PARADISE COVE (PARADISE SERIES Book 1) (2 page)

He sank into a chair and looked out the window. Children played on the beach—one was running with a kite, the other had a bucket and a shovel and was making a sand castle.

The image made him smile sadly as he remembered the past, but at least he was strong enough now to take out the precious moments he’d been given with his daughter and look at them with love, instead of just anger and hurt. Far worse than the pain, would be to forget one single minute of Sara’s young life.

Two women in big sunhats and shorts over their swimsuits hiked the beach, gesturing with their hands as they talked. He’d seen them plenty of times from the deck of his boat, or as he’d fished from the pier. He knew they were Kayla's sisters, and that the three women ran this place with their mother.

He told himself they weren’t the reason he'd chosen to stay in Paradise Cove. Sean had no interest in getting to know these happy, laughing women so full of life, so carefree, as though they’d never faced tragedy.

Yet, something had drawn him here besides the convenience of the marina next door. Was it loneliness, he wondered? He'd been divorced for less than a year, but alone much longer than that. Was it human nature to crave the solace of other strangers, the sounds of voices? If so, why had Kayla's cheerfulness nearly sent him running?

He didn't understand himself anymore. He was clever. Brilliant, some thought. But he couldn't answer why he was here anymore than he could find a cure to save his baby girl. What good was intelligence or medical knowledge if it failed you in the end? He was the same as anybody else. Not smarter, and certainly not better. He bled. He felt. He cried. He was just a man.

Sean got out of the chair, wiped damp tears off his face with a paper towel from the dispenser on the counter and continued to unpack his bags. Instant noodles went into the cupboard, along with peanut butter and jelly, and half a loaf of bread. Kayla had mentioned a grocery store nearby. If he was going to be here for three months, he should probably rent a car. He hoped he wouldn’t regret the impulse to stay awhile.

He sniffed the milk, rearing back at the sour smell, then dumped it down the sink, and the small coffee creamer too. The six pack of Corona fit in the fridge and he stuck a bottle of scotch on the side counter, under the cupboard where he'd seen the glasses. 

Shoulders slumped, he felt drained of energy. The simple motion of unpacking had zapped most of his strength. Previously he'd been an active man, but living in cramped quarters for the past month had atrophied him. A walk would do him good. He felt stiff inside and out.

He took a long hot shower, enjoying the full power of the spray and having room to move after the confined space on the boat. Then he dressed in an old but favorite pair of jeans, a clean blue tee with a fish head on the back, and headed out. He stopped at the office for directions, but instead of the attractive middle-aged lady, Kayla stood at the bookshelves by the desk. They had tourist information on the top half, and used books on the bottom. She was adding one to the collection. He glanced at the title. The Seductress and the Rake.
His wife had enjoyed historical romances as well.

"Hey," she said with a sunny smile. "How can I help you, Mr. Flannigan?"

He hadn't been called "Mister" in a long time. But the "doctor" title seemed inappropriate, and he didn't need any formality. Matter of fact, he wanted to be "average Joe" and stay invisible. “Call me Sean.”

Why did her bright smile illicit such a negative reaction from him? Sean could tell it was genuine. He’d seen her smiling and singing to herself earlier when he'd walked from the marina to get a room. She'd worn a big straw hat that covered most of her face. He'd wondered what the heck she had to sing about. Had to be a hundred degrees in the sun, and she was working hard, cleaning the walkway from the pool that led to the beach. Bending over and pulling weeds between the wooden steps, trimming the wild grass that grew along the sides. She'd been sweating buckets, but catching sight of him, she'd wiped her forehead with her arm, grinned and waved.

Even at her worst, she was a stunning woman. Yet he hadn't returned the wave.  Instead, he'd plowed on, head down pretending he hadn't seen her.

"Sean, then. We're all curious about your accent." She smiled again, darn near blinding him. "Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

He did mind, but he answered anyway. "Boston. For the past twenty-five years." Conversation seemed forced to him now. For a month he'd drifted alone on his boat, only stopping for gas and food. He didn't have much to say anymore. Not to strangers, not to family or friends. He didn't want their words of sympathy or to see a look of sadness in their eyes. Even a light-hearted chat with a pretty woman couldn't muster any appeal. He was part of the walking dead. Just no one knew it.

"Before that,” she persisted. “It's not a Scottish brogue, is it?"

"Nope. Born in Australia." He tried a smile which felt stiff and unnatural. More of a grimace. "Moved to the States when I was sixteen," he mumbled, shifting his feet, eager to get away.

"Do you say things like "dinky-di?" She laughed and brushed back her dark brown curly hair. "I worked at a Hyatt in Philly, and we had a rugby team in. I heard them use it a few times."

He scowled. "Not if I can help it." Must have been the work that she'd done for a hotel chain that made her so damn customer-service oriented. Probably should have stayed on his boat where there was peace and quiet, onlythe occasional squawkin
g
of a seagull flying by.

Ignoring his bad manners, she walked across the office to the small refrigerator that held cold waters, taking one for herself, offering him another. "So, what brought you here? To South Florida?"

He accepted the water, uncapped it and took a big drink. "Look, I just stepped in to find out where the nearest market is, not to answer twenty questions." After a few more slugs of the water, he placed the bottle on the counter. He knew he was being rude, but she seemed damned determined not to leave him alone. Enough was enough. "Appreciate the water though," he said, taking a step toward the door.

"I'm sorry. I'm just trying to be friendly. You want to keep to yourself, it's all the same to me."

He shrugged his shoulders, hoping to shed his guilt. "I just don’t want to talk about myself, that's all."

"Fair enough." She pointed at the door. "When you leave here, follow the dirt road to the street, then turn right.”

Sean shot her a look of apology. It wasn't her fault he couldn't stand to be around people. She was just doing her job, and his rudeness was not to be excused. "I'm sorry for jumping down your throat. Got some things to work out. Talking doesn’t help."

Clearing her throat, she said, “It's okay." She kept her eyes averted. "There's a small general store about three blocks from here. You want a better selection, you've got to go a couple of miles. Big supermarket down the way a bit." She glanced at her watch, refusing to look at him. "If you can wait an hour, Mom will be back. She can drive you."

"Thanks, but no. The walk will do me good." He opened the door and the heat hit him like an open furnace. Walking far in this humidity might not be such a great idea. He glanced back. "I was thinking about renting a car while I’m here.”

“Good idea.” She stood, as if waiting for him to say something else. Letting him know she thought he was a Grade A jerk.

“Can you make the arrangements or is there a place in town?”

Kayla nodded. "I can look after it. No problem." She gave him that blasted smile once again. Like she just couldn’t help being ridiculously happy.

“Thanks.” He turned and started toward the road ahead, heading for the shade of the large palms.

Kayla called out, "Don't forget happy hour. You'll be back by then, I hope."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he answered, shaking his head. He had zero intention of showing up to drink girly drinks with a bunch of strangers. Maybe he could find a dark bar, a beer and a burger, and hang around until the damn thing was over.

"Perfect," Kayla said in her cheerful voice.

He left without a backward glance.

CHAPTER TWO

Kayla watched him leave and her shoulders slumped. She didn't know what was wrong with that man, but something was obviously eating at him. She'd known hurt, anger, and a depth of despair that she thought she’d never crawl out from. His eyes had the same look she used to see in her own mirror.

It had happened so long ago, almost half her life span. The Twin Towers—9-11. The day that changed not only her world, but that of so many others.

Schools closed down and she was sent home, where her mother and her sisters huddled together crying, watching the dreadful chain of events on TV. Kayla stayed on the edge of the couch, afraid to look away as she saw the towers fall again and again. She stared at the footage, the seventh floor where her dad’s offices were. He could survive, if he jumped, maybe. If the firemen could reach him. Or he might have had time to run down the stairs and would be calling them any second to say he was safe.

That call never came, and for the first time seventeen-year-old Kayla realized that there were dark things in the world. That she and her family might not be safe from evil. That the city, her city, was a beacon for those who wanted to do harm. Despite their prayers and tears, their father never returned, and only remnants of his body were ever found. His wedding ring was brought home. Not much else.

The rest of her senior year was a blur. She'd lost the father she adored. Her sense of security. Innocence was gone and she'd rebelled in the way only a girl of her generation knew how. She'd taken drugs, slept with guys she barely knew, skipped class, stayed out all night, and came close to getting kicked out of school. Most of the staff felt sorry for her, and gave her a minimum passing grade rather than flunk her completely.

Spurning her mother’s love and concern, Kayla had chosen a painful, lonely road. She'd been hard on her sisters, not understanding why they didn't grieve as much as she did. She resented everyone and everything.

Her friends went to college, while Kayla waited tables at TGIF and took a hotel management course online. She figured she'd like to go someplace exciting and move the hell away from New York and everything that reminded her on a daily basis of what she’d lost.

Her mother, although heartbroken at losing the man she dearly loved, somehow survived. It was Kayla who suffered the most, at least in her mind. Teenage angst combined with real tragedy. Therapy got her through the days, recreational therapy through the nights, but time was the greatest factor in healing. She woke up on her 21st birthday, looked at the pathetic waif in the mirror, and said, "Get over it. Be happy. Dad would want it that way."

It was a conscious decision that turned her life around.

Kayla had a strong hunch that Sean was hurting the way she once had. Somehow, she decided, she would see him through whatever dark time he was in. He would fight her, but she wouldn't give up on him, just as others hadn't given up on her.

Unless she discovered he really was a drug dealer—then she'd kick him out on his ass, and toss his bags after him.

Brittany popped in just as Kayla finished updating her Facebook page. She was the baby of the family, twenty-five, drop-dead gorgeous, with long, shapely dancer legs, dark sparkling eyes, and a mass of hair that tumbled down her back and stopped just before her tiny waist. She was also a fireball, with energy to burn. "Whatcha doing?"

"Posted some pictures of our place here, bragged about the weather. The usual.” Kayla sat back in the office chair and grinned at her sister. “Driving my friend’s nuts."

Brittany giggled. "Sounds like fun. Maybe some of them would like to come and visit? We have lots of vacant cabins, and not too many future reservations.” She pointed out the window to the nearly empty parking lot. The only two cars belonged to Kayla and her mother, although guests preferred to park in front of their cabins. “What are we going to do if things don't pick up?"

Brit fiddled with a curly lock of her hair and fidgeted. The girl could never keep still.

"They will. Not to worry. It's only August. Not the time to be here, that's for sure. But by mid-October, I predict every cabin will be booked. Especially since Taylor is creating a new website and plugging us everywhere." Her middle sister was a tech whiz, not to mention brilliant in the kitchen. Kayla had the organizational skills, while Brittany poured her heart and soul into dance.

"I hope you're right. No way do I want to go back to New Jersey and give dance classes to kids and old farts. Why didn't anyone tell me I'm too big to be a ballerina, instead of letting me dream and dream?" She gestured to her slim, mile-long legs.

"Mom told you, gently, at least a hundred times. And we pointed out how petite the other dancers were when we'd go to the ballet together. We must have seen Nutcracker at least a dozen times, and did you ever see anyone nearly six feet tall?"

"Well, I didn't expect to grow so big, now did I?" Brit made a face. "Too tall for guys to date. Too big for the stage, so now what am I supposed to do? I hated being a dance instructor. I want the big stage, with all the glitz and glamour."

Kayla laughed. "We’ve talked about this. Ballet is not the only way to go. Find a partner. Enter dance competitions. You'd be terrific. I just know it."

A hesitant smile lit up her baby sister's face. "Maybe I'll do that. We're only an hour from Miami. That would give me something to occupy my time besides cleaning cabins and driving people around."

"See? Running this place will give you freedom to live your own dream. Here," she slid the iPad over to her. "Why don't you Google dance studios? Bet there must be hundreds, all within easy reach."

Paradise Cove was on one of the upper Keys, just a short hop from Key Largo, which made the location convenient and easy to get to. People stayed for a night or two before traveling on to Key West. Others preferred the more serene lifestyle, the quaint cafes and seaside restaurants. It was popular with divers because of the magnificent reefs.

"I'll do that, and take over the office duties. You go do whatever it is you do all day." Brittany shooed her sister out of the chair.

Kayla got up, stretching her lower back, which ached from the morning of weed-pulling. "What don’t I do? Speaking of which, I made a car reservation for our new guest. It will be delivered here by three-thirty."

"Cool. Have you met him yet?" At Kayla's nod, she added, "He's yummy, isn't he?"

"Sure. If you like the tall, dark, and gloomy type. A little like Heathcliff, I suppose." Kayla inched toward the door, unsettled by her sister’s description. Brit thought Sean Flannigan was yummy?

Brittany giggled again. "You read too many historical romances. Get with the times. Bet you haven't even read Fifty Shades, have you?"

Kayla felt heat flush her cheeks. "Only the first one."

"You did? Awesome.” Brittany propped one elbow on the desk, her expression curious. “So what did you think?"

"I think if I ever found out you were dating a guy that kinky, I'd lock you up and throw away the key." Sometimes it was difficult to remember they were only six years apart.

"Come on! It was kind of romantic." Brittany leaned back in the chair, lifting her hair up on her head with one hand, waving her face with the other. “Hot.”

"What's romantic about being a sex slave, abused and degraded?" Kayla understood the forbidden aspect to the story, but it wasn’t for her.

"With a man like Grey, bondage has a certain appeal."

"On that note, I'm leaving. When Sean Flannigan returns, tell him about the car. They need his credit card. And don't flirt—too much.”

“I can’t help it,” Brit said with a charming dimple.

“You can too. He's hurting. About what, I have no idea. Just tread lightly."

"How come you know so much about him if you only met him?"

"I read people instead of smut. You should try it."

"Right." Brittany made a face at her as she turned toward the door.

"I saw that," Kayla said with a chuckle.

"Now you've got eyes at the back of your head?" Brittany snorted. "Go do some laundry, or whatever rocks your boat."

"Speaking of boats, I wonder how Sean managed to stay a month on his? It's not that big. Only twenty-nine feet." The marina was a big draw for their guests. It was right next door and offered charter boats for fishing. "I'd get claustrophobic, wouldn't you?"

"Heck yes. If I was alone. But not with the right man. Someone romantic and sexy."

"You, my darling sister, would be dancing out of your skin and go right overboard. You can't sit still for a minute."

"Can too!" She squirmed in her seat, and Kayla laughed.

"That's what I'm talking about." She smiled and left Brittany to dream away the next few hours while she made some calls and tried to drum up more business.

***

Sean had walked a mile or so and checked out his nearby surroundings, finding several places selling sporting tackle, a few cafes and bars. Places where he could escape his cabin for an hour or two. He still had his boat of course, but after five weeks it was nice to be on land and see people. Not that he wanted to verbally engage, but watching people interested him.

He’d been so focused during college and med school that he hadn’t taken the time to simply observe others. As one of the best cardiac surgeons on the Eastern Seaboard, he was on call most weekends, operating more days than he'd liked. The past sixteen years of his life had been hospital first, family second. Laura, his understanding wife, accepted the fact that he was busy saving lives, and contented herself with helping out at their daughter's school, charity work, and her bridge games and tennis. For him, it had been a nonstop, crazy, exciting, adrenaline-pounding, ego-feeding energy buzz.

That ended when their daughter died. Things around him got real quiet, like the energy was sucked from the air. Co-worker’s awkward attempts at comforting words added to his hopelessness, which in turn infuriated him. They’d finally stopped trying. He'd become a recluse, except for the patients referred to him, the ones who required his expert hands in surgery to keep their hearts ticking. But even they didn't get the best of him.

He’d buried that with his daughter.

Sean gave everything he could, but what remained was a mere shell of the man that had previously existed.  Finally it dawned on him that while he did his job as Doctor Flannigan,
his
heart was no longer in it. Hearts were restored, patients went home, but his was broken beyond repair. No stent, no bypass, no pacemaker could get his to kick-start. So as a favor to his patients and himself, he took a year's leave.

He owned a fine boat that didn't get much use, so this gave him an opportunity to dust off his sailing skills—a hobby he'd always enjoyed—and sail wherever the wind took him. He planned to stay away until his heart began to beat again, or he ended it all. Whichever came first.

When he returned to Paradise Cove Cottages later that afternoon, he was surprised to see the youngest daughter at the desk, instead of her older sister. She was wearing a snug pink T-shirt with two palm trees and Paradise Cottages etched in the middle. 

"Hi. I'm Brittany," she said with a sunny smile. "You just missed Kayla. She was here when your rental was delivered, and waited twenty minutes. I guess the company needs your credit card?” She slid some paperwork across the desk. “I can help you with that if you like. And anything else you might need." Her flashing dark eyes were full of devilish delight.

He wasn't sure what she was offering and didn't want to find out. He pulled out his wallet and quickly filled in the rental agreement.

The women’s mother popped her head in from a back room. "Hello, Mr. Flannigan. Did Brittany get you straightened out with your car? After you left, Kayla realized she had no idea what kind of car you wanted. She tried to call you on your cell several times, but never got through."

"I don't carry it. Don't want to be bothered."

Anna Jones stiffened. Though she was smaller than her daughters, her disapproval packed a punch. "Well, I'm sure that Kayla had no intention of bothering you. She had to choose between a jeep, an SUV or a basic car. She went with a car and figured you could upgrade if you so pleased." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't need anything fancy. Just something to get me around, right?"

"If you say so." Brittany shrugged. "I would have ordered you a sports car, something snazzy, but Kayla has more conservative tastes. She got you a Toyota Corolla, not the cheapest, she said, but modest." She tossed her thick mane of dark curls over her shoulders. "Modest? It's silver and has fabric on the seats. Boring!"

"It'll be fine." The entire family was bouncy and energetic and exhausting. He took the keys, and turned to leave. "Thank you, and thank your sister for me. I appreciate her taking care of it."

"You can thank her yourself," Anna said quickly. "She's down at the pool pouring Mango Daiquiris. You better hurry and get one before they're all gone. Happy hour is very popular around here," she added with a friendly smile. "My girls also like to partake, as do I."

"This isn’t exactly party central," Brittany pouted. "What else can we do?"

Sean tried not to smile at their easy-going banter. "I had a beer and a burger at the bar down the road. Not really into frilly drinks. But thanks for the offer just the same."               "Everyone will be disappointed," Anna said to his back as he made his escape. "A new arrival adds a little excitement to the party."