Sun-Kissed Secret Baby by Leigh Jenkins

Chapter 13

Mango margaritas, Sadie’s new favorite drink, sounded like a lot of fun—so Allie chose not to have one. She didn’t deserve fun. She deserved to wallow in something sour, to match her mood.

Allie sat at the bar in the lounge, sipping on her second limoncello vodka sour, delivered by the waiter in smiling response to her request for something sour with a kick. She’d wallowed in the empty cabin for hours, unable to read, watch TV, sleep or eat. When the claustrophobia reached critical levels, she’d picked up her bag and headed out to the main building, again, too cowardly to go wandering in the garden for fear of bumping into he-who-must-not-be-named.

You’re spending wayyy too much time thinking about that man,she reminded herself. For all you know, he’s off somewhere with a girlfriend, or doing business, or simply in his home not wasting two brain cells on you.

But chicken is as chicken does, and she found solace in the anonymity of clinking glasses and piped-in DJ music.

“Well, hey there, sourpuss.”

Allie looked up at the sound of a bar stool being scraped closer to her. It was Ryan, the businessman she’d had drinks with a couple of nights ago. Once again, he was wearing his oil-executive-overseas uniform: a thin cotton shirt and trousers, tie loosened and askew, jacket tossed carelessly over his shoulder.

“What’s got your pretty face all scrunched up?” Without waiting on an answer, he signaled to the bartender, who seemed to know from memory what his order was. She arrived with a glass of bourbon… one ice cube.

Once he had sipped it and nodded his approval, he swiveled to face her, waiting.

Allie really, really didn’t want to get into it, so she responded lamely, “Just a little tiff between me and my daughter.”

“Uh-huh? How old is she?”

“Nine.”

He made a face. “She’ll come around. Just be glad you’ve got a couple of years to go before she hits her teens, because then…,” he wagged a warning finger, “then, my friend, you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“You have kids?” she asked, mildly interested, thinking it would be a good idea to shift the conversation from her kid to his.

He shook his head as if that was the last thing on his bucket list. “Nah. I got a whole passel of nieces and nephews, though.” He laughed. “I left it to my brothers and sisters to contribute to global overpopulation.”

He swung lazily back and forth on the rotating bar stool seat, and as he did so, his knees lightly brushed Allie’s. “I’m single,” he added portentously.

Allie sensed the tension in him, the significance of his words and actions, and felt a little flutter run through her. She sucked on her limoncello, buying herself time to ponder. He wasn’t bad looking, and although she couldn’t say there was any huge chemistry, he’d made for good conversation the last time they’d met.

And if she was honest, it had been a long time since she’d had so much as a drink with a man, far less gone on a date-date. And, contrary to Sadie’s assumption, she sure as hell wasn’t including her lunch with Sam in that category.

It wasn’t easy, being a single mother, especially one with a job in the food industry, which tended to be chaotic at best. Factor in the reluctance of most men her age to become entangled with a woman with her responsibilities, and you got yourself a long, hard dry season. What man wanted to know you couldn’t come out to dinner at short notice because you couldn’t find a sitter? Why would they care that you were running late because at the last minute your kid’s art teacher had announced that they needed to come to class the next day with 500 popsicle sticks and a bottle of glue? And don’t get her started on the colds, fevers, and dental appointments.

So the attention was welcome, and the frank admiration in his gaze as it traveled up and down her body, even more so, especially since all she was wearing was the same simple blouse and jeans she’d put on for her lunch with Sam. So at his lazy, self-confident smile, she smiled back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Chat they did, and as the bar filled up, patrons began to dance on the tiny space near the center. The DJ obligingly slowed the pace and cranked up the volume.

Ryan looked inspired. “Hey, you wanna…?” He held out his hand.

She glanced anxiously at the dance floor and then looked away. “Nah… thanks but—”

He continued to hold his hand out, not taking no for an answer. “Come onnn,” he wheedled, “you look like you’ve got rhythm in your soul.”

“Sure,” she snorted modestly. “Alone in my apartment with the vacuum cleaner running and my favorite playlist on.”

“Aw, I’m sure you’re better than that. Didn’t you say you play the drums?”

“Been a while.”

He stood, grasping her hand and leading her to the dance floor. “I’m sure I can refresh your memory.” He beamed at her encouragingly, sandy hair falling boyishly forward onto his brow, eyes fixed on her and only her.

No longer wanting to resist—wanting to say yes, actually—she relaxed in his arms and let him lead. Been a long time, she reflected, since I danced with someone. Other than the bunny hop at kids’ birthday parties.

The music was contemporary, American, bluesy, and it suited her just fine. She discovered to her surprise that the lingering sourness she’d felt when she arrived had dissipated. So when he pulled her closer, she didn’t fuss.

“See?” he crooned, as if trying to persuade a fractious child to enjoy the shallow end of the pool, “told you you’d enjoy it. Everyone else is.”

She glanced around at the other dancing couples, realizing he was right. It was turning out to be a nice evening, and other vacationers were as eager as she was to kick back and have fun.

And then, from over Ryan’s shoulder, a shadow, looming. A broad-shouldered shape standing next to the DJ’s booth, erect and stiff-backed.

Sam.

He was wearing his usual suit, looking almost somber in it compared to the flurry of tourists clad in polos, shorts, and sandals. And he was staring directly at her and Ryan, his face etched in granite, arms tense at his sides, fingers curled into loose fists. Their gazes locked, and Allie felt a flush of hot embarrassment, as if she’d been spotted doing something that wasn’t exactly wrong, just, well, questionable.

She shoved the thought out of her mind. There was no reason to feel that way. She was free to do as she pleased, on vacation, as a matter of fact. And unless she was trashing her hotel room or peeing in the pool, Samuel Drummond had zero right to look at her like that.

“Who’s that guy?” Ryan wondered sneeringly. “Standing there, looking at us. Hotel manager or some lackey?”

“He owns this place,” was the best Allie could manage.

“What, did you not settle your bar tab? Why’s he glaring at you like that?”

“I have no idea,” she said curtly, but was already stepping away. She promised herself it had nothing to do with Sam’s appearance.

“What?” Ryan looked perplexed.

“I’m sorry. I need to pick my daughter up. It’s getting late.”

He didn’t look too happy about it, but he forced his lips into a smile. “Sure, sure.” He led her graciously back to the bar, and as they both glanced back at the DJ’s booth, they noticed that the looming figure was gone.

She offered Ryan her hand. “Thank you. I had a nice time—”

But he pulled her in for a hug. “Aww, come on. After cutting a rug like that, we’re friends, aren’t we?” He pressed a kiss against her cheek and whipped out a business card with all the flourish of a magician. “Drop-call me so I’ll have your number, okay?”

She nodded, feeling that wave of appreciation at his clear interest, and then took her leave. She tried to talk herself out of the lingering sensation that she was being watched. It was a sure bet that the premises were monitored by security cameras, but the fleeting thought that Sam was hunched over a monitor somewhere in the guts of the building, like the twisted villain in Saw, was pure paranoia.

What wasn’t paranoia, however, was the knowledge that now two people were mad at her.

Ugh.

Bracing herself, she tapped lightly on Sadie’s door, and it soon swung open. “She okay?” Allie asked immediately. No use trying to pretend to Sadie that something was not amiss.

Sadie gave her a sympathetic look. “She’s calmed down some, but….”

Lauren and Daria appeared, and to Allie’s eyes, Daria did look a little calmer. But as soon as she spotted her mother, her mouth tightened and that mulish look was back. Sighing inwardly, Allie walked next to her silent daughter as they returned to their cabin. It was clear there’d be no goodnight hugs or kisses tonight.

“Goodnight, my love,” she said softly as Daria headed to her bedroom.

The child stood in the doorway, looking her in the face. Allie felt a swell of hope.

“I want to meet him,” she announced.

Allie’s mouth quirked just a tad. “He wants to meet you, too.”