Swept Away (2 page)

But she resisted running, scurrying, like a child. She only prayed he couldn’t see her trembling
as she plucked up her dress, struggled to find the opening, then slid it back over her head. One
last ounce of defensiveness forced her to turn and say, “You don’t know what you’re
missing.”

Not one iota of emotion crossed his impossibly handsome face as he replied. “Go home, kitten. And don’t come back.”

Chapter One

Present day

Her whole world at the moment consisted of warm sun and cool sand, the gentle shush of the
tide. Palm fronds rustled in the breeze behind her, and before her lay nothing but blue ocean
and the calm, straight line of the horizon.

She’d come here to relax. Unwind. Escape.

No, wait—not escape. Where had that come from?

She’d come here to prepare. Yes, that was better. It was a transitional period.

The period when she would transform from her normal, fun-loving self into someone’s wife.
But not just someone. A respected attorney. Who was also an investor—“gifted at it,” her
father said—and thus had more money than God.

She hadn’t the faintest idea how she was going to be that kind of wife—the kind who hosted garden parties and Sunday brunches, the kind who could hold a glass of wine in her hand all
evening at a cocktail party without ever getting tipsy and giggly. Kat was fairly famous among
her friends for “tipsy and giggly.”

But those days were behind her now—they had to be. Hence the transitional period, the sun
and the sand. It truly was tranquil here. Her father had only bought the private island off the Gulf Coast of Florida last year, so they hadn’t made any improvements yet, but once she and
Ian were married, maybe she’d suggest they make a gift to her parents—perhaps a new beach
house, a new dock for the boats. People said money couldn’t buy happiness, but Kat knew
better. Nothing would make her father happier than a shiny new beach house, courtesy of his
daughter and new son-in-law. She could almost feel his smile beaming at her already.

A vision flashed in her mind—her, in a few years, as a mom, corralling a little boy and girl on
this same beach. The children were adorable, exploring, occasionally picking up a sand dollar
or a broken bit of shell. They all wore light colors, whites and pastels. She and the little girl sported straw hats and flowy sundresses. Somewhere in the distance, her father and Ian grilled
steaks and drank martinis while her mother festooned a picnic table with brightly colored place mats and arranged peach-colored napkins in a fan shape to bloom from stemmed glasses.

Why did such a lovely image make her want to throw up?

She liked kids, after all. She spent each and every Saturday afternoon with kids at The Kiln,
teaching them to throw pots. A messy and sometimes semidisastrous pastime, but pottery was
her passion. She loved sharing it with children who weren’t as fortunate as she’d been and
who needed a distraction from the harsher realities of their lives.

And she liked steak and martinis and decorative napkins, too. Who didn’t?
So what was wrong with this picture?

She sighed, thinking.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be married. She did—she always had. Sure, everyone thought
of her as Crazy Kat, party girl extraordinaire—but deep inside, all she’d ever really wanted was
commitment, someone to build a life with, a world with.

And she loved her parents, and she loved Ian’s parents, and you really couldn’t find a guy who
was more respected or even better-looking than Ian. He was a catch—everyone said so.

So that settled it, once and for all. There was nothing wrong with the picture.

She was simply going to suffer a steep learning curve in terms of being a sophisticated wife,
that was all. And really, it shouldn’t be that much of a stretch—she’d been masquerading as a
sophisticated daughter all her life and gotten by okay. And Ian didn’t love her because she was
sophisticated—he loved the real her, even the party her. He’d once told her that. So this was all
going to be just fine.

A damn good thing given that the wedding was only seven days away.

The trill of her cell phone jarred her from her thoughts as she plucked it up from the sand next
to her lounge chair, then mentally prepared herself to lie in case it was her mother, expecting to hear the sounds of slot machines behind her. “Hello?”

“Viva Las Vegas, baby!” No, just her lifelong best friend Nina—and it was Kat who heard the
whirring sounds of electronic gambling in the background. “I’m coming to you live from
Caesar’s Palace!”

“So you guys made it in okay,” Kat said, envisioning her five best buds partying without her in
Sin City.

“Yeah, and—” Nina stopped, just briefly. “Oh. My. God. The hottest soldier in the entire
Roman army just walked by!”

“Down, girl,” Kat said dryly, at once sorry to be missing the fun but at the same time so
removed from it that it didn’t matter—she had bigger things on her mind.

“In a few minutes, we’re going to walk over to Treasure Island and try to pick up some pirates.
Swarthy ones, with scars. God, I can’t believe you’re missing this, Kat. Honestly, if I live to be
a hundred, I still won’t believe you actually bailed on your own bachelorette party.” Nina let
out a long, slow sigh, and then—if Kat wasn’t mistaken—took a slurping sip from a beverage undoubtedly high in alcoholic content. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Too late now. I’m here, and you’re there.”

Nina’s voice dropped so that Kat could barely hear her over the sounds of the slots. “No. I meant about the wedding.”

Now it was Kat’ s turn to sigh as her stomach twisted. Why couldn’t Nina just let this go? She
was marrying Ian, and that was that. “Would you please drop it already?”

“You don’t love him.”

Here we go again. “Of course I love him. I’ve known him my whole life.”

“I’ve known you my whole life, but that doesn’t mean I’m marrying you. You know Ian’s not pendant-worthy.”

Kat took a deep breath. That was how they’d rated the guys in her life—always—by whether
or not they lived up to the legend attached to the pendant her father had given her as a little girl,
something he’d picked up on his “art travels.” According to the old woman who’d sold her
father the broken piece, the other half had been given to a young girl’s lover when the two were
separated. They never found each other again, and the legend said that bringing the pieces back
together would unite their souls and that those who brought them back would unite for eternity, as well. The pendant hung behind glass, even now, in the rear of her father’s gallery.

Kat and Nina hadn’t, of course, judged guys by this literally—they knew no guy was magically
going to produce the pendant’s missing half. But it was their way of saying: Is this guy a
potential soulmate? A keeper for eternity?

Although it suddenly seemed an adolescent way to size up a man, and Kat decided she wasn’t
going to deal with Nina’s lectures any longer. “Listen, if you don’t want to be kicked out as maid of honor, you’ll stop bringing this up and accept the fact that I’m marrying Ian and am
going to have a fabulous life with him. I’m going to wear straw hats and learn to sip instead of
guzzle.”

“What?”

“Nothing, never mind.”

“I still say you should be in Vegas right now.”

“I am. As far as the rest of the world knows. Don’t forget that. Like in case my mother were to
call.”

“Got it. I’ll tell her you can’t come to the phone because you’re getting a lap dance from a
Chippendale.”

“That’s hysterical,” Kat replied in her driest tone.

“Or I’ll tell her you’re riding a pirate.” Nina giggled. “I mean, a pirate ship.”
“Slow down on the fuzzy navels, girlfriend. It’s early yet.”

“They’re rum twizzlers. Or Þzzlers, or something,” she said, sounding slightly confused. But
then she sobered—as much as possible given the alcohol consumption. “This just isn’t as much
fun without you.”

Kat reasoned with her. “Well, admittedly, a bachelorette party tends to suffer without the
bachelorette. But I’m betting you’ll muddle through and still manage to have a good time.”

“Betting? Vegas? Ha!” She broke into peals of laughter.

And Kat sighed, disconcerted and slightly annoyed. Which was odd. Since when did Nina’s
silliness bring her down? “Listen, repeat after me. Kat is in the bathroom. Or Kat is sleeping.
Or Kat is on a roll at the roulette wheel and cannot be disturbed. These are the types of things
you say if anyone calls looking for me. Then you ring me and let me know so I can call them
back.”

“Got it. Kat is sleeping. With a pirate.”

Sadly, for some reason, Kat couldn’t even smile at that. Maybe she really wanted to be sleeping with a pirate? But this was all for the best—everybody had to grow up sometime. “I’m getting off the phone now. Go have fun. And be careful.”

“I’m in Vegas. You should tell me to get lucky instead.”
“Okay, get lucky. In a careful way.”

After she hung up, she wondered when she’d turned into her mother—repeatedly telling people
to be careful. And as she let her cell phone plunk gently back down into the sand, she couldn’t
deny some feelings of regret. Pirates were sounding pretty good right about now. She’d never
done calm and serene well. What had she been thinking coming here?

You were thinking about relaxing and unwinding and preparing, she reminded herself. She’d likened it to starting a new pottery project—for which she always had to take some time to let
the new piece come together in her mind before sitting down with her clay. She had to let her
plans gel, develop, evolve. This was sort of like that, only the current project was a little bigger
—starting her life as Ian’s wife.

Not that her whole life would be different. She’d still go to work every day at her dad’s gallery,
helping him showcase local artists. By the time she’d graduated from college with a degree in
art history, she’d realized the gallery had become much more to her than just a summer job over
the years—it was a huge part of her life, so she’d chosen to stay there, expanding her position
over time.

And she’d still have her art, her pottery. In fact, her first show was next month, not long after
the honeymoon—featuring her Raku pots. She’d worked hard on developing her own unique
style with the glazing technique over the past year, then started adding sea glass ornamentation.
Everyone agreed the results were stunning, and her father had offered a showing—and not just because he loved her, either. Art was maybe the one thing Kat’s dad cherished as much as his family—he didn’t take it lightly, and he’d watched her work on her pots for years before finally
extending the invitation just a few weeks ago.

So—this whole wife thing was just a change. Which she needed to enter into reverently, humbly, with her whole heart. And coming here to help herself ease from one part of her life
into another was an intelligent move, an act of true maturity, she thought.