The South Beach Search

by Sharon Hartley

  Regret pierced through Serena’s stoic attorney mode. It had to be Jonas Scott. It had been as much of a surprise to her as it had been to Jonas that his stepmother and her biological aunt, Dottie Forsyth, had willed her family farmhouse to Serena. The tragic circumstances of Dottie’s unexpected death hadn’t helped. Dottie was supposed to grow old in the farmhouse, not be murdered by a crazy woman the previous summer.

  “I’m sorry, Jonas. It’s a crappy time of year to be single and alone.”

  “It’s not about that, Doc. I’m over it.”

  “I know you’re over your ex, Jonas. What you’re not over is deployment and the constant insane pace. You’re done deploying, trust me. With the drawdown in Afghanistan and your rank, you could finish out the rest of your time on shore duty. And what about your stepmother’s death? You’ve got a lot to process.”

  It was Jonas Scott, Dottie’s stepson.

  He had an ex?

  “I’ll deal.” His voice was little more than a growl.

  “I have no doubt that you will. But it won’t hurt you to scale it back a bit and enjoy the lighter schedule. Give yourself time to grieve, Jonas.”

  “There has to be something I can do besides weigh in snotty-nosed kids whose mothers are overreacting to the common cold.”

  Serena’s face heated as she fought her maternal anger.

  “Save the tough-guy routine for someone who doesn’t know you as well, Jonas. You’re great with kids or I wouldn’t have assigned you to my unit.” Dr. Franklin’s tone reflected compassion. As if he knew Jonas better than most.

  “Give me a break, Doc. These folks wouldn’t know a medical emergency if it bit them in the ass. Did you see that last family? They had all three of their kids still on bottles, and the youngest was two. I don’t have time to treat overpampered, overfed, sugared-up kids whose parents need a lesson in nutrition and physical fitness. For heaven’s sake, Doc, I was stopping Marines from bleeding out less than two weeks ago, and the kids I treated had real, often life-threatening, needs. Now you want me to hand out cartoon-hero stickers?”

  Serena grasped Pepé’s hand. Enough was enough. Pepé didn’t need to hear any of this.

  That’s what she got for snooping like the lawyer she was—she’d exposed her son to a post-deployment tirade he’d had no part of. She bent to his ear.

  “Come on, mi hijo. Let’s find out what happened to our appointment.”

  * * *

  DOC HAD GONE quiet and Jonas wondered if he’d pushed his boss too far. Doc Franklin was an easygoing guy, and Jonas had enjoyed working with him overseas, in a combat zone. In war, they were teammates fighting to save every life, every person who came into their unit. And even back home where Doc was a pediatrician, he was still a naval medical officer. He thought he had the most important job in the world.

  “Well?” Jonas prompted.

  Doc’s stare should have tipped him off. Too late, the hairs on the back of Jonas’s neck rose and he knew someone was standing behind him.

  He mentally groaned and turned around, expecting HM1 Reilly, or worse, the naval hospital’s Commanding Officer.

  Instead, he found himself looking into the deepest, darkest mocha-brown eyes he’d ever seen. They sparked with anger and a knowing he couldn’t quite identify... He shook his head to clear it.

  The stunning woman in front of him had night-black hair that fell in a straight sheet past her shoulders, skimming around her generous breasts. Breasts that were covered snugly by her purple turtleneck. She didn’t cover up her sensuous figure with the added layer of a sweater or pullover like a lot of women, either. He gave her points for that. Her bottom was just as sexy and he couldn’t miss how her jeans emphasized every curve.

  This was a woman who knew her power over men.

  He knew it wasn’t some sort of vision brought on by deployment fatigue. But even in his dreams he’d never conjured up an image quite this...distracting.

  “Hey, Dr. Franklin!” A black-haired boy stood next to the woman, his enthusiasm for Doc making him bounce up and down while his mother held his hand.

  “Pepé, Ms. Delgado, how is my favorite Marine Corps family?” Doc walked next to Jonas and kneeled down to the boy’s level.

  Delgado.

  Son of a bitch.

  Not only had he shown his worst side to Doc Franklin, he’d made a mess of things with the one woman he needed to treat right, the one woman who had what he wanted so badly, what he’d waited to have for so long. He knew more about her than she knew, and they hadn’t met in person yet. Until now.

  How much had they heard?

  Serena Delgado. And her son, Pepé. The family living in the farmhouse that Dottie had promised him.

  Pepé yanked his hand out of Serena’s and ran over to Doc.

  “We’re great, Doc! We’re going to Friday Island for Thanksgiving. I might get to swim in the heated pool.”

  “It’s San Juan Island, Pepé. Friday Harbor is the town.” Her voice matched her looks—deep and harmonious with a side of sexy.

  Serena Delgado kept staring at Jonas as she gently corrected her son. The daggers of light in her eyes were anything but gentle. If he were to guess, she was sorely pissed off.

  At him.

  And she had every right to be.

  “You’re Serena.”

  He’d planned to introduce himself in person to her later. After he’d been back long enough to get over his jet lag.

  More like get over your wounded ego.

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes reminded him of an iced coffee. Dark and rich, with a bite.

  Jonas held out his hand. “I’m Jonas Scott.”

  “I know who you are.” She flicked her gaze at his hand long enough to make her point. She wasn’t going to shake his hand or make this any easier for him. Why should she?

  “I’m not sure how much you heard of what I said—I’m sorry and please understand that I was just being a pain in the, um, you know.”

  “It’s clear you don’t usually work in pediatrics.” Her tone remained grave but he caught the slight tic at the corner of her mouth. “I hope I’ll be able to control myself. Being a mom and all, I never know when I’m going to get all hysterical and go crazy on you.”

  He wasn’t sure if her attractiveness or the fact that she was enjoying his discomfort rattled him more.

  “Touché.” They continued to stare at each other.

  He’d be turned on by any attractive woman after being downrange so long. It was just his luck that it happened to be the woman who’d upended his whole life.

  Unexpected disappointment punched him in the gut.

  Even if their shared connection hadn’t been so ugly, so life-changing, he wouldn’t stand a chance with her. Not after she’d overheard his harsh words.

  And the boy—Pepé. Jonas didn’t like the twinge of envy he’d felt when Pepé smiled and ran to Doc Franklin. He used to be the practitioner kids loved, the one who loved taking care of kids, but after the past several months of deployment, he couldn’t look at a child and not feel the immediate wash of sorrow that’d become too familiar to him.

  “Please call me Jonas. I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you yet. I’ve been home a short time, and I didn’t want to stop by the house without calling first.”

  Had she heard him stumble over the word house? Or was it just his imagination that referring to the farmhouse as anything but his or his family’s caused him pause?

  She held her hand up to stop his meager attempt at an apology.

  “I think we’ve said all we needed to in our emails, don’t you?”

  “No, not at all. Six months ago we were both in shock, and an email is never the same as meeting in person.”

  He looked over to where Doc was goofing around with P
epé.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation now, Serena—can I call you that? Not with Pepé here.”

  “I imagine it would be difficult for you to ask me to give up our home while Pepé’s within earshot.”

  Frustration made his vision blur as the goddess turned into a witch. An immediate ache in his chest opened up, spewing the ugly visions of children he hadn’t been able to save. Damn his post-deployment emotions. His ability to compartmentalize, the usual method of coping with unwanted emotions and allowing a warrior to focus on a mission, seemed to have evaporated the minute he landed back on Whidbey last week.

  “I may deserve that, ma’am, but trust me, I’m not the bogeyman. I understand that you and Pepé have been through a lot. More than your share.”

  Those brown eyes remained steady on him. Measuring him, assessing his integrity. He’d had stares from top admirals that weren’t as unnerving.

  “As have you. And yes, you can call me Serena.”

  Her tone held no recrimination, no pity. Dottie’s claim that Serena was “a gal with real class” rang through his mind. Thinking of Dottie, of her death, made him want to put his fist through the clinic wall.

  “Dottie loved you so much. She never stopped talking about you.” As if she’d read his mind. As if she knew he needed that reminder of Dottie’s love for him.

  “Funny, because she was the same way about you—she went on and on in her emails and our few phone conversations about how thrilled she was to finally have met you, to have closed the family circle by meeting her long-lost niece.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she took a step back. “You’re right, Jonas. We need to have this conversation elsewhere.”

  Her anger had melted into another emotion he didn’t want to consider. Sadness?

  “Mom, Doc Franklin says I can go back to soccer next spring!”

  “That’s nice, Pepé.” Her shoulders sagged and Jonas made a conscious effort not to offer her an arm, a shoulder of his own.

  “What’s going on with Pepé?” If he was going to check her son in and probably see more of him in the clinic, he’d better do his best to be professional.

  “He’s had a rash of ear infections. The last one took him out of the second half of soccer season. He loves soccer, as he’ll be sure to let you know any minute now.”

  Her exasperated expression reflected her obvious love for Pepé.

  “I understand. I get antsy when I can’t get to the gym. You two must have a special bond.”

  A small line appeared between her brows and Jonas swore he tasted the bottom of his uniform boots. How many times could he say the wrong words in one afternoon?

  “I’m sorry, Serena. Obviously small talk isn’t my forte any more than pediatrics is.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but Doc interrupted them.

  “Commander Scott, this is Pepé, my main man. I’ve known this kid since he moved on island last spring. He’s a champ. Pepé, this is Commander Scott, and he’s going to take care of you.” Doc raised his hand for Pepé’s high-five slap.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jonas gritted his teeth for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. This wasn’t going to be easy. If Doc Franklin had made the connection between Serena and Jonas, he wasn’t talking. And Jonas wasn’t about to mention it now, not after already shoving his foot down his throat twice.

  Jonas walked Pepé and Serena back to the check-in station. He gestured for her to take the seat next to the computer desk as he smiled at Pepé.

  “Go ahead and scoot up on the table for me, buddy.”

  “Am I going to get a sticker?”

  “After I check your ears, sure.”

  “You sounded angry about the stickers, Mr. Scott.”

  “It’s Commander Scott, Pepé.”

  Serena’s smooth correction made Jonas smile. He had to hand it to her—she was raising the boy to show respect and courtesy.

  “If it’s okay with your mom, you can call me Jonas, Pepé. I’m not a doctor like Doc Franklin. I’m a nurse practitioner and I can take care of you, too.”

  “Mom, is it okay?”

  “Sure, mi hijo.”

  Jonas didn’t like the tired lines under her eyes. He disliked more that he cared about her parental exhaustion.

  This was the woman who Dottie had given his house to.

  Best to stick to the basics.

  “ID?”

  She handed over her and Pepé’s military ID cards.

  Jonas’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he automatically typed in Pepé’s last name, the active-duty sponsor’s social security number—

  His hands stilled.

  Delgado, Philip. Gunnery Sergeant, U.S. Marine Corps. Deceased.

  He knew Serena was a war widow. That she had a son. But to read it, in black and white, made him wish he could have been there, could have saved her husband. Anything to take the sorrow from her eyes.

  He looked back at her. Her gaze was intent on her son and Jonas waited for her to look back up at him. When she did he saw the cold edge of distrust in her eyes.

  She’d never believe his thoughts—she’d assume he wished her husband had lived so that Dottie wouldn’t have left the house to her. As he typed in the pertinent information about Pepé, his mind kept going over his last conversation with Dottie.

  “You’ll love Serena. It’s as though she’s always been here. And her son, Pepé, is a doll.”

  “Mom, I don’t understand why you never met her before now.”

  Dottie had been his stepmother but he’d always called her “Mom.”

  “Your uncle was a troubled man ever since he was a teenager. My father sent him to his family in Texas to get his life together after his Navy time was up. Instead of working on the ranch, making a living, he got a girl pregnant—Serena’s mother—who never wanted anything more to do with him. Her family supported her and her new baby. Serena didn’t know she had a biological family on her father’s side until your uncle died.”

  Dottie’s heart had been so big. She’d been a successful Realtor—a single, never-married woman, liberated for her generation. Until Jonas’s widowed father, more than a decade her junior, showed up with four little boys. After that, she’d become a devoted wife and mother without missing a beat.

  It had always been understood that Jonas would get the farmhouse. Dottie had repeatedly promised it to him. She’d planned to move into a more senior-friendly condo in downtown Oak Harbor once he returned from his seven-month deployment.

  Instead, she’d died at the hands of a murderer soon after changing her will to leave Serena and Pepé the house.

  Would Dottie have done that if Serena had a husband and home to go back to in Texas?

  They’d never know.

  * * *

  SERENA WATCHED JONAS’S face closely. Only a quick intake of breath, a scant second’s pause, as he read over her military dependent ID card. She forced her shoulders to relax—he knew about her and Pepé; there was nothing to hide. His emails inquiring as to whether she’d be willing to sell the house to him hadn’t surprised her, but the strength of her reaction had.

  She’d made it clear that it was her house now, and it wasn’t for sale. It was going to stay in the Forsyth family as Dottie had wished.

  He’d never replied in full to her last refusal of his offer, sending her a one-liner stating that he’d come to meet with her once he returned from downrange.

  When he looked back up at her now, she tried to glance past him at the computer screen, anywhere but at the eyes as blue as Texas bluebonnets, blazing with an intensity that made her blood feel like lava in her veins. This heat didn’t come from the anger she’d experienced moments before. It was the kind of heat that two people share when they’re attracted to each other
.

  Her hormones had been relatively dormant since Phil’s death. Why did they have to start humming now? With the man who wanted to take Dottie’s house from her?

  Not for the first time since Dottie’s will was read, Serena wondered what Dottie had been thinking. She must have expected her change of plans to upset Jonas, her stepson. She’d betrayed the man to whom she’d originally promised the house.

  Jonas handed her ID back to her and she reflexively reached for it. But he held on to it for a moment, and she forced herself to look at him again.

  “Again, Serena, I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at my most butt-faced moment.”

  “Hey, you’re not supposed to stay that word!” Pepé said in his high-pitched voice.

  “You’re right, Pepé. I’m not using my best manners today.”

  “You need a time out.” Pepé spoke matter-of-factly and Serena winced at how closely his tone mimicked hers. Did she sound that stern with him when he acted out?

  “I need more than that, my man.” Jonas swiveled his stool in front of Pepé, who sat on the small, kid-size examination table.

  “You’re not a doctor, right?”

  “No, like I said, I’m a nurse practitioner, and I’ll be looking after you.”

  “Okay.” Pepé’s ever-practical acceptance never ceased to awe Serena. Acceptance saved one from a lot of grief and sorrow.... “Pepé, what have we discussed about correcting adults?”

  “You have to listen to your mother, buddy, but you’re a good man to call me on my bad language.” Jonas smiled at Pepé and Serena curled her toes.

  Jonas Scott wasn’t so easy to write off as a man who’d get over the loss of the house once he adjusted to her and Pepé living there. He was fully alive, fully present. And she found him as handsome in person as the photos of him in Dottie’s house had hinted.

  She gave Jonas credit; he didn’t cover it up when he made a mess of things. She’d keep her observation to herself, though. She didn’t know him well enough yet. He hadn’t been able to make it home in time for Dottie’s funeral; he’d been too far downrange, too deep in country. He’d told his brothers to go ahead with it and not to wait for him. The oldest brother, Paul, was an attorney and kept her informed all along of the process of Dottie’s murder investigation, Serena’s initial status as a possible suspect and then the reading of the will.