Goddess of the Sea Read Free Page A

of a wild, dark lioness.
    CC sighed. She couldn’t really do anything about her own little lips—if she did, they would look like a science experiment. But everything else about her was so small. Maybe it was time to rethink her short, boyish haircut.
    Michelle Pfeiffer—now there was a gorgeous woman. Even playing the role of Ms. Fertile Mom, she was still undeniably ethereal in her blond beauty.
    No one would ever call her cute.
    And Susan Sarandon. She couldn’t look frumpy even when she was dressed like an old schoolmarm music teacher. She oozed sexuality.
    No guy would ever think of her as just a friend . At least no heterosexual guy.
    â€œTo three amazing women who are everything I wish I could be!” She couldn’t believe her glass was empty—and the bottle, too.
    â€œIt’s a darn good thing we have another.” She patted the phone affectionately before rescuing the other champagne bottle from a life of loneliness in the fridge.
    Ignoring the fact that her steps seemed a little unsteady, she settled back, grabbed a fourth piece of chicken and slanted a glance at the ever-silent phone. “Bet it shocks you that someone who’s so little can eat so much.”
    It answered with a shrill ring.
    CC jumped, almost choking on the half-chewed piece of chicken. “Good Lord, you scared the bejeezes out of me!”
    The phone bleated again.
    â€œCC, it’s a phone. Get it together, Sarg.” She shook her head at her own foolishness.
    The thing rang again before she had her hands wiped and her nerves settled enough to answer it.
    â€œH-hello?” she said tentatively.
    â€œMay I speak with Christine Canady, please?” The woman’s voice was unfamiliar, but pleasant sounding.
    â€œThis is she.” CC clicked the remote and paused The Witches of Eastwick .
    â€œMiss Canady, this is Jess Brown from Woodland Hills Resort in Branson, Missouri. I’m calling to tell you that your parents, Elinor and Herb, have given you a weekend in Branson at our beautiful resort for your twenty-second birthday! Happy Birthday, Miss Canady!” CC could almost see Jess Brown beaming in delight all the way from Branson. Wherever that was.
    â€œTwenty-fifth,” was all she could make her mouth say.
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œIt’s my twenty-fifth birthday, not my twenty-second.”
    â€œNo.” Through the phone came the sound of papers being frantically rustled. “No, it says right here—Christine Canady, twenty-second birthday.”
    â€œBut I’m not.”
    â€œNot Christine Canady?” Jess sounded worried.
    â€œNot twenty-two!” CC eyed the newly opened second bottle of champagne. Maybe she was drunk and hallucinating.
    â€œBut you are Christine Canady?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd your parents are Elinor and Herb Canady?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWell, as long as you’re really you, I suppose the rest doesn’t matter.” Jess was obviously relieved.
    â€œI guess not.” CC shrugged helplessly. She decided she might as well join the madness.
    â€œGood!” Jess’s perkiness was back in place. “Now, just a few little details you should know. You can plan your weekend anytime in the next year, but you will need to call to reserve your cabin . . .”
    Cabin? CC’s mind whirred. What had they done?
    â€œ. . . at least one month ahead of time or we cannot guarantee availability. And, of course, this gift is just for your personal use, but if you would like to bring a friend, the resort would be willing to allow him or her to join you for a nominal fee— or for totally free if he or she would be willing to attend a short informational meeting about our time-share facility.”
    CC closed her eyes and rubbed her right temple where the echo of a headache was just beginning.
    â€œAnd along with your wonderful Woodland weekend,” Jess Brown alliterated, “your parents have