She inhaled deeply. Her face relaxed, and she held up her hand like a stop signal. "No. No, you don't."

"No, I do. I thought it was better to listen to what our parents wanted back then and have no contact with you because I was going into the Marines. I guess I wanted to save you from heartbreak in case I died in war or something. I don't know. I was young and stupid."

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

"You don't owe me anything, Leo. Truly. We were young. We were kids. Let's not dredge up the past. That's silly. I don't hold any resentment or bad feelings. Really."

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

"'Kay. So, we'll stay away from the past from now on. How's the present treating you?"

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

Jessica nodded. "I do live at the hotel. Graduated last May from a college in Fort Myers. Got degrees in business and hospitality. And I'm single."

"Congratulations. And...that's good to know."

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

What was I thinking? Why would she want a guy who had not only probably done something horrible, but who sleepwalked in a near-comatose state when he took medicine and had screaming nightmares when he didn't? She needed a normal guy. Deserved one.

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

Jessica's lips quirked upward for a brief second and she caught my eye before glancing away. "Anyway...um, welcome to the island. I'm sure you'll be a great addition here. It's a really friendly group of people. A lot of younger business owners like us are moving in. So, yeah."

And yet, I couldn't resist flirting with her. She was too adorable.

"So, maybe you can be my own personal welcoming committee. You know, introduce me around to the other business owners, give me the inside scoop on things...?"

She gave me a wary glance. "I can do that," she said, leaning against a large refrigerator on her left. "There's a happy hour tomorrow, in fact. For local business owners. It's at the one cool bar in town, The Sloppy Iguana. If you think you can make it."

I chuckled, thinking of how much I'd give up to have more time with her. I'd go after I met up with the contractors. "I think I can make it. I'd like that a lot. I'll check out anyplace called The Sloppy Iguana."

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

Apologize.

Explain.

Kiss.

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

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

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

Food.

"I'm baking a test loaf right now. Maybe you want to try? Let me show you around a little. This is where I'm going to make all the pastries and breads. All French and Louisiana specialties. I might also do some tourtiere—meat pies. And of course, N'awlins beignets."

Jessica laughed. "I remember how you and your dad made that kind of pie when you were here before. How my mom freaked out at our messy kitchen."

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

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

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

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

I flicked on a light, illuminating a small, chaotic room half-constructed and covered in boxes. Waving my hand at the new kitchen fixtures, stainless-steel counters, and giant oven, I explained what I'd been able to accomplish in such a short time.

With its black-and-white tile floor, sleek glass display case, and exposed blonde wood, the interior was clean, cool, and organized. Getting this bakery off the ground was the most useful thing I'd done in a while, and each accomplishment felt like an enormous milestone. Too bad I might have screwed up my entire life before I even got a chance to be a success here in Florida.

"This'll be where people can drink coffee, eat breakfast, order. It's still a work in progress. I'll have long wooden tables and white chairs here." I stood in the middle of the room and stretched my arms wide, "and some smaller, high-top tables so people can drink coffee on the go."

"It's the perfect size for a café," Jess said. "And you have a good eye for design. Very beachy but clean. Beautiful."

I couldn't help but grin. "That was the intent. And I'm living upstairs. We bought the entire building. The top two floors are empty. I've hired contractors to renovate, but for now, I'm sleeping on a futon. I don't even want to show you the apartment, it's that dismal."

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

"Cool. You bought the whole building?"

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

"It's a great location," Jessica agreed. "I would have thought someone like you would stay on the mainland in one of those hot new condos. So you could be closer to the clubs and spring break crowd."

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

"Yeah. Young, handsome, rich. A businessman. This island is more for tourists, families, and retirees. But I suppose it's a short drive over the bridge to the clubs, so you'll have plenty to do."

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

"I'm not interested in that scene. I prefer the vibe here. And I'll probably only be here for six months, just to get the business going. That's the plan, anyway."

If the cops or FBI or ATF didn't find me first.

"Oh, you're here temporarily?"

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes? A little surge of triumph shot through me before I shrugged.

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

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

"We'll see," I said. "Who knows."

Jessica pursed her lips and nodded. "Well, I'm sure if you're successful enough here, you can open other locations in Florida."

"Like I said, we'll see."

Her face fell, and I realized I'd sounded too brittle. It was time to try to seduce her with food, since my flirting skills had obviously dried up.

"Can I make you something? Get you a beer? Coffee? Tea?"

Jessica's expression brightened a little. "I'd like that. Tea, if you've got it. Thanks."

"Perfect. Let me check the bread, and I'll put some water on."

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

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

Jessica laughed a little, and my heart jumped.

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

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

"I need some breakfast pastries for the hotel. Really tasty breakfast things. We have a full house the day after tomorrow. I know you're not officially open yet, but I was wondering if there's any way I could pay you to make some baked goods. Otherwise, I'd have to buy them at the grocery store, and those are kind of crappy. Or I'd have to make them myself. And I'm kind of bad in the kitchen, so..." She looked at me with pleading eyes, and was that a hint of a playful smile?

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

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

While I rattled off all the potential pastries I could bake for her, I could feel her eyes on me. I buzzed nervously around the kitchen, making tea and easing the golden bread out of its pan. The loaf sent a little puff of steam into the air, and Jessica leaned forward to inhale.

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

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

"Yes, that's probably best. I don't need anything else to keep me awake in bed," she murmured. Then her cheeks grew pink.

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

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

I slid a teabag into the hot water and set the mug in front of her. Jessica didn't speak as she held it in both hands. Her big eyes turned to mine, and for an instant, she looked like the girl I'd lost my virginity to. It made my throat grow thick.

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

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

____