Passion Key (A Romance & Suspense Series) Read online

  PASSION KEY

  by

  Dani Amore

  Copyright © 2014 by Dani Amore

  PASSION KEY is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

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  PASSION KEY

  By

  Dani Amore

  1.

  When a door closes, somewhere, a window opens.

  How true.

  Justine Beaudry stood in the reception office for the Passion Key Resort and pushed shut the door. As had happened the three previous times she had performed this act, Justine heard a clang somewhere down the hall and a clatter in the ceiling.

  The breeze off the water was strong, but Justine suspected that her newly acquired property was not merely responding to atmospheric conditions, but rather the result of more than one rental season in neglect.

  She walked down the hall and found the culprit window. The latch wasn’t broken, but she could see the screws were loose and that the actual window frame was out of line. The entire opening seemed warped.

  So she had a screw loose, was out of line, and possessed a warped view of the world.

  If it hadn’t been so true, on so many levels, she would have laughed out loud. But she did anyway.

  Justine tried to tighten the screws with her fingers but they came right out in her hand. The metal latch mechanism fell onto the floor and clattered, the metal frame creaked in protest.

  Great.

  She bent down and picked the latch back up and set it on top of the window sill. Add that to the list, she thought.

  Justine walked out of the reception area, into the outdoor courtyard, down a paved path to her condo and went inside.

  She had just moved in and still felt out of place. It was hard for her to think of the place as home just yet. But the fact remained that she was now the proud owner of Passion Key Resort. Being in the Florida Keys, naturally the place was beautiful. The resort itself consisted of five good-sized condos each with its own full kitchen and balcony.

  Hers was the largest and the most private.

  She went in, closed the door, locked it and looked at her half-empty suitcases that still sat on her bed. It would be great to just dump the bags onto the floor and flop on the bed and sleep for a few years, but Justine knew she couldn’t do it.

  This was her new life, after all.

  With a deep sigh, Justine went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of chardonnay and went back into the bedroom where she diligently finished unpacking, hanging up clothes and settling in.

  By the time she was done, her stomach was grumbling.

  She left the resort, and walked up to the main village of Passion Key.

  The little community, like every small town on the Keys, was cut in half by Highway One. Justine’s resort was on the Gulf side, but most of the town was on the Atlantic side. However, there were sidewalks most of the way and she loved to walk, especially when the sun was out and there was a breeze.

  Even though Passion Key was a narrow body of land Justine noted that as soon as you moved away from the water, the breeze died down and the sun heated up. Of course, the island was less than a mile wide on either side of Highway One, so it was never easy to get very far from the water. Still, her resort was right on the water, and walking even five hundred feet away was enough to raise the thermometer by several degrees.

  Even though she wasn’t from Florida, she visited on several occasions and had always dreamed of the sun and beaches during Chicago’s long, cruel winters. Well, she was done with Chicago. Done with her old life.

  It was a new day and a new Justine.

  As she walked, she thought about what she had to do. First, she needed to visit the hardware store and see if they knew of someone who could make the repairs she needed. Even though she had been told the resort had a part-time employee, he was mostly in charge of basic landscaping and maintenance on the pool. A new person had been hired to work in the office and Justine would meet her tomorrow. In the meantime, she needed to find some dinner.

  Which she would be eating alone.

  Justine sighed.

  Another thing she would just have to get used to.

  2.

  Justine quickly discovered there wasn’t a hardware store, per se, on Passion Key. Rather, there was a general supply store with a bulletin board offering various services. She saw a business card that read Archer Thorpe, Handyman.

  She took a quick cell phone pic of the card and then punched in the number. It went to voicemail and she decided not to leave a message since the address on the business card meant that his shop must be nearby.

  From the supply store she walked out and headed toward the marina, which was really the focal point of the village, even though it was on the water. The restaurants, oceanfront homes, canal homes and restaurants all radiated out from the Passion Key Marina.

  The heat felt great on Justine’s shoulders. She had made a vow to never complain about how hot it was after she’d spent so many winters in Illinois complaining about the cold. The breeze was steady with only occasional lapses in force. However, the moment the wind died down the sun seemed to intensify with startling power and she could feel the heat instantly on any exposed skin.

  Although she was of mixed European ancestry (her line could be traced back to various parts of England, Ireland and Norway) she had always tanned easily and quickly. She always wondered if there was a trace of Mediterranean lineage somewhere along the line. Maybe a rebellious great uncle had fled to Spain and become a Spanish noble.

  She laughed. Sometimes, her imagination took her to strange places.

  Justine crossed a narrow street devoid of any traffic, and strolled along the start of the small village of Passion Key. It was pretty much a straight line to the water, with only a few offshoot lanes that held a store or two, mostly touristy knickknack type places of business, along with the required ice cream shops. There were several restaurants, just as many bars, and plenty of landscaping companies. As the route came closer to the marina, there were a few fishing outfitters, and an adventure gear store, with scuba and snorkeling paraphernalia in the window.

  Finally she came to a cute little café two doors down from the marina called the Limelight and stepped inside. The first thing she saw was the back of a man’s shirt. The shirt had rings of sweat and a line of dirt around the neck.

  Ewww, she thought.

  She almost backed out, but the man turned to face her. His face was smudged with dirt and sawdust, but he had pale gray eyes that reminded her of the shallow water just off the beach. Those beautiful eyes squinted at her and she realized that he must have caught the look of disgust on her face.

  Way to dress up for a restaurant, Justine thought. People have to eat food here, you know.

  “Good morning,” he said to her. “With that expression, it looks like you could use a cup of coffee.”

  Justine’s breath caught in her throat. Had he really just said that? She was momentarily caught off guard by the man’s stunning good looks. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His tanned face was sharp, with classic features and short dark hair that peeked out from beneath a dirty baseball cap.<
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  “And I won’t say what you could use,” she snapped back, before she could shut her mouth. Like a shower and a change of clothes.

  Rather than getting angry, though, the man seemed to stifle a smile. He tipped his dirty baseball cap at her and walked out.

  Justine sat down at an open table, hoping that it hadn’t been vacated by the man she’d just conversed with, and ordered a cup of coffee (he was right about that) and a shrimp salad. Justine had never been a huge seafood eater, but she figured with her new locale, she might as well take advantage of its freshness.

  Justine looked around the place. It was classic Florida with light green walls accented with hand-painted flowers, multiple ceiling fans, and calypso music playing in the background.

  Her coffee was delicious, and Justine definitely felt odd dining alone. Some people might choose to bring a book or a Kindle e-reader, but she preferred to people watch. She sipped her coffee and it wasn’t long before her food was delivered by a beautiful older woman with a short shock of white hair, tanned skin and beautiful teeth. Her nametag simply read “Jan.”

  The salad was delicious, and Justine quickly cleaned her plate and then left a good tip. She walked back out onto the sidewalk. She had the card for the carpenter, found the street, two blocks to the south of the marina, and saw a sign for the shop.

  The building was a ramshackle place with dirty windows, a gravel drive off to the side, and some landscaping that could use a little, or a lot of, maintenance.

  If this was a sign of the guy’s quality of work, Justine figured she might not have the right man for the job.

  A big Closed sign hung in the door.

  Well, she had the phone number; she would call first thing in the morning, although at this point, her hopes were pretty low.

  3.

  The bang exploded in Justine’s ears and she nearly leapt from her bed. She sat bolt upright, her heart racing, totally disoriented. For a moment, she thought she was back in Manhattan, in the penthouse apartment and one of her husband’s associates-

  She pushed the image from her mind.

  That was her old life.

  That was gone.

  Justine realized the sound had come from the damn window in the reception office that refused to stay shut and flew open every time there was a strong gust of wind. She had slept with her windows open and even though her condo was past the office, she could still hear the sound in all of its obnoxiousness.

  That damn carpenter better be able to at least fix that, although judging by the state of the man’s squalid shop, even that might prove to be too monumental a task.

  Justine swung out of bed, started a pot of coffee, waited for it to finish, then took her cup out onto the patio facing the ocean.

  It was a beautiful morning, with a hint of orange above the water’s horizon. ‘Red sky at morn, sailors be warned,’ Justine thought. It was a phrase her father often said, along with ‘red sky at night, sailor’s delight.’

  Her parents were both gone, her mother from cancer and her Dad less than a year later from loneliness. Oh, there had been some other symptoms–blood pressure, irregular heart beats, etc., but Justine knew that her Dad had lived and breathed for his wife, and that once she was gone, it had robbed him of any will to keep going.

  What a thought, she mused, the sarcasm coming through strong. A man who cherishes his wife. Those kinds of guys are long gone, she thought. Her ex-husband, case in point.

  Oh sure, when she’d first met Daniel Giovanni he’d certainly played the part of a man who knew how to put a woman first. This had been after her parents died and she didn’t know any better, was looking for someone to spend her life with. She had never been so lonely.

  Daniel was an up-and-coming stockbroker (or so she thought) in Chicago and he swept her off her feet. They were married within six months of meeting and only after they’d returned from their honeymoon did she start to get an inkling that something wasn’t right.

  For instance, he was hardly ever home, always working, he said. When she wanted to visit him at his office, he always found a reason to say no. It wasn’t until much later that she realized why.

  Literally shaking her head to rid herself of even the tiniest thought of the despicable man, she finished her coffee, went back inside and showered, changed her clothes and went up to the office.

  It was going to be a busy day. The first of her guests were arriving, and the young woman who was going to be her full-time employee and man the office would be starting today.

  The cleaning service (Justine made a mental note to meet with them as soon as possible) had already gone through but Justine double checked the suite the couple from Wisconsin would be staying in, and it looked fine.

  She went back to the office, checked the clock, saw it was now 8 a.m. That wasn’t too early.

  Justine dialed the number of the carpenter and he answered on the third ring.

  “’lo,’ he said. The man’s voice sounded like the sandpaper that he probably used every day.

  “Hi, my name is Justine Beaudry and I’m the new owner of the Passion Key resort. I’ve got a few small projects I need fixed as soon as possible. Do you think you could stop by and I could show you what I need done?”

  There was a pause and she heard a clattering sound. He had dropped the phone.

  “Sorry,” he said after a moment. “Sure, next week would be good–”

  “No,” she said, perhaps sounding harsher than she had intended. “I’m sorry but I need someone to look at it today, and get started as soon as possible.”

  More hesitation. And then she heard him yawn.

  Justine considered hanging up on him.

  “Okay, I can swing by in an hour or so.”

  “Thank you,” she said, without much enthusiasm, and disconnected the call.

  I predict this will be a total waste of time, she thought.

  4.

  The O’Connells were the first to arrive. Jesse was a large man with squash-shaped head and a protruding belly. His wife, Louise, was average height, but very thin with dark red hair that was obviously not naturally red anymore. But they seemed very friendly and ready to enjoy their time.

  Justine, being new to her role, alternately worried about not being attentive enough, or she feared she was smothering them.

  In the end, she got them into their suite, and they seemed genuinely pleased with the accommodations.

  She went back down to the lobby.

  A man was leaning against the door frame, idly looking out the main window at the ocean beyond.

  Justine’s breath momentarily caught in her throat. It was the same man from the restaurant with whom she had a somewhat unpleasant exchange of words.

  “Hello?” she said.

  The man looked away from the window and Justine immediately remembered the man’s eyes. They were even more piercing with the light reflected from the water outside. Was it her imagination, or did the man stifle another smile?

  “You called about some work that needed to be done?” he said. His voice was neutral, deep, but he wasn’t a loud talker.

  “You’re the carpenter?” she asked. It sort of slipped out again. Why did she speak without thinking to this man?

  He seemed to shrug his shoulders. “Carpenter seems like an awful professional sounding word. I like to think of myself as a more of a fixer upper.”

  “I see,” Justine said.

  For a moment, she pondered the idea of trying to get rid of him. She remembered his workshop, what a total mess it was and had her doubts about whether or not she wanted a man who took so little care of his own place to suddenly begin working on hers.

  The man straightened up and for a moment she thought he was going to walk out.

  Instead, he stepped forward, smiled, and held out his hand.

  “My name is Archer Thorpe,” he said, and Justine was startled by the flash of his teeth. They were white and even, and for a moment, she realized that he was an incredibly
handsome man. She almost laughed at herself. Yeah, he was good looking, but she was done with men for the time being. They couldn’t be trusted and besides, she was in paradise. She wanted nothing more than to run her little resort, and get plenty of sunshine, along with an evening margarita or two.

  Justine took his offered hand. “I’m Justine,” she said, leaving off her last name for some reason. Her mind momentarily froze and she realized that she hadn’t come up with an excuse for getting rid of the guy fast enough. She would just have to show him the project, but she would minimize it so that she could get rid of him fast.

  “Okay, well, the problem is in here,” she said, leading him toward the bank of windows at the rear of the office.

  “The problem is, these windows are in bad shape, and with how much wind we get, I need to be able to open and close them. Right now, some of them are rusted shut, and others need handles replaced. It looks like the frames are warped or something. I don’t know if I should just replace them all.”

  She stepped back as Archer moved to the windows, and studied them, running his hands along the window jams. His hands were clean and not rough, in surprisingly good shape for a laborer.

  “Are you from around here?” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not originally, no. Why?” It seemed like an odd time for a personal question and she couldn’t help the surprised tone from creeping into her voice.

  “Because most people who aren’t from here, even though they’ve heard about how corrosive the humidity can be, still underestimate its power until they’ve seen it firsthand.” He pointed to the windows. “You don’t need to replace these, I just have to take out some of the damaged framing and replace it. After that, all it’s going to take is some elbow grease to replace the rusted hardware, and then get them properly lubricated and sealed.”

  Now that he mentioned it, Justine did see that there seemed to be an extraordinary amount of gunky buildup on the window’s hardware.