Beach Blanket Bijou (Pajaro Bay) by Barbara Cool Lee Page A
Authors: Barbara Cool Lee
Tags: Romance
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help her body form a neat dive into the pool.
The water enveloped her in a familiar cocoon. In the water she was free, unfettered. She came to the surface, rolled onto her back, and then began to swim, her arms sweeping overhead in smooth, practiced strokes that carried her through the water. In the pool it didn't matter that she felt nothing below her hips, that her legs didn't help her swim. Her arms and torso were enough to make her body a sleek torpedo through the water.
She reached the end of the pool and somersaulted, then repeated the roll onto her back, and the steady strokes. She swam on, trying to find that peaceful center swimming always gave her, and working hard to ignore the sting of embarrassment the magazine story had brought back to her. The wedding had been cancelled over a month ago, but they finally got around to printing a story about it now? Most likely it had taken Jeff that long to figure out a way past the confidentiality agreement so he could sell his story to the tabloids. She probably would see several of these stories in the next few weeks. Not that it mattered. She had been the subject of gossip all her life. This was no different than the other times.
Better to be like Dad, she thought as she made another turn. He was oblivious to this stuff. He focused on his work, his research, his limitless wellspring of creativity, and he ignored what others thought of him. How nice it would be to have a focus like that.
Bijou started barking in that piercingly loud way she had. Someone must be here. She kept on swimming. She'd finish her laps before dealing with whomever it was. And hopefully by then she'd feel ready to face the pity without wanting to punch someone in the face.
•••
"What do you have there, Bijou?" Quinn Timmons tried to get the bit of paper from her, but the little dog just pranced out of his reach. "Oh, it's a game, is it?" He turned his back, and sure enough, Bijou came trotting up to him, waving the paper.
He continued to ignore her, and soon she dropped the paper at his feet. Quinn laughed, and reached for it, but then saw what it was: Poor Little R ... it read, and he knew the rest. He'd seen the headline at the grocery store this morning.
Idiots. Poor Little Rich Girl was probably the least-accurate description of his boss he'd ever heard. Strong, stubborn, smart, unwavering in her journalistic integrity, merciless at ping pong, and, oh yeah, breathtakingly beautiful—those were the words to describe Carmen Cordova. But pitiful she was not.
He sat down on a lounge chair and watched her swim. She was, as she'd always been, a thing of beauty, taking his breath away with every stroke. Her sleek body moved with such grace through the water.
She made one last turn, then swam to the side of the pool where her wheelchair sat. With a smoothness that he knew had taken her many years to achieve, she hoisted herself out of the water and rolled onto the decking next to the pool. From there she lifted herself carefully into the chair, and sat down. Finally, she lifted her legs one by one and positioned them properly on the footplates.
Then she looked up and noticed him sitting in the lounge chair. She grinned. "Hey, Peanut!"
"Hey, Lefty!" he answered with a smile.
He looked at the scrap of paper in his hand. Mr. Cordova had offered Carmen's fiancé a million dollars to break the engagement, and the fool had taken it. He'd given up this incredible woman for money—money he'd lost, because of course Felix Cordova was not about to pay someone money for betraying his daughter. Jeff Yung was out, and Quinn couldn't be happier.
Now, finally, it was his chance. Somehow, some way, he was going to convince Carmen that love had been sitting right in front of her all along.
•••
"So tell me how you want to do this," Quinn said to her a half-hour later. She'd gone to dress, and then met him out by the pool, where they could talk while the sun began to set over the ocean,
The water enveloped her in a familiar cocoon. In the water she was free, unfettered. She came to the surface, rolled onto her back, and then began to swim, her arms sweeping overhead in smooth, practiced strokes that carried her through the water. In the pool it didn't matter that she felt nothing below her hips, that her legs didn't help her swim. Her arms and torso were enough to make her body a sleek torpedo through the water.
She reached the end of the pool and somersaulted, then repeated the roll onto her back, and the steady strokes. She swam on, trying to find that peaceful center swimming always gave her, and working hard to ignore the sting of embarrassment the magazine story had brought back to her. The wedding had been cancelled over a month ago, but they finally got around to printing a story about it now? Most likely it had taken Jeff that long to figure out a way past the confidentiality agreement so he could sell his story to the tabloids. She probably would see several of these stories in the next few weeks. Not that it mattered. She had been the subject of gossip all her life. This was no different than the other times.
Better to be like Dad, she thought as she made another turn. He was oblivious to this stuff. He focused on his work, his research, his limitless wellspring of creativity, and he ignored what others thought of him. How nice it would be to have a focus like that.
Bijou started barking in that piercingly loud way she had. Someone must be here. She kept on swimming. She'd finish her laps before dealing with whomever it was. And hopefully by then she'd feel ready to face the pity without wanting to punch someone in the face.
•••
"What do you have there, Bijou?" Quinn Timmons tried to get the bit of paper from her, but the little dog just pranced out of his reach. "Oh, it's a game, is it?" He turned his back, and sure enough, Bijou came trotting up to him, waving the paper.
He continued to ignore her, and soon she dropped the paper at his feet. Quinn laughed, and reached for it, but then saw what it was: Poor Little R ... it read, and he knew the rest. He'd seen the headline at the grocery store this morning.
Idiots. Poor Little Rich Girl was probably the least-accurate description of his boss he'd ever heard. Strong, stubborn, smart, unwavering in her journalistic integrity, merciless at ping pong, and, oh yeah, breathtakingly beautiful—those were the words to describe Carmen Cordova. But pitiful she was not.
He sat down on a lounge chair and watched her swim. She was, as she'd always been, a thing of beauty, taking his breath away with every stroke. Her sleek body moved with such grace through the water.
She made one last turn, then swam to the side of the pool where her wheelchair sat. With a smoothness that he knew had taken her many years to achieve, she hoisted herself out of the water and rolled onto the decking next to the pool. From there she lifted herself carefully into the chair, and sat down. Finally, she lifted her legs one by one and positioned them properly on the footplates.
Then she looked up and noticed him sitting in the lounge chair. She grinned. "Hey, Peanut!"
"Hey, Lefty!" he answered with a smile.
He looked at the scrap of paper in his hand. Mr. Cordova had offered Carmen's fiancé a million dollars to break the engagement, and the fool had taken it. He'd given up this incredible woman for money—money he'd lost, because of course Felix Cordova was not about to pay someone money for betraying his daughter. Jeff Yung was out, and Quinn couldn't be happier.
Now, finally, it was his chance. Somehow, some way, he was going to convince Carmen that love had been sitting right in front of her all along.
•••
"So tell me how you want to do this," Quinn said to her a half-hour later. She'd gone to dress, and then met him out by the pool, where they could talk while the sun began to set over the ocean,
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