The Florence Affair Read online

  The Florence Affair

  By Kristy Tate and Eloise Alden

  Copyright 2019

  Love at first sight? Ha! In his head, Zane knew there was no such thing, but his heart sang a different tune the moment he spotted Florence Hill. Their attraction was immediate, heady, and world-changing for both of them. Their summer fling sizzled, until their meddlesome parents intervened, and their plans to elope fizzled with the arrival of fall.

  Even after a seven-year separation, Flora still has the power to bring Zane to his knees. But how can he trust the woman who shattered his world? And Flora will never again give her heart to the man who had left her tied in knots.

  Still, love at first sight has a way of doing a double-take. Blend in the Tuscan countryside, Italian legends and lore—as well as the promise of a happily ever after—and you have A Florence Affair.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  THE END

  A Labyrinth in Lancaster | By Eloise Alden

  Coming Soon | To get updates on Kristy and Eloise’s new releases, sign up for the newsletter here: http://www.kristytate.com/#welcome

  CHAPTER 1

  Zane considered himself a scientist. He was studying biology at the University of California and planned on being a research physician, like his father. He knew his understanding of hormones and pheromones to be better than most. That was why, when he first laid eyes on the curvaceous blonde in the middle of Sheltered Bay, her beauty knocked him off his feet.

  A particularly hard-hitting wave also might have had something to do with his tumble, but still, after the first breath-catching sight of the girl riding her paddle board in the early morning sun, he toppled into the surf.

  Fortunately, there was no one around to witness this fall save a scroungy-looking dog of indeterminate breed. Zane clamored his way to shore, shook the water from his hair, and sat on the sand to watch the girl skim along the waves. The dog came to sit beside him.

  The girl had long, curly hair tied back in a ribbon and she wore a black Olympic-style swimsuit that he found incredibly striking for some reason he couldn’t define. Maybe the simplicity of the lines accentuated the beauty of her curves. Or maybe the appeal had more to do with her utter lack of self-awareness.

  He pulled up his knees to study her and consider his unfathomable attraction. The dog lay beside him with a huff.

  “Where did you come from, boy?” Zane asked the dog.

  The dog replied with a tail wag that stirred the sand and sent a nearby gull into the air.

  Zane glanced at the tall, rugged cliffs lining the cove. Only one staircase made the cove accessible by land, and that staircase and the property it sat on belonged to his father. When curiosity got the best of him, Zane dusted off the sand clinging to his body and dove into the surf. He cut through the water with strong strokes until he was within shouting distance of the girl.

  “Hey,” he called.

  Startled, she whipped around, caught sight of him, and fell with a splash. Her board shot in his direction and connected with his forehead.

  The world melded into a sea of bubbles and the morning faded to black.

  FLORA GRABBED THE GUY’S arm and pulled him to the surface. She tried to scooch his inert form onto her board, but since she lacked the strength, she looped one arm around her board and another around the man’s chest and used her legs to propel them to the shore. When she could finally stand, she managed to haul the man onto the sand and away from the crashing tide.

  Kneeling beside him, she gazed into his relaxed face. With his curly dark hair, olive skin, rose-petal lips, and Greek-godlike build, he was quite simply the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

  Rufus bounced around her, yipping. He’d found a waterlogged ball somewhere and he dropped it onto the man’s belly.

  The man sputtered to consciousness and stared at her with blue-green eyes that matched the color and depth of the ocean. “Hello. Did you know I’m in love with you?”

  She fell onto her butt. “You don’t even know me.”

  “But I will.” He coughed and gagged. “I’m trying to rectify that right now.” He pushed himself onto his elbows, then fell back onto the sand with a moan. “My head,” he muttered, closing his eyes again.

  “You were hit by my board,” she told him.

  “Where did you come from?” His eyes fluttered open as he tried to focus on her. “This is a private beach.”

  “There’s no such thing in California.”

  “Hmm? Weird.” He struggled to an upright position, pulled up his knees and rested his arms on them, and hung his head. “Not that I’m complaining. I might have died if you hadn’t pulled me out.”

  “You wouldn’t have hit your head on my board if I hadn’t been here.”

  “But you are.” He slid her a glance under his thick lashes. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “No, not really. Do you?”

  “I didn’t until today.”

  She grinned at him. “I think you’re punch drunk.”

  “They say that no one would ever do something while drunk that they wouldn’t do sober.”

  “So, you’re in the habit of declaring your love to strange girls?”

  “Are you strange?”

  “Well, that’s debatable. Some would say yes and some would say no.”

  “What do you say?”

  “I say sometimes.”

  He returned her grin. “I love you,” he repeated.

  “You have to stop saying that.”

  “I might stop saying it, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop thinking it.”

  Flora pushed herself to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you some medical attention.”

  He flopped back onto the sand and closed his eyes. “No. I don’t want this moment to end. Even though my head hurts like there are a hundred jackhammers playing Beethoven’s fifth symphony inside my skull, this is a nearly perfect moment.”

  She stared at him and tried to read his profile. “How so?”

  “You’re here, I’m here, my father is somewhere else, the sun is shining. The only thing that could improve it would be a serving of chocolate chip mint ice cream.”

  “I like the way you think,” Flora said. “And I happen to know where we can find some.”

  “Yeah?” He lifted an eyelid to peek at her.

  She nodded and reached out a hand to pull him up. “Come on. We can put some ice on your head, too.”

  When he put his hand in hers, a warm tingle shot up her arm and down her spine. Once on his feet, he weaved unsteadily and she wrapped her arm around his waist to keep him upright. His skin was gritty with sand and he smelled of the sea.

  Rufus bounced around them as if they were playing a game he wanted to join.

  Flora paused and contemplated their predicament. “This isn’t going to work,” she said. “There’s no way I can get you around the rocks and I’m not sure you can swim.”

  “I can swim,” he said, “but I don’t want to right now.”

  “I should go and get help.”

  “We can go to my house.” He nodded at the stairs. “We don’t have any chocolate chip mint ice cream, but we could have some delivered.”

  “Wait.” Flora stared at the stairs. “That’s Dr. Wentworth’s house.”

  He nodded. “I’m his son.”

  “You’re Wentworth’s son? You’re Prince Zane?”

  “No one’s ever called me a p
rince before.”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm. “The girls at school call you that.”

  “Interesting.” He cocked his head. “Would you like to curtsy?”

  “If I did, I’d drop you.”

  “And leave me wallowing in the sand. Right. Better not.”

  “You’re actually Prince Zane?”

  “No. I’m Zane Wentworth.” She stared at him open-mouthed until he nudged her. “This is where you tell me your name.”

  “I’m Flora Hill.”

  “And what do you do, Flora Hill, other than swim in the ocean?”

  “I baby sit and go to school. I’ll graduate from high school next year.” She skated him a glance. “You’re okay with being in love with a girl still in high school?”

  “Are you serious? Who can debate with love? Young love is the very best kind.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty. So, you’re two—”

  “Three,” she corrected him.

  “Three years younger,” he said. “So what?”

  Shaking her head, she guided him to the foot of the stairs. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “For love? Of course.”

  Slowly, they ascended the stairs that led to a long stretch of lawn. Once they’d reached the top, a gardener noticed them, dropped his shears, and ran to help.

  “He bumped his head,” she told the man. “Pretty badly. He’s not making a lot of sense.”

  “Nonsense.” Zane giggled. “Get it? Non-sense?”

  Flora and the gardener exchanged worried glances. “Would you like me to call your father, sir?” the gardener asked.

  “Don’t call me ‘sir,’ and I’d rather have you shoot me in the head than call my father.”

  “Huh, very good,” the gardener said.

  “We’d like some ice cream,” Zane announced. “And maybe an aspirin...or two. I have a bugger of a headache.” His legs buckled and the gardener took Zane’s weight off Flora.

  “I’ve got him. Let me get him into the house and call a doctor. Would you like me to call you a cab?”

  Flora glanced at Rufus. “No, we’re fine.” She jerked a thumb at the beach. “I left my board down there. I better get it before someone else does.”

  “No one will take it. It’s a pretty isolated cove.”

  Flora heard the question in his voice. “I know.”

  “It’s a good thing you were there,” the gardener said.

  “Yes, indeedy,” Zane said. He patted the gardener’s belly. “Where’s the ice cream?”

  “We’ll get there,” the gardener told him right before he steered Zane away.

  “A CRAZY THING HAPPENED today,” Flora confided to her sister, Sicily, that evening as they were getting ready for bed. “I met Zane Wentworth.”

  Sicily, who had been brushing her teeth, froze, her toothbrush paused midair. “Prince Zane?” Her words sent a splatter of toothpaste foam across the mirror.

  Flora nodded and pulled her nightshirt over her head.

  Sicily sat on the closed toilet lid with a plunk and shook her toothbrush at Flora. “How? Where? Were you alone? Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on social media?”

  Flora stepped to the sink to wash her face. “The beach, yes, and triple yes.”

  “Triple yes,” Sicily repeated in awe. “Are you sure?”

  Flora ran a warm and soapy washcloth over her face. “Maybe quadruple.”

  A small sigh escaped Sicily. “Tell me everything.”

  “But first you tell me what you read about him on social media.”

  “I’ll do better than tell you, I’ll show you. But first you have to tell me how you two met.”

  Rapping on the bathroom door interrupted Flora’s story about how she’d pulled Zane from the tide.

  “Girls?” their mom called through the door. “You have fifteen minutes.”

  “Almost done,” Flora called back.

  “I bet Prince Zane doesn’t have to share a bathroom,” Sicily said. “What if he wants to see you again?”

  “He won’t. He might not even remember me tomorrow.” Flora rinsed out her washcloth, folded it in half, and left it to dry on the rack between Sicily’s and their mom’s.

  Sicily followed her into the tiny room they shared in their mom’s two-bedroom mobile home and closed the door with a soft click. “Why do you say that? You’re too beautiful to forget and besides, who could forget someone who saves your life? If he was a genie, he’d have to serve you.”

  Flora sat cross-legged on her bed and watched her sister step out of her clothes. They were only fifteen months apart, and other than Sicily being taller, they were almost identical, with their long, curly blond hair, blue eyes, and curvy builds. Their grandpa had called them Irish twins. “This isn’t Aladdin—or any other Disney movie. He’s probably a rich, spoiled kid, and I’m just...me.”

  “You are pretty fabulous.” Sicily climbed into bed.

  “Someone like him would never be interested in someone like me.” Flora pulled back her sheets and slipped into her own bed. “He could date anyone—movie stars, models, real princesses.”

  “But none of those people saved his life.” Sicily fluffed her pillow, lay back, and gazed at the ceiling.

  “Someone needs to take Rufus out,” their mom called.

  Sicily stirred, but Flora stopped her. “I got him.”

  Sicily shot her a grateful glance. “You sure?”

  Flora nodded and scrambled from her bed, grabbed a sweatshirt to throw over her nightshirt, and slid her feet into a pair of flipflops. After switching off the light so Sicily could sleep, she padded down the hall, plucked a leash off the coat rack, clicked it onto the sleeping Rufus’s collar, and pulled him off his bed. “Let’s go, dingbat.”

  Rufus stumbled after her, down the hall, through the tiny kitchen, and out the back door. The postage-stamp-sized yard was nothing but a patch of spotty lawn and a lemon tree. A ramshackle wooden fence resembling crooked teeth separated their yard from their neighbors’. The mobile home park had been erected in the fifties during the baby boom era. One of the few things Flora liked about the tiny yard was the lemon tree because the smell of the blossoms always reminded her of her grandmother, who had planted the tree decades earlier.

  Flora chose to sit beneath the tree on a white plastic chair while she waited for Rufus to snuffle around the tiny yard and select a peeing place. Next door, old Mr. Eckhart was watching Fox News. The sound of squabbling mixed with the roar of the traffic on the nearby freeway floated over the fence.

  Rufus, hearing something Flora could not, began to bark.

  “Dufus. Hush,” Flora commanded.

  “Florence,” her mom called through an open window. “Shut that mongrel up.”

  “I’m trying,” Flora muttered. She grabbed the dog’s collar to tug him back into the house. Her mom had only allowed them to get Rufus because she believed a dog provided better security than an alarm. Yelling at him to be quiet seemed contrary to his purpose, but Flora didn’t point this out to her mom.

  She spoke to her mom as little as possible. Which was easy to do since her mom was rarely home.

  “Hello again,” a familiar voice called over the fence. Zane stood in a shaft of moonlight, looking almost as beautiful as he had on the beach. “I can’t believe I found you.”

  Flora’s breath caught in her throat. “I can’t either,” she said when she’d managed to overcome her surprise.

  He grinned. “Pretty lucky, huh?”

  She nodded mutely.

  He cocked his head at the house. “Do you have any chocolate chip mint ice cream in there?”

  “No.” The last thing she wanted to do was invite Prince Zane into their squalid kitchen with its refrigerator full of booze and freezer empty of ice cream.

  “Well, good thing I know where we can find some, then.”

  “Flora,” her mom barked through the window. “Who are you talking to?”

  Flora
swallowed hard and motioned for Zane to duck out of sight. He refused to comply and simply reached for her hand.

  “Go away,” she mouthed. “You’ll get me in trouble.”

  “Now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you go again,” he whispered.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Flora!”

  “I’m coming, Mom.” She shot a glance at her mom’s bedroom window, where the light had gone out, and held up a finger. “Meet me out front in ten minutes,” she whispered.

  He grabbed her finger, kissed the tip, and grinned.

  She and Rufus slipped into the house. After leading Rufus to his bed, she padded down the hall to her room.

  “Where are you going?” Sicily sat up, hugging her knees, her eyes wide.

  “Out with Zane,” Flora whispered.

  “Zane is here?”

  Flora put her finger to her lips—the same one that Zane had kissed—and motioned for her sister to be quiet.

  “Mom will kill you when she finds out,” Sicily predicted.

  “She’ll never know.”

  “Not as long as I can wear your red pea coat, she won’t.”

  “Fine, you can wear the pea coat.”

  “Whenever I want?”

  Flora nodded and smiled as Sicily flopped back onto the bed.

  “I want to meet him,” Sicily said.

  Me, too, Flora thought as she stepped into a pair of cutoff jeans and a T-shirt. After fluffing her hair and applying a quick sheen of lip gloss, she declared herself ready.

  CHAPTER 2

  The hall was silent and dark when she crept through the house. Rufus glanced up as she passed his bed, but he didn’t make a sound. The door creaked when she opened it, but after a moment’s hesitation on the front porch, she was free.

  Across the street, Zane leaned against a fire hydrant, waiting. He straightened and went to meet her. “Will this get you in trouble?”

  She shot another glance at the dark mobile home. The noise of a TV rumbled from Mr. Eckhart’s house, but the bungalow she shared with her mom and sister was quiet. Fortunately, her mom’s bedroom was in the back.

  “Maybe,” she said. Most definitely.