Free Barefoot in the Sand by Roxanne St. Claire Page A

needed one, fast, because there was no way she was driving to Lacey’s parents’ house. It was too close for comfort.
    “Yeah?”
    “We…” She snapped her fingers and pointed to Zoe, who’d be all over this idea. “We shop for everything we need, including new bathing suits, even one for Lacey, right here at the hotel. My treat.”
    Ashley and Zoe gave each other high fives and whoops, the tension of the last few minutes forgotten. Money might not be able to buy happiness, but sometimes it bought distance.
    An hour and a half later they left the Ritz dressed in new suits and cover-ups. The girls had driven up in Lacey’s father’s van, which they’d parked in the lot, but while they waited for the valet to bring the rented Rubicon for Jocelyn to drive, the discussion was all about the logistics of who was going in which car.
    “I want to go in that car,” Zoe joked to Jocelyn, pointing to a gorgeous red Porsche that pulled up to the hotel. As a man climbed out of the driver’s seat, though, Zoe’s expression froze.
    “Oh my God,” she whispered.
    “What is it?” Jocelyn asked.
    Zoe didn’t speak. In fact, she didn’t breathe.
    “Someone you know?”
    “It can’t be him.”
    Jocelyn squinted at the man as he gave his hand to a beautiful brunette gliding out of the car with preternatural grace and poise. “It can’t be who?”
    “He’s a doctor. In Chicago.”
    “There’s an oncology conference here this week,” Jocelyn said, eyeing the man, who was as good looking as his woman and his car. He looked to be six-two or -three, with clipped dark hair, great features, and an even better build. “Is whoever he is an oncologist?”
    “Maybe.” Zoe suddenly looked left and right. “But I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to him.”
    “Why?” Tessa asked, stepping closer to Zoe when she sensed something was up. “How do you know him?”
    Jocelyn stepped right in front of Zoe to block her from his view, the instinct to help her friend overriding any questions. Just at that moment the valet drove the giant white Jeep Rubicon up to where they waited.
    “Get in,” Jocelyn ordered Zoe, ending the discussion.
    Muttering thanks, Zoe climbed up to the passenger seat the second the valet opened her door. The man and woman walked right in front of the Jeep as another man approached them.
    “Oliver!” the second man exclaimed, reaching out a hand to the man Zoe was avoiding. “So happy you could make it.”
    Jocelyn slowed her step to hear his response.
    “Happy to be here, Michael. You remember my wife, Adele.”
    “Of course.”
    Jocelyn missed the rest of the conversation when the valet ushered her into the Jeep.
    In the passenger seat, Zoe bent over as though she were getting something off the floor, hiding completely. In all their years of friendship Jocelyn had never seen Zoe shy away from anyone.
    Jocelyn pulled away, waving to Tessa as she and Ashley got into the van behind them. “Coast is clear, hon.”
    Zoe rose and took one more look as the man walked toward the hotel.
    Jocelyn waited, but Zoe was uncharacteristically quiet. No jokes, no snide remarks.
    “You okay, Zoe?” Jocelyn asked, putting a gentle hand on her friend’s leg. “Who was he?”
    “Don’t ask.”
    “But I never—”
    Zoe turned to her, her green eyes narrowed to slits, allhumor and joy and Zoe-ness gone. “We’re not asking you about certain things, so… please. Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
    She couldn’t argue with that philosophy, Jocelyn thought as she drove toward Mimosa Key. But she had to wonder: How many secrets should there be between best friends?

Chapter 8
     

     
    T he noon sun pressed like a blow torch, burning Lacey’s skin and leaving a fine sheen of perspiration that probably smeared her makeup and surely curled her hair. But Lacey wasn’t thinking about her hair or her makeup as she and Clay slowly circled the perimeter of her property and the land adjacent to it.
    She