CHAPTER FOUR
CAKE BY THE OCEAN
Arabella’s hands trembled so much that she had to squeeze the steering wheel or risk wrecking the rental car. Her stomach churned and her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. Flight was winning with flying colors, so she did a U-turn, not caring if she received a traffic ticket. Siri became seriously pissed and demanded that she make another, legal U-turn this time. “No!” Arabella shouted at her cell phone, but Siri persisted in that damned calm tone of hers.
After several angry horn honks at her helter-skelter driving, Arabella pulled over to the side of the road. She sat there, hands still on the wheel, trying to keep from having an anxiety attack. Heart thumping, light-headed, she cursed herself for not stopping for lunch. “Why again am I doing this?” she whispered. “Right, I’m broke. Maxine is a nightmare. So here I sit. Ugh.”
The decision to come to Sea Breeze, Florida, to do the choreography for the Heartbeat reunion had taken a full week of weighing pros and cons. But when the persistent Oliver Heart upped the already generous offer, Arabella knew she had to take the job or kick herself in the butt forever. Plus, leaving LA meant she could sublet her apartment that was too expensive anyway due to her current lack of cash flow. Free accommodations in a gorgeous house overlooking the Atlantic Ocean for nearly three months and being able to hold off Maxine’s involvement with Hip, Hop, Health tipped the scales. Arabella’s small corporate staff could oversee the ten fitness studios, and she’d let them know she could be reached day or night for any reason. Plus, her trusted friend Jenna Clark was more than capable of running the show. While Arabella loved the creative end of the business, Jenna was a wiz with the numbers, and she’d been especially helpful after Arabella’s blunder in growing the business too fast.
In a perfect world, she’d ultimately planned to leave the business side to her staff anyway, giving her the time to choreograph more fun, innovative dance routines, do some traveling, and create time to enjoy a social life.
But the cons sucked.
Arabella rested her forehead atop the steering wheel and tried to hold herself together. She hated confrontation . . . and this one was going to take the damned cake. Working with the man who had broken her heart and wrecked her life wasn’t going to be easy. When she’d asked Oliver if Grady knew she was being offered the job, Oliver had dodged the question by saying, “We talked at length about your involvement. We need you to modify the old routines. We’re all in pretty good shape but we can’t quite cut some of the more complicated moves.” To Arabella, Oliver’s statement translated to: We argued and never came to an agreement.
They had to be desperate. Unfortunately, so was she.
When she’d walked in on Grady and the groupie over thirteen years ago, her world had stopped spinning. Trust wasn’t something she gave easily, and the betrayal had hurt her to the core. She couldn’t even begin to take his calls or even listen to voice messages, and so she deleted each one. Blocked him on social media. Cut her ties completely.
“Oh boy . . .” Being able to work with Grady was going to test her professionalism to the limit. But another reason she’d taken the job was to raise money for the Susan Heart Lupus Foundation. Arabella had adored Susan, who was such a mother hen but could enjoy a good laugh with her kids too. Arabella had been on a job in London when she’d heard the horrible news of Susan’s passing and she’d been regrettably unable to attend the funeral. She still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the realization that lovely, vibrant Susan was gone and couldn’t imagine the pain the Hearts had suffered. She’d sent her condolences and made a generous donation to the foundation, but she’d wanted to call Grady so badly—if only she could have done it without opening that closed door.
Swallowing hard, she thought of her own mother’s simple request that she come home for the holidays and felt a sudden longing for her mom’s hug. Grady’s betrayal had put a wall around her heart that had her shutting people out, but how could she get past something that still hurt so much? Maybe if she went back to her roots she’d find the missing piece to the puzzle of her life. She knew one thing. She wasn’t about to let her grandmother’s house be sold to a stranger.
Great, add that one to my growing impossible-to-do list. Why does everything require money?
“Okay. Enough.” After releasing her death grip on the steering wheel, Arabella inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. Leaning back against the cool leather seat, she sat there, motionless except for the tremble of her cold fingers. “Stop it,” she said to her hands, and mustered up the courage to pull back onto the road. After a few more miles her heart rate slowed a little bit. She knew she had to walk up to Grady’s front door and ring the bell with confidence, and, according to her pissed-off Siri, she was nearly there. “Great,” she muttered as she slowed her speed to the point where a turtle could have passed her. Horns honked again.
Because the Heart brothers were already living in LA when she was initially hired as their choreographer, Arabella had only been to the Florida residence a few times, after she and Grady were officially a couple. She remembered a rambling ranch filled with love, laughter, and memories of a father the boys adored. They talked about him often, relaying stories and life moments that made Arabella envious of their storybook childhood.
Judging by what she’d discovered on the internet, Sea Breeze remained a quaint oceanside town that had changed very little over the years. It was located in the upper east tip of Florida, where the summers were hot and the winters were on the cool side, but the weather was mild compared to the Midwest, where Arabella had grown up. California hadn’t fit the lifestyle she’d envisioned and, in truth, the little town of Sea Breeze could be the soothing tonic that she needed, if only for a short while. Just saying the name had a calming effect. There was only one problem.
Grady Heart.
Arabella groaned. She’d tried to avoid following any part of Grady’s life, but his handsome mug always seemed to be staring back at her from the supermarket tabloids. She’d look away and then glance back with her fingers itching to pick up the paper for a look, but she resisted—well, most of the time, anyway. If any of the tales were true, he’d sure moved on from her absence quickly, and without an ounce of regret. The sensible part of her brain said that the tabloid stories were mostly fabricated. She knew this from personal experience. How many times had the media splashed headlines saying she and Grady were fighting, getting married, breaking up . . . having a baby?
Arabella felt a fresh prickle of pain and had to steel herself against sliding into memories that haunted her when she least expected it. “How in the hell am I going to pull this off?” she whispered, hanging on to the steering wheel like it was a lifeline.
Of course, after the groupie incident she’d ignored Grady’s calls and his attempts to contact her, but how could she not? Saying he was sorry couldn’t begin to cut through the pain he’d caused, but her biggest fear was that she would be persuaded to go back to him, and there was no way she was going to live the life of angry distrust her parents had led. Trust was the foundation of any good relationship.
She’d thought that when Grady said he loved her he would be faithful. “Well, I guess Mom thought the same thing too,” she mumbled.
Siri responded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that.”
Arabella managed a weak chuckle but then glanced at her phone. She hadn’t realized she’d held down the home button a moment too long. Sometimes Siri kinda freaked her out.
“Okay . . .” Arabella realized she couldn’t go much slower, and the urge to turn around tugged at her hands. “Fake it till you make it, girl,” she said firmly, but then she jumped when a loud pickup truck passed her with an angry honk.
Arabella knew that, unlike her, the Heart brothers had had an amazing childhood. Life could be so damned unpredictable, with the cruelest heartaches trapped inside of the biggest blessings, leaving you unable to have one without the other. Granny York used to tell her that blessings could come in disguise. Granny had hated that her son Patrick’s marriage had fallen to pieces and had blamed him, not speaking to her son for nearly a year after his divorce. Oddly, it was Arabella’s mother who’d encouraged Granny York to forgive her son and move on. “I’d do it again even knowing the outcome,” her mother said to Granny one afternoon, “just to have Arabella. What would we do without our Bella?” she’d asked, and Granny York had tearfully agreed.
Well, Arabella wished that, just once, the next blessing-in-disguise would out itself from the get-go. She imagined the blessing would say in a polite English accent, “Hello, I know this appears to be, shall we say, a bit of a sketchy situation right now, but not to worry. You’ll thank me later. I just chose to be in disguise.”
After swallowing hard, Arabella finally sat up and put the sedan in drive. “Okay, Siri, let’s do this thing.”
Trying to keep her mind off the fact that she was heading to Grady Heart’s house, Arabella took in the local sights. Main Street remained just as cozy and quaint as the pictures on the website promised. People strolled rather than walked at the fast pace of the city, where everyone seemed to be in a perpetual hurry. Colorful flowers draped over huge terra-cotta pots lining the wide sidewalks. A variety of storefronts displayed everything from antiques to toys. She passed Daisy’s Diner, Scoops ice cream parlor, A Taste of Heaven candy store, and the Twisted pretzel shop, all reminding her that she hadn’t eaten, and her stomach responded.
“Yes!” Arabella stopped when she spotted a giant pink cupcake with THELMA’S SWEET TREATS scripted across the top. Surely, they sold sugar cookies. Hopefully, they also had coffee. Yes! There was a parking spot in front of the shop. “Okay, I can do this,” she mumbled as she craned her head over the back seat to parallel park. On her second attempt, she finally managed to get close enough to the curb.
Glad to have found a reason to delay her arrival at Grady’s house, she opened the car door and stepped into the balmy Florida breeze. After fishing out a quarter for the old-fashioned parking meter, she headed to the cheerful-looking bakery.
A tinkle of a bell over the door announced her arrival. “Well, hello there, welcome to Thelma’s!” A rosy-cheeked, elderly woman looked up from a tray of perfectly crowned muffins and smiled.
“Are you Thelma?”
“The one and only, and I’m told they broke the mold after me. What can I get you today?”
“Mmmm . . .” Smiling back, Arabella inhaled the sweet, buttery scent mixed with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. “Let’s see. . . .” She peered at the shiny glass case filled with delicious-looking pastries. “Everything looks amazing.” Her stomach rumbled in anticipation of finally being fed. “Do you have any sugar cookies?”
“We sure do, and they absolutely melt in your mouth.” Thelma pointed to the opposite side of the bakery. “The cookies are over there.” She dusted her hands on her apron and hurried over to the cookie counter.
“Wow.” Arabella looked at the wide variety of cookies, from chocolate chip to macaroons, but nothing could tempt her away from a good old sugar cookie. “I’ll take two sugar cookies and a large coffee with cream and sugar.”
“Coming right up.” The sweet little lady slipped the cookies into a white paper bag and put it on the counter while she poured the coffee. “In town for business or pleasure?”
“Business,” Arabella said, but the world pleasure had her thinking about Grady in a way she needed to steer clear of. She pulled a ten-dollar bill out of her wallet.
“Well, I hope you get time to see some of the sights. The beach here is spectacular, and right now the ocean is as warm as bathwater.”
“Thanks, I plan to head to the beach as soon as I can break away from work.” Arabella took the change but then spotted a big glass jar with SUSAN HEART LUPUS FOUNDATION written on the side. A sharp pang of sadness gripped her. She put her change in her wallet, took out a twenty-dollar bill, and stuffed it into the jar.
“Bless you, sweetie. Susan Heart was an icon in this town. We sure do miss her. Thanks so much for the donation.”
Clearing her throat, Arabella nodded. “You’re welcome.” She remembered Susan’s warm smile and easy laugh, and in that moment, she knew that no matter how difficult facing Grady Heart was going to be, she was doing the right thing by coming here.
“Have you heard of the boy band Heartbeat?” Thelma asked with a touch of pride in her voice.
“I have.”
“They’re from right here in Sea Breeze. Susan was their mother,” she added with a sad smile. “I remember when she used to come in here with all those boys in tow. They were a handful! And twins? Don’t know how she did it. Cute as buttons, though.” She waved a hand through the air. “Sorry, I get emotional thinking about it.”
Arabella nodded. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“Ah, well, hope you enjoy your cookies and your stay here in Sea Breeze. Come back and see me soon.”
Arabella raised her cup of coffee in salute. “You can count on it,” she said. After leaving the bakery, she opted to sit on a shaded park bench to sip her coffee and munch on one of the cookies. The sweet, buttery taste made her think of her granny, and she calmed down just a little bit. She people-watched, feeling a touch of envy at the laughter, the hum of conversation . . . lovers walking hand in hand.
“Mommy, can we get a treat?” A cute little blond girl, about the age of three, looked at her mother with pleading eyes as they reached the entrance of the bakery.
“Okay, Chloe, but only if you promise to eat all your vegetables at dinner.”
“I will! I will!” Chloe danced from one foot to the other but then paused. “Wait, we’re not having kale, are we?”
“No.” The mother laughed. “Not tonight.”
“Good! Kale is gross.” The relief on the child’s face was priceless, and she tugged on her mother’s hand. “I want a smiley-face cookie.”
“Whoa, okay then!” The pretty young mother touched her index finger to the tip of her daughter’s nose. “Let’s go see Thelma!”
Arabella smiled but then felt a hot wave of longing that was hard to shake. After a moment, she licked a crumb from her bottom lip and decided it was time to gather her courage and make the drive to Grady’s house. Oliver had assured her that they would be there rehearsing during the day and that she should head over as soon as she arrived. But once inside the cool cocoon of the car, she thought that perhaps she’d unload her things at the beach house and freshen up first. She chided herself for wanting to look her best. “I’m here to do a job,” she said firmly. “Nothing more, nothing less.” She scrolled back through the text messages from Oliver and found the address of the beach house. After alerting Siri of the change, she started the car and pulled out onto Main Street.
Fifteen minutes later, Arabella drew into what turned out to be a long driveway leading to a secluded beach house full of old Florida charm. “Wow, even prettier than the pictures.” Arabella killed the engine and fished in her big purse for the key that Oliver had mailed to her. She stepped out of the car and walked toward the front steps, which led to a wraparound veranda. Sunshine glinted off a gray tin roof, and the stark white paint of the house’s exterior offset the abundance of green ferns and red geraniums swinging from hanging pots. Deep-red wicker rocking chairs and matching end tables looked cheerful and welcoming.
Arabella unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Oh, I could get used to this.” Coastal décor in crisp blue and white gave the interior a cozy feeling, but the cathedral ceilings and open floor plan made the living room feel light and airy. A hint of vanilla hung in the air, probably from the abundance of fat candles gracing the wide coffee table.
Arabella walked across gleaming hardwood floors and peeked into an adorable kitchen. Pale blue walls complemented the white cabinets and a big center island that looked like it was made for gathering around. Fingers of sunshine reached through the bay window to the breakfast nook tucked into the far corner of the room.
Like a kid on Christmas morning, Arabella opened the doors of each room as excitedly as though she were opening a wrapped present, and was delighted with each discovery. “Oh gosh.” The master bedroom made Arabella sigh. A big wicker paddle fan moved in lazy circles above a distressed white four-poster bed piled with crisp linen pillows edged with blue and red. She sure hoped the comforter felt as soft and as luxurious as it appeared.
“Sweet,” she squeaked when she entered the big bathroom and spotted the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. She could imagine a hot soak in mounds of bubbles after a long day of dancing. The large shower looked just as inviting, with marble tile and a seat on which she could sit to shave her legs. She’d always adored beach cottages and almost felt as if this house had been built just for her.
Arabella needed to lug her things inside and freshen up, but she paused to open the French doors that led to a back deck that ran from the bedroom all the way to the living room. She stepped outside, inhaling the briny tang of the sea. The deep-red wicker furniture matched the rocking chairs on the front veranda, and the pillowed lounge chair would be perfect for sipping a cold drink while reading a book. Arabella loved novels, and it was about time that she made time to read.
“What a view,” she whispered. Mounds of sugar-white sand dunes were topped with lumps of green vegetation and sea oats swaying in the afternoon breeze. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore soothed her soul, and she felt her anxiety start to melt away. A long, weathered boardwalk leading to the beach beckoned her, and she vowed to herself to take a walk every day.
She gripped the warm wooden railing for a few moments and then turned around, anxious to see the rest of the house.
With renewed determination, Arabella walked around the side of the deck to her car. She opened the trunk and lugged the bulging suitcases into the house. Her little caffeine-and-sugar buzz had her getting unpacked in no time. After a long, hot shower, she blew her long hair dry and added some beachy waves. She took special care with her makeup but used a light touch, not wanting to appear too overdone or like she was trying too hard. After much deliberation, she picked out a pair of cuffed white shorts and a yellow linen blouse that looked good with her cinnamon-colored hair and hazel eyes.
Arabella felt a tinge of nerves returning, but then she lifted her chin and gave her reflection a challenging look. After dabbing on her favorite perfume, she added gloss to her lips and surveyed herself in the bathroom mirror. It had been over thirteen years since Grady had last laid eyes on her. Dancing in the studio kept her in shape, and she used the latest lotions and creams, avoided sun exposure, and ate healthily. Okay, she ate healthily sometimes. She didn’t care too much for fast food . . . but comfort food? Yes, please.
Arabella frowned, looking closer into the mirror. There were fine lines around her eyes, and her figure was more rounded than when she was younger. She gave her butt a glance and shrugged. She wasn’t one to obsess over getting older, and had thought her granny, with her lines and wrinkles, was stunning and that advanced age had a beauty of its own. But it was only human nature that she would wonder what Grady would think when he saw her after all these years. Right?
“Well, guess I’m about to find out.” After giving her shirt a tug, she squared her shoulders and sent Oliver a text message that she was on her way.
A stern pep talk rattled through her brain the entire way to Grady’s house. But when she pulled her car into the circular driveway, she nearly lost her nerve. With a groan, she put her hand over her gurgling stomach and dug through her purse for a peppermint. She sucked on the small candy disc, glad for the comforting flavor. Her stomach had given her trouble when her parents would argue and her granny had always had peppermints on hand to soothe the ache. To this day, Arabella never left home without a handful of mints in her purse.
After a deep breath, Arabella got out of the car and stood on wobbly legs. “This is seriously stupid,” she said, angry with herself for having given Grady the power to make her so damned nervous.
Determined to pull herself together, she put her cold hands on the warm metal of the car and gazed over at the house. The off-white stucco and tiled roof was typical for Florida, and while it was pretty, with an abundance of manicured landscaping, the house wasn’t on the grand scale that Grady Heart could most likely afford. But Arabella remembered that Susan Heart had kept her sons in check and made every attempt to keep them humble, which was not an easy task for a mom of a wildly popular boy band. If the tabloid stories were true, Susan might not have totally succeeded, but Arabella recalled that the brothers didn’t flaunt their wealth. Grady had said that his mother made sure that the bulk of their money was invested for the future.
Arabella tried to stop the thoughts racing through her head, but failed. She wondered what explanation Grady had given his mother for her disappearance. Had he told her the truth? Honesty seemed to be important to the Heart family, another reason Arabella had been shocked when she’d caught Grady in bed with a naked girl. She might have paused to listen to his pleas of innocence, but it was damned difficult, since Grady wore nothing more than a towel and a shocked expression. And her news . . .
Don’t go there.
For a wild moment, Arabella hoped this was a dream, because she suddenly found herself at Grady’s front door, not knowing how she got there. She didn’t remember walking down the brick sidewalk and up the front steps. But her cell-phone alarm didn’t buzz, and she didn’t suddenly wake up in her bed in LA, so she must really be here, standing at the door with her fingertip poised to ring the doorbell. After a few heart-pounding moments she pushed the round button and had to force her legs not to turn around and bolt back to the car. Instead, she clutched her big purse in front of her like a shield and stood there with a wildly beating heart.
Relief washed over Arabella when no one answered the door. Perhaps she’d come too late and rehearsals were over? Then she could leave. Maybe she should go around to the back of the house? Nibbling on the inside of her cheek, she fished her cell phone out of her purse and looked for a reply from Oliver, but there was none.
Should she ring the bell again or hightail it back to her cozy beach cottage? She desperately wanted to run away, and yet she stood there, uncertain.
Perhaps this was all just one big mistake after all went through her head and ping-ponged around. Maybe Grady had found out she was coming and put an end to the offer. Good!
No, not good. Arabella thought of her grandmother’s house. Her failing business! Working with Maxine and drinking corn-silk tea . . . ugh. Gritting her teeth, she reached up and pushed the button harder, as if that would somehow make someone answer the door. But just like with elevators, that didn’t do any good whatsoever.
After a couple of minutes, nervousness evaporated into anger. She hadn’t traveled all the way across the country to be ignored. “Okay . . .” Arabella dropped her phone into the deep cavern of her purse and decided she should walk around the side of the house to investigate the situation. Hopefully, there weren’t going to be any vicious guard dogs or a security system of some sort. Maybe I’ll be scooped up in a net and dangled from a tree, Arabella thought with a nearly hysterical giggle.
“Oh God, I’m losing it.” She was starting to turn around when the front door swung open and she was suddenly staring at a tanned, sculpted bare chest. A light dusting of dark hair led to low-slung red board shorts, tied with a white crisscrossed string. Interestingly, she noted muscled calves and one flip-flop-clad foot and one bare foot. Her heart kicked into hyperspeed.
Where was a brown paper bag to breathe into when you needed one?
Arabella tilted her head back and found herself gazing into the intense blue eyes of Grady Heart. Oh, my . . . His once-boyish good looks had matured, and he was now a devilishly handsome man. Dark stubble shaded a strong jaw softened by full lips that at one time had explored every inch of her willing body. At the steamy thought, Arabella felt her cheeks warm, and the fight-or-flight feeling returned full force.
She dropped her purse and several items escaped, rolling here and there. With an audible intake of breath, she retreated a couple of quick steps and somehow managed to get her foot tangled in the bag’s long leather strap. With a little yelp, she stumbled. Arms flailing, she nearly went down, but Grady grabbed her upper arms, righting her backward tumble.
The palms of her hands landed against warm skin, and her nose pressed against hard muscle. The spicy scent of his cologne and a hint of coconut lotion filled her head and she had a wild urge to see if he tasted as delicious as he smelled, but then again, she knew from experience that he did. Erotic memories pushed good sense out the window and she stood there, transfixed.
What had happened very quickly seemed to occur in dreamlike slow motion.
The rise and fall of his chest left little room between his skin and her mouth, and when her lips made featherlight contact with his chest, she felt the reaction all the way to her curled toes.
Hot damn.