Free The Trouble With Paradise by Jill Shalvis Page B

food he could produce.
    So much for losing ten pounds.
    “I’m going to have to replace my bathing suit with a muumuu,” Cadence said, stuffing her face.
    Brandy joined them, wearing a minuscule bikini and an iPod tucked in between her breasts, looking like a supermodel.
    Ethan came over. “A mimosa?”
    “Oh, no thanks,” Brandy said. “I don’t drink in the mornings. Unless it’s straight caffeine.”
    “Food then?”
    “I don’t eat in the mornings either.”
    Ethan laughed. “What do you do in the mornings?”
    A wicked light came into her eyes. “Guess.”
    Ethan arched a brow. “To each his own.”
    Brandy grinned and dragged Cadence and Dorie out on deck, where they stretched out on lounge chairs. They slathered themselves in suntan lotion and soaked up some of the tropical sun. Well, Dorie and Brandy did. Cadence stood on the deck doing exercises.
    “Crazy,” Brandy decided after watching her new friend sweat.
    But Dorie understood Cadence’s restlessness. The idleness felt strange to her, too. As long as she could remember, she’d had a long list of things to do at all times. The list never seemed to go away, mostly because she was disorganized and could never actually find the list. This just lying here thing, it was definitely decadent. After awhile, she brought out her drawing pad, and inspired by the ocean, by the sails snapping high overhead, spent an hour designing beachwear cover-ups.
    “Nice,” Brandy said, looking over her shoulder. “The long lines are gorgeous and slimming.” She pointed to Dorie’s own wraparound sarong skirt. “I want one of those.”
    Dorie glanced over at the table Ethan had used to set up drinks for them. It was covered with a long, thin, silky cloth in bright red and yellow. She pulled it free. “Stand up,” she said to Brandy, then folded and stretched the material, wrapping it around Brandy’s hips. “There.”
    Brandy strutted past Cadence—now doing yoga—looking like a runway model. “It’s perfect. I could go from beach to nightclub in this thing. A tablecloth.”
    “I beg your pardon, that’s an Anderson original.”
    Denny came up on deck, took one look at Cadence executing some complicated yoga pose, and laughed. “Relax, mate.”
    “Not so good at that.” But she tried to sit, managing to stay seated for oh, thirty seconds. “See? Can’t do it.”
    Denny, standing at the observation deck, offered to teach her to sail. “Come on, come up here.”
    Cadence grinned at Brandy and Dorie, then joined him. She put her hands on the wheel, and was content until a whipping breeze jerked the boat. Denny yelled at Bobby—working on the sails—to make some adjustments, but Cadence shook her head and backed up. “That’s enough for me.”
    Brandy tried next. She stood at the helm of the boat in that sexy bikini and new sarong skirt, an equally sexy smile on her face, feet planted firmly and confidently apart. “God,” she said, holding onto the wheel, tipping her head back. “The power. It’s glorious.”
    “You know it.” After another sharp gust, Denny turned on Bobby. “What the hell are you doing? Hoist sail!”
    Bobby, face impassive, set about the chore.
    “My momma always said to think big, live big, and love big,” Brandy said, grinning. “I’m sure doing all three right now!”
    Dorie absorbed that and decided that Brandy’s mother had some good wisdom. “What did your mother do?”
    “Oh, she was a hooker. And at least twenty cents short of a dollar, but she was the best of the best on the street. Dorie, you’ve got to come give this a try.”
    Dorie took the wheel. She could feel the swell of the ocean beneath her feet, the speed of the boat, and appreciated the authority. With the wind whipping at her and the control all hers, she felt dangerous and better yet, important. She could imagine she was a pirate on a raid, all-empowering, but then she hit the tip of a swell and the boat rose so high she screamed.
    Just