4. Hidden in Plain Sight #3
“That depends on what you like to eat,” Maida answered. Truth be told, she didn’t dine out much, but she got takeout frequently. Perhaps if she rattled off a few suggestions, he’d leave her in peace. That’s what she wanted, right?
“Well, what do you like to eat?” He smiled a bit more hungrily at her now.
The look gave her goosebumps. Not the pleasant kind.
It reminded her of when she was a little girl, being warned not to venture off her father’s estate.
Watch your back, Maida. Don’t talk to strangers, Maida.
These were the rules drilled into her as the only daughter of a billionaire. Don’t trust anyone, Maida.
That was the cardinal one.
But all that, of course, was in the past. Those rules were necessary to protect a weak, gullible child.
Maida could take care of herself now. She was taking care of herself.
She had an ordinary life. Nobody in Laguna Beach knew she was Maida Westabrook, the cosseted clean-energy heiress from Boston.
In California, people knew her as Maida Lathrop, the quirky, reclusive artist.
She fiddled anxiously with the locket, index finger tracing the serendipitous letter L. It felt so warm and reassuring in her hand.
“Why did you sit down at my table? Is this some sort of prank?” Maida glanced around the quiet coffee shop.
Cormac tilted his head back, studied her, and smiled. “Why can’t I simply be interested in getting to know you? Is it so impossible to believe that I glanced in the window, saw you sitting there sketching, and came in because I wanted to meet you?”
“Yes.” Maida sneezed. The candle’s scent was powerful. Almost overpowering. She shoved it towards the window.
“Here are your drinks.” Addy gave Maida a sly smile as she approached the table.
She’d written their names on the side of the two paper cups in bubbly letters and had even drawn dreamy nested hearts in the foam. As she set the cups down on the table, she gazed meaningfully at the candle. “I hope this is what you intended.”
Cormac studied Addy curiously for a moment, then picked up the candle to look at it.
“Wait a minute.” He chuckled. “Is this some kind of love charm?” His smile was almost smug. He set the candle back down at the center of the table. “I’m all yours.”
“It’s just a silly candle that someone else returned, and it stinks.” Maida blew the candle out. “And you don’t strike me as the type to believe in love charms.”
“Oh, I think you’ll find I’m exactly the type!” he beamed. “There are too many things in the natural world that defy explanation. I one hundred percent believe in magic. In fact, I believe in the precision application of it.”
This was the first thing he said that surprised her. Most of the men she met were much more skeptical about these things—more like her father.
“Come on. Have dinner with me. Please?” Cormac asked again. “What could it hurt?”
He got points for persistence but his flattering attention had to be some kind of ruse. Maida was growing uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine spending a whole evening with this beautiful creature when she’d already run out of things to say before her coffee got cold.
“Sorry, I already have plans.”
She was looking forward to a quiet night in, as usual. She intended to enjoy some homemade tomato-basil soup with a grilled cheddar and gruyere sandwich. After that, she’d swaddle herself in a hand-knitted afghan, and curl up on the couch to read. Lovely and safe.
“I get where you’re coming from.” Cormac’s overly earnest expression was beguiling, his words relatable. “You don’t know me yet. I just really see something in you, Maida. I sense a connection between us.”
“How do you know my name?” Maida’s eyes narrowed warily and her heart pounded again. She was pretty sure she hadn’t told him her name earlier.
“It’s written on the cup.” Cormac pointed at her coffee.
“Oh. Right.” Maida exhaled and willed her pulse to slow down. She was overreacting. Why couldn’t she act normal for once?
“Maida Lathrop,” she said, holding out her hand to shake his.
“Of the Primrose Court Lathrops?” Cormac leaned forward excitedly.
“No.” Maida shook her head. “I grew up in Boston.”
A shadow crossed Cormac’s face, and just as quickly his expression went blank. She had no idea what he was thinking. He pushed his chair away from the table.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ve got to get back to work, so I’ll just leave you alone,” Cormac said. Before she realized what he meant to do, he flipped the sketchbook over and tore out a blank page from the back.
Maida clenched her fist and curled her toes. He should have at least asked before defacing her notebook!
He snatched up her pencil to scribble his name and a number on the torn sheet.
“If you change your mind about dinner, just call me.” He proceeded to score the paper and make several folds.
“It doesn’t have to be something fancy. We could even grab some takeout and have a picnic. Your place or mine.”
Cormac revealed the origami masterpiece in the palm of his hand, then placed it on the edge of the table.
He pressed down on the back legs of the tiny paper frog. It soared through the air in a perfect arc, landing in Maida’s tote bag on the floor.
“Ball’s in your court now,” he said.
“Wow! Cool trick! How’d you do that?” Addy leaned across the counter, gawping at him with stars in her eyes.
“Magic.” Cormac winked, standing to go. He tossed his empty cup in the trash and gave them both a little wave behind his back before gliding out the door.
Maida felt oddly disappointed by the way he rushed off. Like she’d missed the opportunity to say or do something she ought to have said or done. But, more than that she was relieved. She was rusty at flirting. This encounter had completely unsettled her.
It did not surprise Maida one bit, when Addy rushed over to her table a moment later.
“Do you know who that was?”
“He said his name was Cormac,” Maida said. “Do you know him?”
“I wish! That was Cormac Vorador.” Addy’s tone was reverential. “He’s the genius who founded Nocturnaturals. I can’t believe he’s here in California. What did he say to you? Did he ask you out?”
“He gave me his number, but I’m not interested,” Maida said flatly. She examined her notebook, turning to the last page. It didn’t appear to be damaged. The page had torn out cleanly. It still bothered her. She closed it again and wrapped the attached leather cord around? the book tightly.
“So he’s rich?” Maida asked.
“Richer than sin,” Addy confirmed.
“Cool.” Maida placed her tote on the table and tossed the notebook inside. She was relieved to hear this. Whatever Cormac wanted, it wasn’t likely to be her father’s money. He probably had no clue who she really was.
She removed the locket and wrapped it in a vintage floral silk handkerchief that she kept in her tote to polish her sunglasses. Then she carefully placed the bundle into a zippered compartment where it would be safe.
“Why wouldn’t you go out with him? That man is the modern-day equivalent of Prince Charming. I can’t believe a real-life prince just asked you out and you’re not going to go.” Addy was incredulous.
“What can I say?” Maida tapped a little more sand out of her clogs. “I’m just an ordinary girl. I know that not all princes are really princes. Some of them turn out to be frogs.” She pulled a soft, tan woolen wrap off the back of her chair and draped it around herself.
“In that case,” Addy said tentatively, “could I get his number?”
“Sure, why not?” Maida reached into the tote to retrieve the paper frog.
But both she and Addy startled and jumped back when an actual, living, tiny green tree frog suddenly shimmied out of the bag and onto the leather handle.
Before either of them could react, it hopped across the table, onto the windowsill, and right out the window.
“Whoa! Did you see that? That was weird.” Addy gaped.
“Just a coincidence,” Maida reassured her calmly. “Storms always bring the critters out of the crevices. I was outdoors all morning. I must have picked up a stowaway.”
Just the sort of thing that always seems to happen to me.
She retrieved the paper frog from her bag and handed it to Addy, along with the candle. “I think you should probably keep this, too. It made me sneeze. I think I might be allergic.”
Before heading home, Maida used the pay phone to check her answering machine. There was another message from her father that she ignored, and one from his PA, Will, as well.
“Your dad’s on his way to Kenya for a climate summit. There’s something he’s asked me to discuss with you. I’ll be in Laguna tomorrow. Call me.”
Maida frowned. She liked Will, but he didn’t come to California all that often. The message sounded a bit ominous. Something was definitely up. She’d call him back as soon as she got home.