Into the Heat Page 5

  They stared at each other awkwardly, and then Jessica giggled. Her searching eyes made him want to do several things at once. Apologize. Explain. Kiss. He figured he should fill the silence with words, because otherwise it was too tempting to grab her and never let her go.

  Women really didn’t affect him like this. At least, no one other than her. Why was that?

  Her mouth suddenly drooped, and something about the expression made him want to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. He blurted, “I’m baking a test loaf right now. Let me show you around a little. This is where I’m going to make all of the pastries and breads. All French and Louisiana specialties. I might also do some tourtiere—meat pies. And of course, N’awlins beignets.”

  Jessica laughed. “I remember how you and your dad made that kind of pie when you were here before. How my mom freaked out at our messy kitchen.”

  He and his dad had taken over their kitchen one day of that long ago vacation, insisting on making traditional French-Cajun holiday dishes. Leo also remembered that night how he had slowly slipped a piece of fudge into Jessica’s mouth, and how her lips looked so full and sensual. He’d stolen a kiss, her mouth tasting of chocolate. That kiss had burned in his fantasies for years, and now that she was standing in front of him again, he imagined how sexy she would look as he fed her all sorts of things.

  He cleared his throat and changed the subject, trying to ignore the heat sweeping through his body as he glanced at her mouth. She bit her lip, and her cheeks tinged with pink as if she sensed his dirty thoughts.

  Leo ran his hand over his head, embarrassed. “And here’s where the customers will come in.”

  He flicked on a light, illuminating a small, chaotic room that was half-constructed and covered in boxes. Waving his hand at the new kitchen fixtures, stainless-steel counters and giant oven, he spoke with pride about what he’d been able to accomplish in such a short time. With its black-and-white tile floor, sleek glass display case and exposed blonde wood, the interior was clean, cool and organized. Getting this bakery off the ground was the most useful thing he had done in a while, and each accomplishment felt like an enormous milestone. Too bad he might have screwed up his entire life before he even got a chance to be a success here in Florida.

  “This’ll be where people can drink coffee, eat breakfast, order. It’s still a work in progress. I’ll have long wooden tables and white chairs here,” he explained, standing in the middle of the room and stretching his arms wide, “and some smaller, high-top tables so people can drink coffee on the go.”

  “It’s the perfect size for a café,” Jess said. “And you have a good eye for design. Very beachy but clean. Beautiful.”

  Leo couldn’t help but grin. “That was the intent. And I’m living upstairs. We bought the entire building. The top two floors are empty. I’ve hired contractors to renovate, but for now I’m sleeping on a futon. I don’t even want to show you the apartment, it’s that dismal.”

  He chuckled, thinking about how different his quarters were from his father’s multi-million dollar St. Charles Street historic mansion. How different, and how simple. Also, how much more relaxed he felt in the Spartan surroundings of this beach apartment.

  “Cool. You bought the whole building?”

  He nodded. “That the old bakery would sell was a godsend. We wanted something a couple of blocks from the water and on a street with a lot of pedestrians.”

  “It’s a great location,” Jessica agreed. “But for your apartment I would have thought someone like you would stay on the mainland, in one of those hot new condos. So you could be closer to the clubs and the spring break crowd.”

  “Someone like me?” He pointed at his chest.

  “Yeah. Young, handsome, rich. A businessman. This island is more for tourists, families and retirees. But I suppose it’s a short drive over the bridge to the clubs, so you’ll have plenty to do.”

  He shrugged and laughed, trying to tamp down the elation of hearing her call him a handsome businessman. Is that how she saw him? He was only twenty-three, for God’s sake. Of course, that was what he was trying to be, and he certainly felt much older than that.

  “I’m not interested in that scene. I prefer the vibe here. And I’ll probably only be here for six months, just to get the business going. That’s the plan, anyway.”

  If the cops or the FBI or the ATF don’t find me first.

  “Oh, you’re here temporarily?”

  Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes? A little surge of triumph shot through him before he shrugged. His time line was a question he had pondered for days and one that made him afraid. Eventually he’d have to return to New Orleans, and that’s where things got complicated. Dark, half-memories swirled when he thought of the city. Even if—and this was a big if—he hadn’t done anything criminal that night he awoke in the park, there were also more practical concerns. He wasn’t sure he wanted what his father had in mind for him: to eventually take over the family business as an executive. Really, sitting behind a desk in a suit didn’t work for him. Trouble was, he had no other ideas for the future after this bakery was up and running.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “Who knows.”

  Jessica pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Well, I’m sure if you’re successful enough here you can open other locations in Florida.”

  “Like I said, we’ll see.”

  Her face fell, and Leo realized he’d sounded too brittle. “Hey, can I make you something? Get you a beer? Coffee? Tea?”

  Jessica’s expression brightened a little. “I’d like that. Tea, if you’ve got it. Thanks.”

  “Perfect. Let me check the bread, and I’ll put some water on.”

  Leo slid a large red mitt over his hand and opened the oven door. Pulling the loaf pan out and setting it on the counter, he saw her eye the bread and smile.

  “I’d love for you to try it,” he said. “I think you might be surprised.” If there was one thing he was confident of, it was his baking talent. It had kept him sane this past year since his honorable discharge. Measuring, kneading, baking. Shaping croissants, baking scones, waiting for dough to rise. It kept him busy. It was also soothingly familiar, since he’d been raised in a kitchen, watching his parents and grandparents bake.

  Jessica laughed a little, and his heart jumped.

  “I’m sure it’s great. It smells amazing. It’s why I came over, actually.”

  His heart plummeted just as fast as it had surged. She wasn’t here to see him?

  “I need some breakfast pastries for the hotel. Really tasty breakfast things. We have a full house the day after tomorrow. I know you’re not officially open yet, but I was wondering if there’s any way I could pay you to make some baked goods. Otherwise, I’d have to buy them at the grocery store and those are kind of crappy. Or I’d have to make them myself. And I’m kind of bad in the kitchen, so…” She looked at him with pleading eyes, and was that a hint of a playful smile?

  Leo’s hesitancy spread into a grin. This was something he could help her with. Maybe his sugarcoated confections would lower her defenses, allowing them to get close again, and lead him to what he really craved: her.

  “Yeah. I can do that. I’ll do some croissants and beignets…”

  While he rattled off all the potential pastries he could bake for her, he could feel her eyes on him. He buzzed nervously around the kitchen, making tea and easing the golden bread out of its pan. The loaf sent a little puff of steam into the air, and Jessica leaned toward it to inhale.

  “Mmmmmm,” she said softly. He recalled how she had hummed in a similar way after he had taken off her top and gently sucked at the raspberry-colored tip of one nipple back when they were kids. Her tone struck a sensual chord inside of him, and he held his breath. Why couldn’t he just act normal around her?

  He poured hot water into a mug and exhaled. “Is chamomile tea okay?” He spoke low and slow, and her eyes flashed and widened. He recalled that she had always loved h
is New Orleans accent.

  “Yes, that’s probably best. I don’t need anything else to keep me awake in bed,” she murmured. Then her cheeks grew pink.

  He couldn’t help but grin. God, she was adorable, though he wondered what was keeping her up. He wanted to put a flush on her cheeks from something more than tea and his voice.

  Wow. Could he act any more like a horny teenager? Jesus.

  He slid a teabag into the hot water and set the mug in front of her. Jessica didn’t speak as she held it in both hands. Her big eyes turned to his, and for an instant she looked like the girl he’d lost his virginity to and it made his throat grow thick. His Jessica was in there, somewhere behind that sadness of losing her mother and whatever else was going on. If he could only tease that warm, happy girl out of the darkness and into the bright sunshine. But how could he expect to do that when he was so screwed up from his own past?

  He sliced the bread and handed her a small, warm sample. Their fingers touched and his pulse quickened.

  Defenses: crumbling. Willpower: nonexistent.

  Jessica chewed slowly and closed her eyes. She made a satisfied groaning sound and then swallowed. “Oh my God. This bread is incredible. I think you’re going to do real well here on Palmira. People will be standing in line for this.”

  Leo grinned and licked his lips.

  “May I have a bit more, please?” Jessica quietly asked. “I didn’t have time for dinner, and this is really delicious.”

  “Absolutely. I’m glad you like it. I grew up in and around bakeries. This is my grandmother’s bread recipe that’s famous in New Orleans.”

  “Wow. I never realized you had that kind of talent.”

  “I have a lot of talents you don’t know about.”

  For a flash, her eyes met his and were teasing. “Oh, really? I think I sampled a few of those talents, if I remember correctly.”

  He was shocked that she was being so flirtatious, that she hadn’t wanted to talk about the pregnancy scare or the aftermath. It was a welcome surprise, as far as he was concerned.

  He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. Desire flooded his body, overwhelming him with its intensity. The way she looked at him was both familiar and mysterious, and he wondered how hot they’d be together now that they were older. A vision of her on her knees staring up at him raced through his mind.

  Damn.

  He bit his lip, trying to shove all the filthy thoughts away. “Your eyes haven’t changed.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, shifting her body so she was mere inches away.

  He drank in her green-eyed gaze. “They’re still the most beautiful I’ve ever seen in my life. Remember what I told you five years ago?”

  “That my eyes could see what was in your heart?” Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

  He nodded. “Yep. That. It’s still true.”

  This was dangerous. How could he even think about hooking up with her in his present situation? He turned away and took to the bread with a giant serrated knife, and as he sliced, her words cut into him.

  “I’m not sure I can see anything anymore. It’s been a long time. Too long. I guess too much happened between us.”

  He handed her another slice of bread. He didn’t look at her. “Has it, though? What’s five years? Five years is nothing.”

  “Nothing and everything. You know, I was ready to have our baby, had I been pregnant.”

  He inhaled, not knowing what to say. He glanced over and her eyes had a haunted look, so he sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry about how it all went down.”

  “I am too, but I guess it all worked out for the best. I mean, can you imagine if I had really been pregnant? At seventeen?” She forced out a little laugh then paced the kitchen. “But I am curious. Why are you here on Palmira?”

  Leo cleared his throat, relieved that she’d moved on past the pregnancy scare but still not sure exactly how to respond. It both thrilled and scared him that all of his feelings for Jessica had returned full blast. “Here’s the short answer: I served in Afghanistan. I survived a bombing and held a friend as he died. The U.S. government pinned some medals on me. Then I went to work at my family’s corporate headquarters. My dad wanted to expand into Florida, Palmira specifically, so I packed up my truck and drove down here.” That was enough information for now.

  “I remember you talking about the Marines and how your dad was really into them. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to enlist,” she said quietly.

  He scratched his arm, the one with the scars, and stared at his feet. “Yep. But I did. Family legacy and all that.”

  He looked up, and she was staring at him, horrified. She put her hand on her forehead and stammered, “Oh! God. I’m an idiot. I just made the connection. That’s why your arm… I saw it today at the beach. Did you get injured?”

  Leo nodded. He stepped closer and pushed his shirtsleeve up over his bicep, revealing the patchwork of mangled skin and tattoos. “Yeah. It was a roadside bomb in Farah. I was lucky. If I’d been sitting in the backseat I would have lost the arm—or worse. Two guys in my Humvee were killed.”

  Jessica’s mouth opened then closed. Her bottom lip trembled, and she looked like she was going to cry. People were affected in different ways by his war wounds, and Leo had never gotten used to any of the reactions.

  “Is that why you got the tattoos? To cover the scars?”

  Something about her eyes made him want to talk, so he continued, not knowing whether he was revealing too much. “Some of ’em I got before the bombing. I got those touched up afterward, but it’s difficult to get tattoos over scar tissue. Some I got later, on the good skin. I did it to remember.”

  He tapped on a detailed black-and-white tattoo of a dog tag and a ball-and-chain necklace that snaked down his forearm. “This one’s for my friend Steve. His tags,” he added softly. “He was in the back of the Humvee, took the brunt of the explosion that day. I got him out of the vehicle and pulled him to another Humvee, but I couldn’t save him. He died on the way to the field hospital. He was my best friend in the military, from North Carolina.”

  His voice cracked, and she pressed her fingertips to his arm, tracing the raised scar edges. Nerve damage didn’t allow him to feel the full force of her touch, but his brain responded and sent sparks through his body and heart. His brow twisted into a scowl, because he wasn’t sure how else to respond. He hadn’t allowed many people to touch his scars, and here she was, stroking him softly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “You turned into a good man, Leo Villeneuve,” she whispered.

  He swallowed hard. Her fingers felt so soothing. Caring. Right. But her words ripped him apart. Just how good was he?

  She removed her hand, and his stomach knotted because he craved more of her touch. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she murmured. She pointed to the colorful, sexy mermaid with the blonde hair on his other arm, on his good shoulder. With her index finger she traced the length of the art, sending intense shivers through him. This he could feel, and it was almost too much to bear.

  “What about this one?” she murmured, tapping on the mermaid.

  He swallowed, and his voice came out in a rasp. He’d gotten the tattoo after basic training in South Carolina one rainy night when he was thinking of her.

  “That’s for a girl I once knew. The first time I kissed her, it was on the beach in Florida. About five years ago.”

  Her eyes flew to his, wide with surprise. Without thinking, he reached out and put his hand on her jaw and pulled her toward him. He captured her mouth roughly, wanting only to feel the heat of her lips and tongue as pleasure raced through his body. Kissing her couldn’t erase the past, but maybe it would make him forget, for just a few minutes, everything.

  It did.

  The kiss was filled with longing and need, and all the familiarity of her washed through him. She tasted like mint and tea and bread, but also distinctly like Jessica, a sweetness that he had ached
for years to savor again. A noise that started in her throat as a surprised squeak ended in a throaty moan and made him hard. She kissed him back with fierce passion, and her hands gathered his T-shirt and pulled him close.

  The kiss, and the way their tongues swirled, was better than his memories. This was nothing like when they were teenagers, nothing like their first hesitant encounter. This was an adult kiss, a real kiss, a kiss of clear lust and pure, needy pain. And because she was tall and solid, she fit into his big body just right. Nothing had felt this good in years.

  He put his other hand on her jaw and held her face possessively, their mouths tangling for long moments, devouring each other. His hands slid down the soft skin of her neck and into her silky, curly hair. He’d thought of this a million times, of being with her again. He’d jerked off more often than he cared to admit to her memory and then vowed to never think of her again, only to realize he couldn’t stop remembering. Now she was kissing him as if she needed his lips to stay alive. That was everything he’d dreamt of and more.

  Pausing from the kiss, panting, he looked down and saw her arching her chest toward him, her nipples straining against her polo shirt as if they were seeking his touch.

  “Leo,” she breathed, smiling against his mouth and sending a fresh rumble of lust through him. “You kiss better than before.”

  He chuckled, a low, easy sound that shocked his ears because he hadn’t made any noise with such joy in a long time. “You didn’t like the way I kissed five years ago?”

  She opened her eyes wide. “No, I meant… Well, this is different. Wait. Kiss me again and I’ll decide.”

  “How’s this?” he growled, wanting nothing more than to lay her on the stainless steel table and climb on top of her. Enter her, own her, leave her wanting more. One of his hands went into her hair and the other went around her waist, and within seconds they were devouring each other’s lips again. Her hands skimmed his chest and he shivered, slammed with so many familiar feelings and sensations that he couldn’t keep up.