Breaking All the Rules (Mediterranean Nights 04) by Marisa Carroll

Author:Marisa Carroll [Carroll, Marisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction, Series, Harlequin Special Releases
Amazon: B000W4RFMK
Publisher: Harlequin Mediterranean Nights
Published: 2007-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LOLA WANDERED AROUND the small landscaped patio that adjoined the clubhouse of Rene Picard’s golf course, then settled at a round iron table beneath a gaily striped canvas umbrella. She hadn’t spent so much time sitting out of doors beneath umbrellas since her honeymoon in Cancun. Which she tried never to think about anymore. It was nice to have new memories of bright sun and blue skies and umbrellas to overlay the tarnished ones of four years ago.

She picked up her camera and snapped a couple of shots of the purple-and-white flowers growing in a container set against the wall, glad she’d given in to her older sister’s insistence she borrow the small digital for her day trip while Bonnie shared Myra’s camera. She was getting some good shots that her mother and sisters would enjoy seeing. She was especially pleased with the photos she’d taken of Rene’s family homestead, hidden from view behind a ridge that encircled the small valley where the course was laid out.

She had spotted the farmhouse from the van window on the way in and followed a path up the ridge to get a better look after Eric, his young Czech helper, Milo, and the dozen middle-aged and elderly golfers in their charge teed off. The house itself was large, the roof steeply pitched with six dormer windows. The fieldstone lower story, enclosed by a low stone wall, had turquoise shutters and flowers growing in profusion over it. There was a barn, equally large, and a number of smaller outbuildings. Sheep grazed over the hillside and horses ran in a paddock by the barn. She would have loved to explore farther, hiking up into the hills, but she wasn’t dressed for serious hiking and was unfamiliar with the trails so she sensibly stayed put on the clubhouse patio, whiling away the time drinking cold tea and trying out a few words of French and Italian on Lily, the shy young waitress Rene Picard had assigned to look after her.

The patio was empty, and there were no other patrons on the course or in the dining room. The silence was broken only by unfamiliar bird calls and the sound of the van’s idling motor in the parking lot as Eric and Milo loaded the golfing party for the ride back to the ship. She and Eric would be returning later, courtesy of Rene’s nephew, in plenty of time for the ship to sail.

The sun was high and beat down on the cobbled patio with single-minded intensity, but a sea breeze had found its way inland and cooled her underneath her umbrella. She let her thoughts wander wherever they wanted while her eyes focused on the ancient gnarled olive trees that bordered the fairway and lifted silver-gray branches toward the sky.

In some ways, the clubhouse and grounds reminded her of the municipal courses and small private clubs back home. The clubhouse was long and low and consisted of a pro shop and kitchen and locker rooms backing a bar and restaurant that looked out onto the first tee.

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