No Regrets
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
About the Author
Excerpt from Undercover Pleasures
No Regrets
Susannah Gautier
Copyright © 2011 Susannah Gautier
All rights reserved.
MOTU Media and Publishing
ISBN-13:978-0692205259
ISBN-10:069220525X
No Regrets
First Edition
Cover Art by LFD Designs
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher and/or author. For more information regarding permission, contact the author at www.susannahgautier.com
Dedication
For my Mother: You were my first editor, my first reader, and my first fan.
I never would have written a word without your encouragement, love, and support.
Thanks to both my incredible parents for believing in me and teaching me to believe in myself.
You are the definition of unconditional love.
Chapter One
Jamie Connolly heard the clinking of champagne glasses entwined in a drunken toast as she stepped into the sparkling elegance of The Breaker Hotel’s Venetian Ballroom. Exquisitely dressed tables topped with massive arrangements of white and purple orchids greeted her as she made her way through the crowd. She was relieved Conrad wasn’t at the Fundraiser clinging to her side, watching her every move, her every word.
For weeks, Conrad Malcolm the Third had hounded her. Palm Beach’s most eligible bachelor, Conrad was rich, powerful, and the latest in a string of bad dating experiences. Last week Jamie had finally refused his unexpected proposal. That is when the real trouble began.
“Jamie!”
The familiar voice crept through the air, shattering her sense of relief. She turned sharply, taking in the dark and dashing presence of Conrad Malcolm in black tie.
Jamie stiffened. “I don’t believe you purchased an invitation to this event,” she said.
A taunting smile spread across his face. “You aren’t going to throw me out, are you? My dear Jamie, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”
“This is a charity fundraiser. You need to purchase a ticket to attend,” she said.
He led Jamie away from the crowd, gripping her elbow with icy fingers. “You and I are overdue for a talk.”
Conrad was lethally handsome with jet-black hair and green eyes, which veiled the cold darkness that lay beneath a facade of good breeding. His eyes were tinged with the red of too many drinks too early in the day. A sense of dread flooded her body.
“We have nothing to talk about. Trust me. You and I aren’t suited for each other.”
His bloodshot eyes roamed over her. She didn’t make the mistake he was admiring her figure. He assessed her gown and its pedigree with an arched eyebrow and dismissed it with a derisive sniff.
“People love to see an underdog succeed. From destitute orphan to a celebrity designer who spends her free time doing charity work,” he said with a contemptuous snort. “You will make the perfect Senator’s wife.”
Conrad never ceased to amaze her. “I don’t want to be a Senator’s wife. I don’t want to marry you.”
He grabbed her wrist as she turned away from him. “You better rethink your answer,” he said. “No one has ever refused a Malcolm.”
She struggled silently in his grasp, not wanting to cause a scene in the ever-alert Palm Beach society, a crowd that thrived on scandal.
“I just did,” she said.
His eyes narrowed. “Are you seeing someone else?”
She jerked away from his grasp. “That’s not your concern.”
He smiled at a woman bathed in glittering diamonds who took notice of them as she walked past them. Jamie nodded politely to one of her most generous donors, trying to suppress her irritation. Conrad took advantage of the moment and swung her around to face him.
“You better not have someone else,” he said, running a cold finger down the side of her cheek. “If I find out otherwise, it would be an unfortunate thing for your paramour.”
She gripped the back of a nearby chair and drove her nails into the Damask fabric, which covered the cushion. “What exactly do you mean?”
He lifted her chin and stared at her through glazed eyes. “Stay the chaste, sweet girl you’ve always been. He leaned towards her as if kissing her cheek, “I won’t be far away,“ he whispered. The crowd parted for him with barely a sound as he walked abruptly out of the ballroom.
Tension sprung through Jamie, but she had to ignore the chill settling over her. She took a deep breath and strolled to the podium with steely poise, ready to give her speech thanking the patrons for their generosity.
When she finished playing hostess, she slipped through the maze of designer finery and shimmering jewels out to the veranda. The balmy ocean breeze kissed her skin. For a moment, she forgot the tedious company on the other side of the French doors, forgot the four a.m. phone calls, and the eerie sound of Conrad's drunken voice.
Over the last few months the elite Palm Beach crowd had certainly lost its allure while a toxic boredom crept into her life. She longed for genuine friendships, home cookouts, and movie nights curled up on the couch. She needed a break from this superficial city and this suffocating life. She needed to disappear to a place where Conrad wouldn't follow.
She’d found the perfect place. She now owned a rundown beach cottage in Seabrook, the deliciously dull seaside town where she’d grown up. Two hours and a lifetime away from the glitz and glamour of Palm Beach, Seabrook was heaven. Home to greasy autumn fish-fries, sun-kissed Key Lime pie, and her hunky, high school crush Aidan Brice.
Seabrook and Aidan Brice. Those were long forgotten names from a long forgotten life of happy memories and heart breaking pain. She had finally conjured enough courage to go back to Seabrook. It was bittersweet. Though she had yet to see Aidan, she knew Villa Milagros, her beloved childhood home, was still standing. The old, battered house was the only connection she had to her mother other than the sad, gray tombstone, which marked her mother’s grave on the overgrown property. If everything worked out as she planned, that home would be hers again.
She was returning to a town she’d turned her back on nearly fifteen years ago for the sole reason of acquiring her childhood home. She'd renovate the little cottage while she unraveled the red tape preventing her from buying her neglected home. She couldn't fathom why the ocean front property remained vacant and abandoned. It was by far the best piece of property in Seabrook, despite it needing repairs. Rebuilding it to its former beauty was why she had worked so hard and so many hours and disregarded any personal life for
all these years. Villa Milagros was the only place she'd ever felt loved, the only place she'd ever felt secure, and she wanted to feel that way again. She wanted to go home.
She’d done her research. No one knew Seabrook’s architectural history better than Aidan Brice. He was the expert she needed to rebuild Villa Milagros. Hiring him to renovate her beach bungalow would be a good way to break the ice.
He still hadn’t called her back. Maybe he didn’t remember her. She was probably one of many awe-struck teenage girls he’d tempted into a night of kissing on the shores of Sabina Beach. She’d barely believed it when he’d asked her to the bonfire that evening. She’d had a crush on him since the seventh grade, but she’d been a shy teenager. He’d entertained her in the halls of Seabrook High, making her laugh when she thought she would never laugh again. He was her first crush, first kiss. Her first love. But years had passed and she had changed. She was no longer a shy, adolescent girl. Life had hardened her. Grief had changed her. It was time to go home and heal.
She pulled the worn newspaper clipping out of her purse and checked the time. It was still early, only a bit past six o'clock. Jamie dialed Aidan’s number discreetly on her phone and hoped he would be available this time.
~
“Lord, what a woman!” Aidan Brice breezed into his office, wiping his brow in a dramatic gesture.
“I could sue that woman for sexual harassment if I was so inclined, Jo,” he called out. He stopped in front of his office manager Joanne Logan, who sat at a desk piled high with papers and plopped his briefcase on the desk behind her. The rest of his employees had gone home for the day.
“Miss Sinclair? I don't think you can sue a client for that,” Jo remarked, tossing back her gray hair with a grimace. ”What did you expect from her anyway? She’s not exactly the motherly type if you ask me.”
Aidan loosened his tie. “But what a woman! Sure is hot in here,” he said, tugging at the front of his shirt, “You hot, Jo?”
“You will get no reaction from me, Aidan Brice. None at all.”
His face broke into a grin. “Now Jo, you know I wouldn’t choose some citified, high maintenance, seductress as a mother for Ross. Have a little faith in me.”
Jo smirked, closing her eyes as she shook her head. “Never say never.”
Aidan flipped through a stack of mail she handed him. “Thank God I have you Jo, to lead me to the proper way of living lest I go astray.”
He popped a quick kiss on her wrinkled cheek before he picked up his briefcase.
“Mind your manners boy, or I’ll be suing you.” She shooed him away with the back of an envelope.
Aidan let out a roar of laughter as he strode into his office, which overlooked the Intracoastal of Seabrook’s small downtown. He treasured Jo. She had the savvy of a public relations guru, the finesse of a seasoned CEO, and most importantly the title of Godmother to his son. The shrill ring of the phone interrupted his laughter, and he spared a quick glance at his watch. Six thirty on a Friday. Whoever was calling was most likely trouble.
He shrugged out of his pants and dress shirt, both infused with Miss Sinclair’s musky perfume. She reeked of it, her house reeked of it, and his workmen reeked of it after being there all day. He sometimes wondered if their workday consisted of more than remodeling her kitchen.
He pulled his undershirt over his head and threw it into a drawer with the rest of his clothes. Jo was right. A woman like the dark-haired Miss Sinclair wasn’t exactly the motherly type. She was more like a femme fatale.
He grabbed a clean tee shirt from a desk drawer and pulled it over his head, tucking it into a pair of well-worn jeans as Jo burst into his office.
Aidan looked up in expectation of bad news. “Yeah?”
“Jamie Connolly is on line two,” Jo said.
That was bad news. “Again? Can’t she take a hint?”
“Apparently not. Shall I tell her you’re in a meeting? Again?” Jo asked.
Aidan raised an eyebrow. “Do I detect a hint of disapproval?”
“She’s not going to give up, so you might as well talk to her. I’ve never known you to be so intimidated by a woman.”
“Intimidated? Now wait a minute-”
Jo handed him his messages, ignoring his grimace. “The bank called about Villa Milagros. They’re having problems settling the Estate. There seems to be another interested buyer."
"Over my dead body," Aidan said with a scowl. "No one else is going to buy that cursed place as long as Ross and I live in this town," he muttered. "They might convert it into some type of ghoulish tourist attraction." The very thought of it infuriated him. He wouldn't be happy until every stone of that ditzy godforsaken house was obliterated.
"Duly noted,” Jo said. “Mr. Tucker’s roof is leaking and he’s pretty ticked off. I sent Josh over to look at it.”
Aidan’s frown grew deeper, his good mood fading fast. “You sent Josh? Josh, who can’t find his cap on his own head?”
Jo drifted toward the door. “To appease Mr. Tucker. Not to fix it, of course.”
Aidan suppressed a grin. “What would I do without you, Jo?”
“Probably hire some ditzy thing with a curvy figure who can’t run an office and then fire the poor girl after she’d fallen hopelessly in love with you.”
“You have a one track mind, Jo. You’ve been reading too many of those women’s magazines. There’s more to life than sex.”
“Who said anything about sex?” Jo graced him with a wicked smile as she shut the door behind her.
He glared at the blinking line two. “Hell," he said, “I knew it was trouble.”
Jamie Connolly. The former Seabrook girl, now a snooty Palm Beach resident, Interior Designer extraordinaire, high society princess, and worst of all, linked to Conrad Malcolm, the man who changed the course of Aidan’s life forever. A man he thoroughly despised.
He’d seen Jamie’s photo in Palm Beach Weekly a few weeks back, her slender figure clad in a conservative navy suit, dark hair flowing over her shoulders. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left Seabrook over a decade ago, but he remembered her.
She’d been a pretty thing then, quiet, and shy. He’d always thought of her as mysterious, with some unnamed emotion smoldering underneath her calm veneer. He had watched her pass him in the hallways at school, a soft-spoken, melancholy waif who had caught his eye more than once. One night, under a blanket of stars on Sabina beach, he'd kissed her at the ripe old age of seventeen, and the world had stood still. Within a week she’d disappeared from Seabrook high, from Sabina Beach, and from his adolescent dreams. He hadn’t even known where she lived.
Now she was back, involved with someone as unscrupulous and vile as Conrad Malcolm. It was beyond his comprehension.
Jo cracked Aidan’s door open. “I’m off to pick up Ross,” she said, “Miss Connolly is still holding.”
“You’re as pushy as she is. Why are you so hell-bent on me talking to her?” he growled.
“Everyone knows Jamie Connolly.”
“I hate working with interior designers, especially famous ones.” He sunk his husky frame into his cushy leather chair.
“What’s to hate? She’s beautiful, smart, and has a heart of gold.”
He leaned back, refusing to be swayed by such nonsense. “How do you know?”
“Word gets around. Besides, you need a social life. Ross and this office can’t supply everything for you.”
Aidan was wary now, very wary. Jo had tried to play matchmaker so many times he'd lost count by now. “I thought it was a business call.”
“Yes, but I thought maybe-“
“No,” Aidan said flatly.
“When’s the last time you took a woman out to dinner? You know, a real date?” she countered.
“No.”
“You’re a man, you need female companionship,” Jo insisted.
He chuckled humorlessly. “I think I know what I am and what I need,” he said. “I’m a single father. I don’t hav
e time-”
“She’s on line two. Hurry.” Jo disappeared before Aidan could utter another word.
Confounded Jo, what does she know? He glared at the blinking light on line two. In Jamie Connolly’s line of business she had to know countless other architects. He didn't know why the high society princess wanted to hire him. He wasn’t even sure she did want to hire him. It was dubious considering her ties to Conrad Malcolm.
He reached for the phone. It was time to find out.
˜
Jamie waited on hold, pacing to the dead silence in her ear. An elegant figure in blue satin approached her. Reny’s glamorous, swishing gown cut into the stillness of the night.
“Darling!” The glorious Reny Portillo sauntered over in a cloud of perfume and pressed an air kiss next to Jamie’s cheek. Thanks to an army of plastic surgeons, professional hair color and make up, the red-haired Reny was superficially beautiful with a personality to match. Despite her openness about her quest for a rich husband and a life of leisure, Jamie liked Reny’s zest for life. It was something she herself sorely lacked.
“I hope you’re talking to someone more interesting than these dweebs,” Reny said, in a voice starkly contrasting her elegant appearance. She smoothed her hand over the tight dress clinging to her curvy hips. “I’m so bored. Why do rich, powerful men have to be so dull?” she whined.
Jamie shrugged, cell phone still pressed to her ear. She glanced at the paper between her fingers. The ever nosy Reny noticed the clipping and snatched it from her hand.
Reny considered the photo of Aidan Brice with a lusty little smile. “Oooo-la-la!” she crooned “Aidan Brice of Danni Architecture breaks ground for new Children’s Hospital,” she read. “Mm-mm he can break my ground anytime.
Reny raised her perfect eyebrows and gave Jamie a wicked smile.
“Pretty hunky, huh?” Jamie said.
“You’re taken now, remember? How about giving me a shot at him?” Reny mused.
Jamie frowned. “I’m not taken.” Jamie hadn’t told anyone about Conrad’s proposal, but Reny always knew everyone’s business.