Perfect for the Beach

by Lori Foster

  “Spare me the sordid details,” Rich said. “And bring me a waiter. My Perrier is flat.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.” Startling them both, she bent and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Now buzz off. Leave us alone. No more puppet mastering.”

  “I do have a life outside of you, Robin,” he said dryly. “Not much of one, granted …”

  “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I’m so, so sorry. I thought you were working for Uncle Rich. I thought … I thought what we did—what we had—was a put-on. That you were putting me on. And … I lost my temper.”

  “Lost your temper? You unleashed the hounds of hell—on my face!” He touched the knot rising on his forehead and winced. “Christ, I’ve been in bar fights that weren’t this bad.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not that big a deal. Okay, the whole felony assault thing, that’s not so great, but does it really still hurt?”

  “Have you noticed this third eye growing on my forehead?” he growled. “Yes, it still hurts!”

  “Oh, come here.” She had him lie down beside her, and cuddled him in her arms. He sulked in her embrace for a long moment, then fished around in his pocket.

  “I noticed it, that time. You’re not quite as good as your uncle. Now there’s a guy who knows how to hug while slipping stolen merchandise onto a fella. Here’s your ring back.”

  “No, it’s for you,” she said quietly. “You keep it.”

  He reared up and stared at her. “Are you shitting me? And am I actually yelling when my head hurts this bad?”

  “John—”

  “You and your uncle have been stealing this back and forth forever, then you punched me when he gave it to me, and now you ‘re giving it to me?”

  He’s right, it sounds ridiculous. “I’m—I guess we’re both tired of the game,” she said slowly. “It was fun at first—fun for years—but there’s got to be more to it than … than all this. And I … I want you to have it.”

  He softened. She could tell he didn’t want to, that he was trying hard to hold on to his righteous anger, but it just wasn’t in him. Oh, jeez, I’m crazy about this guy, I really am.

  “I can’t, Robin. It was your father’s. It’s all you’ve got left of him, I bet.”

  She refused to close her fingers over it, and the ring dropped to the bedspread.

  “Now you’re just being stubborn.”

  “It runs in my family,” she agreed.

  “Well. I suppose I could keep it. You know, hang on to it for you and Rich. For a while.”

  “A long while.”

  “That’s kind of what I was thinking. A long while. Because if it took you guys ten years to decide what to do with it, I should be prepared to hang on to it for at least that long, don’t you think?”

  “Possibly longer,” she said seriously.

  “Right. Uh. Do you know what this means?”

  “Uh-huh. I stole you. And I’m keeping you.”

  “Oh. Okay. That’s what I thought it meant,” he said, sounding supremely satisfied. He slipped the ring onto his third finger and pulled her down for a long kiss. She could feel the gold against her cheek as he cupped her face, cool at first, then quickly warmed by their skin.

  When he broke the kiss they were both breathing hard, and she had trouble looking away from the gleam on his hand. “Explaining you to my family is going to be fun,” he said cheerfully.

  That got her attention. “Oh, God … you have parents?”

  “And siblings. And aunts and uncles. All of whom are strictly law-abiding. Yep, no two ways about it, it’s going to be a hell of a Thanksgiving.”

  She groaned and buried her face in the pillows while he laughed and laughed.

  HOT AND BOTHERED

  Kayla Perrin

  Chapter One

  She was back.

  Trey Arnold spotted her out of the corner of one eye the moment she entered the bar. His hands froze on the bottles of liquor he held, causing at least an extra ounce each of vodka and Kahlua to spill into the ice-filled tumbler. The beautiful Cuban woman before him hadn’t asked for a double shot, but that was what she’d have now—courtesy of the woman who had just walked through the door.

  In all the years Trey had been serving drinks at Castaways, he hadn’t once lost his rhythm. Until now.

  No, that wasn’t entirely true. There had been one other time. The first time he had poured a drink for her.

  “Hey, sugar. You trying to get me drunk?”

  The soft voice with the distinctive Spanish lilt drew his attention. Trey grinned absentmindedly at Adriana’s comment, then placed her drink on a napkin and slid it across the counter to her. “A double shot for the price of a regular. I’d say that’s a good deal.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “So you are trying to get me drunk.”

  “Just trying to keep you happy,” Trey countered. “That’ll be four dollars.”

  But as he spoke, his eyes wandered. Wandered to Jenna.

  She looked just the way he remembered her, from her luscious caramel skin to those full, pouty lips. Even her hair hadn’t changed. Her short black tresses looked like they had been finger-combed, creating an unkempt appearance that was entirely sexy.

  “Here you go.”

  With effort, Trey looked away from Jenna and met the Cuban beauty’s eyes. This was Adriana’s third time here in as many days. Her bashful smiles and lingering looks told him she was attracted to him. They had chatted briefly yesterday, which was how he knew her name. He also knew that she had been born and raised in Cuba, but was now living in Miami. She liked to get to Key West at least a few times a year, but this was the first time she had discovered Castaways.

  If there was one thing Trey knew about tourists, they were a different breed altogether. At home, they might be model citizens. Kindergarten teachers, demure secretaries, cops. But on vacation, getting drunk and stupid was par for the course. They left their inhibitions at the door and looked for a good time wherever one was to be had.

  He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Adriana wanted to have a good time with him. He’d also bet this bar that she had a husband back home, if the pale rim on her ring finger was any indication.

  Adriana’s lips curled in seductive invitation as she slid a five across the bar, along with a slip of paper. With deliberate slowness, she got off the bar stool, then cast Trey a simmering look before walking away.

  Trey glanced at the note. I’m here till Friday, staying at the Best Western. Room 1202. Call me.

  Trey crumpled the paper and dumped it in the nearby trash bin. He was flattered, sure, and had this been a few years ago, before he’d met Jenna, he would have been tempted to lose himself in a night of mindless sex with a gorgeous woman like Adriana. But he had come a long way since the lonely days after Irene had left him and he’d thrown himself into his work.

  Besides, he was a married man now. The kind of married man who believed in the sacredness of his vows, no matter what Jenna might believe.

  “I’ll have a draft,” a guy said, squeezing his way between two bar patrons. “Whatever’s light.”

  “Sure thing.” Trey reached behind him for a draft glass, then whirled around in one fluid motion, trying to get back into his flow. But as his hand curled around the draft beer’s tap, his stomach clenched.

  Where was Jenna?

  He pulled the tap, his eyes searching the dimly lit, well-populated room. Only once the glass was full of beer did he spot her again. At the far right of the room, she was standing at a high, round table with a girlfriend.

  Not just any friend, Trey realized. Ruby.

  Ah, Ruby. He couldn’t help smiling. So Jenna had come with reinforcements.

  Trey watched Jenna and Ruby settle onto bar stools at the table as he handed the man his change. Ruby swayed her body to the calypso beat. Jenna, on the other hand, looked like she was facing a firing squad.

  That firing squad being him.
<
br />   She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see him, but he had given her no choice. And if Jenna was the way he remembered, a fireball of passion, he knew she had to be pissed.

  But he’d be damned if he was simply going to stand by and let her walk out of his life forever, so he had done what he’d had to do to get her back here.

  Here, where it all began.

  She may have traveled over fifteen hundred miles to get a divorce, but by the time he was through with her, he’d make sure she knew that she was still his wife—in every sense of the word.

  Two years, three weeks, and four days after she had fled Key West, Jenna Maxwell was back. Back in the place where it had all begun, after a whirlwind courtship and spur of the moment marriage two and a half years ago.

  This was the last place in the world she wanted to be. But, like someone about to go under the knife to remove a tumor, this was a necessary evil.

  Still, she would have done almost anything to avoid this trip, avoid a reunion with her estranged husband, Trey—including give up chocolate for a year. But Trey had forced her hand, making her come here to deal with him in person before she could move on with her life.

  “Earth to Jenna.” “Huh? Oh, we’re here.”

  “We sure are.” Ruby, Jenna’s longtime best friend, reached across the front seat of their rented sports car and squeezed her hand. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Like I’m about to be disemboweled.”

  Ruby threw her head back and laughed. “It’s not that bad. At least the weather’s great.”

  That was the only plus about this trip. Jenna and Ruby had left behind four feet of snow and thirteen-degrees-before-the-windchill weather up north. Getting to sunny Florida at a time like this would top anyone’s To Do list. If only the occasion were a pleasant one.

  “Are you getting cold feet?” Ruby asked.

  “Of course not,” Jenna replied quickly. Too quickly. But the truth was, she was dreading seeing Trey.

  The last time she had seen him was that awful January morning two years earlier. They’d had an explosive argument, said all kinds of hurtful things to each other, and Jenna had known that their marriage was over. Devastated, she had thrown her things into her car and left hastily—left without even thinking of signing any type of official separation document. It was that legal glitch that had her coming back here now, to get Trey’s signature on separation papers her lawyer had drawn up. Because although they’d physically been separated for two years, barring adultery or cruelty or some other “cause” for a divorce, the state of New York wouldn’t grant her one without an official separation of at least one year.

  She hadn’t even considered the legal ramifications of simply up and leaving him, but at the time she had been utterly distraught over the death of her marriage, which had been incredibly short-lived. In her grief, she had simply wanted to run away, avoid the unbearable tension between them, while in her heart a smidgeon of hope still burned that she and Trey would work things out.

  Trey knew her cell number, as well as her parents’ number back in Buffalo. And he had to have known she would head back to work at the WBLK radio station as a receptionist. But he had never called. The only thing he’d done was ship her bookshelf and novels back to her—as per her last parting instruction.

  It was all water under the bridge. She had learned a valuable lesson, and was ready to move on with her life. This time, when Jenna left Key West, she would be officially one step closer to her freedom—freedom from a foolish mistake that was holding her back. It had been her New Year’s resolution, to get the ball rolling on her divorce before she turned thirty in May. God knew she was practically over the hill, and if she wanted to settle down and have a family, she had to do everything in her power to make that happen.

  Thankfully, this would be the last time she had to see Trey. Once he signed the separation agreement, effectively letting her go, she doubted he’d be stubborn enough to get on a plane and head to Buffalo to sign the final divorce papers, rather than see a notary here. Then she could finally get on with her life, search for Mr. Right without the dark cloud of her failed marriage hanging over her head.

  “Ready to head inside?”

  Jenna slipped off her sunglasses and stuffed them in the V of her cotton shirt. The sun was already setting, so she hardly needed them, but she’d kept them on in an attempt to avoid seeing this place with clear eyes. “I may as well get this over with.”

  Ruby closed the sunroof and got out of the car. Jenna followed her, her stomach fluttering as she did.

  “If he’s not here, do you want to swing by the house?”

  “Oh, he’ll be here,” Jenna said confidently. This bustling bar and eatery was Trey’s baby, his life. She knew he would be inside, doing his thing. He made an art form out of serving drinks.

  She had appreciated his commitment to the bar in the beginning, until she’d realized that he preferred spending time here as opposed to spending time with her.

  Ruby pulled open the heavy wood door, then stood back, allowing Jenna to enter first. Jenna hesitated. But after a moment, she took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold.

  Her eyes did a quick sweep of the place, yet avoiding the one spot she knew she’d find Trey. An energetic calypso beat pulsed through the bar. The place was crowded, filled nearly to capacity with lively tourists. For a Tuesday evening, this was amazing. Things had certainly picked up in the two years she had been gone. Trey must be pleased.

  Trey. Even thinking his name made her body quiver. Anticipation mixed with the anxiety she was already feeling. She would be lying if she said she didn’t fear looking his way because she was afraid of how she’d react. The first time she had seen him, her body short-circuited from sensual overload. There was no reason to expect that seeing him now would be any different.

  He was that kind of man. Sinfully sexy, impossible to regard and not feel even a twinge of lust. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have a future. Her body would react to him in a purely carnal way.

  But she couldn’t ignore looking his way forever. So, swallowing a deep breath, and knowing exactly where she would find him, her gaze went to the bar.

  Though she expected him there, her heart rammed in her chest at the first mouthwatering sight of him. The black shirt he wore was unbuttoned as far as the eye could see, giving her a delicious view of his smooth, hard chest. His well-muscled arms looked amazingly strong. She could only see a shadow of dark hair over his head; he must have shaved it. The low-cropped look worked very well for him.

  No doubt about it, the man was an Adonis. From his perfectly sculpted biceps to his flawless, golden brown skin, he looked good enough to sink her teeth into.

  Jenna was certain that the woman with the long black hair and hourglass figure thought so, too. She seemed mesmerized as she watched Trey pour liquor into a glass with pizzazz.

  And for a moment, Jenna was mesmerized, too. Mesmerized by Trey’s smooth and utterly sexy movements. But the magic fizzled when she saw the stunning woman at the bar give Trey an over-the-shoulder look that screamed I want you in my bed.

  That Trey glanced at a slip of paper a moment later only served to reinforce the point of why Jenna was here: to cut ties with her hottie heartbreaker and move on with her life. Clearly, the woman had given Trey her information. How many others had done so in the two years she’d been gone? And how many had he bedded, the way he had her? Flirty tourists were a dime a dozen here. Surely many of them had solicited sex from her husband in her absence.

  Her husband. Was he ever truly hers? Considering how little she really knew about him, she doubted it. Regret lodged in her throat at what could have been but never was. So much hope; so much disappointment.

  “Are we heading to the bar?” Ruby asked.

  Ruby’s voice rescued Jenna from her trip down Miserable Memory Lane. “Not yet,” she replied. “Let’s find a table.”

  Gripping her small clutch purse, Jenna took tentat
ive steps toward a rear table that was surprisingly free. Once, this bar had felt like home. Now, she felt entirely out of place.

  “I like this music. Don’t you like this music?”

  Jenna scowled lightly. As if they were here for entertainment! But leave it to Ruby to have a good time, despite the circumstance. Of course, Ruby was always on the hunt for her Mr. Right, and according to her the best way to find him was to put out positive energy. Short shorts and a cut-off T-shirt didn’t hurt, either—which was what the dark-skinned diva had decided to change into at the hotel. Left alone, Ruby would be getting laid by Mr. Wrong by the end of the night.

  Jenna eased her body onto one of the high stools, saying, “I think I need a drink.”

  Ruby gave her forearm a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need booze to get through this. You just have to tell him what you want.”

  Easy for you to say, Jenna almost blurted, but somehow managed not to. Ruby had been with her two and a half years ago when she’d met and fallen for Trey. In fact, Ruby had met him first, then dragged Jenna to the bar to introduce them. She’d had some “psychic vibe” that Jenna and Trey were soul mates in search of each other, and at the time Jenna had been so smitten she’d believed that bullshit. And even though time had proven that concept clearly untrue, Ruby, ever the romantic, still thought Jenna and Trey were right for each other.

  She had given Jenna an earful of the “your soul mate comes along once in a lifetime” speech on the plane, which had surprised Jenna, considering that Ruby had offered to accompany her on this trip for moral support. Jenna would have gotten more support from her father—although he would have given her an entirely different type of speech.

  “I know I don’t need booze,” Jenna said in response to Ruby’s comment, “but I could use a drink nonetheless.”

  “You’re right. It’s been a long day. I’ll take a rum and Coke while you’re at it.”

  Jenna gaped at Ruby. “I’m not going up there.”

  “Right, of course. You’re not ready.” She hopped off her chair. “I’ll go. What can I get for you?”