PARADISE COVE (PARADISE SERIES Book 1)

by Wilton, Patrice

  "Who needs sleep when you're in love?" Kayla heard the words slip out of her mouth, and the tray darn near slid out of her hands. Luckily Taylor grabbed it just in time.

  "I didn't mean that," she blurted, feeling heat in her cheeks.

  "Unfortunately you did." Taylor gave her a sympathetic look. "Take care of yourself. You know he's only here for another six weeks."

  "I know. I doubt if he'll even stay that long. But I'm going to enjoy what time we do have. And deal with the consequences later."

  "You're stronger than I am. I'd be running to the hills right about now—saving myself from heartache."

  "But then you'd miss out on the chance to love. To really, truly love. That alone is worth the pain." She hoped it was true, because she'd never experienced this depth of emotion before. How would she survive it when it was gone?

  "I never knew you were an incurable romantic." Taylor put the plate down and gave her a brief hug.

  "I'm not. Or I didn't use to be." They looked at each other, stunned by the revelation.

  "I guess I've changed," Kayla said. "I was always the practical one, but this happened, and I couldn't have stopped it, or wouldn't have even if I could. I want to love him. He deserves happiness."

  "What about you?"

  Kayla bit her bottom lip. "I'll deal with it."

  "Oh, Kayla..."

  "Don't 'Oh Kayla' me. I know what I'm doing." She grabbed the plate of appetizers, determined to end this conversation.

  "Off you go. And don't trip over your big feet. I want that caviar to reach the pool."

  "Okay, sunshine. I'll keep Colton company until you arrive. Look pretty," she told her sister. "Not that you need to try."

  Taylor made a face at her. Eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out, she was still a knockout.

  "Beautiful," Kayla said, and pushed her way out the screen door. She heard Taylor laugh, and that added a spring to her step as she sashayed her way to the pool. Halfway there, Sean joined her and took the tray out of her hands.

  "Thanks. It's heavier than it looks."

  "Is that brie? What's the occasion? I heard champagne corks popping."

  "I felt like we should celebrate now that the cabins are done. It looks so beautiful, and the photos are great. So tonight, champagne and caviar."

  "Good enough reason. But I'll miss having you around in the afternoon."

  "Really?" Her heart raced, then stopped. Pain flowed through her. "I'll still be around. I'm not going anywhere."

  He cleared his throat. "I had a call today from Mass General. One of my patients is sick and has asked for me." He glanced at her, and she could see the concern in his eyes.

  She held her breath. "Are you going?"

  "I might fly up for a couple of days. Then I'll be back."

  "Don't go." She swallowed hard, shaking her head. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have said that. Do what you have to do."'

  "I don't want to return to work. I’m not ready. But I know this man and his family and feel obligated." His steps slowed. "It's not that I want to leave."

  "Then stay." Her short fingernails dug into her palms by her side, and she felt a layer of ice wrap around her heart. She shivered in spite of the heat.

  "We'll talk about this later. Everything will be fine." He said it quietly, in a matter-of-fact voice that irritated the hell out of her. Did he think he could drop a bomb like this and that she wouldn't react? Perhaps he even thought she'd just crawl right back into bed with him. Not going to happen, Buddy!

  "Maybe later I won't want to talk about it." She gave him one long look, then ran off to the pool, leaving him to trail behind. Her mind was in a fuddle. Perhaps she was being unfair to him, after all he hadn't promised her anything, but her heart wasn't buying it. His kisses had told her a different story, and led her to believe that he cared for her as much as she did for him.

  But what about her? Had she been lying to herself all along? She couldn't handle it. His leaving would break her heart, and hadn't it been broken enough?

  Joining her guests, she sipped on the ice-cold bubbling champagne, laughing and chatting as if she didn't have a care in the world. She hoped no one, especially Sean, could see beyond the false front. This was her fault. She had welcomed him into her heart, into her life, believing that she was tough enough, mature enough and magnanimous enough to deal with the aftermath. She had wanted so desperately to take this grieving man and make him whole.

  What a vain, foolish woman she'd been. And now she had to pay the price.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Sean watched Kayla leave and didn't have any words to stop her. The past few weeks had been some of the best in his life, certainly since his daughter became ill. That was when his world tumbled down, one small piece at a time.

  His marriage had been a good one. At least he'd thought so, but then he'd been so busy working all the time that he wasn't even sure if he'd made his wife happy. He thought he had, but now that he looked back he could see all the times he'd disappointed her over the years. The parties and special occasions they'd missed when a patient took a turn for the worse and needed his care, or required emergency surgery. Laura always understood, or at least accepted his canceling their plans with a great deal of grace.

  She had been a good wife, and he hoped she found a man who'd take care of her the way he hadn't. She was still young and beautiful. Perhaps she might remarry and have another child. She deserved happiness, and they couldn't find it together. Not after all that passed. Watching their child die had killed any hope of that.

  Laura had been his past, and he hoped that maybe one day Kayla would be his future.

  Like a bright shining star, Kayla radiated with the joy of living, as did her mother and sisters. They were like beacons of light, and they had led him here. All of them had played a part in his healing process, but it was Kayla who had jumpstarted his heart and got it beating again.

  Not that he was healed. Not by a long shot, but he was now on the right path, taking baby steps to a full recovery. Going back to Boston scared the piss out of him. What if he returned and couldn't do the job he'd trained for all his life? What if a patient's life was in his hands, and he froze?

  Fear was a man's worst enemy, and he didn't have the confidence to step back into the OR, and put it to the test. A life was in the balance and he damn well better not fuck around with it. Until he knew with certainty that he could do the job as well as he once had, he had no right to enter the OR.

  On the other hand, allowing fear to determine his fate was a chicken's way out. Easy to stay put in Paradise Cove, go fishing once in awhile, hang out with the most beautiful and kind hearted people he'd ever met. That was a no-brainer. It took real courage to meet your enemy head on, and fight your fear, defeat it so badly that it would never raise its ugly head again. That's what a real man would do. A hero.

  People around here, especially Kayla's family, and Miguel's, thought he was brave and heroic, but he'd been neither. He'd simply acted on instinct and saved a family from drowning. Any coward could do the same.

  His head began to pound. Kayla would know better than him what he should do. She was the voice of reason and he trusted her opinion more than his own. And that was scary in itself. He needed her. She was that special someone he could confide in—an intelligent woman not only to converse with, but one who could make him laugh. She understood his frailty and didn't condemn him for it. Instead, she loved him in spite of it.

  He knew she was hurting and he'd do anything to ease her worry and prove to her that he'd never let her go. But how could he when he didn't know himself? Back in Boston he'd be surrounded by friends—mostly hospital staff, but his time would no longer be his own. He'd be sucked back into the world he'd left, living and breathing the hospital wards.

  Brittany walked up to him and took the platter out of his hands. How long he'd been standing there holding it—his eyes glued on Kayla, he had no idea.

  "Hey, Dr. Sean. What's the matter? You
look like you just lost your best friend. Has something happened? Kayla didn't say anything."

  He blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts. "She doesn't know what I should do, and I don't either."

  "What exactly do you need to do besides have a champagne cocktail and some caviar?" She smiled brightly, but her eyes were serious.

  He didn't want to hurt this family. They had taken him in, and accepted him like one of their own. Anna probably had expectations that he'd be her first son-in-law. The idea didn't scare him the way it should.

  "One of my patients is having heart complications. He wants me, not some new doc he doesn't know. I may have to go to Boston."

  "Fine. Dandy. Go take care of him and then come back." She grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the table with the drinks and canapés. "See how easy that was? Everybody will be happy. It's a win-win."

  He accepted the glass she handed him, and downed it in one thirsty gulp. "Maybe you're right. I hope you are." His eyes strayed to Kayla again. She was laughing and holding on an energetic conversation with a guy he hadn't met.

  He wanted to grab her and drag her off to bed. Caveman style. Throw her over his shoulder and ignore her kicking and screaming. As soon as the cottage door was closed he'd shut her mouth with his own. And take her, and take her, until she understood his need, and that no way in hell could he ever let her go.

  "What is it?" Brittany asked. "What are you thinking?"

  He smiled, and chuckled softly. "You don't want to know."

  Her eyes brightened. "Oh! You do love her, don't you?"

  "I believe I do."

  "Then tell her. She needs to hear it. All women do."

  "Right about now, I think she'd prefer to kill me than kiss me."

  Brittany laughed. "Then you might have a little work ahead of you." She nudged him. "Go on. Go get her."

  Taylor appeared just as he was about to make his move. She strolled over to the group and Kayla glanced his way. The frost in her eyes stopped him dead in his tracks.

  Sean shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't think I'm in the mood to celebrate tonight. Tell Kayla I'll see her tomorrow." Without a backwards glance he left the pool party and strode down to his boat. He needed some alone time. A little peace and quiet to think things through. Leaving Kayla now would hurt her deeply, and his departure would also mean leaving Juanita before the child was born. He had fully intended to stay and see her pregnancy through, and make sure they were taken care of—but now what was he to do?

  He sat on the stern of the boat and looked out at sea. It was a hot and humid afternoon, but a light breeze made it bearable. If it wasn't for Kayla, he'd set sail and probably spend the night on his boat, but if he did that she would have a very good reason to be angry. He needed to make a decision, and to let her know the minute he did.

  She deserved that. She deserved the best of him. And he needed a damn drink, and not a sissy drink either.

  Entering the companionway, he took the steps down to the cabin and grabbed the bottle of scotch on the counter. He poured three fingers into a tumbler, then added some ice. He could think better with scotch, especially when it came to affairs of the heart.

  Women would be the death of him. The love he'd felt for Sara had been total, complete, consuming every inch of him. Losing her had been worse than his own death. His wife had not been able to bridge the gap, and as much as she'd tried and he'd tried, they were only going through the motion. Neither of them had anything left inside of themselves to give. And along came Kayla. She hadn't asked anything of him, she'd only given, and given, and now he didn't know what to do.

  He had to be fair to her, and he honestly didn't know what that was. He had so much angst inside of him. And pain. He still needed to go visit his parents and let them know how he was making out. He had people in his life that cared about him, and he should reconnect with them, and put their worries behind. He'd been a selfish bastard too long. Kayla's family, and Miguel's, were both so open and eager to give everything of themselves, while he had contributed nothing.

  He took a long sip from his scotch, letting it slide down his throat and make him forget about everything for a second, except the sheer potency of a good single malt. He lifted the glass to admire the crystal cut, and the amber-gold drink that could melt away a little of the turmoil building inside of him. God knew he'd used this exact bottle many times in the past few months to numb his pain, to free his mind, and to ease his heart.

  He heard the sounds of laughter coming from the pool, and children splashing in the water, their excited voices carried by the wind. If he got up he could probably see them too. But he liked sitting right here, gazing upon the shimmering sea as the sun caught the waves just so. It was almost blinding, and his eyes smarted. He wiped a tear away. Should have worn glasses, but then he hadn't expected to be here. He had expected to have a civil conversation with Kayla, enjoy her company and that of her other guests, and then take her to bed.

  Sean raised the glass and took a hearty slug of the fine scotch, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  He wanted that woman. She felt good in his arms, under him, sheathed around him as he pumped into her. And after too, when he'd look into her face and see the love shining in her eyes.

  Quickly he downed the scotch, and slammed the glass against the deck.

  He wished he could say to hell with Brian Dempster and his bypass surgery, and to tell him to find another surgeon. Unfortunately people didn't say no to men like that. He'd donated a new wing to the hospital and that kind of generosity guaranteed him and his family the very best in excellent care. But was he still the best? Sean couldn't answer that with the same assurance he once had. And the real question that demanded an answer was—what would he do about Kayla?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Kayla saw Sean leave and wanted to do something to get his attention. Throwing a pitcher at his head had flickered threw her mind, but her guests would not only have been appalled by her actions, they'd have had nothing left to drink. Instead, she'd sulked inwardly while chatting with everyone and drinking more than she should.

  Life was a bitch sometimes. She'd been on such a natural high, happy that the damned painting was over, that she was with a guy she was crazy about, and that Brittany seemed content again. Champagne had seemed like a fabulous idea, but when Sean had dropped his little bombshell, well, the bubbles had gone flat. She didn't want to hold on to a guy who didn't want to hold on back. She wanted to be a bigger, better person than that. To be the girl who knew her worth, and let everyone else know it too.

  That had worked for an hour or two. She'd watched Sean go to his boat, and although she kept up a lively conversation with others, her attention had been on him. She'd kept a close watch on his boat, half expecting him to sail off into the sunset. But he hadn't. That actually surprised her. Not that she was hopeful or anything. He'd not given her a whole lot to be optimistic about. But it did mean that he wasn't slinking away. Again.

  Maybe later. In the middle of the night. Perhaps in the morning. Or by noon of the next day. Or a day or two from now. Bottom line? He was leaving, she just didn't know when. It made her sad. It made her angry. It made her heart ache. But she had her pride, and her pride was telling her to go down to that damn boat, and give him permission to leave. Matter of fact, that was exactly what she would do.

  She grabbed a bottle of the chilled champagne, and told Brittany she needed to have a word with Sean.

  "Go girl. Get your man. He's crazy about you."

  She shook her head, and her hair flew around her shoulders. "No, Brit. I'm going down to the boat to tell him it's okay to leave."

  "You're doing what?" Brittany's voice rose with alarm. "Don't be stupid. You can't tell him that. You know what he's like. He will leave and then you'll be sorry. I can't stand the idea of you being broken hearted.” She grabbed Kayla's arm and pulled her aside so her advice wouldn't be overheard. "When you get on his boat, strip yourself naked a
nd ride him all night long." She giggled and her eyes lit up. "He won't leave. He won't be able to."

  Kayla laughed, as the thought had occurred to her too. "I wish I could, but it's much better if I set him free. Then if he comes back, I know our love is real."

  "Don't be so darn practical. Can't you just be clingy and romantic for once?"

  "Nope. Not this time. If he wants me, he has to fight for me. For us. He's got to want to put his grief behind him. If he can't do that, he won't make me or anyone else happy."

  "I hate when you talk like that. You sound so logical. Crap! I still like the idea of you jumping his bones and making him realize what he's leaving behind."

  "Been there. Done that. He knows." Kayla shrugged. "Well, I'm off. Wish me luck."

  Brittany pulled her into her arms for a huge hug and a pat on the back. "I do wish you luck, and happiness, and everything good."

  Kayla blinked back tears. "Thanks, hon. I'll be home later."

  "No. Don't." Brittany looked like she might cry too. "At least stay with him this one last night."

  "I don't think I can do that." Her bottom lip trembled and she clenched it with her teeth. She would not cry. She would be strong, and not crumble. Her dad was probably up above looking down at her now, and she wanted him to see how she'd grown into a person of strength, a woman of character. She wanted to make him proud.

  She straightened her shoulders, gave her hair a toss, and lifted her chin. Her emotions would not get the best of her. She had to do this for him and for herself. If he loved her he would be back. If not, she had survived worse.

  Down at the marina, she headed straight for his boat and called his name. She heard movement on the stern and made her way there, holding the champagne bottle by her side.

  "Sean?" She found him slumped in a plastic lawn chair, his head down. She felt a tingle of alarm. What if he’d had a heart attack or stroke? Or done something to himself? "Sean? Are you awake?"