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“I have another surprise for you, Claire.” Shannon spoke over her shoulder, winking at me. “A room here at the hotel for tonight. You’ll have total peace and quiet and spa treatments tomorrow. I’ll come and get you before dinner. I figured you could use some R and R.” Shannon winked at me. “Happy birthday.”
Sounds pretty idyllic.
“When is your birthday?” Josh walked close beside me, his voice so soft that I leaned closer to hear him. His fingers caught mine briefly as our hands brushed, leaving my fingers tingling.
I missed a step and faltered. He caught my elbow and steadied me. “Tomorrow,” I answered, mortified at the obvious effect he was having on me.
Someone called to him.
“You’ll have to excuse me.” But he turned back to me to say, “I’ll find you later—to wish you a proper happy birthday then.” His smile was mischievous. The butterflies went crazy.
Shannon and I made our way to the tables set on the highest deck. Fire pits were inviting centerpieces amongst groupings of suede-covered settees, huge floor pillows, and large rattan chairs. It was a setting that invited more intimate conversations. Shannon found a partially empty table and chair on the far side of the deck, the view on two sides encompassing the breathtaking beach below.
The buffet wasn’t ready yet, so we snagged tiny drinks from a circling waitress and sat back in the large chair Shannon had found for us to share.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Did you ever think you’d be sitting here? Isn’t it the weirdest?”
I nodded. “Wow. It’s a completely inadequate word, but I just can’t stop saying it.” I looked around at the famous faces I’d read about, watched on the big screen and TV. It was bizarre and totally intimidating. After a few minutes of stargazing, I turned toward Shannon. “Do you have any down time coming up? Or do you have something lined up to follow End?”
She took more drinks from the server’s tray. “I have a brilliant manuscript for a fantastic character piece.”
“Oh?” I asked. I loved to listen to her talk about her work. She could get so excited.
“Well, it’s kind of…in development.” Her face pinched up and she took a deep breath, as if bracing for something. “It’s the last manuscript you sent to me, actually.”
I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. Silence followed. “Mine?”
Shannon sipped her drink, giving me time to recover from her announcement.
I stared at her, whispering, “The last thing I sent to you was my story. About me and…”
Chapter Two
I felt my throat constrict, unable to speak the words sitting heavily on my chest. All I could say was, “I wrote that to get it out of my head. Like therapy.” She couldn’t be serious. “Not for publishing.”
“That’s the thing, Claire.” Shannon was looking at me. “You’re not the only woman that’s been used as a doormat, mentally and physically, by her husband. You give a powerful, raw voice to women in your situation. It’s really good.”
I shook my head, putting my face in my hands and sighing. “Shannon…” Publishing wasn’t an option. Daniel, my ex-husband, would be furious. He might even try to… No, I won’t let him. Never again.
I shivered. I couldn’t find the words to explain how completely uncomfortable I felt, how wrong this entire conversation was.
She gave up, taking a long sip of her drink. “Not the right time.”
Eager to end the discussion, I agreed. “No, it’s not. But I’m not sure there will ever be a right time for that conversation.” The memory of Daniel’s face, twisted in rage, made me shiver again. My voice was unsteady. “But thanks. I guess it’s flattering that you think it’s worth considering.”
Shannon looked at me for a long moment. I waited, but she just shrugged and looked around with a small smile. Then she laughed softly, nudging me. “He really likes you.”
“What? Who?” I asked, looking around, curious.
“Mr. Wiley. He’s been totally checking you out.” She poked me in the side when I went rigid. “Told you you looked hot!”
“Where did that come from?” I blushed fiercely. “He’s so…” I paused as I ran through a mental checklist of all the things Josh Wiley was: handsome, thoughtful, talented, and intense. “Young,” I finished.
“He’s twenty-eight, hardly a kid and totally legal. He’s not a big ladies’ man around town, but he’s been seriously eyeing you.” She arched an eyebrow. “Not that I’m saying insanely gratuitous sex with an energetic and virile young man with no strings attached is what you should do. I’d never say that.”
My entire face and every inch of exposed skin grew hot. “You’re shameless.”
“Maybe.” She smiled, then changed the subject. “Are you cold?”
