The Billion Dollar Pact: Waking Up with the Boss (Billionaire Brothers Club) / Single Mom, Billionaire Boss / Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride. Sheri WhiteFeather
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you still have it?”
“Yes. I saved all of my old quilts.” She had them tucked away in her room. They were an important part of her childhood, of her heart, of the person she’d become. “Do you still think I’m broken?”
“Yes, but in a really sweet way.” He sent her a teasing smile, even if he was still watching her just as closely as before.
“Okay, Mr. Juvenile Delinquent.” She reached into the sand, dug around and found a shell, intending to throw it at him. But she held on to it instead, thinking how pretty it was. “You and your stolen jewelry.”
“Thank goodness I got caught, huh? Or I might have become a cat burglar instead of the privileged playboy that I am today.”
Privileged indeed. He’d carved out quite a life for himself. “Someday my dreams are going to come true, too.”
His expression changed, his smile fading, his tone much more serious. “For a big white wedding?”
She glanced at the shell. She was still holding it, the chevron shape fitting delicately into her hand. “I want a family. I always have.”
“Just be happy, no matter what you do.”
“I will.” She placed the shell in the mermaid’s hair, using it as decoration.
“That looks nice,” Jake said. “Should we collect more of those?”
Carol nodded, and they both sifted through the sand, together yet somehow still alone.
* * *
At dusk the guests had dinner on the beach, prepared by the chef and his team. Although vegetable skewers and salads were available, the main dish was a seafood boil, lightly seasoned and served with a traditional tartar sauce or a spicy salsa, if you preferred your food with a bit of a kick.
Tons of fires had been built, either for large groups of people who wanted to socialize or for couples who preferred to be by themselves, which was what Jake and Carol had chosen.
While they ate, they sat on a big fluffy blanket at their own cozy little fire. He couldn’t think of a nicer way to spend the evening, especially with how mesmerized Carol seemed.
“Look how enchanted everything is,” she said, gazing out into the distance.
He followed her line of sight. The completed sandcastle had been decorated with hundreds of candles, creating an otherworldly effect. The majestic architecture presented soaring pillars, domed archways and flying buttresses. The detail was magnificent, even from across the beach.
She spoke softly, reverently. “I can see our mermaid from here.”
“I see her, too.” Their sculpture was surrounded by twinkling lights.
“I feel so protective of her. The way she’s beckoning the sea with her beauty.”
Jake turned to look at Carol, impressed with how beautiful she was, too. She wore a shiny mesh cover-up over her bikini, and her hair was pinned loosely on top of her head, a few silky strands falling about her face. “Don’t worry. She can handle her own.”
“Not when the tide comes in. Everything will be gone then.”
“That’s part of the magic. Nothing is supposed to last forever.”
“Like this weekend?” she asked with a faraway sound in her voice.
“Yes, like this trip.” As he admired Carol’s profile, he realized that he’d neglected to share an important part of his past with her. “You’re never going to believe what I forgot to tell you.”
“What?” she asked, finally turning toward him.
“The Choctaw mermaid legend.” Of all things to forget, he thought, after they’d spent half the day making one.
She shifted on the blanket, like an eager child settling in for a ghost story, her food half-eaten. “You can tell me now.”
Jake collected his thoughts, recalling the story as it had been told to him. “They’re called ‘white people of the water’ because they have pale, trout-like skin. They live in the bayou, in the deepest part of the water. But where it’s clear, too. They aren’t murky creatures.”
Firelight shone in her eyes. “Are they beautiful, like our mermaid?”
“I don’t know, exactly. But I’d like to think that they are. Thing is, though, that if you accidentally fall into the water, they’ll capture you and take you to their world.” He paused for effect. “And if you’re there for more than three days, you can never return to land again.”
“Why?” she asked, prodding him to finish the tale.
“Because they’ll turn you into what they are, and you’ll live in the water, becoming one of them.”
She sighed, a bit dreamily. “Wouldn’t it be cool if they were real, if you could really be transformed?”
“I went to Louisiana once with my parents, and when we visited the bayou, where my dad’s ancestors were originally from, I kept wondering if the mermaids were there, watching us from below the water.”
“I’ll bet they were.”
“I would’ve had to fall into the water to know for sure.”
She moved closer to him. “I’m glad that you didn’t or you wouldn’t be here with me now.”
He moved closer, as well. “Then I’m glad, too.”
In the next bout of silence, they gazed at each other as if they were the only two people on the island. At the moment, that was how it felt.
They finished their food, taking their final bites and putting their plates aside. For dessert, the guests would be making their own s’mores, and Jake was looking forward to watching Carol lick the chocolate and marshmallow off her lips.
“I think we should give her a name,” she said.
“What?” He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. He was still thinking about her lips.
“The mermaid,” she told him. “The one we made. She needs an identity before she gets washed away. Just to make her seem more real.”
“Then you can choose one.”
“It should probably be a French name since this area has so many French influences.” She turned her attention to the sea. “Do you know how to say ocean in French?”
“It’s océan.” He pronounced it o-say-AHN. To the best of his knowledge, that was right. He wasn’t an expert on the language, but he’d dated a French actress for a few whirlwind months. “I think that’s actually a woman’s name, too.”
“Then it’s perfect. She’ll be Océan.”
He smiled. “It definitely works.”
“Yes, it does. When she’s washed into the sea, she’ll be dissolving into her name.”
“What’s the origin of your name?” This woman who was fueling his fantasies, he thought. His temporary lover.
“It’s a song or a hymn.”
“Oh, of course. That makes sense.” He analyzed his own name. “Jacob means supplanter because, in the Bible, Jacob was born holding his twin brother’s heel.”
“I’ve never heard of that word.”
“A supplanter takes the place of someone or something else.”
“Really? Hmm. Who are you taking over for?”
“How about the kinds of guys you normally date?” He touched her cheek, skimming his finger across her skin.
Her breathing grew quiet. “That’s a clever analogy. With