Kelsea Anderson is a jilted bride with nothing left but a battered heart and a plane ticket to the Caribbean. The only part of her doomed wedding that she had any say in was the honeymoon. She paid for it, and there’s no reason she can’t come to the romantic resort alone, so Kelsea jumps on a plane the day after New Year’s to escape the icy St. Louis winter and come up with a Plan B for the rest of her life.
Lottery winners Rose and Ike Goldman, married for 53 years, never looked back when they left Brooklyn, NY for the Caribbean where they bought a honeymoon resort three years ago. Rose was something of a matchmaker in Brooklyn, and once she meets Kelsea and “Brandon,” she knows she has her work cut out for her. She has only a week to convince them that sometimes, Plan B is the best plan of all.
Take a quick getaway to St. Jardin! Plan B is your ticket to a tropical paradise filled with beautiful gardens, merriment, and romance.
Landon couldn’t believe it when Ike Goldman turned to him with a bright smile and said, “Will you look at my lovely bride? Fifty-three years last June, and she’s still as beautiful as the day I made her mine.”
Landon almost blanched, not because of Rose Goldman’s outrageous pink ensemble, but because of the woman she was pulling along behind her.
He fought the urge to groan out loud. Is that Miss Perky? It was hard to tell. The woman on the bus looked small and miserable, hunched down in the seat. This woman stood proud and tall, though not as tall as Nicola. The green dress was the perfect complement for her upswept, dark brown hair, not to mention a welcome respite from all the pink surrounding them. She had a nice figure, and wasn’t bad looking, if you liked the type, which he didn’t. Landon had always preferred blondes or redheads.
Then her eyes flashed with recognition, and her full, shiny lips twisted as if she’d sucked on a lemon. Yes, this was definitely the woman from the bus. Great. Where was her husband, anyway? Probably hiding out in the bathroom, if he had any sense.
Rose beamed and looked up at her husband. It was a short distance, since he was only a few inches taller than her. “Ike, this is Kelsea Anderson. My husband, Ike Goldman.”
Kelsea Anderson’s features relaxed, and her face was transformed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ike,” she said warmly, and reached for his wrinkled hand with her smooth, elegant one. Wow. She was almost pretty.
Rose took a breath and gestured toward Landon. “And this gentleman is Mr. St. –”
“St. Fair. Brandon St. Fair.” Landon interrupted, hoping he didn’t sound too forceful. He didn’t offer his hand. This had been his one request when he met the Goldmans, that they permit him to use an assumed name for the duration of his stay at the resort. He didn’t want anyone wondering why he was here alone and then googling his name. Landon was certain that the leading news story in St. Louis was that a partner of the city’s most prestigious law firm had been left at the altar by the daughter of one of the top families on St. Louis’ social register.
Rose smiled. “Yes—Mr. St. Fair. This is Miss Anderson.”
Miss? Landon’s eyes flicked to the woman’s bare left hand. He saw the gleam in Rose’s eye, and smelled a set-up coming. And by the look on the brunette’s face, she smelled it, too.
“Miss Anderson finds herself in the same unfortunate predicament as yourself, Mr. St. Fair,” Rose explained. “She is here alone. In the almost three years that Ike and I have owned this resort, we’ve never had anyone come here on their own, and now we have you two.” She smiled brightly at them. “Obviously, a single person here upsets the balance, and we don’t want any of our guests to feel uncomfortable. If the two of you would, say, sit together at meals, you’ll just blend in with everyone else, and attract less attention.”
“I really don’t think—” Landon began.
“I’ll be fine on my own—” Miss Anderson’s words came out on top of his.
Rose smiled up at them. “I’m so glad that’s settled,” she said sweetly. “Let’s find our seats.” And before Landon knew what had hit him, Rose had placed Miss Anderson’s hand in the crook of his elbow, and they were following the Goldmans through the dining room to the head table.
He glanced down at the woman. She looked like she’d just eaten a prune, and walked stiffly next to him, her hand positioned in such a way as to have as little contact with him as possible.
Landon smirked at her. “I don’t have cooties, you know.”
Her head snapped up. “What are you, like twelve?”
Landon pasted on a smile as they arrived at the table. Let the games begin.
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