Wild Child. Cindi Myers

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      She glanced at the sky also, and was surprised to find the sun considerably lower toward the horizon. “What time is it?” she asked.

      He checked his watch. “It’s after two. No wonder I’m starved.” He rose and offered her his hand. “Come back to the shop with me. I need to see how things are going and we can grab some lunch.”

      “I really need to check in with my office,” she said. Knowing Candy was slaving away made Sara feel guilty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d left Uncle Spence to his own devices so long. The thought made her stomach twist. He was probably having a panic attack.

      They collected their boards and walked toward the more populated area of the shore. “I should probably try to get some work done this afternoon, too,” Drew said, sounding reluctant.

      “We could get together again tonight,” she said. “And I should really be trying to get more points for the contest.”

      “We could check out the carnival,” Drew said. “There are games and stuff there where I think you can win points.”

      “I’d love that.” She squeezed his arm, enjoying the feel of the hard muscle of his bicep. “Ellie and Candy said something about a photo scavenger hunt on for tonight, too.”

      “A photo scavenger hunt?”

      “You have to take pictures of certain things—I don’t really know what, exactly. They’re supposed to post a list tonight.”

      He laughed. “I’m game.” He glanced at her. “As long as we can find some time to be alone, too.”

      She grinned. “I think that can definitely be arranged.” Even if she had to hang a Do Not Disturb sign on her door in the beach house, she was determined to get Drew alone—and naked—before too many hours had passed.

      4

      SARA WAITED until she’d left Drew at the Surf Shack before she turned on her cell phone. She was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that her voice mail was full of messages, all from Uncle Spence. Each message was increasingly more irate, until by the last one he was reduced to almost hysterical sputtering.

      With a sigh, Sara punched in his number as she made her way toward the beach house. “Uncle Spence, I just got your messages,” she said. “What’s up?”

      “Sara! Where the hell have you been?” He rushed on, not waiting for an answer. “I can’t find the Montoya file anywhere. And the survey company called, asking for the legal description of the McManus property. And where the hell is the ink for the fax machine?”

      “The Montoya file is in the bottom right-hand drawer of my desk, under M. The legal description for the McManus property is available from the courthouse. Or you can look it up on the Web. The ink for the fax is in the supply cabinet. Top shelf.” Honestly. How did the man function at home?

      “Why aren’t the files in the filing cabinet with everything else?” She could hear him slamming drawers and rummaging through papers.

      “The files in the filing cabinet are completed transactions. The ones in my desk are current projects.” She was sure she’d told him this before, but because he didn’t expect to need the information, he hadn’t bothered to remember it.

      “I found them,” he said. “When are you coming home? There’s a lot of work here that needs your attention.”

      “Not until the end of the week. And it sounds as if you’re handling everything fine.” She shifted the phone to her other ear and forced optimism into her voice. “How did dinner with Mr. Granger go?”

      “All right, I guess. He can be a real blowhard.”

      Then why do you hang out with him? But she knew the answer to that. Uncle Spence cultivated people who were good business contacts, not necessarily good friends. This lack of people he could really trust in his life probably accounted for why he depended so much on her. What he needed were other people in his life. Real friends. Maybe even a romantic interest.

      “Whatever happened to that woman you were dating for a while?” she asked. “Martha?”

      “Magda.” A long silence. “She had to go back to Michigan to look after her father for a few months. After he died, we never got back together.”

      “You ought to give her a call. The two of you always had fun together.”

      “Maybe I should…” More rustling of papers. “I don’t have time for that now. Not while I’m trying to hold things together here with you gone.”

      “Everything will be fine,” she said. “If anything else comes up, it can wait until I get back. It’s only a few more days.”

      “People don’t like to be kept waiting, Sara. I’ve always told you that.”

      “Waiting will teach them patience,” she said, and laughed, picturing the shocked expression on Uncle Spence’s face. Life was very serious business for him and she didn’t usually try to persuade him otherwise.

      “I need that information for the McManus property right away,” he said. “Could you at least do that for me?”

      The words to tell him to do it himself were there, on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. Uncle Spence had always been very big on responsibility—as in her clients were her responsibility, even when she was on vacation. “All right. I’ll look them up when I get back to the beach house and e-mail them to you. But anything else will have to wait until I get home.”

      “Keep your phone on in case I need you,” he said. “I don’t like being out of touch.”

      “Reception isn’t always good out here,” she lied. “I think the film crew’s equipment must interfere with it or something.”

      “I don’t know why those moviemakers have to take over public places when they’ve got acres of sound stages in Hollywood,” he said.

      She didn’t bother to correct him. She was sure she’d told him about the Sin on the Beach festival, but of course, he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to that, either.

      Unlike Drew, who had focused on her every word. The memory of his attention made her feel warm all over, and her voice had a dreamy quality as she said goodbye to Spence and hung up. Thoughts of Drew accompanied her all the way back to the beach house.

      Ellie was in the kitchen, slicing limes. “I’m starved,” Sara said, heading for the refrigerator. “Where’s Candy?”

      “Out somewhere. I hope with Matt.”

      Sara fished a deli container of chicken salad out of the fridge, then plucked a fork from a drawer and dug in. “How was your day?” she asked. “How did the audition go?”

      Ellie laid down the knife and turned to face Sara, her face serious. Sara’s stomach tightened and she set aside her late lunch. “What happened? Did they give the part to someone else?”

      “There was more than one part available.” A smile lit Ellie’s face and she bounced on her СКАЧАТЬ