Racing Heart E-Book

Darci St. John

• Herausgeber: Bedford Square Publishers
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 366

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Are they on a collision course – or could this be an accident of the happy kind? Notoriously hotheaded race car driver Jordan Rubie is still grappling with the aftermath of a potentially career-ending crash and his final few disastrous months at Rubie Racing. On a whim, he flees to a charming seaside town in Wales to lie low until his twin sister Mia's wedding in Scotland. Straight-laced advice columnist Pearl Carrington is already off-kilter from an unexpected dilemma of her own when she stumbles upon Jordan at the beach. After he extends a spur-of-the-moment invite to be his plus-one, she does the very thing she'd never recommend and says yes – to a road trip through the idyllic countryside and a few days (and nights) in an actual castle with a virtual stranger. Only Pearl soon learns it's not the detour from family drama she hoped for… and Jordan realises he has more than broken bones to heal.

Leseprobe

JOIN OUR COMMUNITY!

Sign up for all the latest news and get free books and exclusive offers.

BEDFORDSQUAREPUBLISHERS.CO.UK

RACINGHEART

DARCI ST. JOHN

For my mother, Barbara Gean, the original Barb.

I miss you every day.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue: Ten months later

A Note from the Author

Acknowledgements

Also by Darci St. John

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Jordan Rubie had been itching to get out of town, to go somewhere. Anywhere. But even after traveling some 3,000 miles, he was still at loose ends – not to mention, bored.

So. Damn. Bored.

For most of his adult life, Jordan had spent nine months of the year circling the globe as a race car driver in the World Apex Grand Prix Motorsport Series. But a dramatic crash the summer before had ended his career, along with the only over-scheduled life he’d ever known.

His twin sister’s wedding in Scotland had given him the perfect reason to pull out his passport again. On a whim, he’d decided to head across the pond early and stay at another race car driver’s cottage in North Wales. Except he hadn’t anticipated the only real change being the scenery – although he had to admit, Snowdon’s distant mountain peaks provided a slightly better backdrop than the pine trees surrounding his private lake in southeast Michigan.

But other than that, he was still alone – and lost. Apparently, without a racetrack teeming with other cars to follow, he lacked direction. Which might explain why he’d rarely stood at the top of the podium, if he was in the mood to ponder his mediocre-at-best driving career.

He was not.

Since arriving in the village of Abersoch, Jordan had done little more than rotate between his friend Wyn’s cottage and a bright turquoise beach hut and a blanket on the sand. Each day, the beach had emptied quickly as the dinner hour neared, almost as if the sun turned into a massive clock that signaled it was time to go home. And everyone obeyed, packing up beach tents and toys and dragging sand-covered kids toward the car park.

Today was turning out to be more of the same. Within minutes of the sun’s usual magic trick, all that remained was a flock of seagulls, a mom coaxing her small son out of the Irish Sea, and him, a 34-year-old man sneaking sips from a flask and trying far too hard to relax.

That is until, out of the corner of his eye, Jordan glimpsed a woman walking down the beach. Even from a distance, she was far more interesting than the kid screaming bloody murder from the water, especially since she appeared to be making a beeline for his beach towel. He turned around, expecting to see someone standing behind him, but found nothing but more sand and the line of brightly colored beach huts.

After another nip of Scotch whisky, he squinted into the late afternoon sun. She would hardly be the first woman to appear out of nowhere with a bone to pick with him, but he didn’t recognise her. Brunettes had never been his first choice, back in the day when he’d had his fair share of fangirls clamoring to climb into his bed. She was also shorter than the women he typically went for, not that height was a limiting factor if the mood was right.

The woman stumbled in the thick sand but managed to right herself and continue on her collision course.

‘Hey, there,’ Jordan called out as she drew closer.

No response.

Her face was becoming clearer as she neared, but not any more familiar – and it was one he would’ve remembered, Scotch or no Scotch. With a button nose and full rosy lips, she was the type of girl who was pretty whether she was made up and dressed to the nines, lounging around in sweatpants or, even better, wearing nothing at all.

Of course, there was a chance she was a racing fan. Apex drivers didn’t enjoy the luxury of anonymity in this part of the world like in the United States, even washed-up guys like him. But her wrinkled gray dress and wedge sandals didn’t scream fangirl, and she seemed to be looking through him more than at him.

She also didn’t appear to be dressed for the part of a person operating in an official capacity. Still, to be safe, Jordan tucked his flask out of sight before waving and shouting, ‘Hello?!’

If anything, that only caused her to pick up speed.

‘Hi!’ he said, his deep voice lifting on an extended ‘i’ as he realised she was definitely on course to crash right into him. If there was something he knew too much about, it was crashes.

It wasn’t until she was almost in his personal space that he heard the mumbling. At first, he couldn’t catch what she was saying, but when he did, there was no unhearing the string of curse words. The woman was swearing like a pirate who’d managed to stub his toe on his own wooden leg.

Jordan waved both arms to catch her attention, but she didn’t slow down, or stop. She didn’t seem to register he was there at all – even when she tripped over his legs and landed sprawled across his lap. The seconds that ticked by with her face planted in the sand were more than enough time for him to reflect on how it had been more months than he cared to count since he’d felt the weight of a woman on top of him.

And now, one had literally fallen into his lap.

Chapter 2

Pearl Carrington rolled onto her back, squinted at the sun, and reviewed four things she knew to be true.

One: She’d flown halfway across the world to the north of Wales at the drop of a hat, only to learn that her aunt’s supposed ‘emergency surgery’ was a breast augmentation.

Two: Said aunt was actually her mother, and the person Pearl had called Mom her entire life was her aunt. To Pearl’s surprise, they had both been waiting for her when she’d arrived rumpled at her aunt’s house in Abersoch. Why the two decided to drop this bombshell on her right there and then, not to mention 34 years after the fact, was as unclear as her walk across the beach. But that could also be due to the nearly lethal mix of red wine and brandy they’d plied her with before revealing her seriously messed up origin story.

Three: She may be a little tipsy. Okay, a lot tipsy – not to mention exhausted. She’d left Chicago more hours ago than she cared to count and had endured multiple flight delays and a trip across the England-Wales border in a rental car only a smidge larger than a roller skate.

Four, and perhaps most important at the moment: The sand on this beach was lumpy, and moving. There was a solid chance that, in her current state, she’d tripped and fallen into quicksand.

She should scream or grab a nearby tree branch. Or scream. Only Pearl’s mouth refused to work, and she was on a beach in Wales. There wasn’t even a palm tree for hundreds of miles, at least.

Don’t panic.

Although her knowledge of quicksand was limited to what she’d learned from cartoons and movies, panicking only made things worse.

She needed a fifth point – and quick.

Five, five, five. She bit her lip and tasted sand. Please, please, let there be a five.

Then, out of nowhere, a hand reached toward her, and Pearl grabbed it.

Chapter 3

An awkward amount of time elapsed before the mystery woman allowed Jordan to pull her up to a seated position, still on his lap.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

She seemed fine, aside from the rapid-fire blinking aimed his way that suggested he’d been the one to stumble and somehow end up underneath her – which, now that he had a close-up look at those rosy lips, he wouldn’t have minded.

Her hand came up to shield her eyes. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’

Jordan stifled a laugh at the adorably perplexed look on her face. ‘Nowhere. Well, not really nowhere. Detroit, originally. But most recently, this very spot.’

‘Really? Me, too.’ She squinted at him. ‘The Detroit part, at least, although I live in Chicago now. Also, apparently, this spot as well.’

‘What are the odds of that?’ He extended his hand. ‘Jordan.’

‘Pearl.’

Her American English was music to Jordan’s ears after days of trying to decipher the thick Welsh accent. Between that and the unexpected yet much-welcomed skin-to-skin contact, his fingers stayed wrapped around hers. They were so soft and warm that he didn’t want to let go.

Her gaze drifted to their clasped hands. ‘Mind if I have that back now?’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Jordan, quickly yet reluctantly releasing his grip. ‘I’m traveling alone, and my social skills are clearly suffering from a lack of people to talk to that I can understand. I’m not a nutter or anything, I swear.’

She arched an eyebrow at him as she slid off his lap and onto the beach towel next to him. ‘Picking up the local lingo, I see.’

The day before, Jordan had overheard two boys yelling ‘nutter’ and splashing each other while laughing hysterically. Apparently, she wasn’t new to the area.

After a once-over that had him wanting to flex something, Pearl shrugged.

‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since there isn’t a chance you could top the crazy I’ve already seen today.’ Pointing at the flask, which had come uncovered when she tripped over him, she added, ‘May I?’

‘Thanks, I guess?’ He picked up the silver flask and dangled it in front of her. ‘In return, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, too.’

‘You may want to think twice about that – nutter definitely runs in my family,’ she said. ‘But so far, I’m in the clear.’

As he searched her face for any sign she was joking, Pearl grabbed the silver bottle and gave it a once-over, tracing the engraved numerals one and nine with her finger. Jordan held his breath, waiting for her to ask about the significance of the number 19 as she unscrewed the cap, but she only tipped back.

An impressive gulp led to a sudden coughing fit. ‘You might’ve told me it was whisky,’ she gasped.

‘It’s Scottish,’ he said, forcing his gaze from her heaving chest. ‘Smooth, right?’

‘About as smooth as my entrance a few minutes ago,’ she laughed.

As Pearl took a second, far more reserved sip, Jordan snuck a glance at his surprise towel-mate. Her hair was the darkest of browns, with hints of rich mahogany when the sun hit it just right. Her eyes seemed to reflect the color of the sea where it met the mountains on the distant horizon, but more subtly than his own baby blues.

They whiled away the afternoon’s last gasp by passing the flask back and forth, watching together as the boy continued to splash and ignore his mother’s empty threats. But to their surprise, and apparently the kid’s, the mom finally marched in up to her waist and grabbed her son. Once back on the shore, he howled as she wrapped them both in rainbow-striped towels and then carried him under one arm like a surfboard from the beach.

Beside him, Pearl ran her hands up and down her bare arms. Jordan fought a sudden urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her close.

Whoa. Slow down, man.

‘Again, not a nutter, but I have a sweatshirt in my beach hut that you’re welcome to borrow,’ he said.

Her wide-eyed look matched the one people had given him all week when he climbed the wooden steps to number four. Apparently, the beach huts were famous for being some of the priciest real estate in the area by square footage. But after spending a few days in and out of the small single room on stilts at the edge of the sand, he still hadn’t figured out what the big deal was.

‘Do you seriously own one of those?’ she asked. ‘What are you, some sort of millionaire boy genius?’

‘Boy? I’ll have you know I’m 34.’ Jordan seized the moment he’d missed earlier to flex a bicep and further prove his manhood. ‘And I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it belongs to a friend.’

Her eyes stayed glued to his upper arm for a beat before shifting to his face. ‘Does that mean you’re not a genius either?’

‘Not even close.’

Once Jordan was on his feet, he helped Pearl to hers and then gave the beach towel a quick shake. He was relieved that she hadn’t asked about the millionaire part – that actually was true.

When they’d climbed the stairs to the bright turquoise hut, he hung the towel over the back of a wicker chair on the deck before showing her through the open double doors. Wyn’s wife, Alys, had obviously had a heavy hand in decorating the tiny space, which consisted of four wooden walls, a changing room with a compostable toilet, and a small yet efficient kitchen with no running water. A bright nautical theme attempted to compensate for the lack of windows.

‘I’d give you a tour but, this is it,’ Jordan said.

Pearl turned a full circle and took in the single room. ‘I’m...’

‘Underwhelmed?’ he offered.

‘Disappointed. I’ve been obsessed with these beach huts since my first trip to Abersoch.’ She pulled the sweatshirt he tossed her over her head, kicked off her sandals, and flopped onto the sofa. ‘Ah, well, at least it’s on brand for this trip.’

Jordan added this breadcrumb to the other she’d dropped on the beach about her crazy day. ‘In that case, would you care for sparkling water, wine, or something stronger?’ he asked.

‘Definitely stronger,’ Pearl said. ‘But just so you’re aware, I arrived only a few hours ago, so apologies in advance if jet lag slams into me and takes me out.’

Yet another breadcrumb. ‘Noted,’ he said.

Jordan dug into the stockpile of supplies he’d bought his first day. He poured a bag of cheddar and onion ‘crisps’ into a bowl shaped like an anchor and set it on the marine rope-edged coffee table in front of the sofa. Accidentally asking for chips – the term for french fries on this side of the pond – was a can of worms he’d wished he hadn’t opened at the market. The shopkeeper had explained to him like he was a child that they didn’t have a fryer on site, but there was a good chippy around the corner.

‘My apologies, but no running water means no ice,’ Jordan said, mixing them each a lukewarm gin and tonic and handing hers over before sitting down in the chair across from the sofa with his own.

Pearl grabbed a handful of chips. ‘I’ll admit that they have better chip flavors over here but God forbid you ask for chips instead of crisps. They put the soda versus pop debate to shame.’

Picturing a thought bubble floating over his head, he smiled into his glass.

‘So, what are you?’ Pearl asked.

He looked up. ‘Pardon? What am I what?’

She stopped shoving chips in her mouth and stared at him. ‘Pop or soda?’

‘Oh. Team soda. Definitely.’

Her eyebrow arched. ‘Incorrect.’

‘How can I be wrong on a word choice?’ he asked. ‘Also, to be fair, I’ve spent a fair amount of my life traveling outside of the Midwest. You can’t exactly ask for pop in a place like Singapore. They’d think you were—’

‘A nutter?’ Her giggle bounced off the walls of the beach hut, and she covered her mouth with one hand while waving the other in his direction. Tears ran down her cheeks before she was able to speak. ‘Sorry, gin tends to have a weird effect on me. Consider yourself warned.’

‘Noted again,’ he said.

‘We should probably address the elephant in the room and admit that we don’t have a future together.’ At his perplexed look, she added, ‘I mean, soda? C’mon. No way I could live with hearing that every day for the rest of my life.’

‘If it helps any, I hardly drink the stuff anymore,’ he said. ‘I promise to keep your suffering to a minimum.’

The thought of losing his only companion in months left a small pit in his stomach. Although idle chitchat had never been his forte – his dad had put him through media training to learn how to be succinct without sounding surly – he was enjoying this random conversation with Pearl.

Or he was until she interrupted his thoughts with the last question he wanted to answer: ‘So, what do you do, Jordan?’

He’d expected to be asked this at some point, of course. Hell, he’d even leaned into his media training and rehearsed what he might say in front of a mirror so he wasn’t caught off guard. But he hadn’t anticipated it coming up in a situation like this, when he preferred the person not know his story or have a clue about the guy he’d once been. That guy was no prince.

‘I’m in between jobs right now,’ he said. ‘I was in the, uh, family business for my entire career. But when my dad passed away last year, he left everything, lock, stock, and barrel, to my twin sister. Let’s just say that things fell apart pretty quickly after that.’

Because of him.

‘He didn’t leave you anything?’

‘Actually, that was misleading – at least, the lock, stock, and barrel part. He did, but there were strings attached.’ Judging by the confused look on Pearl’s face, his explanation wasn’t making things any clearer. ‘It’s all been taken care of now. You could definitely say that I got my due.’

In spades.

‘And your mom?’

He shook his head. ‘Cancer.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘It was a long time ago.’ So long that he’d now had far more years without her than he had with her. ‘But thank you.’

Pearl went quiet, as if her mind had suddenly drifted out of the beach hut’s still-open door and was carried away in the breeze. Just as quickly, she was back on the sofa in the beach hut and her eyes locked with his. Although he would’ve sworn they were the lightest blue outside, under this light, they were a pale gray. He didn’t know people could even have gray eyes.

Their gaze held as she stood up and motioned toward his empty glass. He handed it to her, then watched her walk to the counter and mix them fresh drinks with a generous pour.

‘I assume that caused some bad blood between you and your sister,’ Pearl said once she sat back down. ‘Her getting the family business.’

As if he needed reminding. He took a sip, immediately grateful he’d bought the best gin the shop had in stock. Pearl’s concoction was far more G than T.

‘What’s that saying about time healing all wounds? Not completely accurate in this case but they were stitched up and healed decently. The scar should fade over time.’ He hoped. ‘Mia’s getting married this weekend in Scotland, actually. That’s why I’m here in the UK.’

‘Are you Scottish? Or is her fiancé?’

‘No, and no. Luca, her fiancé, is Italian, but my family is a mix of nationalities at this point,’ he said. ‘Mia has a thing for all things Scottish so decided to have a destination wedding at a castle in the Highlands.’

When he’d received his invitation in the mail, Jordan had realised that he couldn’t miss his sister’s wedding. Not only did he want to be there, but also his parents would haunt him forever if he skipped watching his twin getting married.

‘And here I thought I had the market cornered on family drama.’ She drained her glass and, with a loud hiccup that made them both laugh, held it out for a refill. ‘Your turn.’

Jordan decided reversing her ratio of gin to tonic was probably best for both of them this round. He stared at the tonic-heavy glasses for a few seconds in his hands before turning around and handing Pearl hers. If the woman thought that what he’d shared qualified as family drama, she was sadly mistaken. Try crashing into your teammate mid-race, a guy who just so happens to be the love of your sister’s life, nearly killing him and you and destroying your racing career.

Pearl hiccuped again. ‘I mean, I found out a couple of hours ago that my aunt was really the teen mom who gave birth to me, and my grandparents forced their twin daughters to switch places. Do I win?’

Okay, maybe she did get it.

He gulped down a sip. ‘Yes, although I’m not sure there’s a prize for that.’

‘I should hope not,’ she said. ‘Although it might take the sting out of being in such a crappy contest.’

‘Agreed,’ Jordan said. ‘So, who spilled? The aunt who used to be your mom or the aunt who is your mom?’

‘The one who is,’ Pearl said. ‘You might say she has a flair for the dramatic. They were both there, though.’

He smiled. ‘That solves the mystery of why you’re here with me when you’ve just arrived.’

As Jordan poured increasingly weaker drinks, Pearl spilled the kind of tale typically reserved for tabloids and clickbait – two things he knew far too much about.

‘You never suspected?’ he asked.

She took a healthy sip, not even noticing that he’d switched to 100 per cent tonic for the last round. ‘Nope, I never even had a clue. I mean, why would I?’

‘What about your birth certificate? Who’s listed as your mom?’

‘Di, the one who raised me. She and Top are identical, so they simply swapped identities when the hospital asked for the information. They used to brag about how they switched places all the time when they were kids. Wait’ – she hiccuped again – ‘are you and your sister identical?’

‘Uh, no.’ He shook his head slowly, wondering if Pearl had skipped a science class or two at some point or, more likely, had spiked her own drink when he wasn’t looking. ‘We’re fraternal, but we do look alike. At least, we have the same blonde hair and blue eyes.’

Hands down, Pearl’s story was the most ridiculous one Jordan had ever heard by a mile. Suddenly, driving up the ass-end of his future brother-in-law’s car almost seemed rational.

‘Do you want to know the worst part, Jordan? Top was my role model. My hero. She always swooped in to save the day when Di messed things up. But she wasn’t a hero. She was an arsonist who returned to the scene of the crime with a Dixie cup of water, a fresh pack of matches, and a gallon jug of lighter fluid.’

Jordan leaned toward her. ‘Look, I’m not defending her. But haven’t you ever done something that you regretted? Really regretted? Something that seemed impossible to fix? I mean, you have to start somewhere, and unfortunately, there’s rarely a perfect place to begin.’

When Pearl didn’t respond, he added, ‘What they did was clearly wrong, but maybe they’re trying to make things right.’

‘I don’t think it’s possible to make this right.’ Pearl’s voice cracked as tears began to stream down her face.

Without thinking twice, Jordan moved from his chair, planted himself next to Pearl on the sofa, and set her empty glass on the table. Once he draped an arm across her shoulders, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck and cried. He tugged her closer while she alternately edged toward him until he was full-on holding her.

It had been a long time since he’d comforted someone. One hand glided over her hair; the other, her back. ‘It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.’

Her head lifted off his shoulder with a sniff. ‘You should know that I’d normally deliver a sound lecture on empty promises. But in a weird way on a very weird day, a stranger in another land telling me everything is going to be okay is exactly what I need to hear.’

‘You? Lecture? I have a hard time believing that.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ she said, using the sleeve of his T-shirt to wipe away her tears.

As Jordan considered whether to shift back to the chair, Pearl lifted her face to his. The look she gave him said she wanted to be kissed and, given her roller coaster of a day, probably needed to be.

Maybe as much as he did.

But before he took the literal plunge, Jordan took something else. A deep breath. Blurting out that he was a temperamental race car driver without a ride seemed awkward, but if this was going where he thought it might, where he hoped it would, afterward he’d feel like as much of a jerk as most racing fans considered him to be.

Just say it.

‘Pearl, you should probably know that I’m—’

‘Married?’

He shook his head. ‘God, no.’

‘A serial killer?’

‘Nope. Although I feel compelled to point out that a serial killer would probably lie about that.’

She giggled. ‘I’d be able to tell. I mean, it takes one to know one, right?’

He laughed along with her. Before he could say anything else, her lips touched his.

Pearl tasted like pine from the lingering gin, and he was instantly transported to the woods of northern Michigan, his favorite place in the world. It made him want to freeze that moment, with her, on this sofa, in this beach hut, and make it last.

Only the guy who’d spent most of the past decade assuming he didn’t have a conscience had apparently grown one. He lifted his face away an inch and tried once more. ‘Pearl, do you—’

‘Want you to stop talking? Honestly, Jordan? Yes.’

And so he did, because maybe it was better for her not to know he’d made a colossal cock-up that almost cost him everything.

Chapter 4

Pearl stirred to the sound of someone clearing their throat in the daintiest way possible. When she managed to pry open her eyes, they focused on the bodice of a breezy summer frock adorned with tiny violets. Only one person born within the last century would traipse around in a dress like that – Lady Topaz Langford, her aunt-turned-mother.

‘Did we time travel?’ a deep voice breathed into her ear.

That’s the moment when Pearl realised she wasn’t at home in Chicago, tucked into the luxury linens she’d spent too many weeks researching, and that the waves that had soothed her sleep all night were the Irish Sea and not her white noise machine. No, she was crammed onto the world’s smallest sofa, playing the part of little spoon to the guy she’d bumped into on the beach and then spilled her life story to.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Her mostly bare skin, which had a very muscular arm draped across it.

‘From this day forward, you may all call me Shirley Holmes,’ Top said. ‘I followed the clues right to the door.’

To Pearl’s chagrin, a second voice chimed in. ‘Shirley Holmes, my ass. There was one clue, and it was the door, which was wide open, by the way.’

Oh, good, Diamond Carrington, her mother-turned-aunt was lurking on the scene, too.

The chest behind her shook in silent laughter.

‘Well, congratulations to you both, I guess.’ Pearl pulled up the blanket Jordan must’ve draped over them in the middle of the night, covering her lacy black bralette but, in the process, exposing more of Jordan. ‘I ran into him on the beach’ – literally – ‘and he offered me a tour of his beach hut.’

Next to Top, Di appeared with a face full of makeup more suitable for a night out clubbing than a morning search-and-rescue party. ‘Apparently.’

Pearl couldn’t imagine what was keeping Jordan from running and screaming away from the three of them. Even though she’d implied that her family was quirky when she’d spilled the big family secret, nothing could’ve prepared him for waking up to this.

‘Jordan, meet the family jewels,’ she sighed.

‘Likewise,’ Di said with an appraising gaze.

Jordan rearranged the blanket on top of them and then tucked Pearl’s body deeper into his. ‘Ah, yes, Diamond and Topaz, I believe Pearl said. Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.’

Di winked. ‘Oh, the pleasure is all ours. Trust me. And you can call us Di and Top. Everybody does.’

‘If you’re going to just stand there leering, you can leave.’ Pearl burrowed even closer to Jordan. ‘On second thought, please just leave.’

‘I agree,’ Top said. ‘We’ll wait outside while you bid your gentleman fare-thee-well, and then we’ll go home and break our fast with a nice long chat.’

When her back stiffened, Jordan found her hand and laced her fingers with his. Her other hand snuck out from under the towels and shooed away their uninvited guests.

‘Go ahead without me,’ Pearl said. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

When the sisters didn’t budge, Jordan squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll see that she gets home safe,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

The two women hovering over them nodded. The fact that a promise from a nearly naked stranger was enough to satisfy them of Pearl’s safety proved that neither of them were fit to mother anybody.

‘We’ll expect her home within the hour,’ Di called over her shoulder as they walked out. ‘Don’t think I won’t hunt you down and skin you alive if she’s not.’

Okay, maybe one of them was.

When the door shut, Jordan howled, his forehead resting on the back of her neck, puffs of his breath tickling her spine.

‘What’s so funny?’ As if she needed to ask.

‘Seriously?’ His entire body shook behind her as laughter overtook him again. ‘After what you told me last night, I didn’t know what to expect, but trust me, that wasn’t it.’

‘Would you have believed me? I mean, it’s kind of one of those things you have to see with your own eyes.’

‘That may be the truest statement I’ve ever heard in my whole entire life,’ he said, his fingers lightly brushing her arm. ‘So, what’s their deal anyway? And does it run in the family?’

‘God, I hope not,’ she said, then paused before answering his first question. Years of explaining the jewel sisters hadn’t made it any easier. Pearl had learned the hard way that there really was no explanation for Di and Top being, well, Di and Top.

‘If you’re thinking midlife crisis, the answer is a surprising no, although they are about to turn the big five-o,’ she said. ‘Di manages a department store makeup counter. She says it’s important for her to try out new products and looks.’

‘I get that,’ he said. ‘But is she required to wear all of the products at the same time?’

Maybe Pearl should’ve been offended on Di’s behalf, but since there was more than an ounce of validity to his question, she let it slide. At this point, she probably wouldn’t recognise Di without one of her many faces on.

‘And the other one?’ Jordan asked, still rubbing her arm.

‘Top’s a historical romance author. She got into “method writing” years ago to help find her voice as a lady of the nineteenth-century aristocracy. Let’s just say the timing couldn’t have been worse for Anthropologie to come out with a line of Regency-inspired dresses.’

‘She bought them out, I assume?’

‘You would assume correctly. Di and I even got them for Christmas that year.’ Pearl laughed, remembering the look she and Di had exchanged when they unwrapped the long, flowing dresses they’d wanted to stuff back into their boxes immediately. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but she made us have a family photo taken.’

His hand paused, his fingers resting on the back of her hand. ‘What would it take to get a look at that picture? Seriously, name your price.’

‘Tempting but... no.’ She giggled.

Looking back, someone should’ve intervened during Top’s first foray into method writing, but her explanation had made perfect sense at the time. Why wouldn’t the author of Regency romance novels inhabit the world of her characters? There didn’t seem to be any harm in her wearing long dresses or her hair in a bun. It’s not like she’d started using a chamber pot.

But then her aunt had gone and fallen madly in love with an aging earl. While doing research, Top had contacted a few members of the nobility on a whim, and Lord Charles Langford had replied and they became pen pals of sorts. Apparently, he’d assumed the sweet woman he’d been corresponding with wrote about swooning, promenades, and stolen kisses, not corset erotica. When they finally met in person, she’d been overjoyed to find herself face to face with an eccentric silver fox and not the fuddy-duddy she’d anticipated. Likewise, he hadn’t been at all disappointed to discover a lovely lady who enjoyed afternoon tea with a side of kink. Within a few months, Top had married into the aristocracy. ‘The earl,’ as Di and Pearl called Charles – even though Top had suggested they refer to him as ‘My Lord’ – became the unexpected fourth member of the Carrington family.

But only 15 years later, Top was widowed, and wealthy. And fully committed to maintaining a lifestyle befitting a woman of her station in the days of yore as if it still were.

In other words, all was now lost.

‘So, she’s actually a countess?’

Pearl nodded. ‘Believe it or not, yes.’

‘What does that make you?’ Jordan asked.

‘Considering she’s now a dowager countess, nothing but a fool,’ Pearl said.

Jordan shifted to give her space to roll onto her back, then propped himself up on his elbow. A beach towel slipped in the process, revealing a sculpted chest that would give a Greek god a run for his money.

‘I believe the term you’re looking for is court jester,’ he said with a wink. ‘And you’re no such thing.’

‘I’m glad you think so,’ Pearl said. ‘And I’m sorry. I’m sure when you were on the beach yesterday, you never imagined that this is what the tide would bring in.’

‘True, but you have no reason to apologise. Even with the surprise wake-up call, I’m not sorry you stumbled upon me. It was the best night of my vacation so far.’

Pearl felt heat rush to her face at his mention of the night before. ‘I’ll have to take your word for it since things are a little fuzzy after we,’ she hesitated, ‘kissed.’

Fuzzy was an understatement. At the moment, her memories were floating around the beach hut like dandelion fluff after a large puff. If only she could catch enough of them to explain her current state of undress.

Pearl had thought her days of one-night stands were finished – not that they’d ever really started. Her one and only had taken place her junior year in college after too many lemon drop shots at a Halloween party. The next morning, she hadn’t been able to get out of there fast enough, even knowing she’d have to do the walk of shame home dressed as a bumblebee. Millie, her best friend and former college roommate turned coworker and current roommate, still brought it up every October.

Jordan’s pout transformed into a sly smile. ‘Yes, we kissed, and then, as you’d warned me, jet lag kicked in. You were out within seconds of taking off my shirt – in the middle of a kiss, actually.’

Considering what she could see of Jordan above the beach towel, Pearl could hardly believe that was true. Stupid jet lag. Stupid gin. Stupid everything.

‘I’ve decided not to take that personally,’ he added.

‘You shouldn’t,’ she said. ‘Jet lag and alcohol are apparently a lethal combination.’

‘About that,’ he said. ‘We were mostly drinking tonic starting with the third round.’

‘The fact that I didn’t even notice shows what a wise decision that was on your part,’ she said. ‘And also the power of jet lag. So, my dress?’

He pointed at the pale gray heap on the floor. ‘Also you. About an hour after you fell asleep, you got up and stripped off my sweatshirt and your dress. I don’t think you were anywhere near conscious at that point.’

‘So, nothing happened?’

‘Besides the kissing? No. Scout’s honor.’

‘Oh, were you a Boy Scout?’

Jordan nodded. ‘I’ll have you know that you just spent the night with a pinewood derby champion.’ When she arched an eyebrow at him, he added, ‘But not in the biblical sense.’

For the first time in her life, Pearl exhaled an actual sigh of relief. Considering the events of the last 24 hours, it would also likely be her last.

As if he could read her mind, Jordan’s hand found hers again. ‘If you’re not ready to deal with them, don’t. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. I have a cottage all to myself, too.’

As tempting as his offer was on many levels, Pearl was already miles out of her comfort zone. Not that she felt uncomfortable at the current moment. Quite the opposite, in fact.

‘Jordan, you’re sweet, but trust me when I say I’m not going to deal with that situation until I’m good and ready.’

‘Sweet?’ He blinked a few times in confusion, as if she’d spoken gibberish.

‘Fine, very sweet.’

Pearl boldly lifted herself up and planted a quick peck on his lips. Or at least that’s what she’d intended. His fingers sunk into her hair, keeping her mouth pressed to his. This was a man who knew how to kiss.

‘Are you sure I can’t convince you?’ he asked, his lips moving against hers as they formed the whispered words.

Even though there was a solid chance he could, especially if he kissed her like that again, Pearl shook her head. ‘One thing you should know about Di – she isn’t one for idle threats. She may not be back in an hour, but she will reappear if I don’t show up.’

That was all it took for Jordan to leap up and toss her the dress she’d left Chicago in another lifetime ago.

‘Give me two minutes,’ he said, grabbing a tote bag from the corner and heading into the changing room.

Pearl was clothed and waiting at the door, her wedge sandals dangling from her grip by their ankle straps, when Jordan re-emerged in cargo shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

‘You don’t have to walk me back,’ she said. ‘It’s not far. Stumbling distance, if I recall.’

‘That may be true, but I made a promise to the jewel sisters, and they don’t seem like the sort of people a guy wants to double-cross.’ He stopped and picked his sweatshirt off the floor, and then handed it to her for the second time in 12 hours. ‘It’s chilly in the morning here.’

‘Like I said, sweet,’ said Pearl, pulling it over her head before following him back to reality.

They retraced Pearl’s path in reverse, although she had to rely on Jordan’s memory since she had little recollection of how she’d gotten from point A to point B. She only remembered aimlessly walking along the beach. But apparently, she’d had an aim, and it was the guy grabbing her hand and pulling her to a sudden stop.

‘Here,’ he said, keeping her hand tucked in his.

She looked around at the sand and the sea before shaking her head. ‘Here what?’

‘Here’s where I first spotted you,’ he said with a goofy grin that surely matched the one on her own face.

Just as he’d promised, Jordan walked her all the way back, still holding her hand on the winding path that led from the beach to Top’s clifftop mansion overlooking the sea. He didn’t blink an eye at the large historic home, which Top had received as a parting gift from her stepson in exchange for agreeing to fade into the background.

Before they could say their goodbyes, the voices of the jewel sisters carried through a nearby open window. Suddenly, exchanging phone numbers or even last names wasn’t as much of a priority as getting inside and up to her room before anyone saw her.

With a quick kiss pressed to Jordan’s lips, Pearl stole away like a thief in the night.

She and Di had their own bedrooms in the clifftop mansion Top had lived in with her late husband. ‘I want you to feel at home here,’ Top had told them the first time they’d visited the newlyweds. It’s too bad the sweet gesture had come with period antiques and themes – pineapples for Di and songbirds for Pearl.

She tiptoed up the stairs, her heart pounding, making as little noise as possible until she reached her bedroom. Then, like a teenager, she slammed the door loud enough to announce that she’d returned but, under no circumstances, wanted company.

‘Very mature, Pearl,’ she said to the bright yellow canary on the wallpaper above the light switch.

Her suitcase and carry-ons were on top of the bed, not downstairs where she’d left them. She dug her cell phone out of her purse to find it was dead, so she plugged it into the charger Top always had waiting for her. It sprang to life with a flurry of texts. There was one from Millie, wondering how the flight was, but most were from Di and Top. They’d messaged on the family group chat and their solo text chains while she was with Jordan.

Jordan.

Did she really just leave him on the porch with hardly a goodbye? Between that, the jewel sisters’ early morning pop-in, and her ramblings about the big family secret, she’d pretty much guaranteed that she’d never see him again.

Pearl moved her bags instead of unpacking them. She hated living out of a suitcase – even for a single night in a hotel – but this may be a much quicker trip than planned. After a massive flop onto the bed that had her nose to beak with some sort of finch, Pearl rolled onto her back and did some quick time zone math. Not that it mattered what time it was on the other side of the world, she needed to talk to her best friend. Now.

Millie picked up on the second ring and, as always, was instantly wide awake. ‘This had better be an emergency.’

‘Top’s my mom and I just spent the night with some random guy in a beach hut,’ Pearl blurted out.

‘That qualifies,’ Millie said. ‘Meet me in the virtual conference room in ten minutes.’

It took almost that long for Pearl to brush her teeth and wash her face in the en suite, dig out her computer, and tuck herself in under the covers. She logged on to find her roommate already there, drinking coffee in their sage green living room. If only Millie could teleport her a cup, too. Although if that were the case, Pearl would teleport herself home.

Leaning toward the screen as if that allowed her to see Pearl better, Millie asked, ‘First, are you okay?’