Sunset Flare
SUNSET FLARE
The Caliendo Resort
Book Four, Izzy Caliendo
Shannyn Leah
Copyright © 2017 by Shannyn Leah
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or transmitted by any electronic or mechanical means including information, storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Shannyn Leah
www.ShannynLeah.com
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The Caliendo Resort: : A Small-Town Beach Romance
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The CRD: Season One
Bang Bang on the 4th: Season One, Episode Nine
The CRD Series: Season One
The Davenports, Season One, Episode One
Lucy, Season One, Episode Two
Yaya, Season One, Episode Three
Ford, Season One, Episode Four
Gemma, Season One, Episode 5
Daisy, Season One, Episode Six
The Wedding, Season One, Episode Seven
Halloween Party: Season One, Episode 8
The Crazy Rich Davenports Box Set: Books 1-3
The Crazy Rich Davenports Box Set: Books 1-9
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Shannyn Leah
Dedication
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Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Coming Soon:
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Chapter One
A MOVEMENT IN the woods stopped Izzy from dialing the rest of her mother’s cell phone number. She peered out the window, squinting against the morning sun. She considered her parents’ half hour drive from the airport to her long-lost brother’s reclusive cabin in the woods leaving only a short window of opportunity before their connection would be lost. Their chartered airplane had landed in the middle of nowhere, where farmlands and brush stretched as far and wide as the eye could see. Izzy had Google-searched the area prior to their departure. But before her parents disappeared out of civilization for two weeks, Izzy needed to talk to her mother.
It was a matter of life and death...or, at the very least, a matter of what the hell was going on around here.
Time and again, like a child’s game of hide and seek—which Izzy had never been a fan of—her family hid relatively important matters from her, compelling her to seek them out. Such as decisions regarding the five-star Caliendo resort they owned and managed, and complications from their mass of family secrets—because, damn, her family hid secrets like a chipmunk storing nuts for the winter. Even into adulthood, Izzy only acquired Intel when she caught one of her siblings acting strangely, like her brother, Marc, had the night before with his jerky movements and computer screen dodging. All red-flag indications that something was up. Now, she needed to pull out her sweet-charm and corner a family member into confession. Consistently, that person happened to be her mother, making this hijacking over the phone for answers of the utmost importance.
What had started as a casual, unannounced visit to her brother’s office the night before, had become an excavation of confidential information. Izzy had planned on digging for details regarding an upcoming huge event at the resort. Calista Manzedi was showcasing her fall/winter line in the golden ballroom. Calista Manzedi! The most amazing clothing designer of all time. Her designs happened to occupy at least half of Izzy’s closet, unmistakably demonstrating Izzy’s love for the woman’s intricate designs. Not to mention, this event would be the talk of the fashion society for months to come and for some reason Izzy’s tickets were in the second row. The second row! As if she were a peddler begging for money. She needed two front row tickets. One for her and one for her best friend, Abby McAdams.
Surprisingly for her, the tickets were proving to be rather difficult to acquire. For one, her family owned the resort hosting Manzedi’s show and two, Izzy was a constant in the fashion industry scene, regularly traveling across the world to runway shows. And yet, she couldn’t acquire a front row seat at her own resort? Not acceptable.
However, last night, the fashion show issue had been shoved to the back burner when she’d encountered Marc’s typically calm and collected demeanor overrun by jumpy movements. Marc didn’t do jerky or jumpy. Annoyed, Izzy had grown accustomed to his deep, agitated inhale of breath and the way his jaw tightened when he lacked enthusiasm over a topic.
He had a look, too. The look. Last night she’d gotten “the look” and earlier this morning he’d brushed her off. She’d be the first to admit, Marc had a routine of brushing her off and she had a habit of generally overreacting. Fun old sibling rivalry and all. However, something was definitely up. Izzy didn’t know what, but she was desperate to find out. Right after she deciphered exactly what the movement in the brush surrounding her house had been.
Staring through the large bay window of her suite, her eyes locked on the copse of trees winding around the property and shielding her family’s space from the rest of the resort. The backyard remained
quiet, peaceful and undisturbed, aside from the swaying branches where she’d sworn she’d seen a glimpse of dark denim jeans and a black shirt. The colors camouflaged against the old bark and the summer’s dense leaves made it almost impossible to confirm despite the bright summer sun beating, but she’d seen someone. She was sure of it.
The possibility of someone being in the brush brought a flood of panic over her. Her fingers painfully clenched around her phone and she pressed her closed fist against the glass, supporting her trembling body. Not even the warm summer sun could soothe her. Nothing ever consoled her when these episodes hit, but she’d learned to deal with the sudden alarm and prided herself on doing so with haste.
Settling her free hand against her stomach, ignoring her fingers bunching the material of her white blouse with a deathly grip, she closed her eyes, mentally repeating the words she’d memorized as a little girl.
This isn’t real. No one is out there. No one is after you. Breathe, Izzy...breathe.
With each gulp of air, she battled the remaining fear tangled inside her. Slowly, her shuddering ceased, the anxiety coursing through her veins relinquished and she felt her tense muscles loosening. Best of all, her mind placated, balancing fear with reality—a fear that was unnecessary; yet familiar.
Breathe.
She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her reaction after all these years. Almost. She could only muster a relieved smile while her good sense rushed back.
Considering she lived in the north wing of the resort, which maintained ninety-percent capacity all year round, she should be used to people milling about. She was used to people. It was the woods that sparked her panic. Woods that the rest of her family fluently trailed in and out of without the worries Izzy carried. In the summer, they took quick jaunts along the path to the beach or, in the winter, longer travels through the snow to toboggan on snow hills. A ten-minute walk took them to a pond for summer fishing and winter skating.
But not Izzy. She stayed far away from the woods, with no interest in partaking in those activities beyond the invisible line she’d created along the trees edge. She even refused to sunbathe without the promise of the resort’s packed shoreline.
She slowly tilted up her head. Her hand felt glued to the window as she strained her eyes past the glass to confirm she’d mistaken the supposed person as a breeze in the trees or a scattering animal. Even if she’d seen a person they were likely a lost guest wandering up from the beach. It wouldn’t be the first time. She had no need to worry.
As the comforting reminder eased her worries, a man emerged from the brush in dark denim and black, just like she’d seen, but she realized his quick and precise movements weren’t those of a guest.
Izzy opened and closed her eyes, as if trying to blink him away, but the tall, dark and handsome stranger remained thirty-feet away, popping expertly in and out of the trees.
And handsome he was...in a dangerously mysterious way. Gawking at his brawny, superman-built physique, she watched him walk the perimeter, oozing confidence and determination. From the way he paid no attention to his surroundings she assumed he didn’t care what others thought, no doubt ignored them, and did whatever he pleased.
Why did such cocky qualities excite her?
Bundling these characteristics together promised the kind of thrilling danger Izzy enjoyed.
Her lips parted as her tongue darted out, wetting them and wondering what the mysterious guest’s lips tasted like...felt like.
And just like that her thoughts strayed to a quick romp with a man whose name she didn’t even know. He looked like a Dylan, or Axe...maybe a Beck. A hot name for a hot guy. Entranced, she ignored the “no sleeping with guests” rule replaying in her mind. She’d never broken the rule, but this man stirred a wickedly naughty desire to make him her first. She’d daydreamed the ideal places in the resort to break that rule: the steamy sauna or an after-hour evening in one of the enclosed cabanas.
Her heart raced, envisioning this man pulling shut the curtains of the cabana and stripping down naked. She felt the adrenaline pumping at the possible thrill of being caught entwined in the hot tub, or on a lounger, or their loud moans of pleasure being overheard by other guests. Naughty and taboo. The prospect turned her on.
Why hadn’t she broken this rule earlier? Because no man had ever given her reason to.
Her enchanting daydream was short-lived as she watched him mount a device, so small she couldn’t make it out, to a tree trunk. His head tilted in the direction of her suite, and in the direction of the wing housing her family’s individual suites.
Cold chills ran up her spine and anger rooted in the pit of her stomach. She could guess exactly the deceit on this man’s agenda. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her older sister, Emma.
Emma had recently fallen head-over-heels in love with billionaire playboy, Grayson Cohen, whose picture frequented social media more than Izzy’s. Emma didn’t splash her personal life across social media, though, and the new couple had been evading all outlets for weeks. Now, this son of a bitch newspaper reporter thought he could set up a surveillance system to spy on them?
Over her dead body.
Emma and Grayson’s relationship had been rockier than a mountain slope and they didn’t need extra negativity from the press.
Izzy straightened as the mysterious man dodged back into the brush. Slipping on a pair of teal flip flops, she considered calling security—the wise and easy solution—but something urged her outside.
Fury? Curiosity? Desire?
She didn’t debate it, didn’t care, but she planned on breaking every last camera that selfish prick hung up. Then she’d give this courageous reporter a swift kick between the legs. Ruining other people’s lives for a story didn’t sit well with Izzy, especially when it involved her family.
On the way across the yard, she snatched her nephew’s baseball bat, halting at the edge of the brush. A wave of anxiety strived to overtake her, but she remained rooted, forcing herself to check the trees and confirm his intention: Cameras. Check.
She stepped back, lifted the bat in the air and brought the wood slamming down against the mechanical piece. It smashed on contact, giving her a satisfying rush, and encouraging her to backtrack along the brush. Each camera she located mimicked the destructive sound.
When she finished, she wiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead, and stood back to relish in her triumphs. One, she hadn’t panicked and two, she’d protected her family. No one messed with her family. Three, she’d call security and have them circle the area for the piece of scum. She pulled out her cell phone and rested the bat against her thigh. Suddenly, a voice sounded, scaring her nearly to death.
“You’ll regret that, la signora.”
Izzy jumped at the thick Italian accent which had crept up unknowingly behind her. The bat slipped out of her reach as she spun around, twisting off a sandal, her heel sliding on the grass.
“Mi dispiace. I’m sorry.” Another man stared at her with unfriendly, grave black eyes looking straight through her, not as though he didn’t see her, but rather like he saw past the barriers and the face she wore for strangers. Those eyes. Familiarity danced through her mind, peeking into all the areas of her memory, assessing why this could be. Nothing triggered.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” she demanded, wiggling her foot back into her sandal while reaching for the bat and never taking her eyes off the man. He stood close to her, less than two feet away, and didn’t seem fazed by the closeness.
Another reporter?
She swallowed the gag reflex traveling up her throat at his old cigar-scent. Her sharp inhale burned her nostrils.
“You must be il bellissimo, Izzy...”
She crossed her arms. “You must be trespassing.”
A low chuckle turned into a coughing spell, shooting his alcohol-tainted breath at her. This old geezer was a good example why they had a cash bar opposed to an all-inclusive one: to
prevent drunks from wandering the grounds. Or was he a reporter? He looked too old to be a reporter. Didn’t he? His outfit was a drab pair of brown slacks and a button up shirt which looked two sizes too big. But she gave him credit for his plaid jacket—a cute touch. He needed to fire whomever had cut and styled his grey, frizzy mop of a hair. He looked like a man you’d find behind a desk. Possibly an assistant to the man who’d mounted the cameras. Or possibly a distraction. Either way, he didn’t come off as a threat. In any case, she’d deactivated the situation, smashing every last camera and preventing these scheming men from getting a story on anyone in her family.
Izzy took a brave step toward him. “You have exactly five minutes to leave the same way you came before security arrives and escorts you and your associate off the property. Understood?”
His lips rose in a dry smirk.
Her skin crawled.
Bad vibes bounced off him. Creepy vibes. A know-it-all vibe Izzy didn’t like, nor did she plan to stick around to explore further.
“Five minutes.” With her last warning, she headed back toward her suite. She didn’t fight the urge to look back at him as she walked away. In fact, she turned right around to face him, walking backward and making motions on her wrist as she indicated his time was ticking by. Then she held her cell phone out reminding him of her threat before pointing at the gate where she fully expected him to retreat.
But he stood rooted.
Why? Was he waiting for the tall, dark, handsome and missing stranger? Who were these people?
She pulled her phone out and dialed Marc’s cell, getting his voicemail.
“Marc, there are two strange men lingering by our wing, mounting cameras to the trees. I’m calling security to have them removed and check into their background. I want to know who they are and exactly who they work for because after I’m done with them they won’t have a job.”
Chapter Two
GUNNER MANN TAPPED his finger on the fuzzy grey screen of his laptop.