Page 6 of Blame It on the Bikini (Ocean Shores #4)

Chapter Four

An hour later, Grayson grabbed Frank's jumper cables from the trunk of his car as he questioned his decision to accept Lexie's dinner invitation.

He'd showered, changed into dark jeans and a button-down shirt, and tried to convince himself this was simply a good business strategy.

Getting to know Lexie and the other residents would help him craft a more compelling relocation package when the time came.

At least, that's what he told himself. But as Lexie emerged from the building in a sundress that somehow managed to be both casual and elegant, dark-brown hair flowing in beautiful waves over her shoulder, her face lit up by the setting sun, he knew his interest in her went beyond business.

He found himself staring at her far longer than was appropriate.

"Ready?" she asked, pulling her keys from her purse.

Her words kicked his brain back into gear. "Yes. Let's see if we can bring your car back to life."

She popped the hood of her Honda and slid behind the wheel while he connected the cables. "Try it now," he said.

The engine turned over on the second try.

"Thank you," she said, genuine gratitude in her voice as he removed the cables. "I was a little afraid it still wasn't going to start."

"Well, I wouldn't celebrate too fast. You might still need a new battery."

"I'm hoping to push that expense off for a while."

He put the cables in the back of her car, then got into the passenger seat. She gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry we have to take my car. It's not as nice as yours."

"It's fine." As he settled into his seat, he glanced around the vehicle, noting the camera lens in the cup holder and two photography magazines on the passenger-side floorboard, which she quickly grabbed and tossed in the back.

"So," she said as they pulled out of the parking lot, "Frank said you were a big help today. I had no idea you were an auto mechanic."

"That's a stretch. I'm more of a hobbyist. My father collected vintage automobiles.

His driver, Miguel, maintained them, and I used to help him.

Actually, I probably got in the way more than I helped, but he was a kind man, and he was patient with me.

Although he did work for my father, so he probably thought that was part of the job," he added dryly.

"How many cars did your dad have?"

"Three or four at any given time. My dad rarely let me ride in them. They were more for show than anything else."

"Have you followed in his footsteps? Do you have your own fleet of restored cars?"

"No. I lost interest in that a long time ago," he murmured.

"Why? It sounds like it was something you enjoyed."

"Do you always ask so many questions?"

"That's not an answer. And you said I don't know you at all, so I'm trying to find out more," she said pointedly.

He smiled. "Okay. As I got older, my parents moved around more. We lived in different cities, sometimes different countries, and we didn't spend much time at the house in Bel Air, where most of the cars were." He shrugged. "I got into other things."

"Did you live in Europe?"

"Yes. We had a house in London, one in Paris, and a villa in Tuscany."

"Wow. That's amazing. What a life you've led."

Through her big, beautiful eyes, he actually found a new appreciation for that life.

"I definitely had a lot of good experiences traveling.

But I hated the sudden endings to some of our travels.

I'd just be starting to make friends, and we'd be on to somewhere else.

" He stopped abruptly, feeling like he was revealing too much.

"I would love to go to Italy, and not just the touristy areas.

I'd like to get off the beaten track and take pictures of those small villages, the seaside cafes, the lemon trees.

There's something about the majesty of the architecture, mirrored by the majesty of the Italian Alps, that really appeals to me. "

"It is a beautiful country," he agreed. "Have you done much traveling, Lexie?"

"My parents took me to London and Paris when I was a teenager, but that was for two weeks, and we didn't even get out of those cities to see anything else. My father was there on business, and we tagged along."

"Your mother didn't want to sightsee?"

"Only in beautiful stores like Harrods. She loves to shop. That's her idea of a good time. Not so much mine."

"Do you have siblings?"

"No, it's just me. My parents weren't really into kids; it was just part of the whole marriage and family experience they felt they should have so they would be like everyone else. But they were busy with their own lives, and I spent most of my time with a parade of nannies."

"I know what that's like," he muttered, reminded that while she might drive an old car now and live in an apartment, she hadn't grown up poor.

"I never had a driver, though," she said, flashing him a smile. "My father is very successful but not at the level of your dad." She paused. "What about you? Are you and your parents close? You don't have any siblings, either, do you?"

"No. Like your parents, they had an obligatory child, but that's where the interest ended."

She gave him a quick look. "Something else we have in common."

"True. But I still work with my father, while you do not."

"Your father is probably easier to work for.

He clearly respects you and wants you to take over his company.

My father treated me like every other associate at his firm, and if I did something wrong, he would blow up, as if my mistake was a reflection of him.

I don't think he had much respect for my abilities. "

"He might have just wanted you to prove yourself."

"That's what he said. He wasn't going to give me any favors, and that was fine.

But I also think he treated me more harshly just to prove the point, which wasn't necessary.

I hoped that quitting might actually improve our relationship, but he just can't get over the anger and disappointment he feels toward me.

Maybe one day that will change, but I'm not holding my breath. How is it working with your dad?"

"I paid my dues in the company, starting at the bottom.

I worked every entry-level job from the time I was eighteen on.

He wanted me to know how to do everything, or at least know how it was being done by others.

It was a smart move, even though I was often impatient with my slow progress.

But having that foundation helped me when I graduated from college and got my MBA.

I was really ready then to move into a leadership position.

" He paused. "My father and I were not close when I was growing up.

And we did get closer when I went to work for him, but even that took years.

It really wasn't until about two years ago, when he finally decided to slow down, that we started to talk more about how I could take over his business.

Since then, we've been getting along well, except when he makes strange requests that he doesn't care to explain. "

"Like having to spend a month at Ocean Shores?" she asked with a smile.

"Exactly."

"Why did he want you to spend time with us?"

"He has not explained his reasoning to me. I've never seen him care about any company that he owns, so why he has any sentiment about your apartment building is a mystery to me."

"My aunt seems rather mysterious about your presence in the building, too, almost like she has some idea of why your father asked you to come but doesn't want to say. I wonder if he told her, but not you."

"I honestly have no idea."

"Well, hopefully, it won't be a horrible month. You do get to live right next to the ocean. There are some perks."

"That's true." He paused as she pulled into the restaurant parking lot. "This looks interesting."

"I love the building, but the food is even better.

" Sol y Mar occupied a converted beach house, its weathered cedar shingles and expansive deck giving it the casual elegance of a well-loved summer cottage.

String lights wrapped around the railings, and the sound of waves was clearly audible even from the parking lot.

"Madison and Gabe opened this place about nine months ago, and it's always packed.

They got a lot of attention when they appeared on a TV cooking competition last year, where they were pitted against each other. "

"That sounds interesting."

"It was definitely that. Madison is classically trained in French cuisine and was running an upscale restaurant, while Gabe is a self-taught chef whose Mexican roots often appear in his cooking, and he was working a food truck that was parked down the street from her restaurant.

They actually disliked each other intensely when they first met.

But while they were opposites in every way, when they started cooking together, they found a synergy and a magic that not only created a great professional partnership but a personal one as well. They're getting married this summer."

"Sounds like they found a happy ending."

"Yes, but it's not an ending according to Gabe, it's just the beginning." She paused. "Do you think it's okay to turn the engine off? I'm almost afraid to do it in case it dies again."

"I think we're good. If not, we'll jump it again. The cables are in the back."

"You're right. I'm not going to worry about it."

She turned off the engine, and they got out of the car and walked into the restaurant.

The interior was as charmingly warm and inviting as the outside, with exposed beams, local artwork on cream-colored walls, and tables that looked like they'd been crafted by local artisans rather than ordered from a restaurant supply catalog.

"Hello, Lexie," the hostess said before giving him a curious look. "I've got the perfect table for you and your friend."

"Thanks," Lexie said. "But I don't think there's a bad table in this place."