Love In Catalina Cove

There hadn’t been any warning, not a single word around the office that Mr. Nunes had had plans to sell off any of his hotels. No one had suspected a thing. The new owner hadn’t even let them linger. They’d been escorted out the door in the time it had taken to clear her desk and grab her purse. The only good thing, if you wanted to call it a good thing, was that Mr. Nunes had been awful generous with their severance and had even offered some jobs at his other hotels if you were inclined to move out of the country. Some had jumped at the offer. She had not. So here she was, in New Orleans and about to rent a car to drive to the town she thought never to see again.

With no job and more time on her hands than she really needed or wanted, in addition to the fact that there was ten million dollars dangling in front of her face, she had returned to Catalina Cove to attend the zoning board meeting and plead her case, although the thought of doing so was a bitter pill to swallow. When she’d left the cove she’d felt she didn’t owe the town or its judgmental people anything and likewise, they didn’t owe her a thing. Now fourteen years later she was back and to her way of thinking Catalina Cove did owe her something. The right to sell her land to whomever she wanted and for them to build whatever they wanted on the land.

“Welcome to New Orleans. What kind of car would you like to rent today?”

Vashti smiled at the young college-aged woman behind the counter. “Umm, what do you have?”

“A couple of sedans, some midsize vehicles and a couple of SUVs. And if you feel like being daring, we even have a two-seater sports car.”

“A sports car?”

“Yes, a candy apple red Corvette. It was ordered for one of the NFL players who had to cancel his flight.”

“A Corvette...” That was her dream car. She didn’t need a car to get around in New York since she lived in the city and the subway worked just fine for her. But she would love getting behind the wheel of a ’vette. “And it’s red?”

The young woman smiled. “Yes, and a convertible. It’s a beautiful March day to have the top down while cruising. I give you fair warning. My father is a police officer and he said red cars, especially convertibles, stick out like a sore thumb. You’re liable to get a speeding ticket if you even go one mile per hour over the speed limit.”

Vashti chuckled. “Thanks for the warning but I have no intention of speeding.”

* * *

“PLEASE, DAD...”

Sawyer Grisham drew in a deep breath, wondering at what point he would be able to give his daughter a firm no and truly mean it. She had the ability to wrap him around her finger and he had a feeling she knew it. With this particular request of hers he knew that he needed to turn her down, but...

“I’ll think about it, Jadelyn.” She knew whenever he called her by her full name that meant there wouldn’t be any more discussion on the subject until he decided to have it.

“Thanks, Dad. You’re the greatest. Love you.”

He shook his head, grinning when he clicked off the phone. Of course she would have to end the call like that. Like he’d already given his permission for her to get a job this summer. She could spend her summer doing volunteer work at either the hospital or animal shelter, but as far as he was concerned she didn’t need a job. He gave her a weekly allowance and a pretty darn generous one. All she needed to do was continue to make good grades in school. She would have plenty of time for employment later in life.

Sighing deeply, he pushed back the seat in his patrol car and stretched his legs out. This was the part of his job that he didn’t mind doing since it got him away from behind his desk and out of the office. He loved this expanse of highway that connected New Orleans to Catalina Cove. The picturesque scenery made the drive one of the most pleasant he’d ever known. Giant oak trees lined both sides of the highway and through the low hanging branches you could see the sea marshes.

The closer you got to Catalina Cove, the highway merged from four lanes to two and even more tall oaks were perfectly strung along the roadway, providing a countryside effect. In this particular area that he loved, a cluster of the huge tree limbs joined to form a canopy. This was the spot where he would park under the shade of huge trees, hidden from sight off the highway to clock speeders. On occasion he would steal away here just to clear his mind, think about important matters and to put a number of things in perspective. Right now the main thing on his mind was that his daughter would probably start dating soon. So far she hadn’t mentioned anything about it and he definitely was not going to put any ideas in her head.

He needed to call his office to remind Trudy Caldwell, his office manager, to make sure the Miller file was on his desk when he got back, which wouldn’t be too long. So far he’d issued six speeding tickets and had been here only a few hours. Didn’t anyone feel compelled to abide by the speed limit anymore? And some of the excuses they made while trying to talk their way out of a ticket were just downright ridiculous. As sheriff he expected people to operate within the confines of the law and not the other way around.

It was hard to believe he’d been sheriff in Catalina Cove for four years already. When he’d accepted the job and relocated here, Jade had been twelve. Not once had she complained about moving from their home in Nevada to Louisiana, although she’d left her friends behind. They’d decided to look at the move as an adventure. Thankfully, because of Jade’s outgoing and bubbly nature, she’d quickly made new friends.

Leaving Reno was necessary in order to move on with their lives after losing Johanna. Cancer had claimed her exactly three months to the day she’d noticed the discoloration of a mole on her thigh. He would never forget the day he’d gotten that call at the FBI headquarters where he worked as an agent. In a teary voice Johanna had told him the results of the biopsy. It had come back as cancer, already at stage four. It seemed once the diagnosis was made the condition worsened, and he had buried his wife on the day that would have been her thirtieth birthday.

He pushed from his mind thoughts of Johanna. Even after over four years they were too painful to dwell on. He was about to reach for his phone to call Trudy when a car sped by. The driver was clocked doing sixty in a fifty-five-miles-an-hour zone.

Pulling his patrol car onto the highway, he flipped on his flashing red-and-blue lights and siren as he took off behind the speeding red Corvette convertible.

* * *

VASHTI HAD THE radio on full blast while singing along with Beyoncé, belting out her newest hit. This was a perfect day to drive with the top down. March was about to roll into April with spring-like days. The midday sun wasn’t too hot and the breeze was just right. She loved the feel of her hair blowing in the wind, and wished somehow her problems could be blown away as easily. If she had to return to Catalina Cove she might as well make the drive fun. She would admit this car had a lot of power. Already she’d made it to the outskirts of town and should be reaching her destination soon.

She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw the flashing red-and-blue lights and immediately turned down the volume on the radio. That’s when she heard the siren. Where had the police officer come from and how long had they been following her? She pulled to the shoulder of the road and he pulled off the road behind her.

Vashti wondered why she’d gotten stopped. Annoyed, she tapped her hand on the steering wheel and when the police officer reached her car, she looked at him. OMG. She was convinced she was staring up into the most handsome face she’d seen in a long time. And on top of that, a snap of sexual awareness she hadn’t felt in years rocked her to the bone.

He was so tall and she thought there was something magnetic about those dark brown eyes that were staring back at her. It took her a minute to notice his lips were moving, which meant he’d been talking. What on earth had he said? She’d been too busy concentrating on the shape of his lips.

“Excuse me, Officer. Could you repeat that?”

He gave her an irritated look. “I asked why you didn’t stop when you heard my siren?”

“I didn’t hear your siren probably because I had the radio on full blast. Sorry about that.”

“Your license please.”

“Sure.” She then went into her purse and pulled out her driver’s license, wondering who had ruined his day. It was obvious he was in a bad mood. She handed him her driver’s license. “And why was I stopped?” And why was she noticing how the shirt of his officer’s uniform seemed to stretch across a broad chest and over muscular shoulders?

He didn’t answer her. Instead he returned to his patrol car. She was tempted to hang out the window and check out his rear end but quickly talked herself out of doing so. Mr. Not-So-Nice-Cop had one redeeming quality. He was definitely a hottie. But regardless of his sexy attributes, he could have answered her question before walking off.

A good ten minutes had passed before he returned and handed her license back to her. “And why was I stopped?” she asked him again.

“You were speeding.”

“Speeding?”

“Yes. You were going sixty in a fifty-five-miles-an-hour zone.”

Had she? She knew that was a possibility. More than once she’d had to ease her foot off the pedal when she’d discovered she’d been going faster than she intended. He handed her a ticket to sign and she felt a tingling sensation in her stomach when their hands brushed in the process. She looked up at him. “Is this a real one?”

He lifted a brow. “A real what?”

“Ticket.”

“What other kind is there?”

She frowned. “A warning ticket.”

“I don’t give out warning tickets.”

She looked at the ticket and then back at him. “Two hundred dollars!”

“Yes. That’s forty dollars for ever mile you were going over. Forty times five would be two hundred dollars.”

“That’s a bit much.”

He lifted his brow again and she wished he wouldn’t do that. Each time he did she was captivated by the beauty of his eyes. “You think so?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t. You broke the law.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“If you say so. Here’s your driver’s license back.” Again their fingers brushed and Vashti felt that tingling sensation.

“I take it you’re headed to Catalina Cove,” he said, pushing his hat back from his face to reveal even more of his features.

“Yes, why do you ask?” she asked, noticing that besides being handsome, the man was broad-shouldered and fit.

“No reason. Just make sure you drive within the speed limits while you’re there. Looks like this little toy you’re driving might get you in trouble.”

She looked at her ticket before looking back up at him. “Looks like it already has.”

His mouth formed a smile and she felt a fluttering in her stomach at the sensual curve of his mouth. No man should have the ability to have such an effect on a woman...especially when he’d just made her two hundred dollars poorer.

“Do you have family in town or are you just here to enjoy all Catalina Cove has to offer?” he asked her.

No need to tell him why she was there. It really wasn’t any of his business. “I’m here to enjoy all Catalina Cove has to offer.”

He nodded. “Well then, enjoy your stay. Good day.”

Watching in her side-view mirror as he walked back to his patrol car, she also thought he looked good from the waist down and appreciated the way his slacks fit a pair of masculine thighs and long legs. And his backside was pretty darn nice, too. It was only after he’d gotten in his vehicle did she allow herself to breathe again. As far as she was concerned, he’d provided her with the best view she’d seen since arriving back in Louisiana.

Starting her car, she pulled back onto the highway.

* * *

SAWYER WATCHED UNTIL the little red Corvette was no longer in sight. What the hell had happened when their hands had accidentally touched? Hell, even now he could feel a burning sensation. It had taken all the control he could muster to maintain his professionalism and give her that ticket. He had not been that attracted to a woman since Johanna.

According to her driver’s license her name was Vashti Alcindor and she lived in New York City. Since she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring he assumed she was single. The car was a rental and he wondered what had brought her to the cove. He’d tried asking her in a roundabout way, but she hadn’t told him anything. That was okay. Everybody had the right to keep their business to themselves. He of all people understood the need for seclusion and privacy at times. Well, unfortunately because of her inability to drive within the speed limits, this trip just became two hundred dollars costlier for her.

“You there, Sheriff?”

Trudy’s voice intruded through the car’s intercom. “Yes, I’m here.”

“I put that Miller file on your desk.”

“Thanks, and I’m on my way back to the office.”

“Okay.”

He started the ignition in the patrol car, and as he pulled onto the highway he couldn’t help wondering if his path would be crossing with Ms. Vashti Alcindor’s again.

* * *

A FEELING SHE hadn’t anticipated washed over Vashti when she entered the city limits of Catalina Cove. It wasn’t the resentment she’d expected but a sudden sense of coming home. Of belonging. How was that possible when she’d left here fourteen years ago without looking back, thinking this town would never be her home again? She could only assume because there was a time she thought she had belonged. After all, she’d been born here, in that house on Higgins Lane. It had been the only home she knew...except for those months her parents had sent her away to Arkansas to have her baby. She had felt all alone then, housed with other girls in the same predicament and whose families were determined to take control of their lives.

She had refused to let her parents take control of hers. She’d made plans. She would keep her baby, quit school, attend classes at night for her GED. In her mind, that was better than nothing, and her aunt had said she would watch the baby at night while she was at school.

Returning to Catalina Cove without her baby had been hard. Get over it because things happen for a reason. Consider losing the baby a blessing. It would have ruined your life. Her mother’s words had cut to the core. There had been no compassion and no regret with either of her parents.

Vashti had finished her last year of school and had been accepted to NYU to start during the summer semester instead of waiting for the fall. She had caught a plane to New York a week after high school graduation. Other than Aunt Shelby and Bryce there hadn’t been anyone left in the cove that she truly cared about...at least not anymore.

Well, there had been K-Gee but he’d left town two years before she had, the night he’d graduated from high school in fact. And besides Bryce’s parents, there had been Ms. Gertie. Gertrude Landers was a midwife who’d probably delivered every baby that had been born in the cove over the past fifty years. Ms. Gertie had always been a loving soul and one of the kindest people Vashti knew while growing up in Catalina Cove. She’d always had a kind word to say about everybody and had been one of her aunt’s dearest friends. And like her aunt, she’d stuck by her when Vashti had gotten pregnant. To this day Vashti thought of Ms. Gertie as the grandmother she never had.

It had been Vashti’s desire for Ms. Gertie to deliver her baby since she’d taken care of her during the first months of her pregnancy instead of the doctor in town. But when Vashti began showing, her parents decided to send her away to have her baby. Those months had been the loneliest of her life.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Vashti drove through the historic part of the city and was reminded how the town got its origin. It was required history in the Catalina Cove school system.

Vashti knew that the parcel of land the cove sat on had been a gift to the notorious pirate Jean LaFitte, from the newly formed United States of America for his role in helping the thirteen colonies fight for their independence from the British during the American Revolution. There were some who actually believed he wasn’t buried at sea in the Gulf of Honduras like history claimed but was buried somewhere in the waters surrounding Catalina Cove.

For years because of LaFitte, the cove had been a shipping town. It still was, which was evident by the number of fishing vessels she could see lining the piers as she drove through the shipping district. The Moulden River was full of trout, whiting, shrimp and oysters. Tourists would come from miles around to sample the town’s seafood, especially the oysters. The cove’s lighthouse-turned-restaurant was the place to dine and you had to make reservations weeks in advance to get a table.

She came to a stop at a red light at the intersection of Adrienne and Sophie, the streets reputedly named for two of LaFitte’s mistresses. The entire downtown area was a close replicate of New Orleans’s French Quarter, a deliberate move on LaFitte’s part. The cove was where the pirate would return to when he and his team of smugglers needed some down time with their women. And if the naming of the streets was to be believed, he’d had several of them, she thought, making a turn on Margaux Lane.

Her thoughts shifted from Jean LaFitte to the man who had pulled her over earlier. That was something that had definitely changed in the cove. It appeared police officers were no longer middle-aged, potbellied men who looked like they’d eaten one blueberry muffin too many. The man who’d given her a ticket was so fit one would suspect he spent a lot of his time at the gym. He was definitely pleasing on the eyes. She hadn’t felt this much interest in a man since finding out what a scumbag Scott was. It was then she’d sworn off men. Nothing had changed, although she had gotten a jolt between the thighs, a sort of reminder of what she hadn’t had in over two years now. At some point she and Scott had begun engaging in what she called courtesy sex and then months later she’d decided not to bother at all. It hadn’t been worth the effort. It hadn’t seemed to bother him any, and now she knew why. His boss’s wife had been his sidepiece.

Reaching Adele Street meant she was entering the historical residential district. Stately older homes, most of them of the French Creole style, lined the streets with pristine manicured lawns. She’d always liked this style of house and recalled that a number of the same style were scattered around New Orleans. That was another deliberate duplication the pirate had taken from there.

It was a known fact that New Orleans had the largest French Creole population in the country. Catalina Cove was next. What a lot of people failed to realize was that being a Creole had nothing to do with your race. It didn’t matter what your skin color was. It had everything to do with your cultural heritage. Her father, a Creole born in Catalina Cove, had met her mother at Grambling University. They had returned here to live after they got married. As a child, Vashti remembered her paternal grandparents, and how her grandmother had told her about the rich Creole history and culture. To this day Vashti was proud of her Creole heritage.

She came to a stop in front of one of the stately looking houses. Bryce had purchased her house three years ago and this would be Vashti’s first visit. Her best friend had visited her many times in New York and Bryce had also joined her in New Orleans whenever Vashti happened to go there on business.

Vashti sat there a minute after turning off the ignition. It was a nice home, and she thought the two-story structure was perfect for her best friend. The previous owners had approached Bryce about being their Realtor and she’d ended up buying it herself.

The minute she got out the car, the front door opened and a smiling Bryce stepped out in the sunlight. Vashti felt her smile grow wide in return.

“Where did you get that thing?” Bryce asked, coming down the steps to meet her and giving more than an admiring glance to the Corvette convertible.

“A rental. It was ordered for an NFL player who had to cancel his trip at the last minute so I thought I’d take it.”

Bryce gave her a hug and she gave her one back. “Glad you got here in one piece.”

“Me, too, but not without a little bit of drama,” she said, opening the passenger door to retrieve her carry-on.

Bryce raised a brow. “Drama? What kind of drama?”

Vashti looped her arm through Bryce’s. “Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll tell you about it. And I’m dying to see your home.”

CHAPTER THREE

SAWYER CLOSED THE file he’d been reading and leaned back in his chair. For some reason he couldn’t get the woman driving that red Corvette out of his mind. When he’d returned to town he took the route he usually traveled as a shortcut to get back to his office. That’s when he saw that same vehicle parked in front of the house where Bryce Witherspoon lived. The woman had definitely been a looker, even with all that wind-blown hair from driving with the top down. And there had been something about those soft brown eyes of hers and well-defined lips that enhanced her honey-brown skin. He figured her age to be in her late twenties, and evidently, she had a flare for flashy stuff, that rental Corvette convertible being one of them. But then she was a New Yorker. He’d dated a woman from New York once while stationed in New Jersey and the one thing he remembered about her was that she’d been a party girl who never took anything seriously. It was all fun and games. He wondered if Vashti Alcindor was the same way.

He looked up when he heard the knock on the door. “Come in.”

Trudy came in with purse in hand, which meant it was time for her to leave. Was it five o’clock already? It was a wonder Jade hadn’t called. She’d decided to try her hand at learning to cook and since he hadn’t gotten a call yet from the fire department he could only hope she hadn’t burned up the place.

“I’m calling it a day, Sheriff.”

He smiled. She always did at exactly five every day. Trudy, who liked to claim she was only fifty-five, was probably a good ten years older than that and should have retired years ago. But she was good at what she did and he was convinced she could work better and faster than a woman half her age. He hoped she wouldn’t bring up the issue of retiring anytime soon. Having worked for the previous sheriff, she was someone Sawyer had come to depend on. She was efficient and well liked by all.

“Okay, Trudy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t work too late. Jade is making beef strudel tonight.”

He lifted a brow. “And how do you know that?”

Trudy smiled. “Because she called for my recipe. There’s nothing like a teenager who prefers going home from school to cook instead of hanging out at the Livewire.”

Sawyer nodded. The Livewire was a hangout spot for the teens in town. It was a decent place that provided a safe environment for them to play arcade games and fill up on hamburgers, fries and milkshakes. There was even a quiet corner in the back for those who wanted to get an early start on their homework. Jade went there some days but she mostly preferred going on home, especially since she was trying her hand at cooking now.

“I can’t wait to try it out.” Okay he was lying. He could wait. The last recipe she’d gotten from Trudy was for a lemon cake, and she hadn’t thought the recipe called for enough lemon flavor so she added more. A lot more. He was certain he’d walked around with puckered lips for a week.

“Oh, by the way, Sheriff. I was logging in the speeding tickets you issued today and noticed you gave one to a Vashti Alcindor. I didn’t know she was back in town.”

Back in town? “She’s been here before?”

Trudy grinned. “Heck yes. Vashti used to live here. Born and raised.”