Trouble in Paradise

Trouble in Paradise

A Romantic Suspense Novel

by

Barbara Dan

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Published by Barbara Griffin Dan

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barbgdan@yahoo.com

www.barbaradan.com

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Copyright ©2012 by Barbara Griffin Dan

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Smashwords Edition

Registered with the U.S. Library of Congress. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Trouble in Paradise

by

Barbara Dan

Chapter 1

Her wedding was perfection, a wedding coordinator’s dream. Beautiful people, designer clothes, a church large enough to accommodate six hundred, a decent P.A. system, and a minister who didn’t reek of mothballs or insist on premarital counseling. Wouldn’t have done any good if he had, because she and Alec had their minds already made up to marry when they booked the date.

In fact, the arrangements were so perfect that even her father Blakely Somers approved, though he claimed the church was an architectural horror, an ivy covered throwback to sixteenth century England. Privately, Blair thought that was its main charm, but as long as her father picked up the tab, she’d have agreed to a Buddhist shrine or an offshore oil platform. This was essentially Daddy’s show, and seventy percent of the people coming were his friends and mother’s. Alec and Blair were just along for the ride.

The solemnity of walking amidst high vaulted ceilings ad stone pillars made the bride question her motives, but when she reserved the church, she was just happy to be getting married. The law firm she wanted to join had an unspoken policy of only taking on married attorneys as partners, so why buck tradition? Besides, she and Alec were buds, so it was totally cool. Just another milestone.

There was enough parking for guests, and, equally important, room for her father to park his helicopter on the asphalt. That’s probably how he found the church in the first place, from the air.

Since his retirement from the Air Force, General Somers spent his life rushing from one appointment to the next, chopper blades whirring while he dictated endlessly to air sick secretaries. He detested Southern California’s labyrinth of freeways and had repainted his chopper a metallic blue for the wedding. No limousine for his kid. After all, this was the twenty-first century, so she and Alec were to make their way back to the reception at the racket club like something out of Apocalypse Now. (Of course, she was only kidding about that, but her father did tend to overdo things!)

From there, the plan was to fly out of LAX to a two week honeymoon in Cancun, where Alec was into developing time-share condominiums. In her mind’s eye Blair had imagined it a dozen times: Tropical sunsets, rain forests, waterfalls, Mayan ruins, native dancers writhing to the rhythms of a drum, and snorkeling in moonlit caves. It was her father’s gift, partly a send-off following law school, but mostly because he wanted her to be happy.

Perfect, right? A fairy tale ending to six months of serious dating that had begun with some mild flirting over a file cabinet drawer in Alec’s office and culminated in a champagne toast standing before a roaring fire, ankle-deep in a polar bear rug, while they discussed how many children they should have. Couldn’t get much more committed than that, now could they?

That’s what Blair thought, anyway.

So here they were, three months later, at this fabulous church. It was all a little overwhelming, and terribly expensive. Her father would absolutely disown her if everything didn’t go exactly as planned.

The smell of orange blossoms and sweetly scented burning candle wax completely flooded her senses, almost making Blair lose track of which century she lived in. The stained glass mosaics shone brilliantly down upon the altar, as if sun-cast prisms glittering over the emblems of holy communion bestowed a special blessing from on high.

At the front, the minister stood in elegant vestments, holding his Book of Prayers. His kindly gaze held hers, giving her the courage she needed to walk that endless aisle.

To his left stood the smiling bridegroom, Alec Haynes, a handsome, self-made real estate tycoon at thirty-one. She supposed he epitomized what most every girl dreams about marrying. He and his best man, Jerry Gresham, both impeccably attired in light grey tuxedos, exchanged a wink, as Blair’s maid of honor, Melissa Roberts, completed her journey down the long aisle runner.

Then came the traditional organ fanfare, and every eye turned expectantly toward Alec’s bride. As well they might, for her father had spared no expense to make this the season’s most celebrated wedding. The L.A. Times’ society editor and her favorite staff photographer were expected to put in an appearance at the reception.

Behind the guests and family, who had assembled from the four corners of the globe, a sextet of carefully rehearsed string instruments backed the organist, saving her mother’s favorite wedding march from sounding like a dirge.

The aisles and front of the church were ablaze with candles on gleaming brass candelabra, festooned with fragrant white gardenias and dripping ivy.

It was all part of a set-piece, an exaggerated display of wealth, celebrating the union of two financially powerful families, the Haynes and the Somers.

Even now, her hand trembled, not in fear, but from a number of equally strong emotions. Blair thought, rather guiltily, of the bundle her parents had dropped to pay for the lavish reception, the musicians, the clothes, and the honeymoon.

It was a meticulously orchestrated affair, right down to the delicate white rosebuds and calla lilies in the bride’s bouquet. The hand-embroidered bodice displayed her perfect size three figure—never more trim, following a month of self-denial. Nothing had passed her lips that smacked of cinnamon, pecans, or chocolate.

It was simply not smart business for a bride to let herself be outshone by her maid of honor.

And Melissa was a knockout. Perhaps unconsciously Blair had picked her as an incentive to stay on her diet. Anyway, the jogging, tennis, and swimming had paid off. It’s easy to pick up a few pounds sitting around in a law library, cramming for exams. To be picture-perfect, like all the wedding arrangements, made the sacrifice well worth the extra work.

Blair hated to admit it, but she considered herself entirely too fair—a curse born out of generations of Somers men preferring blond women. Fortunately, the frost-white veiling on her headdress lent a faint aura of mystery, despite the turned-up nose, full mouth and limpid brown eyes she secretly wished she could trade for her maid of honor’s dark classical beauty.

Standing at the back of the church, she felt a rush of foolish tears and a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach, as she took her father’s muscular arm, stylishly displayed in black.

Facing a sea of devouring eyes, she knew there probably wasn’t a single one of her school chums who wouldn’t kill to be where she was at this moment. Indeed, she saw what her triumph meant to many a disappointed mother, as she drifted up the aisle, conscious of the weight of her satin train, hand-embroidered and decorated with semi-precious gems.

There they were, Alec and Blair, the perfect couple, surrounded by the perfect trappings.

Only Father Andrew had escaped her father’s fanatical attention to detail. His long, graying locks and battered prayer book marked him as the nonconformist he was. Without his wise counsel, she doubted she could have mustered sufficient strength to walk past all her father’s influential friends and associates—or her mother’s, for that matter.

The pews were packed. This was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. Without being facetious, she could honestly say it made studying for the California bar exams seem like a breeze.

Alec had the face and figure of a prince—an undissipated one, at that! He danced divinely, he was well educated, politically aligned with her father, and rich. And when he laughed and kissed her neck, it made her tingle right down to her toes! Oh, yes, Blair had enjoyed that special feeling that every girl cherishes during courtship—enjoyed it to the full.

As she reached the altar, the music trailed to a reverential hush. An air of expectation descended over the crowd.

The moment had arrived.

There was no turning back.

How very alone she felt, as she let go of her father’s arm. She was on her own now, a fully responsible adult, accountable to no one but herself and God. It was her life, to live as she saw fit.

This thought gave Blair a much needed surge of confidence, as she stepped forward now, her eyes glistening with emotion, and met Alec on the step below Father Andrew.

Alec smiled blandly and tucked her hand under his arm. It was impossible not to admire his poise and grace.

The pastor opened the wedding service with a brief invocation, then motioned the congregation, mostly worldlings who seldom darkened the Church’s door, to resume their seats. To everyone except those in the well rehearsed wedding party, the pastor’s deviation from the prescribed order of the wedding service went unnoticed.

Glancing about the church, he asked the question that centuries of repetition had rendered almost meaningless: If any present knows why these two should not be joined in the bonds of holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.

He waited a beat longer than most deemed proper, before giving Blair a look of such compassion that she nearly lost her composure. Blushing furiously, she opened her mouth, but the words seemed stuck in her throat. She looked up at the minister with imploring eyes.

Understanding, Father Andrew nodded. I know it breaks precedence, but the bride has asked to say a few words.

Oh, dear God! The moment had arrived.

Chilled to the marrow, Blair removed her gloved hand from Alec’s arm and turned to face the congregation. What she had to say would shock and hurt a great many people. She hadn’t planned in advance to throw back her veil, but it suddenly struck her as cowardly to hide behind it while she spoke what was on her heart.

Clutching her bouquet like a shield, she smiled wistfully at her very proper mother, knowing how she must be cringing inside to see her daughter spoil the picture-perfect effect by bunching up her veil and lifting it from her face.

What do you think you’re doing? Alec whispered. His brows lowered in a frown, but otherwise he was too much in control to show his annoyance openly.

Please, Alec, this will only take a minute.

This isn’t how we planned it! he reminded her out of the corner of his mouth.

His anger got the opposite response from what he expected. Rather, it fortified her resolve. Trust me, Alec. I know what I’m doing. Blair redirected her gaze toward her family. Every girl dreams of the day she will marry, she began softly. It’s a day when families and friends rejoice together, a day of hope and love, a day of new beginnings.

Beside her, Alec’s face had turned livid, and she knew he would have throttled her if they weren’t in public.

Descending to where her parents sat, Blair concentrated on what she had rehearsed all through the early morning hours. I want to thank my parents publicly for loving me and for raising me to believe in the importance of love, honor and faithfulness. Your love for each other is a tremendous inspiration to me.

She blew them a kiss from her gloved fingertips, then crossed to Alec’s aunt and uncle, his brothers and sisters, his nieces and nephews, who looked as thunderstruck as her bridegroom by her unscheduled breach of etiquette.

I want to thank each and every one of you for welcoming me into your hearts. I count myself fortunate to have received your friendship, understanding, and support.

Heart pounding, she glided back to where Alec, his best man Jerry Gresham, and her maid of honor stood. All of them shared a great deal of history together; it made what she was about to say even harder.

Now, before you begin to wonder if the strain of wedding preparations has set me off, I must explain why I asked Father Andrew if I might speak here, before family and friends. I have no desire to become the target of pity or back-stabbing rumors. What has occurred needs to be brought into the open. The truth is— she turned to Alec, —I can’t marry you.

What—?!

She shook off his restraining hand Until yesterday evening, I was foolish enough to believe you loved me. I suppose I would have followed you to the ends of the earth, if you had. asked me. She swallowed, grieving as much over the pain and expense she was causing her family and Alec’s as she was over her own humiliation.

Then why—? Alec’s face had become a puzzle of conflicting emotions. She refused to analyze his reaction.

"I’m not blind, Alec. I saw you and Melissa slip into Bungalow 8 at the Chateau Westerly Arms last night. I also know you didn’t check out until five this morning. How could you? And with my best friend!"

Alec’s face blanched. Melissa swayed, as if she might drop into a dead faint. Not feeling especially chipper herself, Blair passed the back of her hand across her brow. She took a deep breath; somehow she must get through the rest of her remarks without breaking down. I could never marry you, Alec, she continued quietly, knowing you have so little regard for my feelings that you—

Blair broke off, scarcely able to contain her anger. Here, Melissa, she thrust the bride’s bouquet at her, this rightfully belongs to you. And may I say, you two deserve each other!

No racehorse ever left the starting gate faster