The Producer's Unlikely Bride Read online

  Chapter 2

  Justin sighed in relief as the last light flicked off. This Maui show had felt so much longer than the others. Was it because exhaustion covered him? Irritation he hadn’t gotten to do much sightseeing? Or something more? Could it be that watching all this love and facing his loveless life was wearing thin on him? He relaxed into the approaching darkness.

  “Justin, I need a word.”

  And the relaxation flew out the window. The tone in Peter’s voice sent chills down Justin’s back, and he hurriedly searched his memory for any reason Peter might be upset with him. He hadn’t sent out any new auditions yet, so the likelihood he knew about those was small. Besides, Peter had to know this wasn’t a permanent gig for Justin. Justin had told him that at the beginning when they’d partnered as producers. True that had been a decade ago, but still…

  “Sure, Peter, what’s up?” Justin glanced around for something to do to keep from focusing on Peter. He knew from experience that when Peter’s voice took on the deep timbre that nothing good was coming next. The only problem was that there was nothing around. The crew had packed up and vanished like ghosts, almost as if they knew this discussion would be happening. There was nothing around them but sand.

  “I want you to take some time off,” Peter began.

  Justin sagged with relief. Time off? He’d planned to take some anyway. Now, he had his partner’s blessing. Even better. “Of course Peter, now that this show has wrapped-”

  “I wasn’t finished.” It wasn’t quite anger, but there was a definite forcefulness to Peter’s voice that shut Justin up and sent the dread coursing through him once again. “It is obvious from your behavior of late that you need some time away from the show.”

  “My behavior?” Justin swallowed the words quickly afraid his tone would invoke suspicion.

  Peter shot him one of those ‘you know what I’m talking about stares.’ The kind that could make you feel guilty even if you had done nothing wrong, but Justin knew he was off his game. He had just hoped no one else had noticed it. “Yes, your behavior. Bringing the reporters to Tyler’s and Laney’s wedding hoping to break them up-”

  Justin held up a hand and shook his head. “In my defense, those two were over the top sweet and besides it didn’t work.”

  Peter continued as if Justin hadn’t interrupted him, “Setting up all these physical dates to make the women look bad.”

  “Carl said he wanted an active woman.” It wasn’t why Justin had planned the dates he had, but it was a good excuse.

  “And telling Carl it didn’t matter who he chose?”

  Justin cringed at that one. He shouldn’t have done that. Technically, he had broken contract and Peter could fire him for that. “That was a mistake, but if you had heard him and his indecision-”

  Peter rolled his eyes and the volume of his voice rose in exasperation. “He was undecided because he was making a huge decision. Our goal is to find these men and women love, remember?”

  Justin remembered. He just couldn’t seem to make himself care. When they’d started this show, he had been young and in love, but then tragedy had struck and love had turned its back on him. Now, the idea of a happily ever after left him feeling empty and jaded.

  Peter took a deep breath, composing himself. His next words came out softer. “So, I think you need to go get your head on straight. Take some time and remember why we are doing this job.”

  “Fine. I’ll take some time. I’ll go visit my sister or something.” His sister lived in Washington state with her husband, two point five kids, and the perfect job, so the thought of visiting her held little appeal, but at least it would get Peter off his back.

  “No, I’ve already booked the place you are going. I’m sending you to the slice of tranquility.”

  “The what?” Even the name sounded awful to Justin. He didn’t need tranquility. Well, maybe he did, but he didn’t need to go to a place named that. It would probably be adorned with fuzzy bathrobes and yoga meetings and green smoothies made with algae instead of coffee.

  “The slice of tranquility. That’s what Margie called it anyway. It’s the cabin where I met my wife.”

  “You met your wife at a cabin?” Justin was thoroughly confused. Was he supposed to be at this cabin to relax or find love?

  Peter waved a hand. “It’s a long story. Anyway, I’ve booked it for you. It’s right on the ocean. You can relax,” his eyes wandered to Justin’s hair, “let your hair down a little, and come back refreshed.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Peter, we’re at the beach.” He gestured widely at the surrounding sand. “We’ve been in Hawaii for the last few months.”

  “Yes, but you’ve been working, not relaxing. Besides magical things happen at this cabin.” The corners of Peter’s lips twitched and his eyes took on a faraway look as if he was remembering some magical thing that had taken place.

  “Fine.” Justin didn’t think a cabin at the beach would solve his problems, but he definitely wanted to wipe that expression off Peter’s face. Besides, he could use some time away to figure out if he wanted to stay with the show or pursue other options full time. “Just give me the information.”

  Ava pulled into the Reflections Rental office and turned off the car. Even this building exuded a sense of peace and tranquility. Nestled into a grove of trees, it blended in with the white sand around it. No other cars sat around the building, and Ava wondered where the employees parked.

  The quiet pressed in on her as she approached the building. There was no traffic, no hum of conversation, not even the chirping of birds. It was as if time stood still here, in its own little bubble.

  A tiny bell jingled as she pushed open the door. The sound reminded Ava of the fairy wings effect in a show she used to love as a child. Every time a fairy received wings or used them in some magical way, there would be this tinkling sound. Ava remembered nothing else from the show - not the name of it or the story lines, but that sound somehow imprinted on her mind.

  The door shut softly behind her and a soft warm scent of vanilla floated through the air adding to the homey feel. Once again, Ava felt transported back to her grandmother’s house where it always smelled of cookies and love. A woman with hair that resembled fluffy white marshmallows looked up from the lone desk as Ava entered.

  “Oh, hello, dear, you must be Ava. I’m Margie.” Her smile lit up the room and her warm demeanor put Ava immediately at ease. Though impeded by her age and a slight limp in her right leg, Margie ambled toward Ava, her weathered hand outstretched. Ava felt as if she were in a dream. Margie reminded her of someone - and not just that grandmother feel - but there was something more.

  “I am.” Ava shook the hand not realizing she had even lifted her own.

  Margie’s other hand closed over their clasped hands, and Ava felt frozen, as if glue held her feet in place. Warmth flooded her along with a feeling of safety, but that was silly. She didn’t even know this woman. “I just know you will have a fantastic time. Let me get you the keys.”

  She dropped their hands, and Ava blinked. The warmth receded from her body though it still circled through the room just out of touch. She followed Margie back to the desk where a stack of papers sat prominently in the middle. Margie rifled through the papers, shaking her head and emitting soft murmurs as she turned the pages. “Ah, here we go. I just need you to sign here.” She handed the paper and a pen to Ava.

  Ava scanned the contract, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was responsible for her own meals and her laundry, but she knew that going in. The cottage also needed to be in the same condition when she left - again, understandable. Only one clause seemed odd. If perhaps the cottage was double booked, she agreed to give it three days before asking for a refund.

  “Does this happen often?” she asked pointing at the odd clause.

  Margie looked down and then waved her hand. “Oh, hardly ever, but it did happen one time, and it makes more sense to have the information there. Y
ou know what I mean?”

  “Right, so does this mean if it gets double booked that I have to stay there with someone else for three days to qualify for the refund?”

  Margie’s white hair bounced with her nod. “It does, but again, it hardly ever happens. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

  Ava nodded but in the back of her mind she thought it would be just her luck if it happened to her. Especially when she really needed the quiet. Still, she was here and it was paid for. She signed her name to the bottom and handed the contract back.

  “Wonderful. Here’s the key and the map to get there. It’s a little off the beaten path, so make sure you watch for the signs.”

  The words triggered something in Ava’s head. A memory? A feeling? She wasn’t sure. “What did you say?”

  “I said watch for the signs, dearie.” She placed the key and map in Ava’s hand. “They’re there to guide you.”

  “Right. Thank you.” Those seemed odd words for Margie to say, but the woman was older. Maybe it was her way.

  The map proved a little challenging to follow, and twice Ava almost missed the turn. Only the small wooden signs that read simply Tranquility with an arrow saved her, but the view was worth the challenge when she arrived. The ocean spread, a blue blanket, for as far as she could see. Was this a private beach?

  Warm, salty air caressed her skin as she stepped out of the car. A light breeze ruffled her dark hair, and the sun rained soft kisses on her face. This she could get used to. Fear and worry rolled off her shoulders as she stepped into the cabin which was larger than it had looked in the picture.

  The immediate room welcomed her with a charming fireplace and large plush furniture. Her favorite was a cushy chair in the corner by the window. A lamp nestled behind it as if protecting it with its glow, and the chair faced the window which looked out at the expansive ocean. It would be the perfect place for her to work. She could almost feel the creative energy flowing through her as she pictured sitting there.

  A hallway led out of the room and opened to the kitchen patterned with cottages and beach prints. It wasn’t large, and the only seating was a small table with two chairs, but Ava didn’t figure she would spend much time in here anyway. Long enough to prepare the food, but she’d much rather eat it facing the window or better yet outside. A sliding glass door lay behind the table and it led right out to the beach. Ava could see a small table and two chairs outside. Perhaps that was where she would eat.

  She checked the cupboards, but they were empty as was the refrigerator. No matter, Ava had brought food with her. Beyond the kitchen were two bedrooms each about the same size and color pallet. They both contained a private bathroom which seemed a little odd in a two bedroom, but Ava certainly didn’t mind. She disliked hotels that had no bathroom in the room and forced her to walk down the hall, often in the dark early morning hours.

  She deposited her suitcase on the bed of one of the rooms - the one with the view of the hammock as the other just had a view of the beach but no ocean - and then returned to the car for the cooler of food she had brought. It should be enough to last her a week, and then she figured she would either be finished with her book or she could take a break and drive to the nearest town for more.

  With the food unpacked and put away, Ava grabbed her notebook and headed outside. She couldn’t wait to feel the sand between her toes and soak up the inspiration from the waves. Surely, here she would find inspiration. How could she not?

  Chapter 3

  Justin pulled up to the rental office and sighed. The place appeared bland and tiny. He had no idea why Peter had gone with this place - maybe it had once looked better - but what choice did he have? At least it was paid for.

  One of those annoying bells jingled announcing his arrival as he opened the door. An elderly woman, probably in her seventies looked up at him. “Welcome, dearie, I’ll be right with you.”

  Oh great. Not only was the place miniscule but one little old lady ran it. What would the cabin look like? Probably run down and in need of repairs. He doubted a woman her age could keep up with landlord demands. Justin rolled his eyes. This place might have been great years ago when Peter met his wife, but Justin doubted it would look the same now.

  “All right, dear, sorry about that. Come have a seat and tell me how I can help you.”

  “My name is Justin Miller. I believe my boss, Peter, rented me a cabin for the week.”

  The woman looked up in surprise. “Miller? You’re English then?”

  What an odd question. What did his background have to do with renting a cabin? “Uh, yeah, I guess. Does that matter?”

  She tilted her head up and glanced up at the ceiling. Justin followed her gaze but saw nothing there. Great, she was crazy too.

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” she said after a minute. “He’s up for the challenge.”

  “He?” Justin glanced around the room just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, but the second glance revealed the same thing the first had - a tiny room with no hidden doors.

  “My boss,” she stated as if that explained it all. “Here’s your contract, dearie. Sign at the bottom and I can get you the key.”

  “Right.” Justin didn’t bother to read the contract. Peter was paying for it anyway. He finished his signature with a flourish and handed the paper back to the elderly woman.

  She scanned it and flashed a large smile. “Here’s your key and a map to the cottage.”

  “I doubt I need a map.”

  “It’s a little tricky to get there, so take it just in case and be sure and watch for the signs.”

  “I think I can handle it,” Justin said as he took the key and the map from her.

  He shook his head as he left the rental office and walked back to his car. That had been an odd experience to say the least. He climbed inside and tossed the key and the map on the passenger seat. Justin doubted he would need the map, but the woman - he hadn’t even gotten her name - had been rather insistent that he took it.

  As he started the car, Justin hoped the rest of his trip would be less weird. If it wasn’t, Peter definitely owed him.

  Half an hour and three missed turns later, Justin pulled up in front of the cottage surprised to see another car parked there. Perhaps it was the cleaning crew or something. He couldn’t imagine anyone would find this place by accident.

  He shook his head as he stepped out of the car. Someone should tell that woman at the rental office to make those signs larger as he’d missed every one of them the first time. Of course he probably could have been paying closer attention, but that was beside the point. He grabbed his bag from the trunk and slugged his way to the front door. Suitcases with wheels and sandy beaches went together about as well as peanut butter and catfish.

  At least the view was nice. The cabin itself wasn’t much to look at, but the expansive ocean to the left of it took his breath away. Justin felt the tension easing off his shoulders with each gentle lap of the waves on the beach just feet away. And to the right, a hammock swung lazily back and forth in the breeze. He would definitely be spending some quality time there.

  He turned the handle expecting to find it locked, but the front door swung open. That seemed rather trusting of the rental company; weren’t they afraid someone would come in and steal things? But the place was secluded. Maybe they left it unlocked because no one would ever find it without a map or perhaps the cleaning crew left it unlocked while they cleaned. Justin shut the door behind him and took in the room. Or maybe it was unlocked because there was nothing here to steal, he thought with a sigh.

  The simple room bordered on being drab. Nothing sat atop the fireplace mantle, only a few pieces of artwork hung around the room, and even the bookshelf held slim pickings. Worn furniture completed the room. Yep, that hammock was looking better by the minute.

  Justin left his suitcase by the door and continued farther in. A kitchen appeared on his left. Nothing fancy, but useable. He opened a cabinet door, surpri
sed to find food inside. Peter hadn’t told him he needed to bring his own food, but he’d brought a few things just in case. It was nice of the company to stock food, but he wondered if this was for him or left from the previous guest.

  A glance in the fridge revealed fresh milk and a case of Code Red Mountain Dew - his favorite drink. He had no idea how they knew about that, but he didn’t care. A cold beverage sounded perfect right now. He swiped one from the cardboard box, popped the lid, and took a satisfying swig before continuing down the hallway.

  There were only two more doors which meant either two bedrooms or perhaps one bedroom and a bathroom though he rather hoped it was the former. It wouldn’t really matter since he was the only one here, but he hated having to leave the comfort of his bedroom to use the bathroom.

  As he pushed open the door of the first room, the sound of running water carried out. The cleaning crew must be working in the bathroom. He stepped inside, and the sound stopped. Had he imagined it? A floorboard creaked. No, someone was definitely in the bathroom. His eyes darted around the room for something he could use as a weapon in case it wasn’t the cleaning staff, but there was nothing. The room was sparsely furnished, just a bed and a dresser, but what his eyes did land on was the suitcase.

  It was definitely not his suitcase. He’d left his by the door, and it was black, not the bright purple color staring back at him. So, then whose suitcase was it?

  The feminine scream gave him only a second to respond before a crazed wet creature in a towel flew at him.

  Ava’s shrill scream echoed in her ears as she lunged across the room at the intruder. Who was he? And how had he gotten in? She had no idea how she managed to keep her towel on as her hands curled into fists and rained down on the man. The drink in his hand - her Mountain Dew - went flying as he defended himself.

  He grabbed her hands and quickly pinned her wrists stopping her punches. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my cottage?” His gruff voice matched the strength in his hands.