Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) (20 page)

Meaning the one Emma had written? “Yes, please.”

The woman lifted a trifold from her desk and, of course, Emma recognized and remembered every fight creative had had with account management.

“Looks nice,” she said, glancing at the glossy stock and the image she’d fought so hard to make the cover. The outdoor massage table with a lithe model draped over it, the postcard view in the background.

Kyle had wanted the doors to the spa to capture the Moroccan feel of the place, but when given the option, the client had chosen what Emma liked. Kyle had been pissed about it, Emma recalled, remembering how the subtext of his rant was all about how a copywriter should write copy, not choose art.

The day after he made her feel subpar for not being in management yet.

It was all so different from the man who was encouraging her to start her own business and seize her own day.

The woman at the desk tapped the scheduling book. “We just had a cancellation for our Ayurvedic massage and oil treatment later this afternoon,” she said. “It’s a—”

“Ancient toxin-removal system,” Emma said, remembering how fascinated she’d been by the concept when she wrote the brochure. “And that herbal scrub afterwards sounds divine.”

The woman beamed. “You sound like you’ve been doing some research and need to try it.”

Emma laughed. “Are the toxins just wafting off me?”

“Not at all,” the woman said, standing to reach out and offer her hand. “I’m a huge believer. I’m Jocelyn Palmer, spa manager. What’s your name?”

“Emma DeWitt. I’m here for…” A canceled honeymoon. A fake engagement. A dream job. Really, the list of possibilities was endless. She went with something simple. “The reunion, with my, um, fiancé.”

“Oh, nice.” Jocelyn stood, a beautiful and delicate woman with sleek dark hair and kind brown eyes. “You must be on the early-bird committee, then.”

“My fiancé is, and we were just about to go into the meeting, but I wanted to…” She glanced around, then at the brochure, thinking about all the conversations they’d had at the agency about the spa. Not one person had been able to communicate the impact and comfort and total feeling of escape the place offered.

No wonder Lacey hadn’t been happy with that last campaign. Emma hadn’t worked on it, but she’d been in some of the planning meetings before she’d quit.

“You’re tempted, aren’t you?” Jocelyn asked, mistaking Emma’s thoughtfulness for indecision.

“I
am
tempted,” she said. Tempted to tell Lacey her ideas the minute she could.

Jocelyn picked up a pencil and fluttered a page of her appointment book. “If you change your mind, I can put you in for an afternoon slot, then if you can’t make it, you can call anytime. No worries.”

Oh, she had worries. Plenty of worries, but they wouldn’t be solved with a massage and—

The back door opened, and Lacey Walker stepped out, doing a double take at the sight of Emma, who probably looked just as startled.

“Well, hello there, Emma. Nice to see you visiting our oasis. Will you have time to get some treatments this week?”

“I’m trying to convince her to get an Ayurvedic massage, oil, and herbal scrub,” Jocelyn said.

“It’s not taking too much convincing,” Emma said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been penciled in, and there’s been no argument from me.”

Lacey smiled at the other woman. “Joss isn’t going to be happy until she detoxes every mind, body, and spirit on the property.”

“Because it works,” Jocelyn said.

“I bet it does,” Emma replied. “And Eucalyptus is the only spa in a hundred miles that offers the complete Ayurvedic system.” Which had been a key marketing point she’d wanted to add into the brochure, but it had gotten edited for space.

Both women looked at her, surprised. “You’re absolutely right,” Lacey said. “But not enough people know that. Take the appointment, Emma. My treat.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” Emma said.

“But it’s done, and it makes me feel only slightly less guilty for taking Mark’s time this week.” Lacey winked at Joss and pointed to the book. “Make it pen, not pencil. Are you headed to the committee meeting to make sure Mark isn’t signed up for another volunteer position?” she asked with a teasing laugh.

“Moral support,” Emma said. “And now that I have you…”

“Yes?”

Now, Emma,
now
.

Still, she stared at Lacey, silent. Except for the pounding of her heart, which surely echoed through the quiet spa.

Carpe diem. Carpe diem.

“I have a question.”

Lacey’s eyes narrowed under a frown. “Please don’t ask me if you can back out of the dance competition. I know Jasper can be a bit much at times, but it will be the highlight of the reunion, I promise.”

“No, no. Not backing out,” Emma assured her, ignoring her wet palms and dry throat as they walked to the door. “It’s something different. Something…else completely.”

Lacey looked at her with interest. “Oh, Emma. You’re going to take me up on that offer to meet with our wedding planners. Of course, but let me warn you, they will make you want to say your vows right on the sands of Barefoot Bay. And I would love that!”

Emma just stared at her, heat rising. “Uh, no. We weren’t…planning to do that.” Oh, the tangled web they’d woven. It was going to strangle her for sure.

“Then what is it?”

“I…I am interested in, I mean, I have a career in advertising and marketing.”

“Really? How interesting.” Lacey pulled open the large frosted-glass door. “That is definitely the most challenging part of my business. I might have to pick your brain a little.”

“Yes!” Emma said, practically throwing herself through both the literal and metaphorical door opening for her. “I would love that. Anytime. I have so many ideas about this resort.”

Lacey’s face brightened as they walked into the lobby. “Talk about good timing. Let me dig through this reunion stuff today and look at my calendar. We can squeeze something in this week, I’m sure.”

Emma nearly danced with joy. “That’d be fantastic.”

Just then, Mark turned from his conversation with a group of people to see Emma and Lacey walking toward them, and his eyes lit at the sight of them.

That’s my girl.

“Would you look at that,” Lacey said with a tease in her voice.

“Oh, I’m looking,” Emma assured her, making the other woman laugh.

“He is
gone
for you,” she said.

Emma suspected the look on Mark’s face had more to do with her talking to Lacey than being “gone for her,” but she kept that to herself. “It’s mutual,” she said, a little surprised at how true that felt.

“I can understand it. He seems like a great guy,” Lacey said.

“He is.”

A woman at the front desk came over to Lacey looking like she needed help with a problem, and Lacey stepped away. “I’ll see you in the meeting,” she promised.

Still smiling, Emma walked across the vast expanse of marble toward Mark, who’d left the men he’d been talking to and hustled toward her, obviously eager to hear what happened.

He cared. He cared so damn much. How had that happened?

As soon as they reached each other, he took her hand and pulled her closer to him. “So? You have the business?”

“Stop. I have a meeting. Maybe. Probably.”

He pulled her into a hug. “Fantastic.”

His support was as warm as his arms, his enthusiasm for her personal project so touching that she couldn’t help reaching up to clasp his neck. “I
carped
the hell out of that
diem
.”

He threw his head back and laughed, hugging her again as they walked into the conference room.

“Ah, young love.” A blond woman sidled up next to them and gave a teasing wink. “Or young-ish love, in Mark’s case.”

He laughed again. “Libby, have you met my fiancée, Emma?”

“I have not.” She gave a friendly nod. “Libby Chesterfield.”

Law Monroe came out of the conference room just as they reached the door, doing a double take at Libby. “Didn’t know you were going to make this one, Lib.”

“I thought I had a meeting in town, but it got canceled.” She eyed Law flirtatiously. “You leaving?”

“Not now.” He pivoted and got right next to her. “You smell good.”

She rolled her eyes and slipped past him. Law glanced at Mark and brushed it off with a shrug. “Fifty more babes around the corner, I tell you.”

Mark didn’t respond, but led Emma to two seats along the side of the conference—giving her the one right next to Lacey and treating her to a conspiratorial wink as she sat down.

Which just made her even happier.

* * *

Emma’s euphoria lasted through what should, by all accounts, have been one of the most boring business meetings in the middle of her lovely vacation. But it wasn’t.

Lacey kept the agenda moving and had some ideas and responses. Emma didn’t have to participate, obviously, beyond being there as company and support for Mark, but she couldn’t help but take a hard look at the program as it was presented to the team.

And, whoa, it wasn’t good. She stared at the copy, mentally revising it, her fingers itching to grab a red pencil and make changes.

“Is something wrong?” Lacey asked, obviously noticing how long Emma held the document.

“No, I just…” She sighed. “Do you mind if I suggest some edits?”

“Please do. I tried that one on my own. I am great at management but lousy at writing,” Lacey said. “Now let’s move on to the highlights of the then-and-now reel…”

Lacey’s voice faded as Emma concentrated on the words in front of her, changing a few phrases and instantly seeing some missed opportunities in the welcome letter Lacey had written.

After she finished, she passed the program along and looked to her left, sensing Mark’s gaze on her. She caught his eye and held it, and his lips curled in a half smile.

Under the table, he gave her leg a light squeeze, and once again, they were communicating silently.

When the meeting ended, Lacey picked up the program and read the program, pausing to look up at Emma.

“This is so clever!” she said. “I love how you worked ‘time’ and ‘timeless’ into each segment. I’m sending this right to the printer, Emma. Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“I think it’s something,” Lacey said as she gathered up some papers and checked her watch. “I hate to cut into your private time, Emma, but would you like to have that conversation we talked about earlier right now? I have a few minutes.”

“I’d love to,” Emma said.

“Perfect timing,” Mark agreed. “I promised Law and Ken I’d hit the gym with them for an hour.” He put a possessive hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” He added a kiss on her hair, which was like a shot of confidence and adrenaline.

A few minutes later, Emma was following Lacey through the back halls of the resort management offices. Lacey paused now and again to point something out, or introduce her to some of the employees. Right before they turned the corner, they passed a door with the words Barefoot Bay Brides engraved on a plaque next to the door.

“And here are our destination wedding planners,” Lacey said as they paused there. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to sit down with them?”

Emma heard the implication in her voice, which made her even more certain she had to be honest about her relationship with Mark the minute they were alone. “Only because the Barefoot Bay Brides are without a doubt one of the most powerful tools in your marketing arsenal,” Emma said.

Lacey’s eyes widened. “Yes, they are. And you’re getting me all excited to talk to you. In here.” She finally led Emma into a spacious office, closed the door, and gestured toward one of the guest chairs. “I feel like you’ve fallen from heaven the week I need it most.”

Emma settled into the chair, trying not to grip the armrests, but calmly resting her hands on her lap. “How’s that, Lacey?”

Lacey dropped into the leather chair behind her desk that was mostly empty but for a few papers and some family pictures, including a teenage girl who had the same strawberry-blond hair and the toddler Emma had seen at the party the other night.

“I know I need to up the advertising game, but my hands are so full right now,” Lacey said.

Emma looked at the pictures. “I can’t even imagine how busy you are. Are they your kids?”

“Ashley and Elijah,” she said, smiling with pride at the kids. “And yes, they are fifteen years apart.”

“They’re gorgeous.” Emma picked up the picture, taking in the red hair of both kids, but stunned by how much Ashley looked like her mother. “She’s a carbon copy of you.”

“Only on the outside,” Lacey said with a wry laugh. “Inside she’s…well, she’s a handful of high maintenance. She’s in college now, at my alma mater, the University of Florida, in Gainesville.”

“What is she studying?”

“Are fraternities a major?” Lacey joked. “No, she’s in hospitality, I’m happy to say, and will someday come back and work here at the resort. If I don’t kill her first.”