Like a Hurricane. Roxanne St. Claire

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СКАЧАТЬ just accepting the fact that while the rest of St. Joseph’s Island got an insurance-induced face-lift, Mar Brisas got a Band-Aid.

      Not that she wanted her little Spanish gem to be transformed into one of the palatial towers of stucco and glass that were rising daily along the ten-mile stretch of one of Florida’s prettiest beaches. That was precisely what she did not want. But the fact remained that the Mar Brisas insurance policy had a loophole in it the size of the Gulf of Mexico. She’d ended up with virtually no money to restore the beachfront suites and villas she’d spent her life savings and inheritance to buy five years ago.

      Now it was darn near foreclosure time and the bank was no longer fending off the buyers who’d shown interest in her prime real estate.

      But money was the last thing on her mind last night, she admitted as she crossed the sand and headed to her office, dressed once again in her usual jeans and baggy top. Yesterday’s suit had been for a meeting that, thank God, she’d had the good sense to cancel.

      Instead of traipsing around her property with some heartless Donald Trump wanna-be from New Yawk City, she’d found herself in the arms of the most desirable man she’d ever met.

      Who lied about staying there and spoke the truth about the resort. That was why she sent him packing, right?

      Oh, yeah. Right. She’d pushed him out that elevator door for the same reason she’d walked away from any other man who ever appealed to her—not that many had. Oh, maybe a few. There was one in college, and another just before she bought Mar Brisas. Although she’d been intimate with both of them, she hadn’t been close. Close meant permanence. And permanence meant losing. Isn’t that the lesson life taught her twenty years ago when her parents went out to dinner one night and never came home?

      She shook her head and yanked the lobby door. Not now, Nic. She had immediate problems to face. Like Tom Northcott. He’d been patient so far, but he was still a bank vice president and his loyalty was to Marine Federal. He’d be furious when he found out she’d cancelled the meeting he’d arranged with Jorgensen Development’s golden boy.

      She squared her shoulders and purposely passed the offending elevator without so much as a wistful glance. It was probably stuck anyway. Somewhere between the second floor…and heaven.

      Nicole’s sole remaining full-timer was already at her desk. Sally Chambers’ quick smile and dancing green eyes were always a welcome sight, but this morning they seemed a little brighter than normal.

      “Some idiot put a No Vacancy sign on the front desk last night,” Sally said, standing up to follow her boss into the office.

      “Really.” She threw her bag under her desk and gave Sally a non-committal look. “Imagine that.”

      Sally shrugged. “’Sokay. I’m glad we found it. We’re going to need it soon.”

      “Hah!” Nicole’s laugh was purposely wry as she fell into her seat. “Got a couple hundred grand in your back pocket, Sal?”

      Sally dropped into one of the guest chairs and crossed her arms. “Got the next best thing, Nic.”

      Nicole paused in the act of turning on her computer and looked hard at her friend. “Hit me.”

      “Free advertising, that’s what.”

      “Nothing’s free in life, sweetie.” She clicked the mouse, then settled into her chair, tucking her legs under her. “But don’t let that stop you. What gives?”

      “My dad has reserved a billboard on Route One to advertise his mattress outlet store, but he doesn’t want to put up an ad for a month, when he kicks off his big sale on kings and queens. It was worth it to him to get the special rate. It’s going to sit blank for a whole month.”

      “And…?”

      “We can have the space.” She looked positively victorious. “To advertise Mar Brisas.”

      Nicole shook her head slowly, not wanting to douse Sally’s wonderful enthusiasm, but her young office manager didn’t know all aspects of advertising. “Sally, there are hidden costs to design and produce an ad. Artwork, graphics, copy writing.”

      “I talked to my dad about that,” Sally said, bouncing her red, cropped curls as she nodded. “If you write the copy, his in-house ad guy will arrange for the production. If it’s just words, no pictures. In one color.”

      “That ought to be an award-winning ad.”

      “It doesn’t have to win awards,” Sally insisted. “It has to win guests. Just hit ’em over the head with your message.”

      Nicole’s lips curled into a smile. “And that would be?”

      “All the great things about Mar Brisas.” Sally’s green eyes sparkled. “Authentic Spanish tile, genuine rosewood trim—”

      “A fifty-year-old electrical system and an elevator that predates World War II.” Nicole hated to be the voice of reality, but she was tired of fighting this. “Come on, Sal, it’s awful, ancient and dilapidated.”

      Isn’t that what he had said?

      Sally frowned and leaned forward. “What the heck is the matter with you today?”

      “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I had another sleepless night.”

      Sally reached across the desk and took Nicole’s hand. “I know how hard this has been on you, Nic. Don’t give up now. We have this one chance. It’s practically free.”

      Nicole raised an eyebrow. “Just call Tom Northcott at the bank. Admit that I chickened out yesterday and ask him to reschedule a meeting with that McGrath guy.”

      “Okay,” Sally said, barely hiding the defeat in her voice. “But let’s see if he’ll hold off for a week.”

      Hopelessness pinched her heart. “What good is another week going to do us?”

      “Just a couple of bookings and we’d be able to cover this month’s payment. You told me that last week, Nic.”

      A whisper of hope blew against her heart. Maybe Sally was right. “We haven’t spent a dime on advertising,” she said, more to convince herself than Sally. “It couldn’t hurt, I guess.”

      Sally grabbed a yellow notepad and stuck a pencil in Nicole’s hand. “Come on. You’re creative. Let’s come up with an ad campaign.”

      “I don’t know anything about advertising, Sal.”

      “Sure you do.” Sally pushed the pencil as though she could force it to create. “Everybody knows what sells. Sex sells.”

      Nicole’s eyes popped open. Could Sally read what was on her mind? To cover, she snapped her fingers and pointed. “Yeah. I could hang naked from the billboard.”

      Without a smile, Sally raised a dubious eyebrow. “As if you’d let the world see what you’re hiding under all those loose flowing tops.”

      Nicole remembered the look on Mac’s face when he’d first dropped his gaze. Why had she taken her damn jacket off? She always hid her generous СКАЧАТЬ