Bells? “Why?” he asked, openly confused. “Do you always dine with your guests?”

“Sometimes,” she answered with a blinding grin that showcased a set of pearly white teeth that would make a dentist proud. “But the truth is we invited Carys to stay and I thought you should be there, too. She needs you. Even if you’re too busy to forgo a business call to spend it with your kid.”

At that, her voice hardened just a touch and he felt chastised, which immediately caused him to be defensive. “You don’t know my business so I suggest you stay out of it,” he reminded her coolly.

“True enough, but I do know that you’re about to lose Carys,” she said without hesitation. “I guess it’s up to you to decide whether or not that matters. Hell, I don’t know, maybe you don’t care a fig about anything but turning a profit, but something tells me that you do care. And I’m banking that instead of being a stuffed-shirt prig about the fact that I’m trying to help you, you’re going to accept my dinner invitation with the grace your mother tried to teach you back when you were a kid.”

Gabe stared, caught between the urge to go get his daughter and give her a stern reprimand for hanging out with strangers, and giving in because Lindy had a point about Carys wandering around unattended. “I didn’t leave her to her own devices,” he said defensively. “I took a business call and I was going to meet her at the beach.”

“Yeah, I heard. Except you forgot about the part where you’re actually supposed to follow through when you offer to meet someone somewhere.”

“My call went longer than I expected.” He scowled.

She waved away his excuses. “Whatever. Don’t care. For reasons beyond my understanding, I kinda care about your kid, though. We got off to a rocky start but now that I don’t want to wring her little neck, I’ve realized she’s actually a cool girl. Reminds me a bit of myself.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I think.”

“So what’s it going to be? Either way, we’re about to eat and your daughter is eating with us. So make your choice.”

The woman, for all her seemingly laid-back ways, was pretty damn bossy, he wanted to grumble, but he didn’t. She had a point. He could see that she was trying to help. And even if it made him uncomfortable, he wasn’t above admitting when he’d just fallen flat on his face.

He choked down something that felt like pride and said, “I’d be honored to join your family for dinner if you’ll have me.”

Lindy’s face lit up with an approving—and possibly relieved—smile and she surprised the hell out of him when she hooked her arm through his as she said, “Excellent! This day might just be salvageable yet.”

“Oh?” he couldn’t help but inquire, curiosity getting him again. “I’m flattered...?”

“Long story. It involves my sisters. You don’t want to know. Let’s just say, if you think your problems with Carys are big...you ought to thank your lucky stars Carys wasn’t a twin.”

Carys a twin? He shuddered at the thought. That surely would’ve been the death of him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LINDY WALKED INTO the expansive dining room that looked out onto a beautiful open-air patio. Whenever all the Bells were home—which wasn’t often these days—Pops always opened up the dining room. The front windows were actually giant partitions that slid away, completely exposing the dining area to the glorious view of the ocean. Grams had said it’d cost an arm and a leg to remodel but it’d been worth every penny. Lindy had to agree. Judging by the obviously impressed expression on Gabe’s face, he thought it was damn spectacular, too.

“Not bad, huh?” Lindy asked, smiling.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured in appreciation. “The architecture of the entire resort is impeccable but this is really something else.”

“Thanks. This was added after my grandparents bought the resort. My grams said she’d always wanted a place without walls but seeing as that wasn’t entirely feasible, even on an island, Pops had this created. He found the design in a magazine featuring a restaurant in Fiji.”

Pops and Lindy’s sisters walked in with Carys in tow. It was hard to miss the animation in Carys’s expression, and the surprise in Gabe’s eyes was dimmed by something else that Lindy couldn’t identify but it seemed vaguely sad. For some reason she wished she could fix whatever had caused it. She shook herself, wondering where that notion had sprung from. She wasn’t the fixer...of anything. “Carys, why don’t you introduce your dad to the crew?” Lindy suggested, somewhat discomfited by her reaction. She covered well, moving to her seat and gesturing for Gabe to sit across from her with Carys to his left.