Lisa (Beach Brides Book 6) Page 3

  Wyn stood up, his square jaw set. “I’m moving to Nevada. My offices will be in the Desert Indigo until I retire. Then Ian will take over everything.”

  Shawn gripped the edge of his desk to keep himself steady. “Ian is taking over the corporation? When did you decide this?” When did you two go behind my back and cut me out?

  “I spoke with him yesterday,” Wyn stated. “Ian has worked closely with me for years and I’ve decided he’s ready to take over my position.” He tossed the folder on the desk. “You still have a lot to learn, son. When the time comes, you’ll get a share of the business, but Ian will always have principal control.”

  Wyn’s words struck like an arrow through Shawn’s heart. Wyn had always led him to believe that he and his older brother would share the corporation equally. Suddenly, everything had changed. Why?

  “I cleaned up the Hibiscus and turned it around, just like you wanted. I raised the occupancy rates, improved the hotel’s rating, found ways to reduce staff and made a significant increase in the bottom line.” The volume of his voice rose as his anger grew. He knew everyone on the administration floor could hear him, but he didn’t care. “I always do what you ask and I do it well. I’ve proven I’m qualified to share the responsibility of running this corporation!”

  “Yes, you’ve done a great job making this hotel turn a profit and I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished here. The sushi bar and rooftop spa are amazing examples of your creative skills.” Wyn walked around the desk and placed his palms on Shawn’s shoulders. “This is what you do best, son. You’re smart and efficient. When you take on a challenge, you keep at it until you’ve mastered it. You wouldn’t be happy doing Ian’s job.”

  “I’ll decide what makes me happy and what doesn’t!” Shawn glared at his father. “So, what’s next for me? Where do I go from here? Are you reassigning me to Vegas to clean Ian’s office every night?”

  Wyn dropped his hands. “Actually, I’ve got an interesting job for you,” he said, ignoring Shawn’s caustic remarks. “I need your expert development skills to accomplish a project on a land deal I’m putting together.”

  Irritated at his father for not discussing it with him first, Shawn straightened and placed his hands on his hips. “Land deals are for our lawyers. I don’t know the first thing about the legalities of real estate.”

  Wyn casually eased himself onto the edge of Shawn’s desk, but the pallor of his skin and his shallow, rapid breathing indicated he needed to get off his feet. “I’ve signed a purchase agreement on Enchanted Island for three and a half acres of land abutting the Amaryllis to build an 8-unit retail complex. The request for proposals has already been published.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Shawn responded with a harsh laugh, his disappointment showing through loud and clear. “The Amaryllis has only fifty rooms! It’s the smallest hotel we own on a postage stamp of an island fifty miles off the coast of Florida. Why don’t you hire a general contractor to take care of it?”

  Win’s face flushed with anger. He always bristled when Shawn had the audacity to challenge him. “You and Pete LaMaur have been reassigned to Enchanted Island to close on the land and manage the construction project. Your assistant general manager will take over here. You leave next week.”

  “Wait a minute, Dad.” Shawn held up one hand to halt the discussion. “I haven’t agreed to this yet. I need to talk to Brittany about it first—”

  “Don’t argue with me. This is why Ian got a promotion and you didn’t.” Wyn slid off the desk. “I’m still in charge and when I give one of my sons an order, I expect it to be carried out.” He turned and walked toward the door. “I want that project completed in time for the busy season. Is that understood? When you finish the job, we’ll continue our discussion on your partnership in the corporation.”

  Wyn walked out, leaving Shawn to stare after him and wondering if he’d ever learn how to please his father.

  ****

  “Look, Brittany, it’s only going to be for a few months.” Shawn pushed his plate of blackened grouper aside. The fish was delicious, but Brittany’s disappointing response had made him lose interest in his lunch. “The project has to be completed in time for when the snowbirds come.”

  Brittany’s golden brows arched over her deep blue eyes. “The what...”

  “You know—retirees from the northern states. After Christmas, they flock to warmer climate to get away from the cold and the snow. They’re the baby boomer generation and they have a lot of money to spend. Dad wants the shops open by the time the busy season starts.”

  “Dad wants this, Dad wants that.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re thirty-five years old, Shawn. It’s time you stood up to your father and demanded that he stop treating you like a common laborer. You’re his son and you deserve an executive position in the corporation.”

  Brittany’s parents always gave her anything she wanted. She couldn’t understand why his father didn’t operate the same way.

  Shawn let out an exasperated sigh. “Ian and I know better than to demand anything from Wyn. He’s the boss and the boss always gets the last word.” Dad has always been that way and he isn’t going to change, no matter what I say.

  The server appeared. “Are you finished with your lunch, sir?” Shawn nodded without looking up.

  “I don’t have a choice, Brit. I have to complete that project on Enchanted Island. Will you come with me?”

  She sat back and scrolled through the texts on her phone. “And do what? Walk along the beach and collect seashells while you’re working twelve to sixteen hours a day?” She looked up, her eyes narrowing. “No.”

  “Why not? You love the Caribbean and this particular island isn’t just a beautiful place, it’s naturally heart-shaped, too. We’d have the ultimate vacation on a romantic locale that would last for months.”

  “Exactly,” she snapped and dropped her phone into her purse. “I’ll be stuck on a remote island shaped like a valentine with nothing to do for months. I won’t be able to hang out with my friends, go shopping at the mall or have dinner with my family. What about my modeling career? I need to keep in touch with my agent and the stupid place probably doesn’t even have the Internet yet. Or a decent coffee shop.”

  He laughed. “Yes, it has all of that. You can fly or take a water taxi to the mainland any time you want. It’s only fifty miles away.” He reached across the table and took her hand, fondling it with his thumb. “Look, we’ll have all that time to be together in a fairytale setting. Just you and me. Come on, Brittany, move to the island with me.”

  She pulled her hand away and whisked her long golden hair into a jeweled clip. “I won’t be happy if I go and I don’t believe you’ll enjoy being stranded there for months, either. I’m asking you—for once in your life—stand up to your father. Tell him to send someone else. He’s not going to fire you. He’ll give you whatever you want.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Brit. It’s more than a job; it’s family.”

  “You’re choosing your job and your family over me?” She jammed her purse on the table. “That’s unacceptable. If you’re not going to put me first, there’s no reason for me to waste any more time on this relationship.” She shoved back her chair and stood. “The engagement is off. I refuse to settle for second place. If you won’t make me a priority in your life, I’ll find someone who will. And don’t bother to call me later, expecting me to change my mind because I won’t! I’m blocking your number.”

  She pulled off her engagement ring, tossed it into her glass of iced tea and stormed out.

  ****

  Enchanted Island, East Caribbean

  Nine Days Later

  Shawn wandered through the gift shop at the Amaryllis Boutique Hotel, browsing through an eclectic collection of artwork, unusual and one-of-a-kind articles. This merchant would likely be one of the first to move into the retail complex and once she had vacated the space he planned to turn it into a coffee shop.

  As he appr
oached a display on the back wall, one item caught his eye, a blue antique bottle sealed with a synthetic stopper. He reached up and pulled it off the glass shelf to examine it.

  “It’s an interesting little gem, isn’t it?”

  He turned around to find the shopkeeper standing behind him, a heavy woman wearing a purple flowered caftan. She had thick, flaming red hair, heavy gold earrings and sparkling gemstone rings on all of her fingers. Her colorful appearance made her as interesting as her wares. Her nametag read “Mavis Smythe.”

  “I like antiques,” he said and held up the bottle to get a closer look at the object inside it. “Do you have more?”

  “No, but there’s a shop in Morganville that does,” she said in a British accent. “A local chap sold this one to me last year. He found it floating in a small pool of water between a couple of large rocks down by the point. It must have come ashore with the tide. I didn’t have any idea what to charge for it so I set it in the cupboard temporarily and then forgot about it. This morning I was cleaning out the shelves and found it collecting dust behind a box of Christmas lights.” She tapped a long red fingernail against the bottle. “Look, there’s a message in it.”

  Shawn held it up to the light. “That’s amazing. I wonder how long it had been bobbing around in the water.” Judging by the synthetic cork, it hadn’t been there long. Still, it intrigued him. He shook the bottle to see if it held anything else, but could only make out the narrowly folded message. Filled with sand, it would make an interesting paperweight for his desk. He handed the bottle to her and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “I’ll take it.”

  She rang up the sale, wrapped it in tissue paper and placed it in a shiny red plastic bag. “Here you go, Mr. Wells.”

  Even without her nametag, he would have remembered her name from their introduction yesterday when he’d personally met with every hotel employee. “Just call me Shawn, okay Mavis?”

  She grinned. “Shawn, it ‘tis then.”

  Shawn left the shop and walked into the hotel lobby. The sound of chanting drew his attention to a group of women carrying signs in front of the building. At the same time, Pete LaMaur bolted across the stone plaza and burst through the front doors.

  “What’s going on, LaMaur?”

  As the doors closed behind Pete, the warm, Caribbean breeze rushing through the opening ruffled his blue square-bottomed shirt. He ran his hand over his short brown hair. “It’s an organized protest. Some group from Morganville is objecting to our plan to build the shops. They say it’s going to ruin the island’s economy.”

  Shawn stared at the motley assortment of brightly dressed women parading back and forth with their homemade signs. “We’ve only been here two days and people are already objecting to the development? News travels fast around here.”

  Pete answered with a nervous laugh. “That’s for sure. Two days is light speed when you’re talking island time.”

  One of the first things they learned upon arriving on Enchanted Island was the concept of island time. Here, people were laid back and life moved at a relaxed pace. Living on island time meant that you weren’t pressured by the clock and if you were a little late, so be it. No problem, mon.

  “It must be a pretty sensitive issue to cause such quick opposition.” Pete stared through the glass doors at the women and scratched his head, his brows knitting together. “How do you want to handle it?”

  “There’s only one thing we can do. We’ll have to go out there and talk to them.”

  Pete’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? Talk to a bunch of protesting women? They’ll tear us to pieces!”

  Shawn began to walk toward the front entrance. “I guess that’s the chance we’ll have to take. We certainly can’t ignore them.” He strolled across the plaza to greet the protesters congregating on the sidewalk.

  That’s when he saw her...

  Slender and petite with elbow-length dark hair, she stood apart from the group wearing sandals and a short yellow dress. A jade teardrop pendant hanging from a gold chain adorned her long, graceful neck. It matched her eyes. For a moment, he stood mesmerized, unable to pull his gaze from her until Pete appeared at his side and murmured, “Good luck, pal. You’re gonna need it.”

  Shawn cleared his throat and refocused his attention on the matter at hand. “Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Shawn Wells, the general manager of the Amaryllis Hotel and this is Peter LaMaur, the manager of maintenance. What can we do for you?”

  A tall, Bahamian woman stepped forward wearing a long lavender sundress with rows of silver beads sewn along the round, low-cut neckline. Her thick, spiraled curls of ebony hair lifted in the breeze, bouncing playfully about her neck and shoulders. “You can stop this development before it ruins our island,” she said with a Bahamian accent. The words ending with an r sound were pronounced ah.

  The women cheered and raised their signs.

  “Take your fancy ideas and go back to where you came from,” the woman continued. “Just because we are a territory of the US, that doesn’t mean we want to be Americanized. Enchanted Island is a beautiful place with its own identity and we intend to keep it that way.”

  “You’re right.” Shawn put forth his friendliest smile. “The island is a wonderful place and the last thing we want to do is spoil its natural beauty.”

  “Then tear up your purchase agreement and leave!”

  The women began to all talk at once.

  “Girls! Girls!” Pete raised his hands to call the crowd to attention. “There’s no need to—”

  “Who are you calling gyal,” the Bahamian woman shot back as she confronted Pete nose-to-nose. “We are businesswomen and we demand respect. You got a problem with that?”

  Pete stood motionless, locked into her wide, distinctive eyes, the color of espresso coffee. “No...”

  “Then I will accept your apology.” She jammed her hands on her slim hips, her golden arms jingling with a stack of metal bracelets on each one.

  He swallowed hard, as though he had a difficult time concentrating. “I...we...w-what did you say?”

  “What—you got a hearing problem, too?”

  The woman in the yellow dress moved to her side and whispered something into her ear. They both turned toward Shawn.

  “Let’s start over,” the woman said in a serious, but feminine voice. “I’m Lisa Kaye, the spokesperson for the Island Women’s Business League and this is the group’s president,” she gestured toward her beautiful, but angry companion, “Shakara Allain.”

  Lisa turned briefly toward the crowd with a sweeping motion of her hand. “Everyone here owns some type of retail establishment in the Morganville business district. We’re opposed to the development proposal your corporation has submitted for approval. We believe it’s detrimental to the island’s economy and a direct assault on the environment. Since the council won’t listen to us, we’ve organized this rally to voice our objections to you.”

  Her thorough knowledge of his proposal took him by surprise.

  “I understand your concern, but there isn’t anything in our proposal that would harm your businesses. Just the opposite. We feel it will attract more people to the island to shop,” Shawn replied, seeing the need to divert the public demonstration into a closed-door session. “Why don’t you ladies step inside and have refreshments while we discuss the issue?”

  The women stared at each other as though suspicious of his openness and willingness to cooperate. He gestured toward the lobby. “Please, be my guests. Right this way.”

  The group deposited their signs in a neat stack next to a wide planter and gingerly walked into the hotel.

  Pete stood transfixed on Shakara Allain as she followed the group into the building, her tall, slender figure moving with the grace of a ballerina.

  “What a goddess,” he murmured. “I think I’m in love...”

  Shawn tried unsuccessfully to suppress a grin as he patted Pete on the shoulder. “You’ll get over it. Come on, it looks like we
need to do some major damage control.”

  They ushered the women into a two-story lobby of marble floors, white woodwork and tall arched windows shaded by the mature palm trees that surrounded the building. Pete led them past the reception area arranged with aqua damask furniture, fresh flowers and local artwork to the open stairway that took them up to a mezzanine and Shawn’s office suite.

  “Susan,” Shawn said to a blonde woman standing behind the registration counter, “call the kitchen and have the staff bring Switchta and cookies for a dozen people up to my office immediately.” He grabbed a bowl of fresh fruit off the counter and bounded up the stairs, opening the double doors to his office.

  “Come in, ladies, and have a seat.”

  Shawn deposited the bag with his antique bottle on the credenza behind his desk and placed the fruit bowl in the center of his conference table. It only seated six people, so the rest had to stand while Pete set up additional chairs.

  “Refreshments are on the way,” Shawn announced as he faced the group. “In the meantime, let’s start the discussion. I’d like to hear your objections to the development.”

  Lisa Kaye stepped forward and folded her arms, her body language indicating she expected a confrontation. Close up, her dark hair looked like strands of silk against her sunny yellow chemise. He found her intriguing and wondered what type of business she owned. “We’ve obtained a copy of the report you submitted to the council last week to buy the Regis property,” she said in a business-like tone, “and to build on it what basically amounts to a strip mall.”

  “We refer to it as ‘The Shops at Enchanted Isle’.”

  Her direct, cynical stare never wavered. “And just what makes these shops more enchanting than the historic district in Morganville?”

  “They will be upscale, one-of-a-kind stores.”

  “That’s not what your report says.” She pulled a thick sheaf of papers from her leather shoulder bag and held up a page that she’d marked with a green highlighter. “On page seven there is a list of the types of businesses that will fill the mall and it’s almost an exact duplicate of the most popular shops in Morganville. For instance, the first business on your list is handcrafted jewelry. That’s Shakara’s shop. Another one is a gift boutique that sells needlework crafted exclusively by the women on this island. That’s my Aunt Elsie’s shop. The list goes on and on. This is not merely a coincidence. You’ve definitely done your homework.” She looked up at him with an accusatory glare. “It appears, Mr. Wells, that you are targeting our businesses to pull the tourist trade away from us and literally bankrupt the downtown retail district so you can have one hundred percent of the market share for your own shops.”