Footloose

Three weeks later

DRINKING HIS SECOND CORONA, Jack O’Connell watched the little blonde at the other end of the bar as she wrote on a cocktail napkin and sipped a drink with a colorful umbrella.

Amidst the tanned beach babes exposing yards of skin, she looked like a fish out of water as she kept pulling up the strap of her sundress. Her skin was alabaster white. Poor thing, he thought, she probably burned like a beast.

Her earnest intensity about whatever she was writing on that cocktail napkin made him curious. Which just showed he had too much time on his hands. Vacations made him edgy. He always felt that if he took time off, he would miss something. Even though he was down here to grease the skids on his biggest deal ever, he had a lot of dead time to fill.

He glanced at the blonde again, wondering what her story was. He noticed a wallet on the ground by her feet and wondered if it belonged to her. Indulging his curiosity, he strolled toward her, picked up the wallet and straddled the stool beside her.

“This yours?”

She glanced up, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “Omigosh. Yes, thank you.”

“Jack O’Connell,” he said, introducing himself.

“Amelia,” she said hesitantly.

“Amelia,” he repeated and smiled. He liked the way the name sounded in his mouth. She reminded him of a white magnolia blossom. “What’s a nice, well-bred southern girl like you doing at a tiki bar in the Florida Keys by herself?”

“It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to get out. And my first hurricane,” she added, nodding toward her drink.

“How do you like it?” he asked.

“It tastes like fruit punch. With some extra punch.”

He chuckled. “One-hundred-fifty-one proof punch. And the cocktail napkin? Is that a new amendment to the Constitution you’re writing? Looks pretty serious.”

He watched in surprise and delight as pink color flooded her cheeks. A blush. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a female over the age of seventeen blush.

“Well, one side is a list of birthday gifts I need to get in the mail to my niece and nephew because I won’t be home for their birthdays.”

“And the other side?”

“It’s a, uh, different to-do list,” she said and took a gulp of her drink. “I recently had a big change of direction in my life, and so I’m making a list.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said. “Is drinking your first hurricane on the list?”

She hesitated, then her lips slowly stretched into a smile. “I guess it was on my mental list.”

“You should put it on your written list, too,” he said. “Because then you can check it off. And every time you check something off, it gives you a sense of accomplishment. Yeah,” he added at her curious look. “I make lists, too. Down here the list includes watching as many sunsets as possible and missing the sunrises because I had such a good time the night before. Increasing my repertoire of memorized Jimmy Buffet lyrics and setting a new personal record for how many minutes I keep a Corona in my hand during a twenty-four-hour period.”

Her smile broadened. “I’m not sure I can put all of that on my list because I’m not on vacation.”

“You’re working here?”

She nodded. “I work for Bellagio, the designer shoe company, and I’m down here on temporary assignment as an assistant to Lillian Bellagio. She’s the widow of one of the founders of the company.”

The mention of Bellagio made his heart rate pick up. The name always had. How ironic that she worked there. And how…opportune. “Sounds like a cupcake assignment,” he said.

“Yes and no. Mrs. Bellagio is perceived as challenging and sometimes demanding. That’s why they sent me. Before I became a full-time employee of Bellagio, I was a temp in almost every department. They always sent me to take care of the crisis du jour.”

“So I bet you know a lot about the inner workings of Bellagio.”

She shrugged and took another long sip of her hurricane. Jack noticed she was nearing the bottom of the glass. He gestured toward the bartender to bring her another and tapped his bottle of Corona.

“If you decided to go with Bellagio full-time, you must like ’em,” he said.

She nodded. “I like the people there. They really pursued me. It’s a relief to know that even if my personal life is in the toilet, I can still perform professionally.”

“Personal life in the toilet,” he echoed. “Is that the reason for the list?”

She looked self-conscious. “I guess.”

“What do you have on there?”

She pulled the napkin protectively to her. “It’s under construction.”

“Come on. Give me a few hints. Maybe I could help.”

She shot him a wary glance and took a sip of her fresh drink. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It was nice of you to get me a drink, but I don’t know anything about you.”

“And you’re afraid I’m going to ply you with alcohol and have my wicked way with you.”

Her cheeks bloomed with color again. “I didn’t say that.”

“Amelia, do you want to know the truth?”

She nodded.

“I’m bored. You looked more interesting than anyone else here.”

She glanced around, then met his gaze again. “There are some very pretty girls here.”

“Yep, but they don’t look interesting. You look pretty and interesting.”

She hesitated, clearly still uncertain.

“Listen, you’re in the Keys. It’s okay to have some fun.”

She gave a big sigh and he could hear tension being released like air poured out of a flat tire. “I want to get a different car,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “I want to travel. I want to start an IRA. I want to get a different haircut, maybe change my hair color, buy some different clothes.”

“Everything’s gotta be different? What kind of car do you have?”

“A Honda.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“My ex-fiancé picked it out.”