I stood on the wide porch of The Beacon, balancing a large box of pastries in my left hand. The night's darkness was warded off by a turquoise glow from the neon of the art deco lettering on the hotel exterior, and I could hear the waves crashing on the beach across the street. A little sign indicated the front door was locked after ten and to ring the bell if needed.

And so, I rang the bell, hoping Jessica would answer.

I'd worried when she left the party abruptly. When I'd finally extricated myself from Megan's chatter, I went to look for her.

As I walked to my bike, intending to give chase, Catalina caught up with me to explain Jessica was having a difficult time because of her mother's death and a situation with her ex-boyfriend. By the time Catalina was finished, Jess was gone.

Now, all her behavior made sense. She'd suffered two big losses in one year. Catalina told me the whole story, how Jacob had cheated on Jessica repeatedly, and how She had been blindsided and devastated, and just when she was getting over him, her mother passed away.

Jacob must have been a real piece of work. What kind of a man would do that—to Jessica especially. If I ever met the asshole, it would be difficult not to punch him.

Waiting, I peered in through the glass panel in the hotel door. I could see the light from a lamp, then a form in silhouette. I knocked softly on the glass, and Jessica eased open the door with a surprised look.

I smiled. "You left The Iguana so quick, I didn't say goodbye. I wanted to tell you I'd be over with the pastries you asked for."

She had changed out of her sexy red dress and was wearing a bulky, fuzzy white bathrobe belted firmly at the waist. Her tawny hair was wet, and from her delicious soapy smell I guessed she had just gotten out of the shower. Barefoot, her toes sparkled with red glittery polish. Was she wearing anything underneath that robe?

I wanted to undo the tie that wrapped around her waist and find out.

"Oh. Thank you."

She stood aside and allowed me to enter the hotel's reception area, which was illuminated by a wan desk light. I set the box on the desk as I watched her worry her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Does your sister live here as well?" I asked.

"No, she's married and lives a few blocks away. Technically, we co-own the hotel, but I run the business most days."

Nodding, I opened the top of the box and explained what each pastry was. "You should try one now. Here, I'll split a chocolate croissant with you."

Jessica shook her head. "No. Thank you." She paused. "I actually wasn't sure if you were going to come through with these. You seemed so occupied at the party."

I frowned. "Occupied?"

"Yes. You and what's-her-name, Megan, seemed to be getting along well."

Oh, Lord. Jessica had misinterpreted my southern manners. Or maybe she was jealous? I hadn't been flirting with and certainly hadn't wanted to dance with that woman. I thought it was glaringly obvious I'd wanted Jessica, but she'd practically sprinted off even though I sent those imploring looks toward her, hoping she'd cut in or wait while I slipped politely away.

My mouth quirked upward. "Jess, I'm sorry. I wanted to keep dancing with you, but when she ambushed me, I couldn't be impolite."

She shot me a stony look.

Unable to help myself, I laughed. "If you think I'm interested in Megan, you're crazy. She's so not my type."

"I guess I don't know what your type is, Leo. I thought I did, once."

I couldn't help but recognize her pointed tone, but there was nothing to be done if she refused to believe me. My type was a tawny-haired girl in a fuzzy bathrobe with sparkly red toes.

Deciding to ignore her frostiness, I walked around the room, looking at the seashells and photos that lined the walls and shelves. "Am I interrupting you from something?"

She shook her head and stared. "I was reading. Just going to bed. Need to be up early."

I glanced away, unable to hold her intense gaze. "What were you reading? Do you still like manga and anime?"

Jessica nodded. "Yeah. But I was reading a non-fiction book on the Everglades."

"That was the one thing I didn't get a chance to do when I was here last—see the alligators there. It was something I always wanted to do."

She smiled. "I remember. So we should go." She paused, then stammered, "I mean, you should go."

"I'd love to—with you. We could go on my bike. Gotta get you a helmet, though. I'll take care of that."

"I'd...I'd like that," she finally said.

I perused a shelf, feeling hopeful. She'd apparently gotten over her annoyance about Megan enough to spend time with me. For a second, I imagined us on my bike, her arms wrapped around me as we sped down the road. The very idea made me happy.

"This brings back memories," I said, eyeing the contents of the lobby shelf. I glanced over at Jessica, who was standing by an overstuffed green velvet sofa, strumming her fingers on its arm. What was she like, the real adult Jessica who wasn't racked with grief? Was she silly and funny? Serious and bookish? I wanted to find out.

"It looks exactly the same as it did five years ago. Amazing," I continued. I ran my finger over the smooth, pink lip of a large conch shell. "I actually remember this shell. This was here back then, wasn't it? I remember my dad picking this up and putting it to his ear and pretending it was a telephone."

Jess nodded. "How is your dad?"

I released the shell and shrugged. "Fine, I guess. The same. He still worships money. And women."

Jessica frowned. Back when we were kids, I hadn't talked about my dad in those terms. Maybe because I hadn't been old enough to see my father for what he really was.

"I don't think he knows about your mom, though. I was going to tell him the next time we talk."

"You didn't tell him during your conversation last night?"

Oh, right. I was supposed to have called my father last night, and she'd remembered. I apparently couldn't expect to slip anything past her.

I shook my head, then ran my fingers over some shells and framed photos of Palmira Island.

Jessica puffed out a small laugh. "Your dad. He was a piece of work. I liked him, though. I remember him being funny. He really made my mom laugh."

I nodded, and my gut clenched.

A strained silence filled the air. What did she know? Should I talk about it? No. I wouldn't bring it up now. I hated the idea of confrontation or causing her more pain in the wake of her mother's death—especially if she hadn't already heard the details.

I cast her a hopeful look, wanting to talk about happier times. "Do you remember that night our families had dinner in the courtyard together and we played charades? You and I were on the same team. We thought we were so smart by doing charades of dolphins."

That got her to smile. Good.

"And a cowgirl," she replied, laughing—a sound I loved. "It was pretty inventive that you were the horse. And I rode you into the room, trying to pantomime a rope and lasso."

It was my turn to grin. "I tried to hold your hand under the table that night."

A wistful look crossed her face. "Yep. I thought that was scandalous, wondering if everyone knew. But do you know what I remember about that night?"

"What?"

I knew exactly what she was going to say, but I wanted to hear the words. I stepped closer, my heart thumping wildly.

"That was the night you came into my room. The night we..." her voice trailed off.

It had been the night we lost our virginity. The night we promised to be together forever. The night I fell for her so hard, no other girl would ever measure up.

I took another step toward her. "It was all so intense, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

I stared at Jessica for several excruciating seconds while the room's temperature seemed to roar into heatwave territory. She reached up and traced my cheekbone with her fingers, and I sucked in a breath, suddenly conscious of how soft her fingertips were on my skin. My body had positively burned with anticipation ever since our slow dance.

"Jessica."

"I'm sorry for earlier," she whispered. "I overreacted."

With that, she kissed me, and the sensation sent a searing, aching need through me. Jessica was what I'd waited so long for. I knew there were reasons I shouldn't allow this pleasure, but it was impossible to control myself around her when she was here kissing me and taking charge.

Her soft mouth molded to mine, and she hummed ever so softly. Our lips feathered against each other. The kiss was slow and chaste and erotic all at once, and as my tongue found hers, I stroked her face. God, her skin.

I nibbled on her bottom lip, ran my tongue over its seam, then wound both hands into her hair and claimed her more fully, kissing her mouth as if I was drawing our past from her lips. I needed to feel her body next to mine. I kissed her with an open mouth, and an appreciative growl came from the back of my throat when I realized she was surrendering to me.

"A thousand times better than my memories," I whispered. "You're still a perfect fit in my arms."

I pulled back to look at her. Jessica's breath hitched, and her eyes flew open. She said nothing.

"I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you for so long," I said.

She sank onto the couch, then reached for me, tugging at my shirt.

I slid my hand across her cheek and moved to kiss her again. Jessica moaned and put her arms around me.

The sexual spark between us hadn't vanished. It had become an inferno. She gave a little sigh-moan. It was a sound I'd waited for, and if she gave me the chance, I'd make damn sure she'd do it again many times.

"I shouldn't want you as much as I do," she whispered. "It probably isn't smart."

I swept a few curly locks of damp hair away from her face. There was a twinge of fear along with the delicious ache of desire. A twinge about the recent past and all I'd fled. "I could say the same."

"Then let's not say anything. Let's not overthink. Let's just do this."

Jessica cupped my face and brought my lips to hers, seeking a hard kiss. I obliged. Then I skimmed my hand down her waist, over her curvy hip, and pulled slightly away, realizing we were in the lobby of the damn hotel.

"Um, Jess?" My voice was hoarse, and I lifted my head to look around the room.

She cleared her throat, then murmured, "The reception area isn't the place for this, is it? Should we...?"

Something snapped in my brain, and I nibbled on her neck to stall. Sure, we could go to her room, but then I'd have to leave. I didn't want that. Didn't want it to feel like a one-night stand. I'd never had one with any woman, and I sure as hell wouldn't want it with Jessica.

But I also didn't want the inevitable conversation about why I couldn't stay the night. The last thing I wanted was for her to wake up and see me freaking out in some PTSD nightmare. And I didn't have any condoms with me, and that's how that pregnancy scare had happened five years before.

"Jess, I think we should—"

The phone on the desk erupted with an annoying buzz.

Startled, I reared up. Jessica squirmed out from under me, tumbled off the sofa, and moved to answer. By the time she reached the desk, she'd firmly belted her robe. With a clipped voice, she spoke into the phone, then hung up. That awesome sensual mood was shattered.

She turned and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I have to go. A guest is having problems with his air conditioner thermostat. They probably don't know how to set it properly. I need to help. But..." she looked at me, "you can stay."

I frowned. "You're going to a guest's room by yourself? At this time of night? Why don't you let me go instead? Or can I go with you."

She shook her head and moved close, ran her hands over my chest. "Thank you, Leo, but no. This is my business, and I know how to take care of myself. I've been doing it for years. And what were you going to say while we were on the couch?"

"Oh. I was going to say I think we should take this slow."

She tilted her head and frowned. Damn. I wasn't handling this right. Of course she looked confused, because no guy in his right mind would turn her down.

"I mean, Jess, I don't have any condoms and I—"

She smiled, then wrapped her arms around me, and when she brushed her lips against mine, she seemed even more relaxed. Was she also relieved at not to be rushing into sex?

"You're right," she said. "Slow is better. I mean, we barely know each other. We'll talk later. I gotta go. Can't keep a guest waiting."

I paused and hugged her. "Sure, sure. But, Jessica? Are you really going to someone's room in a robe?"

She stepped away from me and rolled her eyes. "Of course not, silly. I'm going to change."

"Okay." I exhaled. "I'll go home. But will you please text me when you're finished helping the guest? It will make me feel better. Take down my number."

She went back to the desk to grab a pen, and as I rattled off my cell number, she scrawled it on a notepad. I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, pausing to wrap a curly strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked dazed when I pulled away, and there was a confused look in her eye when I said goodbye.

I understood. Sort of. As I walked down the hotel steps, a helpless, out-of-control feeling settled in my chest.

How long could I take things slow when fast was what I really wanted?

Fast and forever.

____