The Guy Next Door

Chapter one

“BUT, MOM! HOW CAN YOU DO this to me?”

Gail Chapman looked up from her morning newspaper and into the angry face of her seventeen-year-old daughter, Holly. “The answer is no,” she said again. “There is no way on earth I am letting you go to Florida alone for spring break. Do you think I don’t know what kind of trouble a girl can get into down there?”

“But I’ll have Hannah with me!”

Gail tried to keep a straight face, but the idea that Holly’s best friend, the voluptuous Hannah Marko, would somehow provide a barrier between her daughter and disaster was laughable. The two of them were Thelma and Louise without a lick of life experience or a decent map. “I said no, and that’s my final decision.”

“God!” Holly stomped her feet like an enraged toddler. “I can’t believe you’d mess up my entire senior year like this! You’re ruining my whole life!”

“Actually, I’m helping you avoid that very thing.”

“Aaauuuggghh!” Holly balled up her fists. The veins and tendons stood out from her neck so much that Gail thought she looked like the Incredible Hulkette in size-three skinny jeans.

“The answer is no, Holly.”

“But you don’t understand—”

“Sure I do,” Gail said, calmly removing her reading glasses and folding her hands on the kitchen table in front of her. “I am not a shut-in, sweetheart. I know all the temptations the world has to offer.”

Her daughter made some kind of dismissive clicking sound at the back of her tongue before she said, “What-evs.”

Gail sighed.

“But Daytona Beach is perfectly safe, Mom!” Holly twirled around on her Uggs and flopped into the other kitchen chair. “There’s lifeguards, like, every ten feet down the sand! And police everywhere! And, you know, their whole economy depends on tourism, so, like, they have to make sure nothing bad ever happens to the spring-break kids because that would be bad PR and totally negatively affect their economy!”

Gail was impressed by her daughter’s logic, but it was all a load of bull and they both knew it. “The answer is no,” she said again, standing up and clearing away her breakfast dishes. As she rinsed them out in the sink, she felt Holly press close behind her.

“Please, Mommy?” Holly made the plea in her cutest, sweetest, little-girl voice. “No.”

“Dad would say yes!” Holly’s voice had magically regained its full measure of teenage torment. “If I lived with Dad, he’d let me go!”

Gail nearly choked as she placed her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher. Holly was right. Her dad would likely endorse any vacation that included alcohol poisoning, random disrobing and waking up in a stranger’s hotel room, since that was pretty much his preferred getaway. It was all a moot point, of course. Holly couldn’t move in with her dad anytime soon, since Curtis Chapman would be a guest of the federal prison system for another four years. And that was contingent upon good behavior, which had never been his strong suit.

“No, Holly. That’s my final answer.”

“You’re being unreasonable! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t be allowed to go!”

Gail turned. She put her hands on Holly’s upper arms and held her firmly. She looked right into her daughter’s big, beautiful brown eyes—a move that now required her to look up instead of down because her baby was about an inch taller than her. She spoke slowly and seriously.

“A terrible disease. An unplanned pregnancy. An auto accident. Being hit by a bus. Drowning. A shark attack. An unintentional starring role in the Sluts of Spring Break DVD available for $19.95 on the Internet.”

Holly’s mouth fell open.

“What?” Gail asked. “Did you think I’m some nerdy small-town English professor with no idea of what goes on outside of Beaverdale, Pennsylvania?”

Holly blinked. “Well…yeah.”

Gail kissed her daughter’s cheek, keeping her smile hidden. “I need to get ready for my nine o’clock class. You’ve got five minutes until the bus gets here.”

“But, Mom—”

“We’ll talk about it more this evening,” Gail said, heading toward her bedroom. “Maybe we can come up with some kind of alternative plan, okay? Maybe you and Hannah can do something fun a little closer to home.”

“Oh, right,” Holly said, grabbing her backpack and heading for the front door. “I can see it now—spring break in Amish Country! We could make cheese and go on buggy rides! Hey—you could be our chaperone, Mom! I can’t wait to tell Hannah! This spring break is gonna totally rock!”

“Bye, honey.” Gail got the words out just before Holly slammed the door behind her. She chuckled to herself as she pulled out a brown skirt and beige blouse from her closet, thinking that it wasn’t all that long ago that she’d tried the same thing with her own mom. And lost. Gail ended up spending her senior-year spring break in the backseat of Tommy Brancovicci’s beater 1981 Gran Torino, which, come to think of it, was nothing but a shark attack on dry land.

As she dressed, Gail ran through the day’s schedule in her mind. She taught her Intro to American Lit class at nine and her Honors Hemingway Seminar at two, with student conferences from ten-thirty to noon. She was meeting Kim for lunch—it had been far too long since she’d seen her best friend. And she had a department meeting at four and had to pick up the dry cleaning on the way home. Oh! And she should swing by the campus print shop for her new business cards, so she could proudly tell the world who she’d become: Gail Chapman, PhD.

She shook her head at the irony of it. The heck with Holly and Hannah! What did two impossibly young and free girls need with a vacation? Gail was the one who’d earned a spring break!

She froze. Holly’s sarcastic proposal began echoing in her head.

Chaperone?

Maybe her daughter was onto something.

GAIL PICKED AT HER CAESAR salad with a fork, trying to summon the courage to answer Kim’s question. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing…”

Her best friend laughed. “Come on, Gail. I’ve known you for thirty of your thirty-six years on the planet. There’s nothing left to be embarrassed about. We’ve gone through sex, love, money, heartbreak, divorce, parenting, various career crises and Curtis’s embezzlement trial. How could your choice of vacation destination be embarrassing?”

Gail looked up at Kim and shrugged. “We’re talking my dream vacation, right?”

Kim nodded. “Right.”

Gail took a deep breath. “Well, the one place I’ve always wanted to go—you know, like my ultimate fantasy getaway—is Key West. And I figure now is the perfect time. The girls get their spring break and I get my trip of a lifetime.”

It took exactly one second for Kim’s face to go from excitement to stone-cold disappointment. She shook her head back and forth and closed her eyes. After taking a moment to compose herself she said, “Is this a Hemingway thing? Because if this is a Hemingway thing, I swear to God I’ll—”

“Not completely.”

Kim put her hand on Gail’s arm. “Key West is wild, honey. It’s the home of street parties and dangerous smugglers and all-you-can-drink booze cruises.”

“I realize that, but the girls would have restrictions and a curfew,” Gail said. “They’ll be heading off to college soon, anyway, and I figured this will give them a taste of freedom but with adult supervision.”

Kim looked dumbfounded.

“What?” she asked.

“I was referring to you, Gail.”

She waved Kim off. “Oh, you know I’d never let anything happen to me.”

Kim roared with laughter, drawing the stares of some of the other diners at their favorite lunch spot near campus. “That’s what I’m worried about, Gail—that you wouldn’t let anything happen to you, that a trip to Margaritaville would be completely wasted on you, that you’re going there solely for some kind of Ernest Hemingway geek-fest!”

It was Gail’s turn to laugh, and it felt good to laugh that hard. Kim’s reaction didn’t surprise her, and Gail couldn’t fault her friend. The whole idea did sound suspiciously work-related. But it was the truth—for as long as she could remember she’d been fascinated by the lore of Key West, the city’s wild and romantic history and, yes, its connection to the romantic Papa Hemingway legend. He’d written some of his best work there, after all.

“If I went to Key West I’d find a way to relax a little,” Gail assured her.

Kim sighed. The waiter came by to refill their iced teas, which gave her a chance to study Gail carefully until he was out of range. “I know what your version of relaxation is,” she said, a note of accusation in her voice.

“Books. Reading. And if you’re feeling like a really naughty girl, you’ll write notes in the margins.”

Gail giggled.

“That wasn’t intended to be funny.”

Gail rolled her eyes. She knew Kim meant well, and there was certainly a seed of truth to what she was saying, but this was all fantasy anyway. She had no idea if she could get a hotel room for herself and the girls at this late a date. She had no idea how much it would set her back. She had no idea if the girls would even agree to this plan. Most of all, she wasn’t exactly the world’s most spontaneous person, so this whole flight of fancy was way out of her comfort zone.

Yet, despite all that, Gail hadn’t been able to get the idea out of her head since getting dressed that morning. Something about it felt right. Maybe it was time she did something out of her comfort zone. Maybe it was time to live a little.

“You need to get out, Gail.” Kim took a gulp of her tea, as if fortifying herself to finish her thought. “You’re the poster child for deprived women everywhere. You need to go out and get funky on the dance floor. Have a couple cocktails with umbrellas in them. You need to enjoy the company of a handsome man of dubious character who makes your legs weak.”

Gail shook her head. “You know I’m only interested in someone who’s honest and loving. The rest of that stuff isn’t important.”

“Whatever you say,” Kim said, displaying the same doubtful look Gail got every time she swore off chocolate forever. Again.

“Perhaps I need to refresh your memory,” Gail said, stabbing at her salad with a little too much wrist action. “The last time I fell for a handsome man of mystery I got pregnant and ended up pledging my troth to Bernie Madoff Jr.”

Kim’s giggle turned into a sigh. “Fair enough,” she said, “but life isn’t over for you, Gail. Don’t cheat yourself like that. You’re still young. There’s a whole world out there. A whole world of men.”

Gail pretended to be fascinated with her romaine lettuce.

“How long’s it been since you had any fun?” Kim asked.

Gail looked up and answered matter-of-factly. “I went out for a beer with some of the other professors a couple of weeks ago.”

“Uh-huh.”

She groaned, realizing that Kim wasn’t going to let her off easy today. Her friend was well aware that it had been two years since she’d had any kind of sex and six years since she’d had decent, meaningful sex, or at least what she’d told herself at the time was decent and meaningful. A few days afterward, Curtis admitted to his multiple fidelity “slip-ups” and expressed his desire to become her ex-husband. Soon after that, he was arrested for embezzling nearly two million of his investment clients’ dollars.

“Besides,” Gail told Kim. “I’m not sure how much weak-kneed dancing I’d be able to do. If I went to Key West I’d have Holly and Hannah with me, remember?”

Kim shrugged. “You could find a way. All you’ve done for the last five years is teach, work on your dissertation, raise Holly, worry about money and fall into bed exhausted at night, only to do it all over again the next day. You deserve to cut loose a little.”

Gail rolled her eyes. “Fine. Maybe you’re right.”

“Hell yes, I’m right!” Kim smiled, as though it was all settled. “Go have your spring fling in Key West, then. And I’m truly sorry I can’t get away from work to go with you. Do you think you can handle those two girls by yourself?”

“Of course I can,” Gail said. “The three of us will have a blast together.”

JESSE DOMINIC BATISTA cradled the cordless phone under his chin while he made his morning patrol of the cottage grounds. As he listened to his agent’s long-distance lecture on the importance of meeting deadlines at this crucial comeback point in his career, he scanned the small yard that fronted Margaret Street. In his left hand he clutched a plastic trash bag and a paper sack for recycling. He used his Playtex-Living-Glove-encased right hand to snag the empty beer bottles from the grass. As usual, they’d been tossed over his privacy wall during someone’s late-night stroll home from the Duval Street bars. Jesse opened the wrought-iron gate to scan the sidewalk for any trash, cigarette butts or the occasional condom wrapper.

It was official. Spring break had come to Key West.

Jesse straightened, using the latex glove to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun. He repeated his position to his agent. “Tell them I need two more weeks, Beverly,” he said into the phone. “Tell them it’s real simple—if they want a manuscript, they can have it today. If they want a good manuscript, they’ll have to wait two weeks.”

Jesse heard Beverly produce another heartfelt sigh before she updated him on his latest mediocre sales figures and a movie studio’s bid for his screenplay.

“I’ll get back to you in a couple of days about everything. Promise.” Jesse said his goodbyes and hung up, shoving the phone into his pocket.

Since he was already on the sidewalk, he decided to pick up the trash in front of his absentee neighbor’s house, a cute craftsman bungalow rental shaded by two old palmetto trees. Being Saturday morning, he knew the current invading horde would soon be heading out. Then the cleaners would swoop in to do their magic—scrubbing bathrooms, hosing down porches, cleaning the pool and wiping down the inside of the fridge. By late afternoon, a new group would move in, thrilled by the charm and comfort of their temporary island home, excited that their vacation stretched out before them, days of azure skies and eternal ocean followed by nights of booze, music, food and laughter.

Jesse didn’t begrudge them their good time. Most of the renters were polite and responsible. Every once in a while, he’d meet someone truly interesting. And a couple of times, he’d lucked out with a group of beautiful women escaping their minivans and office cubicles for an all-girls week of mischief.

Jesse swallowed hard, thinking of Cammy. She’d seemed so sweet and real. And yet, she was neither. To this day, it still amazed him how months of pain had been the price he paid for a few nights of pleasure. Jesse shook his head. Never again would he do something so profoundly stupid. If he wanted to remain sane and solvent, Renter Chicks would be forever off-limits—no matter how pretty they were. No matter how sweet and real they seemed.

Jesse returned to the cool shade of his own little private oasis and locked the gate behind him. He couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the steady stream of tourists was part of life in Key West, but it was worth it. He got to call the most unique city in the United States his home.

Though he’d been in the cottage for two years now, it still gave him a rush of pride every time he stood here, on the walkway, looking up at the original Batista homestead. He’d put a huge chunk of money into the place and poured his heart and soul into returning it to its original beauty, and now it suited him perfectly.

Of course, he hadn’t always been thrilled with the prospect of owning the place. When grandmother Ella left it to him five years before, he felt put-upon. He didn’t want the hassle or the responsibility. Just because he was a well-known author didn’t mean he was filthy rich, and it was obvious that restoring the dilapidated house and grounds would be an enormous undertaking.

But the cottage was his family legacy, and if he didn’t take it on, who would? His brother who lived on a ranch in Wyoming? His brother’s chronically broke ex-wife, Lelinda, who hustled a living off the tourists? His unemployed cousins in Miami?

So Jesse set out to save what he could—the bathroom’s original vintage tile and claw-foot tub, some of the exterior clapboard and all the Dade County pine flooring, the rosewood fireplace mantel, the carved front door and the ornate wrought iron from the upstairs back veranda. Everything else was gutted and rebuilt, and as soon as work was completed, he sold his condo.

Though the Queen Anne cottage was now a historic landmark and part of most of the city’s architectural walking tours, to Jesse it was simply home. It was where he let his imagination run free, where he slept with the windows open to the sea breeze whispering in the banyan tree and where he wrote. It was his retreat. His heart. The cottage was his place in the world.

Jesse went to the side of the house to ditch the trash and recyclables and check on a hurricane shutter that was coming off its hinges, making a mental note of what tools he’d need to repair it. He went back around to the front and climbed the porch steps, opening the door to a view of gleaming floors and an elegant center staircase. It never ceased to amaze him that his great-great-grandparents came from Cuba with nothing, yet within a generation the Batistas had become one of the most influential families in the Southern Keys.

And to think—Jesse was the last local descendant of the original clan. He was the proverbial end of the road.

The phone in his pants pocket began to ring. It was Fred Luna’s number on the caller ID. Jesse knew what this meant, and his heart sank in sadness—Fred’s wife, Yvette, was probably back in the hospital and he needed Jesse to captain the boat. Of course he’d do it. Spending an evening as “Captain J.D.” on the sunset cruise was the least he could do for his lifelong friend. As a bonus, a night in the company of drunken tourists almost always gave him an idea for a future fictional character. Between the occasional captain gig on Fred’s party boat and helping Lelinda with her walking tours—one of which, unfortunately, he’d long ago promised to do first thing tomorrow morning—Jesse was never hurting for inspiration.

“No problem, man. Of course I will,” he told Fred. I’ll be at the dock at four. Give Yvette my love, and let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

HOLLY HAD DECIDED SHE’D make the best of it. It wasn’t as if she had much of a choice. The way her mom had put it, it was either spring break in Key West, with her coming along as chaperone, or spring break in Beaverdale, also with her as chaperone. Duh! Holly and Hannah talked about it and decided they could work with that first option.

A guy they knew in Honors Biology knew a guy at the college who could get fake Pennsylvania IDs custom made for fifty bucks a pop. Holly and Hannah scrounged up the cash and were quite pleased with the results. (Holly’s claimed she was twenty-three years old and a resident of Philadelphia.) They had the IDs packed in their suitcases, along with their new bikinis, anklets, suntan lotion with body glitter already added and all kinds of cute outfits and sandals.

At first, Holly’s best friend was really worried the trip wouldn’t be any fun. Hannah had all kinds of questions, but Holly had convinced her to give it a try. What if Key West didn’t have the same all-out party scene as Daytona or South Beach? she’d asked. (Then they’d make their own party scene.) What if the guys were older? (That might be a nice change of pace—older guys tended to have more money anyway, right?) And how would they possibly be able to slip under the Mom Radar to have any fun?

That one had been the easiest for Holly to deal with.

First off, Holly assured her friend that her mom wasn’t the worrywart type. “She trusts me completely. I’ve never given her any reason not to.”

Hannah laughed. “You just haven’t been caught.”

“Exactly. And anyway, you know my mom’s asleep by nine every night. As long as we’re home by sunrise, she’ll be clueless.”

So at that moment, as the plane descended onto what already looked like a tropical paradise surrounded by a neverending blue-green sea, Holly and Hannah gave each other a wink and a thumbs up.

Let the partying begin.

Chapter two

OH, YESSSS.

Gail pulled the chain on the ceiling fan, and the wide rattan blades began to whir. She placed her glass of lemonade on the wicker table, along with the stack of brochures she’d collected at the airport, then settled into the porch rocker. She pulled the cotton sundress down over her thighs and wiggled her toes in the shade provided by the big palm tree. This was hard to believe. For ten glorious days she and the girls would be relaxing in this adorable, tidy little house on Margaret Street. What luck it was to find this place at the last minute—and right in the heart of historic Old Town! The rental agent said a family called to cancel only six hours before Gail made her inquiry.

“It must be fate,” the woman had said.

Whatever it was, the place was idyllic. They had their own inground pool out back, where the girls were already swimming, reggae music pumping out of a pair of outdoor speakers. They had a gas grill, a big-screen TV with cable and DVR, and in Gail’s master bath she had a Jacuzzi tub and a shower stall! It was heaven on earth! Now all she had to do was decide which activities they’d do when they weren’t relaxing at the house. They could choose from snorkeling, water scooters, sailing trips, deep-sea fishing, swimming with dolphins and all kinds of historical tours.

Sure, this vacation was pricey, but it had been a snap to justify the expense. Since this was the first vacation Gail had taken in six years, she’d calculated that she’d spent only $447 per year on vacations during that time. If that wasn’t thrifty, she didn’t know what was.

Gail took a sip of the ice-cold lemonade, savoring the complexity of the sharp sweetness as it slid down her throat. As she rested her head against the rocker, she felt a lock of hair stick to her damp neck. She was perspiring. Already. This was fabulous! Thanks to the miracle of flight, she’d been picked up in a bone-chilling Philadelphia rain and dropped off in the subtropics.

Gail let go with a sigh of relief, the stress falling away like a shell, her dry winter skin sucking in the humidity like a sponge. Her chest and bare arms were gently tickled by the ceiling fan’s breeze.

Oh, how she’d needed this chance to unwind. Kim had been absolutely right.

“What the goddammed fucking hell?”

Gail’s head popped up and her ears perked. The man’s voice was so close it sounded as if he was right on top of her.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

She swiveled her head to her right. She saw movement on the other side of the thick screen of foliage separating her yard from the house next door. Then she heard a few banging sounds, like someone taking a hammer to metal.

“This is patently absurd,” said the baritone voice in the next yard. “I pay twenty-five bucks each for historically accurate reproduction shutter hinges, and this is the kind of substandard crap I get? In less than two years? Does no one have a sense of pride in their artistry anymore?”

Gail leaned forward on the edge of the rocker and peeked between two large flowering bushes, looking to see if the man was speaking to anyone. She determined that he was alone over there, which made her even more curious. What kind of man would buy historically accurate reproduction shutter hinges and then talk to them? Curse at them? While using words like “patently” and “substandard,” no less?

She craned her neck. She could almost see him. If only he’d turn to his left a bit…almost there…now just a little bit more…

Gail’s eyes widened in comprehension.

Oh.

So that’s what George Clooney would look like after a month on the beach—all sun-roasted and sexy, salt-and-pepper scruff on his face and threadbare jeans hanging low on his chiseled hips.

Gail watched her foulmouthed neighbor examine what was obviously the offending hinge. He moved it back and forth in his hand, his scowl deepening, the muscles undulating in his hands, wrists and forearms.

She couldn’t take her eyes from him. A hot heaviness started low in her belly, and the longer she stared, the more intense the heat became, spreading, rising, causing her breath to become jagged. Despite the warm air, full-on goose bumps broke out on Gail’s arms.

She blinked. She licked her lips. The dark-haired hinge examiner wore a tiny silver hoop that glinted in the dappled sunlight. Maybe he was a pirate, one of those dangerous smugglers Kim had mentioned, a pirate smuggler with a rippling layer of muscle beneath the tanned skin of his abdomen. A pirate with defined biceps and strong shoulders. A pirate with an English degree.

Without warning, he looked up. His piercing blue eyes flashed at Gail, first with surprise, then with irritation. She gasped. She slammed herself into the back of the rocker, eyes straight ahead, hands gripping the armrests while she held her breath. How embarrassing. She shouldn’t have done that. Now her neighbor would think she was nosy.

“Oh, great.” An instant after the scholarly pirate made that sarcastic comment, Gail heard his sandaled feet clomp up his porch steps. Then she heard his door opening and closing.

Well, that had been awkward. Apparently, Gail didn’t even remember how to behave around extremely attractive men. Kim had been right. She really should’ve gotten out more.

“DID YOU SEE THE WAY THAT dude looked at us?” Hannah spread herself out on her stomach at poolside, dangling her fingers in the shallow end while Holly floated nearby in the warm water. “I swear he was undressing us with his eyes.”

Holly laughed. “All guys do that. They can’t help themselves.”

“Yeah, but that dude was sick hot.”

“You need to slow down,” Holly said, paddling over to where Hannah lay. “Pace yourself, girlfriend. We’ve been here, like, two hours. He was just the cabdriver.”

“I know, but he was hard-core exotic!” Hannah lowered her forehead to her arms and sighed.

Holly swam to the pool edge and propped herself on her elbows, kicking her feet lazily in the water behind her. “I’ve got a feeling this place is going to be crawling with sick-hot guys, and we’ve got ten whole days to meet every one of them, right?”

Hannah lifted her eyes, her expression now serious. “Your mom’s sweet and this place is totally tight. I kinda feel bad in a way, you know? We’re going to be having such a ballin’ time and she’s just going to be sitting around reading on the porch. It’s sad.”

Holly laughed. “But that’s her idea of fun! She’s not much of a partier. She can’t dance or anything. So I wouldn’t worry too much about my mom.” Holly wagged an eyebrow and was careful to lower her voice—not that her mom could hear anything while that Shaggy tune was pumping out into the courtyard:

Who da man dat love to make you moist and wet—uh?

Who da man dat love to make you moan and sweat—uh?

“If you say so,” Hannah said with a shrug.

“So what do you want to do tonight? Should we sneak out to the main party area? What’s it called again?”

“Duval Street?”

“Right.”

Hannah ratcheted her neck back in response. “What are you, wack or something? Of course we should sneak out to Duval Street!”

“All right, then,” Holly whispered. “We’re going to need a plan.”

SHE SMELLED HIM BEFORE she saw him, catching a whiff of clean male skin and fabric starch in the breeze. He stood on the sidewalk, head covered in a bright white captain’s cap with a navy blue bill, the barest hint of a smile spreading across his clean-shaven face. For some reason, he’d gotten rid of the salt-and-pepper scruff and the hoop earring. Why? Why would he do that? It was a tragedy!

Equally tragic was the fact that he was now fully clothed, wearing a pair of pressed white slacks and a pale blue golf shirt embroidered with the words “Luna Cruises, Captain J.D.” He knocked playfully on the front gate, though it was unnecessary. Gail had been staring at him, openmouthed, for a good three seconds.

She flew to her feet, a brochure for therapeutic massage skidding across the porch floor.

“Good afternoon. My name is Jesse,” he said in the same baritone voice he’d used to curse the shutter hinge about an hour before. “I’m your neighbor. Just thought I’d introduce myself and welcome you to Key West.”

Gail’s throat had seized shut. She couldn’t speak. She felt like an idiot—a mute idiot. “Guh,” she finally croaked out. “Guh-ail. From Pennsylvania.”

The man approached the porch, stopping on the bottom step, careful not to invade her space. He held out his big, browned hand.

Gail shoved her damp palm toward him. After an instant of contact, he withdrew, hiding his hand in his trouser pocket. It was almost as if he couldn’t stand the idea of touching her, even though he’d initiated it.

“Well,” he said, looking down toward the porch floor uneasily. “Here. You dropped this.” He scanned the cover of the brochure before he returned it to Gail. “So you’re thinking of getting a massage?”

Gail blinked several times and continued to stare. She couldn’t help it. He wasn’t George Clooney. He was better. And he wasn’t a pirate. He was a legitimate boat captain! And all she could think of was how the clean-shaven captain’s big hands would feel rubbing her naked flesh, some type of aromatic tropical oil providing a friction-free slide from her heels to her hairline, and everywhere in between.

“Oh, yeah, that would be so great,” she whispered.

He studied her for a moment, then his dark eyebrows drew together in a scowl. She thought he had the sultriest deep blue eyes she’d ever seen in her life—even with the grimace.

“Okay, then. Enjoy your visit.”

Just then the front door flew open, and Hannah and Holly literally stumbled onto the porch, laughing loudly and dripping pool water at their feet. They stopped in their tracks, backs straightening. Holly’s gaze went from the man to her mother, eyes wide in wonder.

“Girls, this is our neighbor, Jesse,” Gail said, somehow regaining the ability to speak in full sentences. “Jesse, this is my daughter, Holly, and her best friend, Hannah.”

“Hi,” Holly said.

“Hey there,” Hannah said, shifting her weight and sliding a hand along the slope of her well-rounded hip.

“Hello,” Jesse said, averting his gaze.

Gail rubbed the back of her damp neck, anxiety coursing through her. She’d never seen that bikini on her daughter before. The garment—if you could call two partially shredded strips of fabric a garment—was not appropriate for a high school student, or anyone who didn’t make their living thrusting her pelvis onto a pole. However, Holly’s swimsuit was a burka compared with the three triangles Hannah was sporting, and Hannah was far more endowed than her daughter.

“Excuse me, but I need to get to work. Enjoy your stay.” Jesse smiled politely and tipped his cap to the ladies before he left. They watched him walk from the house, out the gate and down the sidewalk.

No one said anything for many long seconds.

Hannah broke the silence. “Who knew Cap’n Crunch was such a bangin’ hottie?”

The girls broke out into an attack of the giggles. Gail continued to stare down the sidewalk, awash in some kind of stunned awareness, long after the bangin’ hot captain had disappeared.

JESSE REVIEWED THE manifest with the crew chief. There’d be forty-four passengers on board Fred’s customized sixty-foot motor yacht tonight, sixteen of whom had made a vegetarian meal selection and one who needed handicapped access and seating. Once he completed the yacht’s safety check with the first mate, Jesse grabbed a cold drink and watched the crew carry on the necessities—containers of fresh shrimp, grouper and red snapper, hamburgers, barbecued chicken and pork, and veggie burgers. There were vats of several varieties of salads, sandwich fixings, guacamole and salsa. There were several varieties of chips and pretzels. Sodas. Fruit juices. Bottled water. Liquor and more liquor. Mixers. Enough beer for a football stadium.

Jesse knew that every passenger who’d forked over $175 to Luna Cruises had specific expectations for their six-hour ocean excursion. They expected to have a blast. They planned to eat and drink to their heart’s content. They would dance and flirt. The music would be thumping and nonstop. They would get the stunning Key West sunset promised in the brochures and, if the weather held out, their magical night on the water and under the stars. Once they’d returned to Sunset Marina at midnight, the passengers would thank Captain J.D. profusely, maybe sliding a folded ten-dollar bill into his palm, which he’d pass on to the hardworking crew. A woman or two might slip him their hotel room information and a cell phone number. Those went into the trash.

Jesse wasn’t a kid—he was a thirty-eight-year-old man who’d learned a lot of hard lessons. The way he saw it, he’d rather have no woman at all than the wrong woman, and, unfortunately, the hotel and cell phone types were almost always of the latter category. He hadn’t been as lucky as his friend Fred, who’d spotted Yvette in the ninth grade and had never looked back. These days, all any of them could do was hope that love and modern medicine would be enough to save her.

In Jesse’s world, even the women who seemed normal often weren’t. Cammy had been so elegant and understated. He’d been fascinated by her from the moment they met. By her second night in the rental house next door, Jesse had been smitten by her laugh, her intelligence and her fun-loving nature.

Soon after, Jesse was the villain in a crazy woman’s make-believe drama of domestic violence charges, paternity accusations and restraining orders—a complex fiction worthy of one of his bestselling suspense novels. It had been nothing but a setup. Cammy had never wanted Jesse. She’d just wanted a bundle of his money and her fifteen minutes of fame, both of which she got. And after the public relations disaster, sales of Jesse’s latest hardcover release were down by twenty percent.

All of which made his current dilemma not much of a dilemma at all. Yes, there might be many things that intrigued him about the pretty mami who’d just unpacked next door. Like the intelligent curiosity in her light brown eyes. The fall of all that thick blond hair. The modest and simple cotton sundress that revealed little and yet hinted at everything. And the fact that she didn’t wear a wedding ring. But what he found especially appealing was how embarrassed the woman named Gail had been when he’d caught her staring at him, and how tongue-tied she’d seemed when he introduced himself.

It was as if the woman had no game whatsoever. And that was the most refreshing thing of all.

But he wouldn’t fall for it. He wouldn’t think of her again. He knew better.

Besides, even if this Gail chick were his one true love, his soul mate, a perfect match delivered to his doorstep, nothing would ever come of it. Jesse already knew that Gail from Pennsylvania wouldn’t have much time for herself on this vacation. Not with those two teenage girls to look after—especially the brunette with the hellacious curves and the video-ho bikini. Unfortunately, he’d seen this same story unfold before, right in the same rental house. Pretty little Gail was in for a rough go in paradise.

GAIL CAREFULLY SPREAD out the brochures upon the recently cleared dining table, the open-air Conch Republic Seafood Company buzzing around them. All things considered—and the mysterious captain next door was one of the things she was considering—this vacation was already shaping up to be full of interesting possibilities.

“The first Hemingway walking tour starts at 8:00 a.m.,” she said, scanning the schedule on the flier’s inside flap. “Is that too early? Would you rather do the 10:00 a.m. tour? Or we can do the Pirate Museum tomorrow instead and save the Hemingway stuff for Monday, when it will probably be less crowded.”

When Gail got no response, she looked up from her brochure. She was greeted by bug-eyed stares of horror.

“Uh,” Hannah said, averting her eyes and obviously kicking Holly under the table.

“Yeah, about the whole vacation schedule thing, Mom,” Holly said, clearing her throat. “We were thinking that it would be better if we kind of split into two groups, you know, according to our age range and interests. Don’t you think that’s a great idea?”

Gail shoved the Hemingway brochure and all the other full-color fliers into the big straw bag at her feet. She didn’t intend to pout, but she truly wanted the girls to have a well-rounded experience here in Key West. Was that so terrible?

“It’s just that we already have plans, Ms. Chapman,” Hannah offered, smiling sweetly. “And we thought it would be nice for you to have some time to yourself for a change, you know? Just think—you could browse the art galleries, sip your lattes, hang out in bookstores.”

Despite herself, Gail chuckled under her breath. “I see. And while I’m doing all this sipping and browsing, you’d be doing what, exactly?”

Hannah was about to answer that question but Holly cut her off. “We’d be playing volleyball on the beach. Riding our rental bikes. Shopping. Getting ice cream. You know, just having fun.”

Gail folded her arms across her chest, not falling for a word of it. Although she’d gone over the rules with the girls before she even purchased the air tickets, it was clearly time for a refresher.

“You’re good kids. I know you want your freedom. I know you believe you’re mature enough to make wise decisions and stay safe.”

“But?” Holly fell back against her chair and pursed her lips, waiting for the rest.

“But I am responsible for you,” Gail said. She turned her attention to her daughter’s friend. “And Hannah, I swore on my life to your mom and dad that I’d keep you out of harm’s way and bring you back in one piece. You understand that your parents have entrusted me with the most precious thing in their lives, right?”

Hannah rolled her eyes.

“So let’s review, shall we?” Gail leaned in on her forearms, speaking softly enough that other diners wouldn’t hear her morph into the world’s most boring human being. “No sex. No alcohol. No pot. No getting into or onto anything on or near the water without my prior permission. No getting into cars or onto motorcycles or mopeds with anyone other than me, period. No flirting with bouncers at bars to get them to let you in without ID. You will use your cell phones to check in with me, and you will answer if I call. There will be no violating curfew—you will both be home by midnight every night, no exceptions.”

Since neither girl said a word, Gail decided to wrap it up.

“And if you don’t follow these basic rules, you’ll both be on the first thing smokin’ out of Key West. End of vacation. And, Holly, I’m sorry to say that for you it would be the end of life as you know it.”

Their mouths dropped open from the force of the insult Gail had delivered. Then Holly’s tongue made that clicking sound of disbelief before she squealed, “We just wanted to go to the beach, Mom! God!”

Gail relaxed into her chair, her blood pressure returning to normal. “So we’re in agreement on the rules?”

Their nods were slow and lacking in enthusiasm, but they were nods, nonetheless.

“Fabulous,” Gail said. “The beach sounds great, then.”

Holly and Hannah looked at each other quickly. “Are you coming with?” Holly asked.

Gail laughed. “No. You’ve agreed to the rules, so I trust you. You don’t have to spend your vacation hanging around with old, boring me.”

“Thank God,” Hannah whispered.

“But there’s one condition—you can’t wear those skimpy swimsuits out in public. They’re pornographic.”

The waiter appeared at tableside, and Gail watched the girls’ sullen frowns turn to sparkling grins the instant the handsome young man looked their way. Gail knew what it felt like to be Holly and Hannah. It wasn’t all that long ago that she and Kim had been seventeen, running around with all the same boy-crazy hormones coursing through their veins, with grand plans of their own. Gail only wanted Holly and Hannah to find a happy medium. She wanted them to enjoy the adventure of this vacation without losing their heads.

Gail suddenly had a sobering thought. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to lose her head, over anything or anyone. In fact, self-denial had been her field of expertise lately, hadn’t it? Maybe she should order a second set of business cards from the campus print shop: Gail Chapman, Doctor of Chastity. “Dessert, ladies?”

My God… Gail stared off into space. I really am the most boring human being on the planet!

Suddenly, she thought of the brown-skinned, sexy-as-hell captain next door and for a moment—just a moment—she wondered what it would be like to let go with a man like that. Completely. Holding nothing back.

That was a ridiculous fantasy. She could never do that. Could she?

Gail sighed heavily. It was a sigh of longing and deprivation.

The smiling waiter glanced her way, pen poised. “So you’ve decided?”

“Decided?” Gail snapped. “What do you mean by that?”

“Uh,” the waiter said, his eyes big. “Dessert?”

“Oh! Of course.” Gail ignored the girls’ questioning stares and reviewed the dessert menu. She didn’t want anything, but she felt she had to provide a cover for that embarrassing sigh. She picked the first item that caught her eye. “Just give me this double-fudge chocolate multiple or—” Her voice failed her. Her face went numb in embarrassment.

The waiter laughed. “So you’re up for a multiple orgasm tonight?” he asked.

Holly gasped then hid her face in her hands. “Shoot me now,” she mumbled.

All Gail could do was nod.

Chapter three

SHE WAITED AT THE TALL wrought-iron gate in front of the Hemingway Home & Museum, checking her watch again. The brochure said to be there at precisely 8:00 a.m., with cash or credit card, wearing comfortable shoes. It said not to be late. Gail had done all those things, yet she was alone on the sidewalk and it was now 8:04.

The airport cab driver had warned them that Key West operated on Margaritaville time. Apparently, he wasn’t joking. Now it was 8:05.

She heard laughter from the other side of White-head Street and turned. Gail squinted through the soft morning light, not quite sure she could trust her eyes. An elderly couple was making slow progress along the crosswalk, with the sexy captain at the woman’s elbow, gently guiding her toward the gate. He wasn’t wearing his jaunty cap that morning, and his thick black hair curled around his ears. The earring was back. And so was a hint of the salt-and-pepper fuzz. And he was smiling—a big, glorious, white-toothed smile she was seeing for the first time.

Gail gulped in air. She pressed her butt against the high stone wall that surrounded Hemingway’s house and hoped she could fade into the background. She held her breath. But Jesse looked up, and Gail could see that he recognized her instantly. She watched surprise flash in his eyes, followed by irritation, just like when he’d caught her staring at him the day before. Clearly, Captain Jesse might have big, bright smiles for little old ladies, but only a suspicious frown for her.

“I’m just here for the tour!” Gail busted out with that pronouncement before he’d even reached the curb, as though she needed to explain herself. Which was silly. She had nothing to apologize for. She might have fantasized about her gorgeous neighbor just a tiny bit the night before, in the privacy of her bedroom, with the blinds drawn, but it wasn’t like she was stalking him or anything.

“You’re here for the 8:00 a.m. walking tour?” Jesse dropped the old woman’s elbow and stared at Gail warily. “The ‘In Hemingway’s Footsteps’ tour?”

“Well, yeah.” Gail clutched her straw shoulder bag to the front of her body, as if protecting herself. “What’s it to you?”

That’s when she heard it for the first time—Jesse’s laugh. Its rich resonance penetrated her flesh and bone, causing her to shudder with pleasure. The intensity of that reaction startled Gail. Why did this guy affect her like this? How did he reduce her to a fool while setting her on fire inside? She didn’t like it much. It made her feel as if she wasn’t in control of herself.

Jesse shook his head, letting go with a deep sigh. “Then the gang’s all here, I suppose.” He gestured to the elderly couple. “This is Pete and Lana Purdy of Little Rock, who are celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary, and this is—” Jesse stopped in midsentence, his scowl deepening. “I’m sorry, Gail, but I didn’t get your last name.”

“Chapman.” Gail released the grip she had on her shoulder bag and shook the couple’s hands. “Dr. Gail Chapman from Beaverdale, Pennsylvania.”

Jesse exploded with a strange sound somewhere in between coughing and laughing. It figured, Gail thought. Deep down, the erudite captain was just another eighth-grade boy who thought anything with the word “beaver” in it was absolutely hilarious. She ignored him.

“Oh, how marvelous!” Lana Purdy said, beaming. “Pete here had a GP practice for fifty-five years. Delivered nearly six hundred babies, didn’t you, dear? And what is your specialty?”

This happened a lot. Gail smiled down on the pudgy little lady with short white curls. “I have my PhD in literature. I’m an associate professor at a small liberal arts college.”

Lana smiled. “How perfectly lovely!”

“Just great,” Jesse said under his breath.

That was it. Gail had reached the limit of her patience with this guy. He might be sexy as hell, but that had already been canceled out by the fact that he cursed at inanimate objects, had the emotional maturity of a Little Leaguer, scoffed at her profession and walked around sporting a near-permanent scowl. The man couldn’t be much older than Gail, but somewhere along the line he’d become a curmudgeon. How sad for him.

Gail cocked her head to the side and glared at Jesse, and he met her gaze straight on, unabashed. She scrutinized his face for flaws—there were none—while he studied her, one dark brow arched over one of his dusky blue eyes. The two of them remained in this standoff for several seconds, while Gail wondered about a few things. Why was Jesse here, anyway? Why did he feel the need to introduce everyone? Did he fancy himself some kind of rude one-man island-greeting committee? And where was the tour guide?

Suddenly, Jesse’s expression changed. The curiosity disappeared, replaced by a calm determination. Gail knew he was going to say something to her. She had a feeling it would be something important.

“Cash or credit?” he asked.

HOLY HELL, WHAT A MESS this was shaping up to be.

Beaverdale Gail knew far more about Hemingway than he did, which wasn’t much of a shocker considering she had a PhD in American Literature and Jesse’s only qualification was that he was a nautical-suspense author filling in for a flighty ex-sister-in-law who’d once again been summoned to traffic court.

It occurred to Jesse that if he had any hope of making that extended deadline in two weeks, he’d have to find a way to stop anyone else from asking for more favors. Maybe it was time for one of his deadline lockdowns: disconnect the phone, unplug the DSL and lock all his doors and windows.

The little tour group had come to one of their designated stops, 328 Greene Street, the site of the original Sloppy Joe’s Bar and Grill. Jesse explained that it was once a ramshackle establishment run by Ernest Hemingway’s fishing and carousing pal, Joe Russell, and went into his summary of Hemingway’s legendary drinking. “He had a tendency to get into trouble when he’d had a few too many,” Jesse said. “He had his famous fistfight with the poet Wallace Stevens here.”

“Actually,” Gail cut in, speaking more to the Purdys than him, “Hemingway was at home that evening, completely sober, when his sister told him that Stevens was at a house party claiming that Hemingway was a horrible writer. Ernest was so angry he drove to the house on Waddell Street and pummeled Stevens into a bloody heap on the floor. The poet was hospitalized and had to be fed through a straw for days.”

“Fascinating,” Lana Purdy said.

Jesse stared at the professor in wonder. Clearly, she had a lot of free time on her hands back in Beaverdale. But Jesse was the local. He was the tour guide here. He may have gotten that one detail wrong, but he had a whole arsenal of useless Hemingway minutiae at his disposal and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

He turned to Lana Purdy, who seemed to be legitimately interested in all this garbage, bless her soul. “Intriguingly enough,” Jesse began, the sarcasm dripping from his tone, “Wallace Stevens wasn’t even a famous poet at the time. He was still making his living—”

“Selling insurance,” Gail said. She slowly raised her gentle brown eyes to Jesse’s. “But you were right about Ernest often getting into trouble here. He met up with his third wife on a barstool at Sloppy Joe’s.” She smiled a smile so slight that he could have missed it if he weren’t paying close attention. “It was love at first sight for both of them,” she added.

Jesse laughed hard at her typical female delusion. Gail had romanticized what was essentially a sexual sting operation, not unlike the one that had snagged him. “I’m not sure about that, Professor Gail,” he said, still chuckling. “It was garden-variety entrapment. The chick ambushed him, actually paying the bartender twenty bucks to introduce her to the very married Hemingway.”

Gail raised her chin. “I take it you don’t believe in love at first sight?”

Jesse smiled kindly at her. “I believe in criminal background checks, Professor. And credit reports and not chucking the God-given capacities of my frontal lobe just to get me some—” Jesse stopped himself, suddenly remembering that Dr. and Mrs. Purdy were hanging on his every word. “Just to spend time with a pretty woman.”

Gail made a dismissive clicking sound at the back of her tongue and rolled her eyes. It reminded Jesse of a thirteen-year-old being told to clean her room. She turned on her heel and started walking.

They continued their stroll through Old Town at senior-citizen speed, passing French pastry shops and sidewalk eateries and art galleries. Jesse didn’t mind the slow pace because it gave him plenty of time to watch Dr. Gail walk. As he spoke about the publishing projects Hemingway worked on while living in Key West, Jesse studied Gail’s appearance and tried to decide why, exactly, he found the woman so damn alluring. She wore a preppy cotton skirt that hit just above her cute knees, a simple tailored sleeveless blouse and a pair of sensible sandals. Her hair was back in a ponytail. She wore very little makeup. And she was lugging around a shoulder bag big enough to stuff a corpse in.

For the life of him, Jesse couldn’t figure out why he found that unremarkable getup so provocative. Maybe living here most of his life had made him immune to tight spandex minis and cleavage-enhancing halter tops. Maybe his imagination was getting the best of him again, deciding that beneath the professor’s old-school exterior was something untamed, something deliciously and thoroughly…well…wild.

“Actually,” Gail said, correcting what had apparently been yet another of his tour-related inaccuracies, “To Have and Have Not was a character study of Key West locals, but it was also a commentary on the distribution of wealth in this country during the Depression.”

“Fascinating!” Lana said.

“I’ll tell you what’s fascinating,” Dr. Purdy said, marking the first time he’d opened his mouth since the tour began. “How the hell could a man as pickled as Hemingway write his own name, let alone a whole slew of novels?”

Jesse decided it was the perfect time to discuss Hemingway’s creative process, but Gail beat him to it.

“He did most of his work in the first half of the day, between eight and one, when the air was at its coolest—and before he started drinking,” she said.

Jesse jumped in. “He usually wrote in the studio he kept on the second floor of the pool house, which we’ll see when we get back to the Hemingway House in just a few minutes.”

Gail’s warm brown eyes flashed at him. Obviously, she was enjoying their little battle of trivia as much as he was. Without warning, Jesse’s mind traveled to that small liberal arts college she mentioned, where she stood at the front of a lecture room, skirt slit up to here and blouse unbuttoned down to there, her loose blond hair swinging as she turned her back to write something on the board. In the fantasy, Jesse’s mouth began to water as he stared at the professor’s gorgeous bottom cradled in the tight skirt. In reality, he was focused on her smooth legs and small sandaled feet, and his walking shorts were starting to tent.

He was in a heap of trouble. No way had he intended to hit on the temporary mami from next door. What the hell was going on here?

Dr. Gail was behaving like a snooty academic and he was, he knew, acting like an ass. But it didn’t seem to dampen a damn thing. Every time they looked at each other, his skin sizzled and his blood pounded. Gail was a brown-eyed, blond, buttoned-up package of female smarts and sensuality, and he was captivated. Simple as that. And though every working synapse in his brain was telling him to back away, he couldn’t help but nudge closer every opportunity he got. It was crazy. It was stupid. He knew better.

The very last thing he needed was to get involved with another woman who wanted a piece of his money and fame.

“By the way, Jesse, are there any other jobs of yours I should know about?” Gail smiled sweetly when she asked that question—no sign of sarcasm whatsoever. “Because I’m headed to the Pirate Museum tomorrow and I’m half expecting to see you employed there, too.”

Jesse’s heart stopped. She had no idea who he was. Well, of course she didn’t. He hadn’t told her, after all. They hadn’t met at a book signing. Sure, he was famous enough, but it was entirely possible that a brainiac like her didn’t read popular fiction. She might not have ever heard of J. D. Batista, author of the blockbuster “Dark Blue” suspense series set in the Florida Keys.

As if on cue, Jesse’s gaze wandered two doors down and he knew he had to act fast. He lodged himself between Gail and the huge display window of Island Books, where his face and latest release were prominently displayed.

“Shall we cross here?” he asked, placing a hand at the small of Gail’s back and pushing her toward the busy street. “Dr. and Mrs. Purdy? Would you come along, please?”

Though Gail frowned at him as though he was a madman, Jesse got the group across Duval and away from his poster-sized publicity photo. If pretty Gail didn’t know who he was, that meant all the electricity being generated between them was real. He wanted to keep it that way. Jesse couldn’t remember the last time he’d been attracted to a woman who wasn’t aware he was a local celebrity. This was too interesting to ruin now.

“Well?” Gail asked him. “Aren’t you going to tell me?”

Jesse smiled at her and shrugged, making sure his body blocked her view of the bookstore as they walked. “Like most locals, I piece together a living doing a little here and a little there, but I can assure you I don’t work at the Pirate Museum.”

Gail tipped her head just a little and inspected him from stem to stern. “Hmm,” she said. “That’s a shame. I think you’d fit right in.”

Just then, Lana Purdy giggled. “I must say, this has been the perfect way to celebrate our sixtieth anniversary.”

“I’m glad,” Jesse said.

“The two of you just crack me up,” she continued, hooking her arm in her husband’s. “Watching you two flirt so outrageously reminds me of our courtship so long ago.” Lana squeezed her husband close to her side and gave him a playful kiss on the cheek. “That was such an exciting time, wasn’t it, dear? We couldn’t get enough of each other back then!”

They still had a block to go to get back to the Hemingway House, but Gail stopped walking. Jesse watched her pull the giant carryall to the front of her body and stare at Mrs. Purdy in shock. Okay, fine. The old lady was a little off base, but did Gail have to look that horrified?

“Courtship?” Gail asked, her eyes widening.

Jesse laughed. “I think you’re mistaken about that,” he told the cute old woman. “Gail and I hardly know each other.”

Lana smiled and patted Jesse’s arm. “Oooh!” she said, shimmying her shoulders daringly. “That makes it even better!”

GAIL STOOD BEHIND THE red-velvet rope that dissected Ernest Hemingway’s bedroom. She stared down at the double bed that he’d shared with his wife. Or wives. Or, technically, his mistresses prior to becoming his wives. She studied the simple white chenille bedspread and matching pillow shams, picturing what the scene would have looked like all those years ago, the covers rumpled up and soaked with sweat from unbridled—and possibly even illicit—lovemaking.

She immediately straightened, looking around the room to make sure no one had witnessed her mental debauchery. What in the world was her problem? When had she become such a slattern? Why did she have sex on the brain?

One quick glance at Jesse, and she had her answer. He stood so close to her side that the skin of her arm felt hot. Technically, she felt hot all over. She needed to get a grip. She needed a cool glass of water.

“That’s a damn small bed if you ask me,” Dr. Purdy said, the second statement he’d made all morning. “Can’t get too creative in a bed that small.”

“Oh, you!” Lana said, giggling.

Gail could see the corner of Jesse’s mouth curl up in a faint smile, and he looked everywhere but at her.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “Hemingway had a ramp installed from the bedroom to his pool house studio, so he didn’t even have to…”

Gail wasn’t paying attention to Jesse’s words. She couldn’t hear much anyway because the seductive sound of the man’s baritone had caused the inside of her skull to hum. She decided to look at anything but the bed. Her eyes traveled to the way Jesse’s shirtsleeve had been rolled up on his muscled forearm. Then they strayed to the front of Jesse’s shorts. That had been a mistake.

She dabbed at her damp forehead, praying that no one in any of the tour groups converging in the Hemingway House could sense her private struggle. Of course they couldn’t. To everyone gathered near the velvet rope, Gail was just another visitor strolling through Hemingway’s bedroom. No one had any idea that she, Gail Chapman, PhD, was having a life-altering crisis.

Suddenly, the room began to reel. It felt as if her world was coming off its axis. Hemingway’s bed mocked her. It was nothing but a monument to uncontrollable desire and wild sex and everything she’d been doing without for too long, and it was all she could do not to start panting and howling like some kind of rabid animal.

She didn’t dare look at Jesse again. She didn’t have the courage. She kept her eyes down and her bag clutched tight as people moved around her.

“Gail.” Jesse’s deep voice had become a whisper, just for her, so close to her ear that she could feel the heat of his breath.

Slowly, cautiously, she looked up at him, and his sultry blue eyes wrinkled in a smile. Gail found herself counting the short silvery hairs sprinkled through the dark stubble on his chin and cheeks, and wondered if the barely there beard would feel rough to her fingertips.

“Gail?” he repeated.

“Yes?” Her focus lingered briefly on his wide, sumptuous mouth before she looked into those remarkable eyes once more.

“The group is moving on to the pool house,” he said, nodding his head toward the crowd clomping down the outside steps. “Would you like to come along?”

She couldn’t speak. All she could do was surrender to those dark blue pools of wantonness. Oh, God, she was going under.

“Are you all right?” Jesse’s trademark frown had reappeared, but it was fainter this time, and it seemed to be born of genuine concern rather than disapproval. “You look a little flushed, Professor.”

She nodded. Maybe she should say something. Maybe she should tell him that the whole morning had been too much for her repressed libido to handle—the taunting bed, the sultry heat, the witty repartee, the references to Hemingway’s sexual bravado and Jesse’s god-awful good looks. Maybe she should just tell Jesse the truth—that everything about him was so mesmerizingly masculine that she couldn’t trust herself. She was on the verge of doing something completely out of character.

That’s when Jesse reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from the side of her face. That barest tickle of his touch sent an electric rush through her.

“I…” That was all she could get out. Gail swallowed hard. If only she’d rented a house that happened to be next door to a cute little retired couple like the Purdys, or, better yet, a group of vacationing Buddhist monks. Then maybe she wouldn’t be coming unglued like this.

“Yes?” Jesse asked.

It was the small hoop earring that sent her over the edge. It caught the sunlight and zapped her like a laser. Later, she would convince herself that the bright flash had short-circuited her brain.

“I haven’t had sex in two years,” she blurted out, breathing hard. “I’m a wreck. I came here hoping to meet a man of dubious character who could make my knees weak. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I’m unstable, and very, very deprived. You should probably stay away from me.”

Jesse’s eyes widened significantly. Gail held her breath. Would he laugh at her audacity? Would he be offended? Sickened? Would he call for museum security?

He did none of those things. Instead, Jesse’s eyes mellowed, then he helped himself to a languid visual journey of all things Gail, from the crown of her hair to the tips of her toes. When he was done, he leaned in close.

And kissed her.

Chapter four

“YO. PRETTY GIRLIES.”

Hannah tossed her hair and groaned, ignoring the man’s comment as she and Holly walked toward the water’s edge. Once they were out of earshot, Hannah leaned in toward her friend. “Did you see that dude? It should be against the law for someone so totally old to wear a Speedo! He was, like, almost as old as your Mom!”

“I think I’m going to dry-heave,” Holly replied.

Hannah suddenly perked to attention. “Hi!” she said, swiveling her head to catch the eye of a much younger and hotter dude who was making his way across the sand.

The man just barely raised his chin in acknowledgment.

“Damn,” Hannah said, sticking her toe into the gentle waves of the Gulf of Mexico. “The guys here are totally stuck-up, unless they’re old and desperate and wearing gold chains. Then they’re just plain creepy.”

“I got some breaking news for you, Hannah.” Holly couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s naiveté. “Remember what I told you? That some of the best-looking guys here are gay?”

Her friend’s eyes widened behind her sunglasses. “Him? But, I mean, I realize there are a lot of gay men in Key West, but he was so…I don’t know…”

“Perfect?” Holly asked.

Hannah nodded and sighed. “I guess that should have been my first hint, huh?”

“You girls aren’t afraid of getting burned?”

The girls looked up into the faces of two incredibly good-looking guys who’d approached them unnoticed. They were maybe just a few years older. Both had dark, dark brown hair and dark, dark brown eyes and big, white smiles. And the way they were checking them out indicated there wasn’t a gay bone in either of their totally buff bodies.

“Your skin looks delicate,” one of them said, touching Hannah’s shoulder with his fingers. “You should probably put on some sunscreen.”

The girls turned to each other with open mouths.

Hot twins? Holly couldn’t believe it. How freakin’ epic is this?

“So, have you had lunch?” one of them asked.

Holly watched her friend smile and straighten her spine, as if the boys weren’t already aware of her 36Ds—as though anyone south of the Everglades wasn’t aware of them.

“No,” Hannah answered. “And I’m suddenly starving.”

THE KISS ALONE WAS SO unexpectedly delicious that Jesse was nearing sensory overload. So when Gail’s cell phone began to vibrate somewhere inside the Sherpa-sized straw bag now wedged between their bodies, the direct buzz to his crotch was almost too much to bear.

He hated to do it, but he pulled his lips away from hers. Gail stared at him with eyes as big as sand dollars.

“I should probably get that,” she said.

He nodded, pressed his fingers to his lips as if to seal in the sensation and backed away. Jesse headed out through the set of French doors to the museum veranda, gulping down the fresh air. I just made out with one of Lelinda’s paying customers, he thought to himself. I just kissed the woman staying next door, a woman I barely know. He heard loud giggling and turned to see that apparently he’d done it in front of a dozen Chinese visitors, to boot.

Jesse waved to them sheepishly. “Welcome to Key West,” he muttered, leaning his elbows on the railing. Even through the tourists’ snickering, Jesse could hear Gail on the phone with her daughter. He turned his head to look at her.

“That sounds fun, honey,” she was saying, her eyes darting toward Jesse every few seconds. Gail tried to smooth down her hair. “Sure, that’s fine. I appreciate your asking for permission. Wear life jackets and call me when you get back to the dock. Don’t forget to reap-ply your sunscreen. Remind Hannah, too.”

Jesse watched her turn off her cell phone and tug awkwardly on her skirt. Then Gail took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before she headed his way.

“I apologize,” she said in what was obviously her professor’s voice. The wanton strumpet who’d revealed herself only moments before was nowhere to be seen. “I think I better walk home.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jesse said.

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Oh, yes it is.”

Jesse followed her down the back steps to the Spanish-tile courtyard and past Hemingway’s exotic inground pool. He gave a quick wave and shouted a thank-you to the Purdys, who were seated on a bench under a large eucalyptus tree. Jesse jogged to keep up with Gail before she’d made it to the front yard and out the gate.

“Hold on, Gail.”

She shook her ponytail, not looking back.

“Look, I have a moped parked right around the corner. I’ll give you a lift back to the house.” Jesse had reached her side, but she hadn’t slowed her march. It was impressive that Gail was at least five inches shorter than his six-one frame but her stride could cover some serious territory. “Talk to me, Professor.”

She turned to face him. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw—profound embarrassment. Guilt. Desire. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

It was then that Jesse knew his first impression of his neighbor had been accurate. She had no game. She was out here in the world without pretense. And that kiss had affected her deeply. It was clear that Gail Chapman was a vulnerable and attention-starved woman, and Jesse shouldn’t be messing with her. If he were smart, he’d let her walk on home by herself the way she’d insisted. He was about to tell her as much when she looked up at him and smiled sadly.

“You’re an exceptionally smart and handsome man.” Gail’s brown eyes were unflinching. “I’m sure you have a wife or girlfriend—or maybe several of them. But that’s none of my business. What I’m trying to say is that I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you. That’s not like me at all. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to—”

The professor pressed the palm of her small hand against his chest to stop him from saying more. “I’ve been divorced for six years, Jesse, and I haven’t dated much. My ex-husband was a philanderer and a white-collar criminal, and I admit I basically shut down after the divorce. I’m no good at this sort of thing. Casual sex, I mean.”

Jesse blinked, dumbstruck. Never in his thirty-eight years had he heard a woman cut to the chase the way Gail just had. Her raw honesty was startling.

“Thanks for the tour. You really know your Hemingway, Captain.” She gave his shirt an affectionate pat. “Goodbye.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said.

Gail spun around, a small frown between her pale brows.

“I’ve never been married and I am not seeing anyone.”

“Oh.”

“And that was the most incredible first kiss I’ve had since Myra Castillo planted one on me in sixth grade.” Jesse couldn’t figure out why, but it gave him a rush of pleasure to see Gail’s shy smile return.

“I have an idea.” Suddenly, Jesse was feeling protective of her. He wanted to salvage her day. “Let me give you a private tour of Key West. Just you and me—” Jesse stopped himself, tipping his head toward her purse. “And your very large straw bag.”

Gail sniffed, trying to act offended but already starting to laugh.

“What in God’s name do you have in there, anyway?”

“Nothing. Yet,” she said. “But I wanted to have it with me so I could carry any treasures I might find while I’m in town—artwork, cute T-shirts, a good book.”

Jesse grinned, making a mental note to circumvent Duval between Angela and Petronia until he could get Chago to dismantle the permanent J.D. Batista shrine in the window of Island Books. His buddy owed him a favor.

“I’m at your service,” Jesse said, extending his hand to the lovely professor.

She accepted it. Jesse didn’t understand why or how, but the way her hand slipped into his felt like an answer to a question, a question he hadn’t even planned on asking.

“SO WHERE ARE YOU STAYING?”

Though the girls had been hanging out with Luis and Nestor for only a couple of hours, they already felt comfortable, as if they’d known each other for years. Hannah laughed at most everything that came out of Nestor’s mouth. Luis seemed to be the more serious of the two and, in Holly’s opinion, the most handsome. The two local community college students seemed really polite and sweet.

Then again, the brothers thought Holly and Hannah were twenty-one-year-old juniors at Drexel University on their spring break, but those were just details.

“On a little street off Truman Avenue,” Holly answered. “I forget the name, but we always manage to find it.”

Luis took another bite from his grilled sandwich and cocked his head as he listened. “So you’re in a house, not a hotel?”

“Oh, yeah!” Hannah said. “It’s a really pretty cottage with a private pool and everything!”

Neither girl missed it when Luis and Nestor’s eyes connected over the lunch table.

“But my mom is with us,” Holly felt compelled to add. As much fun as a few beers and a little what-what in the pool sounded, she thought she should let them know it wasn’t going to happen. Not unless they could get her mom out of the house for several hours, and that was about as likely as five feet of snow accumulating in the Florida Keys. Holly looked around the table, embarrassed. No one knew that she’d called her mom from the ladies’ room just a few minutes before to get permission to go out on the boys’ water scooters. God, did it ever suck being seventeen! “My mom just earned her doctorate and needed a vacation, so we asked her to join us,” Holly said.

“Cool,” Nestor said.

“No problem,” Luis said.

The group was about to leave their outdoor table and head to the dock when Holly suddenly snapped to attention. Rolling toward the stop sign on Front Street was her mom. On the back of a moped. Her arms were wrapped around the hottie captain from next door. Her skirt was jacked up high enough for her to put the guy in an upper-thigh death grip.

She couldn’t freakin’ believe it.

Hannah began smacking Holly’s arm. “No way!” she said, pointing to the moped. “Do you see that?”

Holly nodded, speechless.

The boys laughed. “Oh, so you’re J.D. fans? That figures,” Luis sent a knowing smile to his brother. “Our dad owns Island Books. We’ve known Uncle Jesse all our lives. He’s like family.”

Holly frowned at Luis. Why was he suddenly putting on the swagger? Why did he think that knowing their neighbor dude would impress them?

“That’s nice,” Holly said, turning just in time to see her mother rip the ponytail holder from her hair and tilt her face back into the sun. The moped took off down the street and Holly heard her mom laugh, her blond hair flying out behind her in the wind.

“Who’s the babe with Uncle Jesse?” Nestor asked.

“No idea,” Luis said. “Just another party girl, I guess.”

Chapter five

TRUTH BE TOLD, GAIL DIDN’T want to get off the moped. Ever. Driving around for the last couple of hours had not only given her a complete understanding of the layout of Key West—from its historic Old Town to the strip malls—but it had given her an excuse to plaster herself up against Jesse’s back and spread her fingers over his muscular chest and stomach. She’d never before touched a man so powerfully built. She liked it. She didn’t want it to end.

However, staying on the moped forever was impractical, and Jesse had just asked her if she was hungry. Gail had to admit she was. So Jesse swung the moped around and headed to what she figured was a restaurant on the eastern end of Duval Street. Instead, he pulled up in front of what looked like a very exclusive yacht club and turned off the bike. A beefy man in an ivory linen suit looked over the top of his sunglasses and had begun to bark at Jesse for pulling into a no-parking zone when he suddenly broke out into a wide grin.

“Jesse! Where you been, man?”

“Mook!” Jesse helped Gail off the moped and then gave the man a big hug. “It’s been a while.”

“Things going good for you these days?” Mook made the inquiry of Jesse, but his eyes had fallen on Gail. She hoped her hair didn’t look too wild or her face too flushed.

“Couldn’t be better. This is my friend Gail.”

The three of them chatted for a bit, long enough for Gail to decide that Jesse did, in fact, know every local person on the island. As they’d tooled around town, he’d beeped and waved at what seemed like hundreds of friendly faces—guys at the marina, women who ran health food restaurants, jewelry galleries or ice cream shops. He’d stopped briefly to chat with a man at a gas station and one of the caretakers at Key West cemetery, who’d taken them on a quick tour of graves dated all the way back to the late 1700s.

Jesse had grown up here, he’d explained to her, and many of his childhood friends remained in town. He’d told her that the Conchs were a close-knit community.

“The who?” she’d asked.

Jesse had explained that anyone born here called themselves a “Conch,” and the city itself was nicknamed the “The Conch Republic,” for the large-shelled sea snails that were once plentiful in the surrounding waters.

Gail wandered away from the laughing and chatting friends, drawn to the dramatic ocean vista that lay beyond the pier. Jesse had mentioned that Key West was where the Atlantic met up with the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. All Gail knew was that the startling blue-green sea looked smooth, clean and infinite. Seagulls and pelicans swooped through the clear sky. Dozens of tiny islands dotted the waters beyond. Gail wondered to herself what it would be like to live somewhere so outrageously beautiful.

“Shall we?” Jesse reached for her hand and Mook let them through a locked iron gate, gesturing them on.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Mook said, smiling big.

But instead of leading Gail to one of the white-linen-covered tables at the resort’s busy waterside restaurant, Jesse pulled her in the opposite direction. They walked down a long pier, boats of every description bobbing along on each side.

“Where are we going?” Suddenly, Gail felt the slightest twinge of discomfort. Was she putting herself in danger? She liked Jesse, obviously. He seemed like a great guy. And there was no question that he was sexy and gorgeous. But it sure looked to Gail as though he was about to escort her off the end of a pier.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his eyes smiling behind his sunglasses.

“No offense,” Gail said, “but I don’t know you well enough to trust you.” Immediately, she wished she’d chosen a more diplomatic answer.

Jesse only laughed. “I hear you, Professor. No offense taken. Have a seat.”

They’d reached the very edge of the dock and, obviously, there were no chairs in which to sit. Jesse gestured to the weathered wood planks beneath their feet. “Okay, why not?” Gail said, giving him a tentative smile as she lowered herself to the dock. She took off her sandals and let her bare toes dangle over the ocean.

Jesse plopped down next to her, his leg touching hers from hip to knee. Slowly, he turned his head and looked down at her.

The only sounds were the faint bustle of the yacht club’s restaurant behind them, the water licking at the pilings and the occasional screech of seabirds. The pressure of his body against hers made her feel safe, alive. Jesse and Gail simply looked at each other, Jesse’s expression relaxed and kind, his dark hair gently fluffing in the breeze. An understanding was passing between them, Gail realized. The moment was important. It was intimate. Suddenly, the most pressing need in Gail’s world was kissing him again.

Jesse leaned in close.

“So, do you know a lot about the ocean?” No sooner had those words escaped her mouth than Gail began laughing at herself in embarrassment. A beautiful man brought her to a beautiful place to kiss her—exactly what she wanted—and she goes and asks about the marine ecosystem? She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“I do, but mostly by osmosis,” Jesse answered, as if he saw nothing strange in her inquiry. “A lot of my family and friends have been fishermen or made their living off the ocean in some way.” Jesse brushed Gail’s cheek with his fingertips. “You seem embarrassed, but it’s not an odd question—I mean, look around. The ocean is kind of hard to ignore in these parts.”

Gail laughed. “Thanks,” she said, grateful he made her feel so at ease. She really should try to relax. She should try to just accept herself, awkwardness and all. Gail knew who she was—she was a woman who’d spent her life with her nose in a book—and, at thirty-six, a personality transplant probably wasn’t in her future. So what if she wasn’t smooth? She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, from this kind of man. There was no shame in that.

Gail took a deep breath. “Jesse…” She gazed out toward the horizon line before she turned to look him in the eye. “You’ve probably noticed by now that I’m not much of a seductress.”

He chuckled.

“I’m a nerdy intellectual. I’m not used to hanging out with, uh, men like you.”

“Tour guides?”

Gail laughed again. “Actually, I was referring to extremely good-looking men with earrings and muscles. It’s a little nerve-racking for me. Plus, I really suck at small talk.”

“It’s not my favorite, either.”

That’s when Jesse gently bumped his shoulder against hers, a gesture of solidarity so tender it shocked Gail. Clearly, he was trying his best to let her know he understood her. She liked that. A lot. She grinned up at him.

“The truth is, I prefer to talk about things that are real and matter to me,” Jesse said, his voice a little wistful. “Protecting the ocean is certainly one of those things.”

“What are some others?”

He cocked his head thoughtfully. “My house. Giving everything I can to my work. My friends.” He glanced down at her. “Then there’s diving, sailing, good food and salsa dancing—and enjoying the company of an intelligent, funny and beautiful woman when that rare opportunity arises.”

Gail felt herself blush. She looked away.

“You’re a lot more than a nerdy intellectual, Gail.” She felt Jesse reach for her hand. Was it really only yesterday that her scowling neighbor could barely stand the idea of shaking hands? “And I’d like to hear the details—where you grew up, what you teach, what life is like back home, oh, and, of course, how long you’ve been burdened by an unhealthy obsession with Ernest Hemingway.”

Gail laughed again, thinking to herself that Kim would love this guy. She reminded herself to call Kim that evening. Gail would probably start the conversation with “You’re not going to believe this…”

Gail began to tell Jesse about her life. She mentioned that she was up for tenure. She talked about the long process of earning her PhD, and her students at Beaverdale College. She’d only just started on the Curtis years when she felt footsteps clomping on the dock behind them. Gail whipped her head around to see a parade of six men in white waiters’ jackets, looking as if they were about to set up camp. Two men carried a rolled-up canopy of some kind. Another guy had a rug. The others had a table, chairs and a dolly stacked with large containers.

“What in the world?”

Jesse pulled her to her feet and motioned for her to stand with him on the side of the dock, giving the entourage room to pass. Gail stood in stunned silence as a private dining room took shape before their eyes. The canopy went up first, and Gail could tell by the way its aluminum poles slipped into slots that it had been custom made for the spot. A small sisal rug was spread out and the table and chairs arranged upon it. Linens were placed on the table. Silver, glassware and plates came out of containers. A small vase of fresh flowers was placed in the middle of everything. One of the waiters opened a bottle of white wine and shoved it in ice to keep it cold.

The whole process took no more than five minutes. Then they all smiled and headed back down the dock, leaving a single cooler next to the table.

Gail emerged from her shock soon enough to shout several thank-yous to the waiters, then looked up at Jesse. He seemed quite pleased with himself.

“Do you do this for every nerdy woman who rents the house next door?”

Jesse laughed. “Uh, no. Shall we?” He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her to her seat. He pulled out the chair for her and took his place across the table. Jesse poured them both a glass of wine and offered a toast. “Here’s to a vacation you’ll always remember.”

HOURS AFTER THEY’D finished their yellowfin ceviche and green salads, and long after they’d drained the bottle of crisp pinot grigio, they were still talking. Mook probably thought they’d fallen off the dock at this point. When Jesse glanced to his right, he was surprised to see the sun low in the sky. It had been years since he’d had this much fun getting to know someone, and he couldn’t remember any instance when it had been this easy.

They’d covered a lot of ground in just a few hours. He’d learned that Gail was passionate about literature, art and classical music, but that she hadn’t had much in the way of leisure time. She had a quick mind and a quicker wit, and he’d laughed his ass off more than once. She told him that she’d had the same best friend since elementary school, like Jesse. And Gail had been through a lot with her ex-husband. Though she was discreet and kind when she talked about her ex, the basic story was enough for Jesse to comfortably stick Curtis Chapman in the “Grade-A Douche Bag” column. It was no mystery why Gail had kept her distance from men since.

He’d noticed how Gail’s eyes lit up whenever she mentioned her daughter, an honors student waiting to hear whether she’d been accepted to the University of Pennsylvania. It had been just the two of them for many years now, and Jesse was impressed with how Gail had juggled everything.

He’d discovered that Gail’s laughter had a roller-coaster lilt to it, starting low, then building, then softening again. He’d enjoyed the ride every time.

And Jesse had figured out why he’d been so damn attracted to her from the start. He liked her. He’d liked her the first time they spoke and he’d gone on liking her. And all that was before he even touched on how enjoyable it was just to look at her.

Gail was beautiful, certainly. He loved that she’d let her hair down and it fell in soft waves around her face. He thought her eyes were stunning—a kind and warm café au lait that sparkled when she smiled, and that she’d accented with a single stroke of eyeliner on her upper lid. Those eyes were framed in long lashes and delicate, light eyebrows. He liked her little nose. And that silky peach-pink mouth—surely she’d noticed him staring at her lips. The truth was, he wanted to kiss her again. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough kissing.

The rest of Gail Chapman was, in a word, lovely. She had firm, delicate arms and soft, small hands. She was probably about a size eight, with a shapely bottom, nice but not overly large breasts, great legs and cute feet. A lot of women would have chosen to strut that kind of stuff in skintight Dolce and Gabbana. Not Professor Gail. Her choice was breathable cotton from the L.L. Bean catalog.

The idea made him hard enough to cut glass.

“Am I keeping you from anything?” Gail asked. “We’ve been here a long time. I didn’t mean to monopolize your day.”

“Me?” Jesse was shaken from his stupor. “No. I’m enjoying myself immensely.”

She sent him a sweet smile, then lowered her eyes.

By this point, Jesse believed he had a decent working knowledge of Gail Chapman, and he knew his hunch had been more than wishful thinking. Beneath that mild-mannered exterior lurked a wild woman just dying to escape. She knew it, too. She’d basically admitted it back at the Hemingway house. “I’m unstable, and very, very deprived.”

But Gail was still fighting it. She was still afraid of it. And Jesse decided that he was the man to facilitate her release. He’d provide her a safe and comfortable place where she could let it all go.

“How about you?” he asked. “Am I keeping you from anything?”

She thought that was funny. “Nope.” She looked right in his eyes and pursed her lips. “So tell me more about your day-to-day life.”

Jesse had been telling her his story all afternoon. Most of it, anyway. Sometime after his second glass of wine, he’d made a decision. Bottom line—he wouldn’t lie to her. Should Gail or her daughter ask if he was J. D. Batista, the author, he’d say yes, he was. Gail would probably be angry with him and think she’d been misled somehow, but he’d deal with that when it happened. In the meantime, Jesse’s plan was to tell her enough of the truth that he could sleep at night, but not enough to alter the sweet and uncomplicated connection growing between them.

“Well, in addition to working on Fred’s boat and helping with the walking tours, I usually write every day.”

Gail’s eyes flew wide. “Seriously? You’re a writer?”

“I try to be,” he said, watching carefully for any flicker of recognition in her eyes. There was none.

“Wow! That’s so exciting! What do you write?”

“Mostly fiction,” he said. “I also do a little poetry, and lately I’ve been trying my hand at a screenplay, which is a lot tougher than I imagined.”

Gail’s brows knit together. “Do you think you’ll be published one day?”

Jesse froze. Answering this question honestly without giving himself away was going to be a challenge. He was an author with eight New York Times bestsellers under his belt, but, as every writer knew, that was no guarantee of future success.

“There’s always hope,” was Jesse’s answer.

Gail let go with a laugh. “I knew it all along, of course,” she said, a knowing look on her face. Jesse thought his charade was over until Gail finished her thought. “I knew you had to be a writer or an English teacher.”

Jesse smiled. “Yeah? What tipped you off?”

“Your vocabulary,” she said, folding her arms under her breasts. “You cursed your shutter hinge using words like artistry and substandard along with the usual shits and fucks.”

Jesse choked. Hearing those words come out of professor Gail’s mouth was as jarring as it was hilarious. “Sorry you were subjected to that,” he said. “I get a little uptight about my house sometimes. It means a lot to me.”

Gail raked her fingers through her hair and studied Jesse for a moment, her brown eyes focused on him. “I need to ask you a personal question, Jesse,” she said. “If you don’t want to answer me, just tell me to go to hell.”

He couldn’t imagine ever needing to do that, but he agreed.

“How can you afford your place?” She looked repentant the instant the words tumbled from her mouth. “What I mean is, that’s a really expensive house and you’re a man with a couple of part-time jobs—you know, the starving artist type. I don’t get it.”

“Ah,” Jesse said.

“Are you a drug smuggler? A member of organized crime?” She leaned closer and her expression became quite serious. “Have you embezzled millions from those who trusted you?”

He laughed hard. When he’d gained his composure, he answered her. “I assure you, I am none of those things. And I’m not starving.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but I had to ask. We’re living right next door to you. You’ve kissed me. I’m having a romantic lunch with you and I’m wildly attracted to you. It’s something I needed to know because…” Gail stopped speaking and rubbed a hand over her mouth anxiously. “Here’s the deal, Jesse. I learned my lesson with Curtis. I have no interest in wasting my time with a man who’s not on the up-and-up. Honesty is more important to me than anything else. Period.”

Jesse didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony. He was interested in a woman with trust issues rivaling his own, yet he couldn’t give her what she wanted—complete honesty—because of his own trust issues. Not yet, anyway.

“No apology necessary, Professor,” he said. “I inherited the house from my grandmother a few years ago along with part of her estate. I’m the last one of my family who still lives in Key West.”

“Oh.”

It got quiet between them for a long moment. Gail turned to look out on the water, and Jesse was struck by the elegant curve of her neck, the perfect angle of her jawline. He wanted to kiss her there. He wanted to kiss her everywhere.

Without turning back around, Gail flashed her eyes at him, catching him in midgawk. She smiled.

Jesse smiled back.

“This is my first vacation in six years, Jesse. Did I tell you that?”

“No.”

Gail faced front in her chair again, her hands folded in her lap. “You offered up a toast today, a toast to a vacation I’d always remember.”

“I did.”

“Well, that’s what I want. Can you help me with that? Do you have time in your schedule?”

From the depths of his brain, he felt the monster stir. It had somehow managed to stay dormant all day, but the honeymoon was over.

What about his deadline?

Jesse had less than two weeks to get his manuscript in shape. Normally, this would mean twelve to fourteen hours a day at his laptop, breaking only for the necessities of caffeine, food, a punishing workout and sleep when he could calm his mind enough to allow it.

Yet, in Gail’s company, he’d forgotten all about his deadline. Not only that, he’d forgotten how getting involved with Cammy had nearly ruined his life, and that he was attempting to forge a comeback with this book.

Did he have time for Gail? That was a good question. But the real question was this: What the hell am I doing? Am I nuts?

Jesse swallowed hard. “How many days do you have left on this vacation?”

“Eight nights, nine days.”

“And what exactly do you want to do?”

Apparently, Gail had already given this a great deal of thought, because the list tumbled out fast and furious. “I want to learn to scuba dive. I want to go on one of those booze cruises under the stars. I want a naked therapeutic massage. I want to swim with the dolphins and learn to dance the salsa. I want to eat all kinds of exotic delicacies I can’t get back in Beaverdale. And I want to go skinny-dipping.”

Gail paused. She closed her eyes for an instant, and to Jesse it looked like she was summoning the courage to continue. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. “And I want you to make wild, unrestrained love to me, Jesse.”

He sat with that last request for a moment, narrowing his eyes, working the logistics out in his head. “Do we have to tackle everything in that particular order?”

“Not necessarily.”

“All right. Good to know.” Jesse’s heart pounded in his chest. Gail’s bluntness was amusing. It was damn hot, too. “So,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “Would you mind if we combined a couple of those activities, you know, in the interest of time?”

A wicked smile had crept onto her pretty little mouth. “Like going skinny-dipping with dolphins?”

“That could work.” Jesse reached across the table for her hand, and she slid it into place without hesitation. “Or I could feed you exotic foods while demonstrating the salsa and massaging your naked body under a canopy of stars.”

“That sounds like an efficient use of everyone’s time,” she said.

It was at that moment that Jesse told his deadline monster to fuck off. He told the memory of Cammy to fuck off. The woman sitting across the table from him was one in a million. He’d never met anyone like her. He didn’t think women like her existed, except in the pages of his books. So what if he had to ask for another two-week extension? It wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“All right, then.” Jesse rose from his chair and helped Gail to a stand. As soon as he got hold of her, he yanked her close and kissed her hard. He wanted to make a statement with the kiss. He wanted Gail to know she’d found the right man for the job, that she was in very capable hands. Jesse slid his palm down the curve of her back to the globes of her L.L. Bean-covered ass, where he gave her a firm squeeze.

She jumped. Jesse ended the kiss. “We’d better get going.” He grabbed the straw bag and hooked it over Gail’s shoulder before guiding her back toward land. “We’ve got a lot on our schedule.”

Chapter six

“HELLO? MOM?”

“Hi, honey. What are you up to?”

Holly rolled her eyes. What are we up to? She couldn’t believe this. What are you up to was the issue.

“We’re still hanging with the friends we met this morning. We’re down near Mallory Square and want to stay for the sunset celebration then go for pizza. Would that be okay?”

“Sure. That sounds fun. Just remember your midnight curfew.”

“Right.”

Just then, Hannah got all up in Holly’s face and started asking questions. “Is she with him? What are they doing?” Holly shushed her friend and shooed her away.

“So, what have you been doing today, Mom?” Holly hoped she sounded casual enough.

“Oh, a little of everything,” was her answer. “I took the Hemingway tour then wandered around the island to get my bearings. I talked to some of the locals then had lunch. I’m getting ready to jump in the pool.”

And? And?

It looked like there wasn’t going to be any and. Holly realized her mom wasn’t going to say a word about the hottie captain, which pissed her off because her mom always got so parentnoid on her about the importance of honesty, but here she was—not one word about how she’d shamed herself zooming around town with her skirt yanked up to her granny panties!

Just then, her mom began to confess.

“I suppose I should mention that I spent most of the day with our neighbor, Jesse. Turns out he’s a very nice man.”

Holly nodded her head dramatically and gave Hannah a thumbs up, their prearranged signal that her mom was coming clean.

“Wow, that’s cool, Mom. Sounds like you had fun.”

Her mom was silent for a moment. “Yep,” was all she said. “Well, I better go. Call me when you’re on your way back to the house so I know when to expect you.”

“Sure.”

Holly felt somewhat calmer. So what if her mom was having a little fun with the dreamy old dude from next door? It was her vacation, too. It was all perfectly innocent.

“See you then, honey,” her mom said. “Thanks for checking in.”

“No prob. Hey, wait.” Holly stopped herself from hanging up. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful out there.”

WHAT KIND OF HIDEOUS, despicable mother was she? When Holly called to check in, Gail had just finished stuffing herself into her daughter’s bikini, the one Gail had only yesterday deemed pornographic and unfit for public display.

Yet she was about to head downstairs to put herself on display for Jesse, the guy from next door.

Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod…

Gail examined herself one last time in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She had to admit that her body looked pretty good for her age, but the suit was slut city. What kind of skanky shops had found berth in the Beaverdale Mall, for goodness’ sake? Gail only thanked God she’d shaved her bikini area that day, because there was no room for error in this thing.

But seriously. She couldn’t really go through with this. Could she?

She heard the clank of the back gate and ran to the upstairs window. Jesse had just let himself in. He wore only a towel, which was angled low to one side and knotted at the hip. He carried a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, which he placed on a table. Gail watched him move in the glow of the setting sun, his brown skin gleaming, the light casting shadows on his ripped stomach and cut arms.

Suddenly, he turned. He must have felt the heat of her stare. This time, Gail wasn’t ashamed to be caught ogling, so she smiled and gave him a little wave.

Jesse tilted his head and brought one muscled arm across his body, rubbing the skin low on his abdomen. It was impossible not to notice that he was already getting aroused—the thin terry cloth was no match for the bulge taking shape beneath it. Gail watched in fascination as the ends of the towel began to open like a curtain.

Holy shit. He was naked under there. The most gorgeous hunk of man she’d ever seen in her life was naked underneath his towel! And he was waiting for her, ready to give her the kind of vacation memories a girl just couldn’t get at, say, Disney World.

Deep down, Gail knew it was now or never.

Before she could change her mind, she raced down the steps and through the downstairs, sliding open the patio doors. She stepped onto the pool deck, shaking her hair and posing for him the best she could, thinking that she felt like a woman possessed. The pre-spring-break Gail would never have had the guts to do something like this.

Jesse said nothing. He appeared to be frozen where he stood.

“This isn’t my usual kind of swimsuit,” Gail said, stating the obvious. “I don’t usually wear a two-piece.”

Jesse’s eyes went wide. “Two pieces of what?” he asked, chuckling. “Sweetheart, that’s barely enough thread to floss my teeth.”

Gail laughed—the man made her laugh! She figured if his fiction was as funny and colorful as he was in person, he might really be able to make it as a writer someday. “Should I take it off?” she asked.

Jesse shook his head very slowly. “Nope. That’s my job. Where are the girls?”

“Not coming home until later tonight. I just spoke to Holly.”

“Good. C’mere.”

“Wait. How about some music?” Gail turned and scurried over to the outdoor bar, where she’d seen the girls fiddle with the sound system. She hit the “on” button, and the ground began to pound.

Give it to me, baby, nice and slow.

Climb on top like you ride in the rodeo…

“Or not,” she said, flipping it off.

She heard Jesse laugh. “What’s wrong with a little mood music?” He’d begun to walk his way over to her, tented towel and all. The smile on his face was almost as wide as the gap in the terry cloth.

Gail let out a squeak of anxiety. Her breathing accelerated. Her mouth became parched.

Was she really going through with this? Was this really happening?

Jesse walked right past her, brushing against her hip on his way to the sound system. The music was on again, but at a much lower volume.

He stood right in front of her. “Gail.”

“Yes?”

Jesse slid his fingers up into her hair and pulled her head back ever so gently, stopping when she had no choice but to look up into his dark blue eyes. He placed a string of hot kisses along the side of her face, her jawline, her exposed throat. Her knees began to wobble.

“If you want to stop, just say so,” he whispered, still kissing. “I’m only the tour guide here. This is your vacation.”

Gail giggled and nodded at the same time. She was giddy. Drunk. Her skin was on fire everywhere his lips landed. She had the feeling of being lost, gone, out of her mind with lust for him. The volume might have been reduced, but she could still hear the overtly sexual lyrics of that song, words rhyming in subliminal seduction—behind, grind, thong, gone, zipper, quicker…

Jesse nibbled on her earlobe and his hands began to slide down her back to her butt, hips, thighs. Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her tight against the front of his body. She felt his large erection poke into her belly. “You’re really something, Professor, do you know that?”

She shook her head. If he didn’t kiss her soon she was certain something inside her would snap out of place, never to function properly again.

“You’re the perfect combination of brains and beauty, such achingly sweet beauty.” As Jesse whispered these words, his tongue flicked her earlobe, then behind her ear, then at the tender skin of her throat. She couldn’t stand this. She could hardly breathe.

Jesse had the manual dexterity of a pickpocket. In lightning speed, he’d moved one hand up to her bikini top and deftly pushed one of the triangles of fabric aside so that her whole breast was exposed. She gasped.

He tweaked her nipple—harder than she might have expected from a man she’d only just met—and brought his mouth to hers. Finally.

She opened up to him. Jesse’s tongue was sweet and hot and skilled as it explored her. She heard a desperate moan and realized it had come out of her. She was losing her mind!

Suddenly, she felt the fingers of his other hand brush against the tiny crotch of the bikini. His touch was light. He didn’t poke or prod.

Jesse pulled his mouth from hers. He looked her directly in the eye. “You’re soaking wet.”

She moaned again. She was coming apart in his hands, with his words.

“Fuck me.”

Oh, yes she did. She said it.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Jesse grabbed her under the thighs and picked her up. Within seconds they were inside the house, up the stairs and in her bedroom, where he laid her on the bed.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

As if she’d be capable of movement! Yet, surprisingly, as Gail watched Jesse walk from the room, her hands immediately began to wander of their own volition, approaching the vee of her bikini bottoms. She just wanted to see if Jesse had been exaggerating about the state of her arousal. That’s all. So she dipped her fingers inside, and discovered that, if anything, he’d been downright genteel in his description.

She had no control over herself. Gail closed her eyes and continued touching, stroking, sliding her fingers in her own wetness. She’d never been so turned on in her life. When she heard Jesse at the bedroom door she sat up, eyes wide, ashamed that she’d been caught.

His hands were holding the wine, the glasses and a string of condoms so long it reminded Gail of a party pack of lollipops. She swallowed hard.

“One condition,” Jesse said, placing the items on the bedside table and closing the drapes. “No shame. No embarrassment. Just pleasure. Deal?”

Gail found herself nodding.

Jesse was in front of her. He pushed her legs open where they draped over the side of the bed, forcing his way close. She couldn’t help but notice that his erection was directly lined up with her mouth.

He grabbed her hand, the hand that had just been down inside her swimsuit. Jesse raised it to his lips and licked the juice from her fingertips. Gail gasped. When he was done, he bent at the waist. They were eye-to-eye.

“Now, that’s my idea of an exotic delicacy, Professor. And I plan on treating myself to a lot of it this week. Will that be all right with you?”

Gail nodded, speechless.

“Then tell me again,” Jesse said. “I need to be absolutely sure this is what you want.”

“Fuck me. Right now.”

With one flick of his wrist, the towel fell to the floor. Gail’s eyes nearly popped from her head.

“There will be plenty of time for you to explore me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. But right now, I have to get inside you. I just have to be inside your body.”

She grabbed his face with both her hands and pulled him down to her mouth. Gail felt his fingers deftly untie the swimsuit. His hands began to travel everywhere on her body—her neck, her breasts, her belly, her legs, all while he kissed her, took her over and over again with his tongue.

They rolled together. Gail was on top of him, her fists full of his dark hair and her legs spread over him. She felt like a she-devil, like some kind of animal just released from a cage, like a stranger who’d been living inside her all this time had finally been given permission to come out to play.

Gail reached behind her and grabbed a condom. She handed it to Jesse, who looked up at her with as much wild desire in his eyes as she must have had in hers. Who was this man who’d been thrown into her world and her bed? What was happening to her?

She scooted down then lowered her mouth to his hard cock, gently and slowly tasting what he’d so kindly unveiled for her pleasure. He was thick and long and he tasted salty and clean. She dragged her tongue along the underside of him then closed her lips down on the head, taking as much as she could into her mouth.

“Whoa.” Jesse had his hands in her hair. “Hold up, wild woman.”

Gail raised her head, afraid she’d done something he didn’t like.

“It’s been a while for me, Gail,” he said, his eyes filled with a tender honesty. “Not quite as long as you, but long enough, and the way you’re going at me you’re going to make me come.”

She nodded. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

He gave her a crooked grin then ripped open the foil wrapper.

GAIL WAS A WILD WOMAN all right, but she was also intensely erotic, fluid in the way she moved her body, and so ethereally beautiful that he felt as if he were looking into the face of an angel.

She was spread beneath him, and he was poised to enter her. She was so wet and open from his hand and his tongue that she’d started to pant. This was good.

He grabbed two handfuls of her luscious bottom and pulled her up to him. With one agonizingly pleasurable push, he got the head of his cock inside her. She was tight, slick and already pulsing around him.

With slow determination, Jesse got all the way in her. Her body was trembling. Her eyes looked up at him, pleading for more. So he gave it to her, in, out, his hands clutching her ass, her breasts rolling in rhythm with his thrusts. “Oh, hell, yesssss,” Gail hissed.

Jesse smiled through the waves of intense pleasure now rippling through him. He watched her face. She was lost in her own onslaught of bliss. She moaned, and her head rolled back and forth on her lovely neck.

Suddenly her eyes shot open. Her lips parted. And she clutched at his arms and shoulders. “I’m coming.”

He lowered his face near hers. “Come for me, Gail. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Oh, God.” Her eyes went blank. She was hanging on the edge.

“Do it, you sexy little mami,” he whispered, just before he crushed her mouth with his. She exploded in his arms, beneath his body, her raucous scream absorbed by his kiss. It was all he could do to stop himself from coming right along with her. But he managed. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to wrap up their first go-around together.

Jesse slowed his pace, pulling his lips from hers so that he could see her. Gail’s expression was one of utter satisfaction, complete with rosy cheeks and a drunken little smile. Her eyelids hung heavy over her soft brown eyes.

“Worth waiting for?” he asked.

Gail let go with a giddy chuckle. “Yeah,” she breathed.

Jesse gathered her tightly in his right arm. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said. She did. Then he pushed himself up and turned around to sit on the edge of the bed, his cock still embedded in the heat of her body. She placed her arms loosely around his neck, smiling down at him.

“You know, I have to admit something, Gail,” he said, his fingers kneading her back and buttocks.

“Yeah?”

“I saw it right away,” Jesse continued. “I could tell that underneath your good-girl packaging you were a sexual beast.”

She giggled softly and began to stroke his hair. Jesse closed his eyes and had just begun to luxuriate in the moment when he felt Gail do something wonderful—an unmistakably bad-girl trick—with the lower half of her body.

He opened one eye to see her smile as she squeezed him, wiggled on him, slowly raised and lowered herself on him.

“You bring it out in me, I guess,” Gail said, throwing her head back in pleasure as her inner muscles pulsed around him. She began a slow and intense grind, her soft little groans coming in rhythm with the undulations of her body.

Jesse knew he wouldn’t last three seconds if she kept this up.

“Gail?”

She let her head fall forward and looked down into his face. Her eyes were half closed in ecstasy and her beautiful blond hair tumbled down next to her cheeks. She never stopped wiggling on him and never stopped squeezing.

“Yeah?” she whispered, distracted.

Jesse had to laugh. It was clear to him now that Professor Gail was a single-minded sexpot when in pursuit of pleasure. He fuckin’ loved it.

She began to ride him faster. “I’m going to come all over you again,” she breathed. “Oh, God, it feels so good.”

That was it. Jesse shuddered and he clutched at her, pulling her body closer as he rode out the searing heat of his orgasm. It took several moments for him to catch his breath. While he waited, he ran his hands all over the silky skin of her back, bottom and hips.

“Damn,” he whispered, pulling away from Gail and cradling her face in his hands. As he kissed her cheeks and chin, he thought about how lucky he’d been to be saddled with Lelinda’s Hemingway tour that morning.

It had turned out to be one of the most outstanding days of his life.

“WHAT THE—”

Holly stood in the open sliding door, staring at the sexy old dude from next door and her mom, romping around in the lit-up pool like teenagers. What were they doing? What music were they listening to? Why was her mom laughing so hard?

Please, God. Don’t let them be naked.

“I thought your mom hated hip-hop,” Hannah whispered into Holly’s ear.

“With a passion.”

“You said she goes to bed every night around nine.”

“Like clockwork.”

“Hey girls!” Her mom waved enthusiastically, a huge smile on her face. It was then that Holly noticed the familiar straps of her mom’s fugly one-piece aqua-blue swimsuit and knew it was safe to start breathing again.

“Hey!” Hannah answered for both of them. “Here we are, home by curfew, just like we promised!”

“That’s great, girls. I really appreciate it.”

Her mom paddled over to the pool’s edge while the captain dove underwater. Holly watched him glide to the pool wall, all sleek and dark muscles in the Day-Glo green water.

She didn’t trust him. He was probably a player. And her mom was clueless. It was like watching an Animal Planet episode on lions and gazelles on the Serengeti. She wanted to cover her eyes.

“I was just getting ready to head home.” Jesse propelled himself straight out of the water then smoothed back his hair. Hannah made a little squeak of appreciation as he turned his back to them and bent over to grab his towel. At least his swim trunks were the normal kind and not an old-pervert Speedo.

“Did you guys have fun tonight?” her mother asked, looking up at them with that big smile still on her face. Holly decided she looked totally blissed-out.

Oh, God.

“A great time,” Holly said, not wanting to be outdone by her mom. “We met these awesome local boys who were really nice and showed us around.”

Her mom just nodded, but the comment caught Jesse’s attention, and he spun toward them while he toweled off his hair. “Oh yeah? What are their names?”

“Luis and Nestor,” Hannah answered. “They said you were like family to them.”

Jesse’s arm stopped in midair. It was only for a split second and he went on as though nothing happened, but Holly noticed the reaction.

“Do you know them?” her mom asked Jesse. “Are they good kids?”

“Absolutely,” Jesse said, smiling a smile that Holly thought looked genuine. “Their dad’s one of my best friends. No worries.”

That seemed to make her mom happy.

“Just tell them I said to behave.”

Hannah thought that Jesse’s comment was funny, but Holly detected a real nervousness in the way Jesse was moving and speaking. Now she knew for sure the guy couldn’t be trusted.

Just then her mom jumped from the pool and began to dry off, asking if the girls had eaten and inviting them to join her and Jesse tomorrow. He was taking her to swim with the dolphins, she said.

“Thanks, but we have plans.” Holly answered while keeping an eye on the captain.

“Oh. Okay, then.” Her mom gave both the girls a kiss on the cheek. “I’m headed off to bed—I’m completely exhausted.”

I just bet you are, Holly thought.

Then she watched her mother smile at Jesse. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for a wonderful day.”

The captain smiled back at her. “Sleep tight.”

Hannah and her mom had already stepped through the back sliding door, and the captain was headed to the pool gate.

“Um, Jesse?”

He turned around, the smile he had for her mom still hanging around on his face. “Yes?”

“She’s not, you know—” Holly checked to make sure her mother was out of earshot. “My mom, I mean. She’s not all that experienced with men. She’s kind of naive.”

Jesse tugged the towel tight around his waist and looked at Holly with kind eyes. He nodded slowly, as if he was thinking about what she’d said.

“Mom’s only been with my dad, and she got pretty hurt.”

“She’s told me everything.”

That was a surprise. Holly took a step closer to him. He really was very handsome—for an old guy. “Don’t hurt her. Just don’t. It wouldn’t be good.”

A smile spread across Jesse’s face, and he looked away, almost like he was embarrassed. He laughed softly before he looked at Holly again. “Your mom is a very perceptive and smart woman. I wouldn’t worry too much about her.”

She shrugged, not wanting to admit that was what was going on here—she was worried about her mom.

Jesse took a step closer to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Believe me, Holly. The last thing I’d ever want to do is cause your mom pain. She’s a very special lady, and she deserves the best.”

Holly crossed her arms over her chest and studied him. He seemed like a decent enough guy. And he liked her mom. That was obvious.

“Well, okay,” Holly said tentatively. “But I’ll be keeping my eye on the two of you, just in case.”

Chapter seven

“CHAGO. YOU UP?”

His friend yawned into the phone. “I am now, man. What’s going on?”

“Your boys home yet?”

“Oh, shit. What’d they do now?”

Jesse laughed. “Nothing. I just have a favor to ask you. Are you awake enough for this conversation?”

“Hold up, man.”

Jesse heard him rustle out of bed and take the phone in another room so he wouldn’t wake his wife.

“Okay. What’s goin’ on?”

Jesse took a breath. “Listen, I know this is going to sound strange, but hear me out. I need you to take down the ‘Dark Blue’ series display for a few days, and put my books in the back room where no one can see them.”

The phone went quiet for a moment. “Say what?”

“Please.”

“What the hell for, man?”

“As a personal favor to me.”

Chago laughed. “Sure. No problem. That’ll leave me with Pat the Bunny and the cookbooks. I’ll have to beat the customers away with a stick.”

Jesse felt horrible, but he pressed on. “Please, Chago.”

“Look, you’ll have to tell me what this is about, because you and I both know that J. D. Batista is the only marketing hook I got. That new chain store on Roosevelt is killing me, man.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“So what’s this got to do with my boys?”

Jesse gave him a basic summary of the situation, describing Gail in only the most general terms, explaining that he was asking only that Nestor and Luis not mention anything about his writing career to the girls. Jesse emphasized that he wasn’t asking them to lie, but he would appreciate it if they didn’t bring up the topic in conversation.

Chago said nothing at first, then Jesse heard him chuckling into the phone. “Okay. Sure. I’ll tell the boys,” he said. The chuckling started up again.

“Thanks.”

“You sure about this, man?”

Jesse sighed. The truth was, he’d never attempted anything like this charade. He’d never needed to, but Cammy’s con game had made him damn near paranoid. “Look, I can see something happening with Gail, okay? She’s that great. I just need a couple days before I tell her everything.”

“This is about Cammy, isn’t it?”

“In a roundabout way, yes.”

“So you’re testing her, is that it? You want to make sure she’s not gonna sell your ass to The National Enquirer? Is that what’s going on?”

“Yeah.”

Chago whistled low and soft. “Whatever you say, man, but I think you’re making a mistake. If this Gail is as great as you say she is, she’s not gonna like it when she finds out you’ve been lying to her. I don’t know too many women who’d stand for that kind of shit.”

“I’m not lying. I’m postponing.”

“Right,” Chago said. “So that’s it? You just want me to move my only moneymaker to the stockroom? You sure I can’t interest you in a quart of my blood? My bone marrow? My fuckin’ kidney?”

Jesse laughed. “You’re a good friend, man. I appreciate it. It’s just for a few days.”

“Consider it done,” Chago said. “I guess it’s the least I can do. You’ve single-handedly kept me in business all these years.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing, man. From where I sit, it looks like a train wreck in the making.”

NOT THAT GAIL WAS AN OLD hand at this sort of thing, but she recognized what was happening with Jesse. She was being swept away. The hours in his company were running together in a blur of sunshine, ocean, laughter, discovery and pleasure. She treasured every moment of it, too, even as a tiny ball of panic began to form in her stomach, warning her that it was all temporary, an illusion, and that it was building up to nothing but a wistful memory.

And she let it happen anyway.

On Monday, Jesse took Gail out on his sailboat to where the dolphins played. Since Jesse was a friend of a marine biologist who’d studied Key West dolphins for over a decade, he got a heads-up on where to find them. Jesse followed his friend’s directions to a spot about six miles from land, where currents had swept schools of fish that were attracting one of the dolphin pods for feeding.

Gail gasped when she saw her first two bottlenose dolphins, so graceful and shiny in the water. She and Jesse lay down on their bellies on deck to watch. That first dolphin couple was soon followed by another, then at least a dozen more animals. They swooped, dived, circled and talked to each other in clicks and chirps. One couple even jumped out of the water with fish in their mouths, as if showing off.

Gail was in awe. “This is one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen,” she whispered to Jesse.

“I’m really glad,” he said, leaning close to kiss her softly.

Jesse and Gail eventually slipped into the water, treading softly as they waited for the dolphins’ curiosity to pique. It wasn’t long before they ventured close. Gail was so exhilarated to be in the water with the beautiful creatures that her hands trembled. One dolphin brushed up against her leg. Another swam by and rolled over on its back, slowing just enough for her to touch the silky skin of its underbelly.

It wasn’t long before they swam away, but as Jesse helped her back into the boat Gail knew she’d been forever changed by the experience. Her spirit felt bigger and wiser for it.

They sailed toward the coral reef for snorkeling. When they’d started off that morning, Jesse had explained to Gail that her interest in scuba diving was admirable, but certification classes would eat up much of her vacation. He suggested she save that for another time, and offered to arrange it for her.

“Another friend of yours?” she asked, smiling.

“Yep. He runs the best dive shop on the island. He’ll take very good care of you.” Jesse had been at the helm of the sailboat when he said this, and he’d paused for a moment, turning to study her. Gail remembered how powerful his gaze felt, how beautiful he was in the early light, his hair whipping in the wind.

“The next time you come to visit me, I’ll hook you up.”

Gail hadn’t known what to say. It surprised her that Jesse might want to see her again. She felt the same, of course, but it was a shock that it was mutual. She let the comment slide.

Snorkeling was the second mind-blowing thrill of the day for Gail. Jesse said the Key West Marine Sanctuary included the world’s third-largest living barrier reef. They slipped into the warm tropical waters and, after Jesse gave Gail a quick lesson in how not to swallow gallons of seawater, they were off.

Gail decided right away that the world she’d entered was like an underwater garden, bursting with color and movement. Her eyes bugged out behind her mask.

She saw what she recognized immediately as a stingray, and pointed it out excitedly to Jesse. Later, Jesse would tell her they’d seen dozens of varieties of tropical fish, including blue tangs, sergeant majors and parrotfish.

Eventually, they swam back to the boat for lunch. Jesse had packed cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, fruit and chocolate, which nearly melted in the time it took to pluck it from the cooler and unwrap it. Jesse fed Gail small pieces, and she licked the sweetness off his fingers.

They returned to Margaret Street late in the afternoon, and it was then that Jesse introduced Gail to his home. She was awestruck by how rich and shiny it was inside, all the dark wood, the off-white plaster walls filled with art.

Jesse led her through the downstairs to his backyard, a shady and private oasis lush with flowering bushes, palms and a mighty tree that twisted around itself before it exploded into a giant canopy protecting the whole property. Jesse told her it was a 150-year-old banyan tree that he’d always thought of as the guardian of his family’s homestead. He led her to the hammock beneath the tree, where they snuggled together. The peaceful joy she felt in his arms—combined with the day’s salt air, sun and water—sent Gail almost immediately to sleep. She woke up when her cell phone went off, opening her eyes to see Jesse gazing down at her with a smile. She prayed she hadn’t been drooling.

Later that night, Gail was put at ease about Luis and Nestor when they picked up the girls in person. They seemed like well-mannered young men, and though they looked like identical twins, they told Gail they were a year apart. Holly and Hannah rushed them out the door before Gail could ask too many questions, but Jesse assured her that their father had laid down the law with them—they were to remain on their best behavior, or else.

It was then that Gail realized just how fortunate she and the girls had been. They’d arrived just days ago as tourists and strangers, but Jesse had brought them into his circle, making their vacation feel more like a homecoming. She didn’t know how she’d ever express to him how much that meant to her.

While Holly and Hannah spent Tuesday with the boys at Bahia Honda State Park beach, Jesse took Gail to art galleries and out to lunch. They returned to Gail’s cottage for a nap, a swim and a roll on the king-size bed. Jesse continued to surprise her with how generous and patient he was as a lover and how he managed to combine excitement with tenderness.

That was the first time that Gail worried she was getting too attached.

Gail spent Wednesday with the girls, joining them for an all-day water sports adventure on a catamaran. She invited Jesse but he declined, saying he had some work to catch up on and that they’d hook up for dinner. She missed him. She admitted that the idea of missing someone she’d just met was silly, but it felt strange to be in Key West without him. Gail started to think about how difficult it was going to be when she had to leave.

That was the second time she worried about getting too attached.

Gail had a blast with Holly and Hannah, parasailing, snorkeling, jet skiing and kayaking. Watching the girls ineptly race their kayaks had her doubled over in laughter. At lunch, Holly asked her mom if everything was going okay with the hottie captain. Gail put down her sandwich.

“It’s going just fine,” she said, smiling. “I’m having a lot of fun.”

When Hannah excused herself to go to the boat’s ladies’ room, Gail knew this conversation was pre-planned.

“Is everything going well with Luis and Nestor?” Gail asked.

Holly shrugged. “They’re cool. I mean, it’s not like anything serious will happen between any of us, but it’s nice to get the inside treatment here, you know? They know all the best places and can get us in free everywhere and everything.”

Gail smiled at her. “It’s the same with Jesse.”

Holly didn’t say anything for moment and tapped a fingernail on the side of her water bottle. Eventually she looked up, and Gail could see she was upset.

“Holly, is something wrong?” She reached for her daughter’s forearm, now brown as a berry and covered in a sun-whitened fuzz. “Has something happened?”

Holly gave her a smirk. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Gail nodded, patting Holly’s arm until her daughter yanked it away. “So you’re angry that I’m spending so much time with Jesse?”

“No. Not angry.” Holly scowled at her, the wind tossing around her daughter’s soft blond hair. “Just concerned that you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Gail bit her bottom lip to stop from laughing. “I see.”

“You’re not very experienced, Mom, and you’ve been out with Jesse at all hours, doing God only knows what, and I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

Gail smiled at her daughter. She was touched that Holly saw her as needing guidance when it came to men. “What are you worried might happen, honey?”

Holly made that clicking sound of disbelief with her tongue. “Hello? I’m worried that you’re going to get totally sprung over this guy that you hardly know, Mom!”

Gail didn’t want to sound tragically unhip, but she had no choice. “Sprung?” she asked.

Holly shook her head in disbelief. “You know, crushing on him, falling in lust with him, when it’ll never amount to anything. Seriously, Mom, rule number one is you never, ever fall in love with a guy you meet on spring break—it’ll only bring you pain.”

Gail took a big gulp of her water, stalling. She couldn’t deny that Holly had a point, but the fact still remained that Gail was the thirty-six-year-old woman in this conversation, and Holly was the child.

“I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself just fine,” she said eventually. “Jesse and I are adults and we know what we’re doing, and that’s enjoying each other’s company.”

“What-evs!”

Suddenly, Gail understood what the conversation was really about. She smiled at her tenderhearted daughter. It had been just the two of them for so long that Holly must feel a little possessive of Gail.

“Do you want me to spend more time with you, honey? Do you feel like I’ve abandoned you or something?”

Holly’s mouth dropped open. “Uh, not hardly, Mom.”

Gail had begun to frown in consternation when the lightbulb suddenly went off in her head. This time, she was certain she’d gotten to the bottom of things. “Am I embarrassing you, Holl? Is that it?”

“Duh!” Holly said, smacking her palms on the table. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Think about it, Mom—it’s my spring break, but it’s my mother who’s letting herself go totally wild with some hot guy, riding through town on a moped with her thighs on display! It’s absolutely humiliating!”

Gail was stunned. “You saw me?”

“Yeah. Me and everyone else. Luis called you a party girl.”

Gail sat up straighter. “He did? Really?”

“That’s not a compliment, Mother.”

Gail tried not to smile too much, because she knew she needed to address the cause of her daughter’s discomfort, but she was secretly thrilled with her new reputation. She’d been a lot of things in her life—book-worm, mommy, trusting wife—but never a party girl.

“Holly,” she said as gently as she could. “I appreciate your looking out for me. I really do.”

Her daughter shrugged.

Gail knew that Holly had never seen her mother as a sexual creature, because her mother hadn’t seen herself that way. Not for a very long time. It had to be disconcerting for her daughter, and maybe a little threatening.

“You know that you will always be the most important person in my life, don’t you?” Gail asked.

Holly picked at the paper label on her water bottle. “I know, Mom.”

“You need to be absolutely clear about that, honey, because it turns out I really like this dating thing.”

Holly looked up and blinked in surprise. Gail touched her daughter’s hand.

“Something’s happened to me here, Holly. I think I’ll be going back to Beaverdale ready to start living again. My life is going to be different, and I hope Jesse will be part of it. I want you to be okay with that.”

“Did I miss anything?” Hannah returned from the restroom, and she plopped back onto her spot on the bench. Holly glanced at Gail one last time and lowered her eyes. “Not a thing,” she said.

JESSE HAD A STRING OF surprises lined up for Gail, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun in the pursuit of someone else’s happiness.

His buddy with the little house on a private beach up in Pirates Cove told him he was out of town but the house key was in the usual place. “Knock yourself out,” he’d said. “Beer’s in the fridge.” Lelinda had hooked Jesse up with her friend who ran the dress boutique, who helped Jesse pick out something he thought Gail would love: a deep red halter dress made of the softest cotton, with a full skirt that would hit her right above the knee—perfect for a night of salsa lessons. He’d booked her a ninety-minute massage, as well. And he’d reserved his favorite table at the Grand Café for her last night in town, an event he chose not to think too much about.

It gave Jesse pleasure to see Gail stagger out of her massage, a look of ecstasy on her face. Then he took her home and gave her cause for a few more. Their nighttime skinny-dip in Pirates Cove was a sensual heaven of warm water, soft touches and wet kisses. Later, on blankets spread out near the beach campfire, Jesse rolled with Gail, held her close and buried his face into the side of her neck when he pushed inside her. That’s when the realization went through him like an electric current—in a couple of days she’d be gone, the smell of her skin would be gone, her laugh would be gone. It seemed impossible.

Gail cried when she opened the box and found the red dress. She held it up to herself and twirled for him, trying hard to fight back her tears.

“I feel as though I’m in a dream,” she told him. “Thank you, Jesse. Thank you for being so kind, for making me feel so special.”

He’d taken her by the shoulders then and set her straight. “This isn’t about kindness, Gail. Meeting you is one of the loveliest surprises of my life. You are special to me. You are special, period. Don’t ever forget that.”

When he took her dancing at the open-air Latin music club, she became a focused and serious student, doggedly repeating dance steps until she got them right. With some encouragement—and a few mojitos—Gail managed to loosen up enough to simply enjoy moving to the music. Jesse thought she was more beautiful that night than he’d ever seen her—radiant, relaxed, her eyes shining with happiness.

It was hard to believe that the confident, booty-shaking party girl in his arms was the same woman he’d encountered on her porch only a week ago, tongue-tied, stiff as a board and self-conscious.

During a slow song, Jesse held Gail close, swaying slowly with her in a sea of dancing couples. He kissed her fragrant hair and nibbled on her bare shoulder. He could barely make out the words she whispered into his ear.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Jesse pulled her tighter, fear and longing coursing through him simultaneously. He moved her body in rhythm with his own until he was ready to respond.

“I feel the same,” he said. “You’re very easy to love, Professor.”

That night, after Gail checked to make sure the girls were home safe, she returned to his house. She stripped off her simple robe and joined him in his bed, kissing him from head to toe. Jesse felt the love pouring out of her and into him. Her love felt like a blessing, and the most intimate gift anyone had ever given him.

“I want you to come back to Key West soon,” he said. “As soon as you can.”

Gail sat up, letting one leg dangle over the edge of his bed. She tipped her head and smiled at him tenderly. “I appreciate your saying that. But I’m worried that after a while you might forget me. It would be perfectly natural.” She gestured at their naked bodies in the moonlight. “This sort of thing usually turns into nothing more than a nice memory.”

Jesse sat up, too, and grabbed her face in his hands. “That’s not going to happen, and you know it.” She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. “Gail, what I’ve had with you has been special. Unique. And I don’t want it to end with your vacation.”

Her smile spread.

“But there’s something you need to know about me first. Please hear me out.”

A tiny crease formed between her brows. “Okay,” she said, her voice tentative.

He took a deep breath, knowing there was no way to do this but push through it. Jesse owed her the truth, and it couldn’t be postponed another second.

“Something happened to me last year,” he said softly. “A woman came to stay in the house next door—your house—and she seemed really great at first. I’d never allowed myself to fall for a tourist before her.”

Gail gently pulled at his wrists until his hands fell away from her face. The look of confusion in her eyes nearly killed Jesse.

“Go ahead. I’m listening,” she said.

“It was nothing but a setup, Gail. She basically blackmailed me, almost ruined my life.”

“But…” Gail shook her head as if trying to sort through her thoughts. “She didn’t succeed, right? She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“She sure as hell tried.”

Gail blinked, remaining silent. Slowly, she began to scoot back on the bed, never taking her eyes from his face. She brought the sheet to the front of her body, that beautiful body she’d become comfortable sharing with him. It was painful to watch.

“I’m not sure I understand,” she said, resorting to her tightly wound professor voice. “I always assumed I wasn’t the first tourist you’ve been involved with. Are you just reminding me of that reality?”

He’d made a mistake. He should have told her up front. Chago had been right—this was the train wreck he’d seen coming.

“Not at all,” he said.

Gail suddenly laughed. “Wait a minute—you know what?” She smiled and held up her hand, palm out. “We’ve had a wonderful time together. Let’s not ruin it. You don’t owe me an explanation about anything.” She began to stand up. “I should probably go home and pack.”

“Please don’t.” Jesse placed his hand on her shoulder. “Please.” She stayed but angled her body away from him. “Don’t shut down on me, okay? I’m telling you this because you deserve the truth.”

She lifted her chin. “Then just say it.”

“The woman hired a smarmy lawyer and spread gossip about me.” Jesse watched as Gail’s eyes went huge. “She spun a fantasy about how I smacked her around, got her pregnant and then kicked her to the curb. She took me to court and filed a fictional paternity suit against me. The whole mess was picked up in the tabloids and the celebrity magazines.”

Gail reared her head back and frowned. “Was any of it true?”

Jesse laughed. “No! Of course not! It took a ton of money and a few years off my life span, but I got everything thrown out. She was a nut job.”

Gail nodded very slowly. “I’d like to say I’m sorry for the pain she caused you.” Her eyes were earnest, hurt. “But why did you pick this moment to tell me about her? You wanted me to know there was another spring-break slut before me, is that it? That you’ve done this kind of thing before?”

“Oh, God, no,” Jesse said, his heart breaking. This was a nightmare. “You are nothing like her, Gail. There’s no comparison.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” Gail’s voice was ominously flat. “And better yet—why would celebrity magazines give a rat’s ass about what happened between a tourist and a part-time tour guide? And where did that ‘ton of money’ come from?”

Jesse automatically tried to touch her but she recoiled. Clearly, she wasn’t interested in his touch.

“Did you teach her to salsa?” Gail’s lips began to quiver. “How about skinny-dipping at a private beach? Did she get the VIP treatment like I did, with the dolphins and the private lunches and the fancy dresses and everything else you did to make me feel so special?”

Jesse raked his fingers through his hair. This was worse than he imagined it would be, and he hadn’t even gotten to the good part. “Please hear me out.”

“I thought I already had.” Gail stood, reaching for her robe. She whipped it off the floor and onto her body, yanking hard on the sash around her waist. “You just said you were falling in love with me and you wanted me to come back soon, but this—” Gail waved her arm around. “It’s like you’re giving me a warning not to get my hopes up, that I’m not all that special after all, that you did this before and you’ve always regretted it.”

She turned away from him. Jesse leaped from the bed. “Gail, don’t. That’s not why I’m telling you.”

“Then why?” she asked, spinning around.

“Because I need to explain to you who I am. She targeted me because I’m sort of famous. She wanted my money and her fifteen minutes on TV.”

Even in the low light, Jesse could see Gail’s face drain of color. “Sort of famous?”

Jesse grabbed his own robe from the bedpost and hastily wrapped it around himself. He flicked on the bedside lamp.

“You know how I told you I was a writer?”

She nodded, frowning.

“I’m J. D. Batista. I’m a bestselling suspense writer. Have you ever heard of the ‘Dark Blue’ series set in the Keys?”

Gail turned her head to the left and stared off into space, as if she was trying to conjure up a distant memory. “Vaguely,” she said, looking at him again, her eyes suddenly devoid of emotion. “Then again, I’ve never really cared for that kind of trash.”

Her words stung. “Okay. I deserved that.”

Gail laughed. “This is hilarious,” she said, the sarcasm oozing from her voice. She put a shaking hand to her mouth before she went on. “So let me see if I got this straight—you lied to me about your writing, telling me that you hoped to be published one day when you already had a major career? And you did this because you thought I was another psycho tourist out to get you?” The tendons in Gail’s neck stuck out like guitar strings. “Is that what this is all about?”

Jesse couldn’t help but see the irony of the situation. Gail Chapman was the only woman whose opinion mattered to him, and she was sickened by his deceit and thought his work was trash.

This hadn’t turned out the way he’d hoped.

“Gail, please listen. I only wanted to be sure you liked me for who I was as a person before you knew I had money and fame.” Jesse’s legs felt weak. He’d blown it with her. He knew it. “I always planned to tell you.”

Gail laughed bitterly. “Really? When? When I was already home? When I came upon your books in some Walmart somewhere?” She flapped her arms in agitation. “Or maybe you wanted to wait until after I’d fallen completely, totally in love with you! Oh, wait—that’s already happened!”

“Please forgive me. I made an awful mistake.”

“You know what the worst part is?” Gail’s cheeks had become red and blotchy with anger. “You knew how important honesty was to me! I told you, Jesse. I told you that I’d been burned by a lying, cheating, embezzling asshole, and that honesty was the only thing I absolutely had to have from a man.”

Jesse’s head felt as if it would explode. In trying to protect himself, he’d hurt her. “I am so sorry,” was all he could say.

Gail wasn’t finished. She poked a finger in his chest. “But think about this—however bad that girl hurt you, Curtis hurt me more. It was my husband who betrayed me, not some tramp from the vacation house next door. Yet I still opened up to you, Jesse! I had the courage to be myself with you!”

He’d never felt this low in his life.

Gail spun around. She headed out his bedroom door and made a beeline directly toward his office, the door to which he’d intentionally left closed whenever she came to the house. Jesse watched her flip on the light and stand in the doorway, nodding.

He came up behind her and leaned an arm on the doorjamb. He’d never before felt queasy with embarrassment at the sight of his framed book covers and rave reviews.

Gail spun around to find that his arm blocked her way out. She stared at him with cold, hard eyes. “The tragedy is that I did love you for who you are—who I thought you were, anyway—and if I’d known from the start that you were some famous mystery writer I would have found a way to love you in spite of it!”

“It’s really more suspense than mystery,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying.

She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re a total dipshit, J. D. Batista. Hey, that must be what the ‘D’ stands for! Dipshit!” She ducked under his outstretched arm and raced down the stairs in her bare feet. He ran after her.

“Gail, wait! You can’t just walk out. We need to talk!”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she said, reaching for the front doorknob and looking over her shoulder. “I’ll let you know when and if I ever feel like talking to you again.”

Jesse placed his hand on her back, but she jerked away from his touch. Those soft brown eyes burned.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” she said, preparing to slam the door behind her. “Thanks for the vacation memories!”

Chapter eight

JESSE SAT AT HIS DESK. He stared out the window at the banyan tree, his first cup of morning coffee in his hand, still reeling from what had happened with Gail the night before. What his agent just told him hadn’t improved his mood any, either.

His publisher had said no on the two-week extension request. They wanted the manuscript by 10:00 a.m. the next day. But for good reason, Beverly told him in an excited voice. They’d moved up the pub date of that book by six whole months. And they’d decided to send him out on tour with his summer release.

“This is a sure sign that they believe in you, Jesse, that they’re certain you can turn those numbers around.” Beverly waited for some type of enthusiastic response from him, but when she didn’t get one, she continued on. “I’m not sure you realize how big this is. Authors aren’t getting this kind of support right now, Jesse, not in this economy. And they’re behind you even though your numbers are down.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Jesse? Do you hear what I’m saying? Isn’t this fabulous?”

Not exactly.

Gail was leaving in twenty-four hours, the exact same time his publisher expected to have his completed manuscript in hand. How was he supposed to send in a halfway decent manuscript and win Gail back at the same time?

Jesse got up from his chair and began to pace. “So I guess this isn’t a good time to tell you that I was about to ask for a two-week extension on top of the two-week extension they just nixed?”

Beverly didn’t answer right away. “No,” she eventually said. “That wouldn’t be smart.”

He walked back and forth in front of the eight custom-framed book covers hanging at precise intervals on his office wall, knowing in his heart that Gail had been right. He was a dipshit.

His agent had one more point to make, apparently. “I have to ask you, Jesse, what’s going on in your life that’s more important than your career? You seem quite distracted. You’re not having more problems with that crazy tourist, are you?”

He stopped pacing and leaned a hip up against the windowsill. For some reason, all he could think of was the moment Gail first slipped her hand into his, just before he took her on the moped tour. Before that day had ended, she would have revealed her heart to him, made him laugh and pranced around in a dental floss bikini for him.

Jesse stood straight, the truth of it suddenly hitting him like a boat anchor upside his head. When he’d told Gail he was falling for her, he’d meant it. But it was more than that. Gail Chapman was the only woman he wanted. She was the one he’d been looking for. And it was as simple as that.

“Did I lose you, Jesse?”

“Nope,” he told his agent. “Still here.”

“Is everything all right in your world?”

Jesse laughed. He could never tell Beverly what was going on. If he told her that a really special woman was staying in the rental house next door and he’d fallen in love with her, his agent would dump his ass as a client. Then she’d send an emissary to Key West to track him down and shoot him where he stood. And Jesse wouldn’t blame her one bit.

“Everything’s fine,” he said.

“Then get the manuscript to them by tomorrow morning.”

He shook his head, disgusted with himself. How had he gotten into this mess? He had to finish a book and win Gail back—at the same time. “Fine. Tell them it’s on the way.”

He hung up. He sat down at his desk once more, knowing he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

HOLLY SCOOTED THE CHAIR closer to the desktop computer and signed in to her Internet account, warning everyone that her typing might not be up to snuff on a strange keyboard.

“Then let me do it,” Hannah said, pulling up the chair to her right.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Holly shook her head. “This is my mother’s heartache, so it’s only right I should get the honors.”

Gail took the seat to the left of her daughter, cautiously sipping at the hot cup of coffee in her hand. It had taken some convincing, but she’d agreed to accompany the girls to the Internet café in Old Town to do a little research on J. D. Batista, master of fiction, in both his books and his life.

She had nothing else to do. They were leaving the next morning. Besides, she’d cried so much that they were out of tissues at the house.

“Okay, girls!” Holly said in what Gail thought was a voice far too perky for the occasion. “Get on Google and let’s search the living crap out of him!”

A couple of clicks on the keyboard, and there he was. That sure didn’t take long. Gail had to admit that Jesse looked exceptionally handsome in his publicity shot, and that yes, the picture did look familiar. She’d probably seen his face and his books in a dozen bookstores over the years, but since she didn’t read that stuff, it never registered with her. She peered closer to the photo, deciding something looked off about him. He wasn’t wearing his little silver earring, for starters. He was clean-shaven. And his eyes seemed friendly but empty somehow. Flat.

Gail sat up straight. Her chest pulled tight. The reason Jesse’s publicity picture looked strange to her was that it wasn’t the Jesse she knew. What she was looking at was his public face, and she’d seen him only on his home turf. Gail had become accustomed to Jesse’s eyes when he looked at her—when they made love, danced, laughed together, or walked hand in hand. Maybe he’d been himself with her that week, after all.

“Check this out!” Holly pulled up several articles about Jesse’s legal troubles. Gail had to admit the woman who made the charges was easy on the eyes. She looked elegant. She looked believable. But when Holly read aloud some of the ugly details, Gail felt nauseous.

The woman’s claims made Jesse sound like a monster. Granted, Gail had known him only for nine days, but never once had she seen any of the traits his accuser described. Gail had seen only generosity, tenderness and passion. Until last night, that is, when he dropped the “full disclosure” bomb on her.

“I don’t like spying on him like this,” Gail suddenly announced, rising from her seat near the computer. “I’ve seen enough to know that Jesse told me the truth about who he is and what happened with that woman. I don’t need to know anymore.”

“Ah, c’mon, Ms. Chapman!” Hannah said, smiling. “If you’re getting back into the dating scene, you’re definitely going to need to know how to do this!”

That sure buoyed her spirits. “I’ll be over by the window. Let me know if anything really bad comes up.”

Holly looked at her as if she was crazy. “This isn’t bad enough for you?”

Gail took a deep breath. How was she going to explain this to her daughter? She never wanted Holly to think it was all right for a man to deceive a woman, because it never was. That had been the central lesson in Gail’s catastrophic marriage to Curtis.

But Gail knew that the older a person got—and the more complicated their history became—the less black and white the world was. Jesse hadn’t told her the truth about his career. Fine. But if she’d been in his position, would she have done things any differently? Perhaps not. And he’d shared everything else with her, hadn’t he—his home, his city…his heart?

“Look,” she told the girls. “Jesse fell for that woman there on the computer. She trapped him, blackmailed him and tried her best to destroy his career.” Gail shrugged and turned toward the window table, speaking more to herself now than Holly and Hannah. “The whole thing made him wary. So when I showed up, he did what he had to do to protect himself. Unfortunately I got hurt in the process. But unlike the woman who set out to destroy him, Jesse didn’t hurt me intentionally. He just didn’t think of the consequences of his actions.”

“Thanks for that teachable moment, Mom,” Holly said.

Gail collapsed into a chair in the sunshine. She stared out the window of the café, remembering the talk she and Jesse had their first day together, when he’d arranged for their private luncheon. She’d asked him how he could afford his lifestyle, her worst fears being drug smuggling, embezzlement and the mafia. She’d never even thought to ask him about popular fiction.

She sat quietly, drinking her coffee, while Holly and Hannah continued their cyberinvestigation. When they believed they were sufficiently informed, Gail said she was going to take a walk to the bookstore. Curiosity had gotten the better of her. “Do you want to come with?”

“Sure,” Holly said, smiling. “Nestor and Luis are working today. We were going to stop in anyway.”

“MAY I HELP YOU?”

A short, round man with a friendly face wandered over to Gail as she perused the aisles. It seemed odd to her that the books were spaced so far apart on the shelves, as if the bookstore owner had depleted his inventory or was preparing to go out of business.

“Yes, hi,” Gail said. “I was looking for J. D. Batista’s novels, and I assumed that you’d carry them, since he’s a local author. Do you know if the other bookstore in town has them in stock?”

The man’s eyes bugged out, but he said nothing, which Gail found odder still. Just then, Luis and Nestor spotted the girls and strolled over, trying to look cool when they were clearly thrilled that they had visitors.

“Hey,” Hannah said, playfully grabbing at Nestor’s arm. “Why didn’t you guys tell us who Jesse was?”

Nestor shrugged. “Because Dad told us he’d kick our asses to Cuba if we—”

“That’s enough.” Obviously, the man was the boys’ father and Jesse’s friend. It was all starting to make sense to Gail.

“Get outta here. Take the day,” he said to his sons, and they were happy to oblige.

“Bye, Mom, we’ll check in later!” Holly said, heading for the front door of the bookstore. Suddenly, she stopped and turned. “You’ll be okay?”

“Absolutely,” Gail answered her.

Once the group had gone outside, the man sighed deeply and extended his hand to Gail. “My name is Santiago, but my friends call me Chago,” he said, smiling. He motioned for Gail to walk with him. “This is my store.”

“I’m Gail,” she said.

“Yep, I figured as much,” he said with a chuckle. “Jesse said you were beautiful, and he was right.”

She smiled tightly. “How sweet of him.”

“So, he finally told you everything, huh?”

Gail nodded. “What a dipshit,” she mumbled.

Chago laughed so hard she feared the few remaining books would come tumbling off the shelves. “Yeah, my friend wasn’t thinking straight, unfortunately. He was determined to wait a few days until he told you who he was.”

She nodded. “So it seems.”

He led her to the stockroom, warning her to stand back. The room was packed floor to ceiling with books. Chago cleared his throat before he spoke again. “If it helps at all, Jesse told me that you were really special, that he could see something happening with the two of you, something long-term.”

She nodded, acknowledging Chago’s loyalty to his friend. It was sweet. Then she looked around the stockroom and laughed out loud. “Let me see if I get the picture here,” she said. “Jesse actually told you to hide all his books? So I wouldn’t see them on display?”

Chago chuckled again then pointed behind Gail’s back. She turned to see a huge poster-sized version of his publicity photo propped against the wall.

“That ugly mug would’ve been pretty hard to miss,” Chago said with a shrug. “Be careful where you step, Miss Gail. Maybe you should tell me which book you want and I’ll get it for you. Probably safer that way.”

“I have no idea what I want,” Gail said, immediately aware of the appropriateness of that statement.

“Ever read any of his stuff before?” Chago asked.

“Nope.”

“You should probably give him a chance, you know,” Chago said.

“I’m here to buy his books, aren’t I?”

A frown marred Chago’s pleasant face as he looked up at Gail. “I meant him as a person, not his books. There are plenty of assholes out there who write good books. Trust me on that.”

Gail laughed.

“Jesse is a real decent guy, though,” he said. “He always has been. He has his eccentricities and all that, sure, and he locks himself away like a monk when he’s on deadline, which takes some getting used to, but he treats everyone in his life real good. If he doesn’t deserve another shot, I don’t know who does.”

Gail swallowed hard. Suddenly, it was all she could do not to cry. How could something so wonderful have gotten so messed up, so fast? “All right, then,” she said, trying to sound sprightly. “Which book do you recommend?”

Chago smiled. “Start with his first one so you can familiarize yourself with the characters.” He reached over and grabbed a hardcover book with a dramatic dust jacket, the image of a menacing storm bearing down on a small boat.

Gail held it in her hand then flipped it over, finding the same publicity photo. She couldn’t help but smile seeing his face. “How many books are there in the series?” she asked.

“Eight, and number nine is set for release later this summer. He’s writing number ten now.”

Chago nodded toward a dozen cartons stacked near the back fire exit. “I’m not allowed to put the new one out yet.”

“I’ll take all eight,” Gail said.

Chago’s eyes went big again. “You sure? You need some help getting them home?”

Gail shook her head, showing him her large straw bag. “Fill ’er up,” she said.

BY 4:00 P.M., HE’D LEFT six messages on her cell phone and sent flowers and chocolates to the house, but she wasn’t ready to talk to him. She wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed.

Would tomorrow be the end of something fun but foolish, or the start of something with potential?

Gail did what she always did in times of indecision. She called Kim and laid out the whole story for her, edited for modesty’s sake, of course.

“Holy shit,” Kim said after hearing everything that had happened in the last few days. “I love that guy’s books!”

Gail rolled her eyes.

“And you said you wouldn’t let anything happen to you down there,” Kim added. “Boy, were you wrong!”

She laughed softly. “Kind of looks that way.”

Kim had some logical advice, as always. She told Gail that giving Jesse an opportunity to redeem himself wasn’t a sign of her own weakness or gullibility. “The man made a bad call, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a Curtis Chapman clone,” Kim said. “He’s already apologized, right? He knows he screwed up. So whatever you do, don’t get on that plane without talking to him. Hear him out.”

“All right,” Gail said.

“What kind of chocolates? What kind of flowers? You didn’t say.”

Gail laughed at her friend again. “Three dozen yellow tulips and a dozen truffles from a local chocolatier.”

Kim didn’t say anything. Gail couldn’t even hear her breathe. For a moment, she thought she’d lost cell phone reception. “Kim?” she asked. “Are you there?”

“Not Curtis Chapman, not Curtis Chapman…” Kim said in monotone. “Just keep repeating that phrase over and over to yourself.”

When they hung up, Gail leaned her head back against the comfortable poolside lounge chair. The sun was hanging low in the sky. She’d be flying back to Philly in eighteen hours.

Gail’s eyes dropped to the hardback book in her lap. As it turned out, Jesse’s first novel was extremely well written. The story was full of double crosses and characters the reader didn’t know if they should trust. It had great sex and witty dialogue and a plotline that made Gail never want to leave the world she’d entered.

In other words, Jesse’s first novel was a lot like the week she’d just spent in his company.

She sighed, twisting around to look up and behind her, trying to see through the thick foliage to Jesse’s house. It looked as if the lights had just come on upstairs.

Kim had been right—he wasn’t Curtis. And Chago had been right—he was a decent guy who deserved another shot.

Besides, there was no point in denying the most important reality of all. Gail had broken the number one rule for any spring breaker. She’d gone and fallen in love.

She was totally sprung.

A LOUD BANGING JARRED Jesse out of his writing stupor. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the sound was real or if it had happened in his head, where an entire city block had just gone up in a cloud of black smoke as part of the climactic action sequence.

No. The sound was real, he decided. Someone was banging on his front door loud enough to wake the dead. “Shit, shit, shit,” he said to no one. He glanced at his computer to check the time. He was almost going to make it. He’d designated eight hours of his day to rush through one last edit, then he would be emailing the manuscript to New York. He didn’t give a damn how much work it still needed, which was unlike him. Jesse had always prided himself on the fact that he turned in near-perfect manuscripts that hardly ever needed revisions. It was his trademark.

But not this time. If they wanted his manuscript, they could have it. He’d do revisions later. It didn’t matter. He had a life to live.

The woman he loved was getting on a plane in the morning, and there was still a lot to be settled between them. He had a whole lot of apologizing to do. They had plans to make for their future.

The banging continued. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he asked the gods, raising his arms over his head. He couldn’t break now! He’d built in just enough time for a quick shower before he went over there and professed his love to Gail. If he stopped now, there would be no shower, and therefore a much-reduced chance at winning her back.

The truth was, she hadn’t returned his calls or acknowledged the flowers or candy. She might have decided to go out for dinner, ruining his plans for the night, or she might have even taken an earlier flight, ruining his future. But the last time he looked, she was still over there at poolside, her back to him, reading or sleeping, he couldn’t tell which, but obviously not too distraught over their argument. So he simply couldn’t stop now, no matter who was at the door. He was minutes away from finishing. He was minutes away from emailing this sucker to New York and getting his ass back to Gail.

The banging continued.

“What is wrong with people?” he muttered, getting up from his chair for the first time in at least three hours, shaking his legs to get the blood back in his limbs. “Have you never heard of the sanctity of a man’s home? Do you not realize that some people have fucking contractual obligations? What the fuck is wrong with the world?”

Jesse grabbed the door handle and was about to fling it open and continue his diatribe when he was shocked to his senses. It was Gail. She had a thoughtful smile on her face. She stood on his porch in that same conservative cotton sundress she’d worn the day he met her. But she’d accessorized differently today. His first “Dark Blue” novel was clutched to her chest.

“You’re a very good writer,” she said.

Jesse couldn’t breathe.

“You’re still a dipshit, but I’m going to give you another chance, because I know you had your reasons.”

Jesse’s eyes widened. He must look like hell.

“In fact, you’re quite talented.”

She opened the book and began to read a paragraph from the second chapter, using her now-familiar English professor voice. When she was done with her recitation, she closed the book and looked him square in the eye.

“This is beautifully economic use of the language,” she said. “You don’t resort to flowery descriptions or melodramatic dialogue. It’s real. It’s raw, and your sentences have a driving power to them.”

For an instant, Jesse worried he might be hallucinating. Maybe he’d gotten himself dehydrated again. It happened sometimes when he was on deadline.

“It almost reminds me of Hemingway.”

Jesse laughed.

“And I apologize for calling your books trash when I hadn’t even bothered to read them. My thesis committee board would cringe if they knew I’d committed such a sin.”

Jesse smiled. “Apology accepted.”

“Are you okay?” Gail asked. “You look pretty awful.”

Talk about economic use of the language.

“Yeah,” Jesse said, rubbing a hand over his rough beard. “I’d hoped to be better groomed when I got down on the ground and groveled before you.”

She nodded, giving him a once-over. He was still in the robe he’d worn during their fight the night before.

“I love you, Gail,” he said.

She looked up at him, her eyes clear and smiling.

“And I’m truly sorry for not telling you everything about me from the start.” The moment the words left him, Jesse felt the weight of exhaustion and relief press down on him. He had to laugh at how ridiculous he was about to sound. “But here’s the kicker—my publisher just moved up my deadline to tomorrow morning. I was racing through my manuscript so I could spend time with you before you go.”

She cocked her head politely.

“And I don’t want you to go, Gail. I really don’t want you to go.”

She stepped through his doorway and placed herself directly in his embrace. He pulled her tight, smelling her, feeling her heat and the beat of her heart, never wanting the moment to end.

“I accept your apology,” Gail said, the words muffled by his robe. “Why don’t you shower while I make you something to eat? Then you can finish up.”

“Seriously?” he asked her, stunned.

“Sure,” Gail said, easing out of his embrace. “You’re on deadline. I understand.”

Jesse stood in shock for a few seconds. “You do?”

She grinned. “Of course. I love you, too, Jesse.”

Jesse gripped her by the shoulders and kissed her hard and fast. “A half hour, tops,” he said, already heading up the steps. “And you don’t have to cook. I have an eight o’clock reservation for us at the Grand Café. I wanted your last night here to be special. If I hurry, we can just make it.”

“That sounds even better.” Gail grinned at him from the foyer. “I have a good book to keep me company in the meantime.”

Epilogue

WHEN THE SMALL PLANE began to descend, Gail’s stomach dropped with it. Goose bumps broke out all over her body, just like that first time she’d laid eyes on him, naked from the waist up and yelling at his shutter hinge. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Within minutes she’d be in Jesse’s arms again, where she belonged.

The six weeks had gone quickly, just as Jesse had assured her they would. The days rushed by as they took care of life’s business 1,347 miles away from each other. Gail had been swamped finishing the semester and getting Holly’s admissions paperwork completed for her freshman year at Penn. For Jesse the focus was a two-week book tour and manuscript revisions. After all the deadline drama, his publisher was thrilled with the finished product, calling it his best novel yet.

Jesse had kept his word. Although the rapid-fire texting of the first few days got old real quick, he kept up with a steady stream of emails and phone calls. And even while he was on tour, he managed to mail her a handwritten love letter once a week, in cursive as flowing and elegant as the words on the page. Gail always saved those letters for nighttime, to read once she was in bed and the house was quiet. She would savor his words, letting the rich cadence of the language fall over her like a velvet blanket. On letter nights, Gail took Jesse with her into sleep, and into her dreams.

Interestingly enough, Gail had decided the separation had been good for them. It had forced them to get to know each other on a deeper level, relying on communication alone to keep the spark alive.

But boy, oh boy, had she missed the sex. Since her adventures with Jesse, there was no such thing as being chaste and sane at the same time. Those days were over.

Kim had joked that if she’d known all the good that would come from it, she’d have forced Gail to release her inner harlot years ago. But Gail knew that wasn’t how it worked. Gail had met Jesse at just at the right time in both their lives, under the right circumstances and in just the right place.

She tucked her straw bag under the seat in front of her and took a deep breath to calm her nerves as the plane’s landing gear touched down. Gail then was put through the hell of waiting for other passengers to gather their crap and get out of the plane. She began bouncing around in her sandals, picturing in her mind how far she’d have to walk from the gate to the unsecured waiting area, and Jesse.

Forget walking. Gail ran. Within seconds she saw him standing beyond the security scanner, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand and the biggest, widest grin on his face. His earring flashed in the fluorescent lights.

She jumped on him. He crushed her body to his and spun around, kissing her hair, her cheek, her neck, while Gail kept repeating, “I missed you so much. I missed you so much…” The feel of his stubble on her skin made her cry. She was with him. Finally.

Jesse let her slide down the front of his body until her sandaled feet returned to the floor. He grabbed her face in his hands and studied her.

“You’re real.”

Gail laughed. “Of course I am.”

When the tears began to form in Jesse’s blue eyes, she felt a tidal wave of tenderness and love for him. It had been a rough go, but he was sure about her and she was sure about him. There were no more doubts. Now, all their focus was on the future.

Their plan was for Gail to spend a month in Key West, while Holly stayed with Hannah’s family and got ready for school. Then Jesse would return with her to Pennsylvania, where they’d all spend the autumn together. Beyond that, who knew? Gail was even looking into positions at the community college in Key West. Jesse was willing to live part of the year in Beaverdale. Anything could happen. Everything was possible.

He kissed her quickly then retrieved her bag and the bouquet from the tile floor, where they’d been tossed in the heat of the moment. Jesse slid his arm around Gail’s waist as they walked to baggage claim.

“Holly sends her love,” Gail said, looking up at him.

Jesse laughed. “Tell me about it. She’s been texting me all day, warning me to be on my best behavior.”

“No!” Gail said, surprised. “What did she say?”

“Well, I believe her exact words were—” Jesse pulled his phone from his pocket and clicked to his messages—“Try not to be such an asshat this time.”

Gail gasped. “I don’t even know what that means!”

Jesse laughed as he shoved the phone back in his pocket. “I get the general drift.”

“She thinks you’re great, you know,” Gail said, grinning at him. “She told all her friends that I’m dating a famous writer.”

“A famous asshat,” he said, and they both laughed.

After they waited for her luggage, they walked out to the parking lot together. Gail felt the heat slam into her.

“It’s so good to be back!” she said, stretching her arms out in the humid air.

“Have you thought about what you’d like to do while you’re visiting Key West?” Jesse’s eyes were full of humor as he tossed her suitcase into the trunk of his car.

“Of course. I made a list,” Gail answered.

“Is it a long list?”

“Very. An entire month’s worth of activities.”

Jesse came toward her, his grin getting bigger as the distance between them disappeared. He nudged her until her butt hit the side of the car then pressed his hard and strong body against hers.

“Do we have to do them in any particular order?” he asked.

“That won’t be a concern.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Gail gazed up into his dark blue eyes, wagging her eyebrow teasingly. “Because there’s only one item on my list, but I want to do it over and over again.”

Jesse laughed, moving in for the kiss. “I’m sure that can be arranged, my wild one.”