Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) (21 page)

“I’m sure she’s a great kid,” Emma said, handing the picture back.

Lacey smiled as she situated the frame on her desk, next to a picture of the architect husband who’d designed the resort.

“Everything can be so different the second time around,” she mused. “The first time I had a baby, I was young and dumb and still in college. The second time, I was much better at the whole mother and partner thing. Of course, it helps that my husband is a dream and my ex was a dream
er
.”

Emma laughed, grateful that the personal small talk had broken the ice. And wasn’t the mention of husbands a perfect opener?

“But, I still have a resort to run,” Lacey said before Emma could speak. “And not that I’m complaining, but Casa Blanca has grown beyond my wildest dreams. Even the wildest dreams of my big, dreaming husband,” she added.

“But that doesn’t mean you stop the marketing.”

Lacey pointed at her. “Exactly. I’ve had an ad agency on retainer for over a year, and the work has been great for the most part. Great in bursts. Creatively, they can be fantastic, but the account management has always been frustrating, and I think it’s time to try something else.”

So she
was
firing the agency. Emma swallowed, debating whether to burst out with the truth about East End and Kyle—which could end the conversation instantly. Of course, Kyle already knew the agency was on the chopping block, but Lacey didn’t know Emma had any connection there.

She had to come clean on both counts. She cleared her throat. “Actually—”

“Do you have any ideas?” Lacey asked.

“So many,” Emma said with a laugh.

“Tell me one.” Lacey leaned forward and dropped her chin onto her knuckles. “Tell me a good idea.”

The fake fiancé? Not a good idea. The tie to East End Marketing? Another bad idea.

Maybe a
real
good idea first. “Well, I mentioned the Barefoot Brides, which is such a feather in your cap. How many places like this can offer on-site destination wedding planning that can be supported with a print advertising campaign in major bridal publications on some of the huge sites?”

“Yes!” Lacey agreed. “My agency hates print advertising and is always talking me out of it.”

Because Kyle’s media department sucked raw eggs when it came to power negotiating.

Emma swallowed, wanting to impress before the meeting flatlined. “But that’s only one prong of the strategy,” she said quickly. “Your goal has to be increasing occupancy to ninety percent year-round.”

Lacey leaned back and puffed out a breath. “Exactly my goal. We’re hovering at seventy-eight to eighty.”

“You could help that with an aggressive social media campaign to encourage anyone who is visiting Casa Blanca to post about the experience and elevate the resort’s awareness.”

“I love that. I follow some resorts that are so good at that and wonder how they get that done.”

“It’s not hard, but it takes dedication.”

Lacey smiled. “Which you seem to have. What about my market? How does a resort the size of mine find ours?”

“You blast a market-tested print and TV campaign to northern states during the winter, and a summer resident invitation-only campaign throughout Florida. You drive home that this resort is the best of both worlds—it’s elegant, high-end, and exclusive with a mom-and-pop feel.” She smiled and nodded to Lacey. “Even if the mom is a gorgeous redhead and the pop is your handsome architect husband who built the place.”

Lacey gave a clap and a hoot. “You so get it! What about the spa?”

“The spa?” Emma practically choked. “It’s competitive with anything at the Ritz or in Miami.”

“I know, right?” Lacey practically squealed. “Jocelyn has made it a world-class destination. Wait until you have your treatment today. You have to go. I want you to experience it firsthand, because I want a whole campaign around that spa.”

A zing of joy shot through Emma, immediately tempered by the need to be completely forthright. “But about your agency—”

“I don’t want an agency anymore,” Lacey insisted. “I want to bring the business in-house.”

Emma just stared at her, processing that.

“I mean, I could use an agency for projects,” she said. “But what I really want is a fantastic marketing VP to supervise everything and let me out of this end of the business.” She leaned over the desk and put her hand on Emma’s arm. “I don’t know your experience, obviously, but my gut instinct is on fire right now. Would you be qualified for that position?”

For a moment, Emma couldn’t breathe. “Well, there are things—”

“I mean, it’s crazy even asking since it would mean living down here, of course, which might not be something Mark wants to do.”

“Mark?”

“After you’re married.”

Things like that.

“Oh, well, yeah. But…” The marketing VP of Casa Blanca? Was she kidding? That would be the most perfect, most amazing, most thrilling thing that ever happened. “He travels a lot,” she finally said. That wasn’t a lie, right? He did travel a lot.

“Obviously, this is premature,” Lacey said. “But I’m going to have to do something about that ad agency, and this is what I think will be best for the resort. Can I put you on a list of candidates? We could have a more formal interview after you’ve had a chance to think about this.”

“I might not think about anything else,” she admitted.

Lacey laughed. “Then Mark will kill me.”

“No, not at all. But there is something I need to tell you.” More than one thing, actually. East End Marketing…engaged to Kyle…not engaged to Mark.

“Of course.”

“Okay. So, I know you think that—”

On her desk, a cell phone rang, and Lacey glanced at it, obviously ready to dismiss the call, then her shoulders sank. “It’s my daughter. I better take this. Gimme a sec.” She tapped the phone. “Hey, Ash, what’s up?” Her eyes flashed. “What?” Lacey pushed back her chair and stood. “How did that happen, Ashley?”

Emma knew her cue and instantly stood, too.

“I’m sorry,” Lacey mouthed and rolled her eyes and covered the phone to whisper, “my week’s insane, and I know you’re leaving Sunday. Could we get together, say, Saturday morning? Would you consider that? The reunion starts later, and we could find an—hang on, Ashley! What do you think, Emma?”

She thought that Lacey was stretched to the limit and the job she described was absolutely a dream come true. “We can talk Saturday.”

“Perfect. Bring anything you want, or nothing. Tell me your experience and ideas, and we’ll work something out. Maybe you can be here part time and at home in…where do you live, again?”

“New York City.”

“You could split your time!” She closed her eyes and grunted softly into the phone. “Ashley, I’m in the middle of a…really? Did you go to the infirmary? Do you think it’s broken? I told you not to ride that scooter around campus. I swear you are more dangerous than your toddler brother.”

Emma reached out for Lacey’s hand. “Handle your daughter. I’ll be here Saturday morning.”

“Perfect. Nine a.m. I’ll bring coffee.” She gave Emma’s hand a squeeze. “Do not miss that spa treatment this afternoon!”

“I won’t, I promise.” Emma practically pirouetted out of the office and back outside to the pool deck. She took a moment to inhale, filling her lungs with clean, tropical air and her heart with…hope.

Barefoot Bay had changed her life. No, no, it wasn’t Barefoot Bay, she thought as she walked over the deck to the sand. It was Mark Solomon.

She paused at the stairs, looking down at the sand.

Kick off your shoes and fall in love.

Was it just a marketing slogan Lacey Walker had made up to fill her resort with guests…or the truth?

Right then, she bought the promise of the ad copy. Bought it completely.
Just like you bought that wedding fairy tale
, a little voice whispered.
And look how that turned out.

But she drowned out the warning, slipped off her shoes, and ran barefoot over the sand to get back to Mark.

Chapter Seventeen

Emma was practically vibrating with excitement.

And just like when she drove the Porsche, it was the sexiest damn thing Mark had witnessed in a long time.

“I could pop the champagne myself and wouldn’t even flinch.” In the kitchen, she swung the refrigerator door open. “And, I happen to know that every villa is stocked with some. It’s in the brochure.
That I wrote
.”

He leaned against the counter, just taking her in for the sheer pleasure of it. “You’re a new woman.”

“Not yet, but I’m getting there.” She pulled the champagne out and put it on the counter, reaching her hands to cup his face. “Of course, I have to tell her everything. The truth about you, and where I used to work, and my relationship with Kyle. Before I do anything else, I have to lay those cards on the table.”

“You will. You start the meeting that way on Saturday morning, and once you’ve confessed, you do your stuff. And every word you say will be
awash
with
alliteration
.”

“Shoots and scores with another alliteration joke.” She gave him a wide grin. “I love that you know me so well.”

He laughed, placing his hands over hers to enjoy the softness of her skin against his. “We’re getting there.”

“You know what else I love?”

For a quick flash, his body tensed and braced. “What?”

She laughed. “You should see your face. Relax.”

“I’m as relaxed as I’m going to get with my hands on you.”

“And me talking about love,” she joked. “I was going to say I love this feeling of, well, of not being scared. For the first time maybe ever, I have this sense that I can do anything, that I’m unstoppable. I love that! I think I can really make this work.”

“You can.”

“With the help of my new secret weapon…Magic Mark.”

He chuckled, pulling her into him. “If I could do magic, I wouldn’t be sleeping alone every night.”

She drew back, giving him a look like they both knew that was coming to an end.

“Anyway, you had the secret weapon all along.” He stroked her hair, still warm from sunshine. “But it is fun to see it unfold in you.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she whispered, the sincerity of the comment darkening her eyes to a burning amber. “I doubt I ever will. You show up from out of nowhere, get my life on track in a matter of days, and infuse me with…fearlessness.”

“Did I do all that?” He eased her closer.

“It’s like you’re not real.”

He added some pressure so she could feel exactly what she did to him. “I’m real, and this is…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “Real.” He pressed his lips against her mouth.

She sighed and kept her hands in his, arching her back to let him feel the sweet tips of her breasts and the way her woman’s body fit against his.

Instantly, fire shot south, fueling him.

Blood pulsed in his head, a deafening drumbeat that almost drowned out the whimpers of pleasure and desire that caught in her throat. Without ending the kiss, he pushed her against the granite counter for more pressure and leverage.

“Mark.” She threaded her fingers into his hair, breaking the kiss to tilt her head back and offer him access to her throat. He took it, starved to put his mouth on her skin, to taste more of her.

He easily lifted her off the ground and slid her butt onto the counter. She laughed at the move, her loose skirt allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

Holding her gaze and steadying his breath, he trailed his knuckles from her temple to her jaw.

“We have more fun on this counter,” he said.

“Banging the biscuit tube,” she teased.

“Actually, we just have fun, Em.” He pushed a few stray locks off her face. “Whatever we do.” He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that. Well, he could, but…

She crushed the thought by squeezing her legs and leaning in for a kiss on the mouth. “This
is
fun,” she agreed.

“Everything is with you. Faking people out about our engagement, conquering fears, driving fast cars, lining up a new job. It’s all one damn good time.”

She inched back enough to get a good look at him. “And yet, you don’t sound a hundred percent happy about that.”

That was the other thing about her. She could read him. So well. Better than anyone…since Julia. He tried to cover the impact of that thought with another kiss and a playful stroke of his hands down her sides, lingering against her breasts.

“Do I sound like I’m complaining? The only thing I’m not happy about is the fact that our clothes are still on.”

He felt her shudder, but then she reached to the top button of his oxford shirt. “I guess we could remedy that.”

“It’s about damn time.” His pulse kicked up, tightening everything, especially his jeans. He slipped his hand under her silky top, finding the curve of her breast.

On the other counter, her phone vibrated and played a melody.

“That’s my alarm,” she said.