Into the Heat Page 4

  It would look beautiful on the shelf behind the front desk in the reception area, next to an art deco table lamp.

  She carefully set the fragile statue on the shelf. If only she could run the hotel herself, she knew it would be the coolest place on the island and would draw art deco lovers from around the world. She had so many ideas. She just had to build the courage to really stand up to her sister.

  As she was about to close the box, she saw a stack of black-and-white composition notebooks underneath. There were five in all, and Jessica didn’t recognize them. Were they Nicole’s? They certainly weren’t hers, as she’d never used those kinds of notebooks in school.

  She extracted one and ran her hand over the over the thick cardboard cover. Flipping through the pages, she saw her mother’s neat, loopy cursive filling every line. She turned to the first page and gasped as she read a snippet.

  DEC. 10: I can feel my baby girl kicking. Not much longer now! I’ve put on a lot of weight and I keep eating cartons of ice cream. I just don’t care, though. I feel amazing, if a little tired. I can’t wait to see her tiny face and meet this new person. She’s going to be brave and beautiful like Nicole. And maybe, just like me. I feel pretty damned brave, raising two girls by myself after Brendan walked out on us, that drunk S.O.B. Strike that: I don’t just feel brave. I am brave.

  Jessica’s chest tightened as she checked all of the notebooks. All were filled with her mother’s words. Which meant these were journals. Did Nicole know about them? She imagined not. A pang of guilt shot through Jessica, as if she were invading her mother’s privacy by reading her innermost thoughts.

  That was silly. Her mom probably would have wanted her to read the journals. Right?

  The idea that her mother had written so much made her want to shirk work and spend the rest of the day on the sofa with a cup of coffee, reading. Maybe some of the many questions about life would be answered within these pages. In her attempt at giving Jessica a good childhood Mom had never talked about the obvious difficulty of being a single mother. Jessica never learned much about her dad, Brendan, who’d been an alcoholic and up and left after nine years of marriage while Mom was pregnant. Looking back, it seemed as if she had been kept in the dark her whole life.

  The thought of finding out what her mother really felt somehow dredged up old feelings of anger, too. She had never quite forgiven Mom for getting so upset and making her feel so guilty about having sex with Leo that winter break. It was a grudge that faded over the years and after her mother’s death, but now that she had seen Leo that afternoon, all of the old hurts and arguments resurfaced. And memories.

  “But I love him!” she wailed, her sixteen-year-old voice hitting shrill and piercing notes. “We had sex! Lots of it! So there! My period’s late, and if I’m pregnant I’m keeping the baby.”

  Mom rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what you’re saying. You’re too young for that. You don’t know what love is. You have more important things to focus on, like college. You’d better hope to God you’re not pregnant, young lady—”

  The front door of the hotel opened, sending a strip of bells attached to the doorknob into a jingling riot. A grinning couple with multiple bags and suitcases swept inside, so Jessica closed the journal, scooped up the others from the box and stuffed them in her tote.

  “Welcome to The Beacon.” She smiled warmly at the couple, recalling more of her mother’s words.

  Never keep a guest waiting.

  She’d delve into her mother’s thoughts later.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There was nothing like taking his aggression out on a lump of innocent bread dough.

  With large hands covered in flour, Leo kneaded the thick blob against the stainless steel counter. He punched it softly, his broad knuckles disappearing into the elastic substance. Between the hot oven and his assault on the dough, Leo had worked up a sweat. He wore a thin white T-shirt and an apron over his faded jeans, tied low-slung around his hips.

  It was troubling how much space Jessica occupied in his mind since seeing her earlier on the beach. She hadn’t been happy to see him. But, why would she be? After they found out she wasn’t pregnant, he’d allowed his dad to talk him into joining the military. Then he’d disappeared from her life. He hadn’t fought for her, and he should have. There was no way she could have known he’d intended to come back for her before he was wounded. Had he sort of come back for her now? The answer might have been yes, if that entire shit-show in New Orleans hadn’t happened two weeks ago.

  The heels of Leo’s hands pushed the dough into the counter as if it had offended him.

  The first year he was in the Marines he’d blamed his dad for persuading him to enlist. Well, he’d blamed Jessica too, on the really bad days, figuring that if she hadn’t had the pregnancy scare things between him and the old man wouldn’t have blown up like they did. But when he was in his second year he’d actually become kind of grateful for both of them, for leading him to his true calling. Joining the Marines had made him a man. He’d been proud of what he was doing over there in Afghanistan, of fighting the good fight for democracy. He’d believed in that.

  Then came Steve’s death.

  Leo glanced at the clock over the bakery door. He’d been kneading for ten minutes, and it was time to put the dough in the proof box. It was seven at night and he was trying out new recipes for the menu, trying to keep his hands and mind busy. Sleep wasn’t an option tonight. Sleep was something to be feared. Sure, he still had the bottle of Ambien, but he wasn’t going to take it while here in Palmira. Imagine if he ended up at Jessica’s in some zombie-like state? Or worse.

  But not taking the Ambien meant there would be nightmares. He’d have to white-knuckle through them. Or, there was plenty of shit to do besides sleep. Paperwork and orders and managing the contractors…

  Details raced through his mind. In its first months he needed to shepherd the bakery toward success to prove something to his father—if he even had that long. He shuddered, thinking of the horrible possibilities if he was caught for what had happened back home. How had he even done it? Damn the war, and damn his PTSD.

  He picked up another loaf of already proofed dough and nestled it into a greased pan. Shifting toward the hot oven, he opened it and slid the uncooked bread inside.

  Stepping back, he wiped sweat from his brow and wondered at himself. It wasn’t like it was necessary for him to go through this charade of doing everything himself. His father could have easily brought bakers from New Orleans and hired someone to oversee the building’s renovations. But the old man had told Leo he wanted his son to build this with his own two hands, start this bakery from scratch like he himself had so many years ago after leaving the Marine Corps.

  Well, that was fine. And, as he’d already realized, the timing was good, given what had happened back in New Orleans. Eventually Leo’s father’s company would send a manager to handle the day-to-day operations, but for now Leo begrudgingly admitted that it was satisfying to work toward a tangible goal, to lose himself in doing a job and doing it well.

  He hated when his father was right.

  It never ceased to amaze Leo how macho his dad was when the family business was pastries. And now he was the same way: a tattooed, muscled ex-Marine who was also a baker. Even now, Leo chuckled sadly whenever he thought of his friend Steve’s face the first time he revealed he could bake a perfect croissant. Steve had also laughed when he’d told him that he’d only slept with one woman.

  “V, you gotta get out more, dude. Next time you get leave, hook up with the first girl you see and try to forget about Jessica,” his friend had implored one night as they talked under the vast Afghanistan sky. “Or if you can’t do that, write to her. Apologize before it’s too late. Christ, propose to her. It’s like you haven’t moved on.”

  It was true. He hadn’t. And now it was probably too late to salvage what they had.

  There came a knock at the back door, tearing him from his memories
. Wiping his hands on his apron, Leo ambled over and unlocked it.

  He wasn’t sure what surprised him more: that Jessica was standing there, or that she looked even more beautiful than earlier. She wore a light blue skirt that ended just above her knees, a white polo shirt and gold sandals with little straps that snaked up her ankles. Her sun-kissed hair was loose and tousled, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves as if she had taken a swim in the ocean and let it air dry. Jesus, he wanted to gather her hair in his hands and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe—because he sure as hell couldn’t in her presence.

  “Well. This is a surprise,” he said gruffly, trying not to stare at her bare legs, which were sleek and shiny like she’d just rubbed oil on them. Trying to ignore the desire she ignited, he opened the door wider, but a waft of coconut-vanilla scent hit his nose and all hope of overlooking her sexiness was lost.

  She flashed a small smile at him, her lips shiny with gloss. “Hey. I wanted to come by. I owe you an apology for running off like that today.”

  “S’okay,” he said. “Come in.”

  She stepped past him. “So, this is your new place?”

  Her perfume or shampoo or whatever she put on her skin mixed with the scent of baking bread, and the combined smells fired up all the pleasure centers in his brain. He flexed his fingers, wanting to take her into his arms and press his nose into her hair so he could inhale. Nibbling on her neck would also feel amazing, and he imagined her tasting like pure sugar—just like she had all those years ago. Lifting her skirt and caressing her thighs today would be even better.

  He licked his lips, recalling how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other that vacation five years ago. They’d had to do it all behind their parents’ backs, of course, but it had all felt so right, like they’d known each other for ages. The night they lost their virginity he’d snuck into her room. She’d lit a candle and greeted him wearing just a white tank top and little white shorts. Her legs were velvety, and he couldn’t believe his luck as she pulled him toward her, down onto the bed. And when she looked at him with those sparkling green eyes as he took off her clothes, he’d melted. Surrendered his soul to her. Never had he seen anything so beautiful.

  “Leo?”

  He shook his head. Dammit. He’d zoned out again.

  “Sorry. What was your question?”

  “What’s the name of your bakery going to be?”

  He stood straighter, trying to summon his military focus. “Sugar Rush, that’s the name. You like it?”

  “Love it. It’s beautiful. Unusual.”

  “I’m not sure if you remember, but that’s the name of my family’s bakeries in New Orleans.”

  “Right. Chicory coffee, croissants and beignets. Sugar Rush.”

  “You do remember.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes burned into his.

  “Yeah, my dad wanted to open a bakery here for all the tourists.”

  Jessica nodded. “There’s lots of them, that’s for sure. More every year.”

  Leo folded his arms, trying to play it cool. He could only let her see the cold, professional exterior that he’d become so good at showing the world. “I like it here, though. There’s something special. Maybe it’s the architecture, or the blue skies and all the tropical plants. I dunno. Makes me happy.”

  He shrugged and grinned, and it seemed to coax a genuine smile from her. Then there was a silence, and Jessica held his stare with her green eyes. Her expression revealed nothing of her thoughts. Why had she knocked on his bakery’s back door after dark? What the hell did she want?

  He untied the apron from his hips and pulled it over his head. His T-shirt rode up a little as he did so, exposing his stomach to the warm bakery air. He noticed Jessica lower her gaze to the floor.

  “Leo, I’m sorry about earlier on the beach. I’ve had kind of a rough year. I was just…really surprised to see you today.”

  He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Well, I probably should have called you or even stopped by instead of just surprising you randomly.” But, a rough year? What had happened to her apart from seeing him again?

  Her mouth slanted downward. “That probably would have been better.”

  Words raced from his lips, and he was acutely aware that his lazy, Cajun-tinged accent was heavier. And there was some truth to what he was saying. “I guess I didn’t want to run the risk of running into your mom after all that happened. I don’t think she’ll be too happy to see me.”

  Jessica’s jaw clenched and she flashed him an angry look. “No need to worry about that now.”

  “What? Why? Did she move—?”

  By the way Jessica’s shoulders slumped, Leo cut himself off.

  “No. She died last year. In March. A stroke. I found her collapsed on the floor at the hotel registration desk one morning. She was only fifty.”

  So, this was the source of her sadness. Leo exhaled a long sigh. His heart hurt when he imagined Jessica finding her ill mother and then experiencing such a sudden, tragic loss. He also wondered if his dad knew about it.

  “God, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” Jessica said in a flat voice. “I rode with her in the ambulance and held her hand as she slipped away. The last thing I remember that day was wailing in the emergency room, pleading for doctors to do something. Anything. Of course, they couldn’t.”

  Leo bowed his head. Shut his eyes. The obvious pain in her voice made his chest tighten, and the thought of sirens and holding the dead made him think of Afghanistan. He took a deep breath and held on to the counter as panic washed over him. Sometimes anxiety made him feel disembodied and he had to ground himself by touching something solid.

  “I apologize for asking. I didn’t know. I’m an idiot for prying.”

  When he opened his eyelids, he saw her staring at him, unblinking. Luckily, the surge of panic had subsided as quickly as it appeared.

  Breathe.

  “How would you have known?” Jessica said. “It’s not like we kept in touch over the years.”

  Swallowing an uncomfortable lump in his throat, Leo stepped closer, wanting to take her in his arms. If only she didn’t have such a combative edge to her voice, then he might. But he didn’t dare touch her. Not now. And, anyway, that wouldn’t help either of them.

  “Jessica, I feel like I owe you some answers—or an apology,” he found himself saying.

  She inhaled deeply. Her tone eased when she spoke next, but she held up her hand like a stop signal. “No. No, you don’t.”

  “No, I do. I thought it was better to listen to what our parents wanted back then and have no contact with you because I was going into the Marines. I guess I wanted to save you from heartbreak in case I died in war or something. I don’t know. I was young and stupid.”

  His words were only partially true, because he didn’t want to tell her the entire truth about what had happened. He didn’t want to bring it all up. Not now that her mother was dead. He wondered if Jess knew what he wanted to hide.

  “You don’t owe me anything, Leo. Truly. We were young. We were kids. Let’s not dredge up the past. That’s silly. I don’t hold any resentment or bad feelings. Really.”

  Leo nodded and stepped back, his heart sinking. She didn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe their time together all those years ago hadn’t meant anything to her. Maybe she’d found better sex and a more amazing connection with someone else. Maybe she hadn’t even cared that he disappeared from her life so abruptly. The thought jabbed at his heart, but he pressed on, unable to contain his curiosity about the gorgeous woman standing in front of him.

  “’kay. So, we’ll stay away from the past from now on. How’s the present treating you?”

  She cocked an eyebrow and stiffened, and Leo winced, cursing himself for choosing wrong again. He leaned against a stainless steel counter and splayed his arms, his hands skimming the cool surface. “Are you in school? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you live at the hotel still?”

  Jessic
a nodded. “I do live at the hotel. Graduated last May from a college in Fort Myers. Got degrees in business and hospitality. And I’m single.”

  “Congratulations. And…that’s good to know.”

  So. Maybe he did stand a chance. His old natural optimism bubbled through the recent fog of self-doubt. But, what was he thinking? Why would she want a guy who had not only probably done something horrible, but who sleepwalked in a near-comatose state when he took medicine and had screaming nightmares when he didn’t? She needed a normal guy. Deserved one. Anger welled up inside. He hated what the war had done to him. Hated it.

  Jessica’s lips quirked upward for a brief second and she caught his eye before glancing away. “Anyway, um, welcome to the island. I’m sure you’ll be a great addition here. It’s a really friendly group of people. A lot of younger business owners like us are moving in. So, yeah.”

  Her sudden shyness encouraged him, and despite himself he was reminded of their time together five years ago and how much he wanted to reclaim it. He couldn’t resist flirting with her. She was too adorable.

  “So, maybe you can be my own personal welcoming committee. You know, introduce me around to the other business owners, give me the inside scoop on things…?”

  She gave him a wary glance. “I can do that,” she said, leaning against a large refrigerator on her left. “There’s a happy hour tomorrow, in fact. For local business owners. It’s at the one cool bar in town, the Sloppy Iguana. If you think you can make it.”

  Leo chuckled, thinking of how much he’d give up to have more time with her. He’d go after he met up with the contractors. “I think I can make it. I’d like that a lot. I’ll check out anyplace called The Sloppy Iguana.”