Dangerously Distracted: Barefoot Bay: Dangerously, #2

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Barefoot Bay World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Dangerously Distracted. This book is entirely the work of Angela Evans, a wonderful author who is no stranger to Barefoot Bay!

In her second story set on the sun-baked beaches, Angela gives us weddings and bodyguards. Is there anything a Barefoot Bay reader loves more? With a splash of suspense and a tidal wave of romance, Dangerously Distracted hits all the marks. Kick off your shoes and fall in love with some unforgettable characters!

Roxanne St. Claire

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Barefoot Bay Series

www.roxannestclaire.com

Dedication

If you have one true friend, you have more than your share. Thomas Fuller

Gratitude doesn’t seem big enough to express what I feel when I think of how much your love and support means to me. You believe in me when I have no belief in myself. You have faith in me when I have no faith in myself. You push me to do better, and you tell me that my best is good enough. You call me on my nonsense and laugh with me when I need to be silly. Some day we will share a glass of wine in person, until then here’s to a friendship that finds us in the strangest of places and long email.

This story is set in a world based on Roxanne St. Claire’s Barefoot Bay Series; it is published with the permission of Roxanne St. Claire, information about whose books are found at http://www.roxannestclaire.com/barefoot-bay-series/.

Table of Contents

Welcome to Barefoot Bay World

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Panic clawed at her chest as she frantically searched for her son. He had disappeared again, and she couldn’t find him anywhere. The darkness was thick—Leslie had never seen anything like it. Even the moonlight couldn’t push the shadows aside so she could see where he had gone.

She tried to call his name, but her throat wouldn’t work, her mouth wouldn’t form the words.

She was paralyzed.

She was helpless.

Someone had taken him. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt. He wasn’t hiding from her this time—someone had taken him! Terror gripped her. Her heart felt as if it would break through her rib cage, it was beating so hard, and still, she couldn’t find her child.

A low, rumbling sound shook the floor under her feet. Confused, she tried to identify the sound and figure out if it was somehow connected to whoever had taken Lucas, but she couldn’t make sense of it. Fear was making her stupid as well as useless, she thought with frustration.

Mommy, I’m scared!

A poke to her ribs woke her, and she gasped for air because she’d been holding her breath in her sleep. What?

She tried to move but found her limbs leaden and not responding before she woke fully enough to control not just her body, but her mind and shake off the dream. Her heart was beating so loud and so fast, she could barely hear Lucas calling for her.

"It’s tundering, and I’m scared."

Her youngest son wasn’t a fan of thunderstorms, and for once, she was glad to be woken in the middle of the night. He wasn’t missing or hiding; he was right here, wanting comfort from his fears. His tendency to hide and wander off had no doubt caused the nightmare. Just a few days before, he’d disappeared, and she’d searched everywhere before finding him playing in the neighbor’s yard.

Moving over, she lifted the blankets so he could crawl in and snuggle up against her. His little body fit perfectly into the curve of hers, and Leslie found herself wishing he would never outgrow this.

As she felt him drifting off to sleep as the thunder rumbled closer and closer, she tried to remember how the dream had started. She had that nightmare often and could never remember the beginning; she would just suddenly realize she was panicking because she couldn’t find him.

Her heartbeat was returning to normal, but the desperate anxiety still coursed through her veins.

Tomorrow morning would come whether she was rested and ready or not. She’d grown a lot as a cake decorator and baker since Amelia had hired her at Dangerously Sweet, so much so that tomorrow, she was handling her first bridal consult solo. Not just any bride either. Dani Gwendolyn, the famous pop singer, was the client. She was going to have to get used to doing things solo, Amelia was going to have the baby soon leaving Leslie in charge while she took maternity leave.

She tried to tell herself it was just a crazy dream and to get back to sleep. Her arms curled around her youngest child. She almost laughed at the idea that she was comforting him, because in reality, he was giving her far more comfort.

* * *

Michael Duncan did his best not to look bored but had a feeling he was failing miserably. He’d scoped out the resort, checked their security, and found it top-notch. To keep his mind occupied, he mentally reviewed the case files he’d read for the third time on the plane. Only one so-called fan—an obsessed woman who had turned vaguely threatening before disappearing completely—gave him reason for concern. It could be she had moved on to focus on someone else, which made her another security team’s problem, or it could be that she had gone quiet before making a big move. All he had on her were the letters; no description and no photo made stopping her all that more difficult.

The chances of someone making a move on his client here, at a luxury resort in Florida, were slim to none. But there was a better-than-average chance the media would get a hold of the story. That was the real threat, he thought with a sigh. He didn’t want to think about the shit that would hit the proverbial fan if his client ended up on the front page of some tabloid before she was damn good and ready to be there.

The wedding planner cast him a nervous glance. He was making her uncomfortable—he had that effect on people. Barefoot Brides, the door beside him read in neat, white lettering. He couldn’t give two fiery damns what the name on the door was.

He heard the door opening and turned instinctively toward the sound, but instead of finding a threat or a reporter, he found a petite, curvy brunette rushing in from the Florida heat and looking frazzled. Her ponytail was slipping, and the strap of her sundress threatened to slide off her tanned shoulder as she juggled her purse, another bag, and a stack of folders. She mumbled a curse as she glanced at him, and he took pity on her. In a smooth step, he closed the door and relieved her arms of the stack of folders threatening to spill out onto the floor. He resisted the urge to slide that strap back up on her shoulder, but he couldn’t resist the urge to let his eyes wander a little lower and take in her curves.

Thank you.

He pulled his eyes back up to meet hers when she spoke and found a blush tinging her cheeks and a sheepish smile on her lips.

No problem. He turned to let her pass by, and as she did, he couldn’t help but notice she smelled flowery, and sweet, and oh so feminine.

Damn, it had been too long since he’d taken care of that particular itch. He made a mental note to take a few days off and do something about it as soon as this damned wedding was over. Until then, he had to keep his head in the game, because if there was one thing he knew, it was that just when you thought there was no risk of a threat, a threat would pop out of nowhere.

I’m so sorry I’m late, the brunette said to Dani and the wedding planner, Willow Hershey.

Willow’s father was the legendary Danny Zatarain of Z-Train. Michael had their greatest hits album on his iPod and listened to it every morning on his run. The delicate blonde was the only reason Dani had picked Barefoot Bay as the location for her wedding to her fellow reality-television-meets-singing-competition television show. Truth be told, Michael had never seen the show, but apparently America had fallen in love with his client and her co-host while they fell in love on national television week after week.

Never mind that they’d both been married to someone else at the time. But that was none of Michael’s business. He got paid to keep her from getting mobbed by adoring fans—or worse, a crazy one—and to make sure that the paparazzi only took her photograph when she was in the mood for it, which usually meant her definition of camera ready.

As jobs went, it was far from the most dangerous he’d ever had. While he was used to working for the world’s rich and spoiled, celebrities were a whole different ballpark. With corporate clients, he usually spent most of his days cooling his heels in marble lobbies or rushing clients through airports to company jets. He was quickly learning that first and foremost, celebrities didn’t rush anywhere. They took their sweet ass time, and wherever they were going, people would happily wait for them to arrive. Second, watching the spoiled back of a celebrity on vacation in Barefoot Bay was quite possibly the best security job in the business. Sun, sand, and a low threat level were the makings of a good week in the bodyguard business.

And the view was nice too, he thought with a smile, as he let his gaze wander back to the brunette who had joined the wedding planners and Dani around a table. From what he could hear, the new addition to the group was from the bakery that would be making the elaborate wedding cake Dani wanted.

Dani Gwendolyn did nothing understated. From her platinum blond hair to her impossibly long, false nails and eyelashes, everything she did screamed look at me! He couldn’t help but compare the group of women gathered around the table. The newest addition had the girl-next-door type of beauty, with her long hair falling in loose waves down her back and her suntanned skin complemented by her modest makeup. She was understated and didn’t do a lot to make herself stand out, but she didn’t have to.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. Always on the lookout for paparazzi, he slipped out the door to investigate. What he found wasn’t a sneaky photographer or an obsessed fan—it was two little boys playing with toy trucks on the nearby patio. The pair looked to be about five and seven years old and there was no mistaking their resemblance to the pretty brunette inside.

Hey, he said with what he hoped was a friendly smile. That’s a pretty cool truck you’ve got there. He squatted down to be more at their height.

The boys glanced at each other nervously.

Are we in trouble? the oldest one said in a voice filled with so much humor that Michael had no trouble imagining that the pair spent a fair amount of time in trouble.

Michael smiled. Not as far as I know.

Cool. Do you wanna play trucks with us? The younger boy offered a red 4x4 pickup.

Sure. Michael sat down on the patio and accepted the offering. He could see the door of the bridal shop from there, so he could sit and play for a minute.

* * *

Boys! Leslie fought to keep her voice down. "Stop that and come pack up. We have to go home