Dirty Secrets

by Lush, Tamara

  "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."

  I tilted my head in acknowledgment. "Well, I probably should have called or just stopped by."

  Her mouth slanted downward. "That probably would have been better."

  Words raced from my lips, and I was acutely aware my lazy, Cajun-tinged accent was heavier. And there was some truth to what I 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 me an angry look. "No need to worry about that now."

  "What? Why? Did she move—?"

  My words cut off at the way Jessica's shoulders slumped.

  "No. She died last year. 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. I exhaled a long sigh. My heart hurt when I imagined Jessica finding her mom, then experiencing such a huge loss. I also wondered if 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 was wailing in the emergency room, pleading for doctors to do something. Anything. Of course, they couldn't."

  I bowed my head. The obvious pain in her voice made my chest tighten, and the thought of sirens and holding the dead made me think of Afghanistan. I took a deep breath and held on to the counter as panic washed over me. Sometimes anxiety made me feel disembodied and I had to ground myself by touching something solid.

  "I apologize for asking. I didn't know. I'm an idiot for prying."

  When I looked up, she was staring at me, 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 my throat, I stepped closer, wanting to take her in my arms. If only she didn't have such a combative edge to her voice, I might have. But I didn't dare touch her. Not now. And, anyway, that wouldn't help either of us.

  "Jessica, I feel like I owe you some answers—or an apology."

  Chapter 9

  Crumbling Defenses

  LEO

  She inhaled deeply. Her face relaxed, and 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."

  My words were only partially true. I didn't want to explain the entire truth about what happened. It felt like too much of a downer. Especially now that her mother was gone.

  "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."

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

  "’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 I winced, cursing myself for choosing wrong again. I leaned against a stainless-steel counter and splayed my arms, my hands skimming the cool surface. "Are you in school? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you live at the hotel still?"

  Jessica 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 I did stand a chance. My old natural optimism bubbled through the recent fog of self-doubt.

  What was I 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 boiled hot inside my chest. I hated what the war had done to me. Fucking hated it.

  Jessica's lips quirked upward for a brief second and she caught my 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."

  And yet, I 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 me 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."

  I chuckled, thinking of how much I'd give up to have more time with her. I'd go after I 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."

  We stared at each other awkwardly, and then Jessica giggled. Her searching eyes made me want to do several things at once.

  Apologize.

  Explain.

  Kiss.

  I figured I should fill the silence with words. Otherwise, it was too tempting to grab her and never let go.

  Women really didn't affect me like this. At least, no other one had. Why was that?

  Her mouth suddenly drooped, and something about the expression made me want to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. Since I couldn't do that, I offered the only other weapon in my arsenal.

  Food.

  "I'm baking a test loaf right now. Maybe you want to try? Let me show you around a little. This is where I'm going to make all 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."

  Dad and I had taken over their kitchen one day of that long-ago vacation, insisting on making traditional French-Cajun holiday dishes. I also remembered that night how I'd slipped a piece of fudge into Jessica's mouth, and how her lips looked so full and sensual.

  I'd stolen a kiss, her mouth tasting of chocolate. That kiss had burned in my fantasies for years, and now that she was standing in front of me again, I imagined how sexy she'd look as I fed her all sorts of things.

  I cleared my throat and changed the subject, trying to ignore the heat sweeping through my body as I snuck glances at her mouth. She bit her lip, and her cheeks tinged with pink as if she sensed my filthy thoughts.

  I ran my hand over my short hair, embarrassed. "And here's where the customers will come in."

  I flicked on a light, illuminating a small, chaotic room half-constructed and covered in boxes. Waving my hand at the new kitchen fixtures, stainless-steel counters, and giant oven, I explained what I'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 I'd done in a while, and each accomplishment felt like an enormous milestone. Too bad I might have screwed up my entire life before I 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." I stood
in the middle of the room and stretched my 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."

  I 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."

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

  "Cool. You bought the whole building?"

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

  "It's a great location," Jessica agreed. "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 spring break crowd."

  "Someone like me?" I pointed to my 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."

  I shrugged and laughed, trying to tamp down the elation of hearing her call me a handsome businessman. Is that how she saw me? I was only twenty-three, for God's sake.

  "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 FBI or ATF didn'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 me before I shrugged.

  Eventually, I'd have to return to New Orleans, and that's where things got complicated. Dark, half-memories swirled when I thought of the city. Even if—and this was a big if—I hadn't done anything criminal that night I woke up in the park, there were also more practical concerns.

  I wasn't sure I wanted what Dad had in mind: to eventually take over the family business as an executive. Really, sitting behind a desk in a suit didn't work for me. Trouble was, I had no other ideas for the future after this bakery was up and running.

  "We'll see," I said. "Who knows."

  Jessica pursed her lips and nodded. "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 I realized I’d sounded too brittle. It was time to try to seduce her with food, since my flirting skills had obviously dried up.

  "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."

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

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

  Jessica laughed a little, and my heart jumped.

  "I'm sure it's great. It smells amazing. It's why I came over, actually."

  My heart plummeted just as fast as it had surged. She wasn't here to see me?

  "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 me with pleading eyes, and was that a hint of a playful smile?

  My hesitancy spread into a grin. This was something I could help her with. Maybe my sugarcoated confections would lower her defenses, allowing us to get close again, and lead me to what I really craved: her.

  "Yeah. I can do that. I'll do some croissants and beignets..."

  While I rattled off all the potential pastries I could bake for her, I could feel her eyes on me. I 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 forward to inhale.

  "Mmmm," she said softly. Her tone made my dick hard, and I held my breath. Why couldn't I act like a normal person around her?

  I poured hot water into a mug and exhaled. "Is chamomile tea okay?" I spoke low and slow, and her eyes flashed and widened. She'd always loved my 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.

  God, she was adorable. I wanted to put a flush on her cheeks from something more than tea.

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

  I 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 mine, and for an instant, she looked like the girl I'd lost my virginity to. It made my throat grow thick.

  My Jessica was in there, somewhere behind the sadness of losing her mother and whatever else was going on. If I could only tease that warm, happy girl out of the darkness and into the bright sunshine. But how could I expect to do that when I was so screwed up from my own past?

  I sliced the bread and handed her a small, warm sample. Our fingers touched, and my pulse quickened.

  Chapter 10

  A Mermaid

  LEO

  Jessica chewed slowly and closed her eyes. She made a satisfied groaning sound, 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."

  I grinned and licked my lips.

  "May I have a bit more, please?" Jessica asked shyly. "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 mine. They teased. Tormented. "Oh, really? I think I sampled a few of those talents, if I remember correctly."

  I was shocked 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 I was concerned.

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

  Damn...

  I bit my 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.

  I 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.

  I nodded. "Yep. That. It's still true."

  This was dangerous. How could I even think about hooking up with her in my present situation? Turning away, I took to the bread with a giant serrated knife.

  As I sliced, her words cut into me.

/>   "I'm not sure I can see anything anymore. It's been a long time. Too long. I guess too much happened between us."

  I handed her another slice of bread. "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."

  I inhaled and rubbed at my scalp, not knowing what to say. I glanced over, and her eyes looked haunted. "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?"

  I cleared my throat, relieved she was moving on, but still not sure exactly how to respond. It both thrilled and scared me that all my 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 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.

  I scratched my arm, the one with the scars, and stared at my feet. "Yep. But I did. Family legacy and all that."

  I looked up, and she was staring at me, 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?"

  I nodded. I stepped closer and pushed my shirtsleeve up over my 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."