Footloose. Leanne Banks

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short notice. Can you plan it?”

      Amelia felt a little kick of excitement. The party presented a small challenge, but she loved pulling off the impossible. When presented with a professional crisis, her brain immediately began to supply her with a range of solutions. Planning a party under such short notice was no different.

      “I’ll need a guest list with phone numbers and addresses, your budget, any food preferences or allergies and the mood you’d like to create. I can have something preliminary for you this afternoon.”

      Lillian nodded in approval.

      Amelia was thrilled with a legitimate excuse to procrastinate dealing with her trainwreck of a personal life. She could plan all of Lillian’s social events for the next year in less than a week, but she knew that putting her own life together would be like building a house one brick at a time.

      

      THE PARTY WAS A HUGE SUCCESS, with Lillian’s guests begging to borrow Amelia. Lillian demurred, instead instructing Amelia to take two days off as a reward for her hard work.

      The prospect of facing forty-eight empty hours nearly gave Amelia hives. Why was it so much easier to manage someone else’s life than her own?

      After Amelia showered, she slathered on SPF 50 sunscreen and changed her clothes three times because she couldn’t decide what to do during her free time. Finally settling on a swimsuit that she covered with a skirt and top, she grabbed a straw bag and towel and plopped a pair of sunglasses on her nose.

      She glanced at the cocktail napkin with the list she’d begun during her three-hurricane evening and felt it egging her on. Jack’s bold scrawl contrasted with her softer print. She looked at some of his contributions to the list and noticed a common thread. Everything was to be done naked. Not sure whether to laugh or to panic, she grabbed the napkin and stuffed it into her purse.

      She walked a half-mile down the road to a public beach and spread out her blanket. Reclining in the sun, inhaling the sea air, listening to the lapping sound of the waves, her mind strayed to thoughts of Will and the European honeymoon they’d planned. She’d turned down an opportunity to be a foreign exchange student in Italy for a semester because Will had wanted their first time in Europe to be together.

      “Stop it,” she whispered to herself. Rule number two for how to get over the love of your life was to replace thoughts of him with something else. Besides, she was supposed to be relaxing, clearing her mind.

      She shifted on her towel and sighed. Why was relaxing such hard work? Flipping onto her tummy, she pulled her how-to book from her straw bag.

      She lasted another fifteen minutes and decided to take a walk on the beach. The stingy stretch of sand, which she now knew was common to the Keys, made walking more like pacing. Back and forth, back and forth.

      So fidgety her skin felt tight, she gave up on the beach and walked into the small center of town to wander through the shops. She picked up a couple of books for her niece and nephew’s birthdays, sent a postcard to her mother and eventually stopped at a popular breakfast and sandwich shop.

      When no waiter showed up to take her order, Amelia considered leaving. After further observation, she overheard the owner, a frazzled but friendly woman with white hair, apologizing. Her cook had called in sick and the owner had to do everything herself until extra help arrived.

      “I can pour coffee and water if you like,” Amelia offered, and after a few half-hearted protests from the owner, Amelia began making beverage rounds.

      Twenty minutes later, she put a glass of water in front of another customer, whom she noticed out of the corner of her eye was male. They’d started to blur together. “Good morning. Your waitress will be here in just a few minutes to take your order. Would you like some coffee?”

      Silence followed. Then she heard, “Sure. New job?”

      Amelia blinked, taking her first good look at the customer. With amused blue eyes framed by a dark fringe of lashes that matched his dark hair, he could have been a heart-stealer. If she’d had a heart left to steal.

      Jack. Recognizing him from her night of hurricanes, she felt a rush of self-consciousness. “Not really. The owner was in a little bind. I’m free today, so it was no big deal to pour water and coffee.”

      He looked at ease with himself in his t-shirt and shorts. Tanned, muscular legs and flip-flops suggested he had no problem kicking back and relaxing. She envied him that.

      “You’re off all day today?”

      She nodded, pouring coffee into his cup. “And tomorrow.”

      “You want to take a day trip after you finish your shift here?” he asked, cracking a half-grin. “It’s Jack, by the way.”

      “I remember,” she said. “And I’m—”

      “Amelia,” he said before she could. His grin widened.

      She hesitated a half-beat. She didn’t really know him. However, if he hadn’t taken advantage of her during her hurricane night, then he was probably okay. There had been the kiss, she reminded herself. But that had just been a kiss. A really really hot kiss, but…

      She shook her head at her stupid debate. If she spent the afternoon with Jack, she wouldn’t have to dream up twenty more things to do today. “Thanks. That sounds good.”

      He laughed. “Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”

      “Oh, yeah. Where?”

      “Key West. Sundown party at Mallory Square.”

      “I’ve never been to one of those,” she said, feeling a ping of anticipation.

      “We can change that,” he said, lifting his cup. The way he looked at her over its rim made something inside her give a little jump, which surprised her. So maybe she wasn’t dead after all.

      Another employee showed up after thirty minutes, so Amelia turned in her coffee pot and water pitcher. The owner thanked her effusively and promised future lunches on the house.

      Resisting the urge to return to the Bellagio estate to change clothes, Amelia freshened up in the restaurant’s powder room. The humidity had her hair sticking out in twenty different directions. Without her flat iron, she would have to go au natural with her hair, which scared the poo out of her. Amelia had ironed her hair into submission for so long she didn’t really know what it would looked like if she let it go free.

      Sighing, she shook her head. It wasn’t as if she was trying to impress anyone. She just wanted to fill some free time.

      Jack tossed a few bills on the table and stood as she walked toward him. “Ready to go?”

      She nodded and put on her sunglasses as she followed him to the small parking lot.

      He stopped at a black Porsche and pulled a cap out of the back. “You might want to wear this. You look like you could burn in five minutes with the top down.”

      “Try three,” she said wryly. “I don’t remember this car.”

      He chuckled and opened the door for her. “I’m not sure you were in a condition

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