"You rented a room to who?" My voice bordered on shrill.

"I think the better question is, why didn't you tell me you've been spending so much time with him?" Nicole shot back.

My sister's familiar, mocking tone and smirk grated on me, and I groaned in response. "I didn't feel like getting into it. And how do you know we've been hanging out?"

"Catalina told me. I saw her yesterday at the school. She was there to pick up her mom. Did you know Cat's mom will probably be Grace's second-grade teacher next year?"

I mumbled a yes. My best friend could not keep her mouth shut, apparently.

"Cat said you've been ignoring her. But she laughed about it, and I invited her to dinner on Saturday. Also, Leo mentioned it when he called, said he's seen you several times over the last few days. He was pretty open about your 'relationship,'" she emphasized the word with perfectly manicured coral-pink nail air quotes, "after I asked him a million questions."

I sighed. Leave it to my sister to pry into all of this. "We're just friends. I don't have to share every detail of my life with you. You can act like this with Grace because she's five, but I'm twenty-two, and you're not Mom."

Nicole rolled her eyes, which just made me angrier. "You know, you always want everyone to stop treating you like a baby, and we would—I would—if you started acting like an adult and talked openly with me about things."

I waved my hand. "I need privacy, Nicole. I'm not a child."

It wasn't that I was opposed to Leo staying at the hotel. It was a pretty wonderful idea now that I thought about it. I'd been enjoying our teasing, flirtation, and conversations. And after earlier today in the ocean...

I didn't want Nicole to know my business, though. That was all. Didn't want to be judged or lectured, didn't want to hear about my past mistakes.

"I'm putting him in the downstairs room," Nicole said. "Since the hotel's pretty much full."

The downstairs room. We never rented it because it was in such close proximity to my apartment. After Mom died, we thought it best that the guests keep some distance from my space. Now, Leo was going to be very, very close.

Nicole continued to chatter. "He insisted on paying double the rate. He also promised he'd supply all of the breakfast pastries for us for the next several months."

I rolled my eyes. Nicole was always thinking of money but unwilling to do things differently, unwilling to consider anything that might make us more of it. I also felt uncomfortable that Nicole was charging Leo to stay. Maybe I could reverse the credit card charges later.

"Oh, and he wanted me to tell you he was going to be late tonight. I thought that was cute, him acting like he needed to let you know his whereabouts. You guys are a thing, apparently. And you didn't even bother to tell me?"

Drawing from a well of patience I didn't know I had, I smiled tightly. "Fine. We're a thing. But don't expect me to tell you details."

Nicole shrugged. "I think we can all guess them."

Could my sister tell I had already, indeed, gotten quite cozy with Leo? Cozy on a table at his bakery, cozy on the sofa a few feet from where we were standing, really cozy in the water...

"We're just friends," I said, backtracking. "You know I'm not looking to jump into a relationship again." But I knew the words were a lie as soon as they fell from my mouth. I wanted a relationship with Leo more than anything I'd ever desired.

Nicole shrugged again. "Whatever. You know, he's really handsome. That surprised me. He was cute all those years ago, but damn. Now I can imagine you wanting to have his baby."

* * *

Later that night, I paced my apartment and poured myself a glass of wine. Leo still hadn't come. He'd called an hour before, saying he was finishing some things up at the bakery.

Nestling into my sofa, I opened my mother's journal, preferring to live in the past than face the complexities of the present. I hadn't told Nicole about finding the diaries and wasn't sure when I would. It was like our mom was alive this way, speaking only to me. Selfishly, I liked having that written lifeline all to myself.

I wasn't reading the journals in any particular order. I enjoyed opening them at random and reading a new entry. Later, I could go through and read everything chronologically, but for now, the little snapshots in time were perfect—alternately funny, poignant and bittersweet.

MAY 8: Guess who I got an e-mail from? Adam Villeneuve. At first, I was annoyed. After he broke my heart in college, he e-mails me out of the blue?

I sucked in a breath. Whoa. I'd known Mom and Leo's father met in New Orleans when Mom was a student at Loyola and Adam was a bakery owner near campus, and during that vacation five years ago I'd suspected something was up by the way Mom's voice got higher and her laugh more crystalline when Adam was around. But I had no idea Leo's dad had hurt her. What had happened? And why had they bothered to see each other again so many years later? I sipped my wine and continued to read, musing how history had kind of repeated itself.

I couldn't be angry with him after reading his e-mail. He told me his wife died from cervical cancer years ago. She was young, only thirty-three. They had a little boy named Leo, and Adam talked about how difficult it was raising him without a mother. He attached a photo of his son, such a handsome boy. Just like his father. My heart broke for Adam. I emailed him back. Why should I hold a grudge?

Since Leo's reappearance on Palmira, he hadn't mentioned his mom, and I hadn't brought up the subject. But I remembered when we were teens Leo told me all about his mother's death as we sat on the sand, watching the sunset together. He'd been only five when his mom had died. I hadn't known what to say, so I'd grabbed his hand and squeezed. That was the first day we met, the first time we'd held hands.

I read on farther in the journals, and was astonished to find pages and pages of Mom's recollections of her relationship with Adam. I'd had no idea Mom and Adam had been so in love. How she'd hung out with him at the bakery, how they had traveled to music festivals together, and how they'd made love under the stars as they camped one summer.

Those entries I skimmed, embarrassed I was just now finding out about this part of my mother's life. Adam had been ten years older than Mom, it turned out.

According to what I could glean, Mom and Adam were poised to marry shortly after she graduated from college. But Adam had been unfaithful, and Mom was unable to forgive or forget. She'd moved back to Palmira, settled at the hotel, and met Brendan soon after at a beach bar. I flipped back and forth between the journals and years, trying to piece Mom's life together.

I guess I love Brendan. But not like my feelings for Adam. I'll never feel that way again for any man. But now that I'm pregnant with Brendan's baby, we're going to do the right thing and marry. The baby's a girl, and he wants to name her Nicole. I just wish Brendan wouldn't drink so much...

The journals raised so many questions. There seemed to be big gaps in certain years. Had Mom ever gotten over Adam's betrayal? What had she felt when my father had run off? Where was her father?

My head spinning, I set my wine and the journal on the coffee table and laid down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

One of the worst parts about losing someone you love was when you had questions for them, they would forever go unanswered.

* * *

Many hours later, I awoke with a surge of fear to the sound of footsteps and banging. I sat up with a start, sending Mom's journal tumbling to the floor. Looking around, nothing seemed out of place. The front door was closed. The lights in the living room were still on, and yet, someone was moving around in the kitchen.

Was that the squeak of the oven door? My apartment shared the kitchen of the hotel, but a locked door separated my living room from the communal cooking area. Guests often stored drinks in the kitchen's second fridge, but they normally didn't poke around at night.

I squinted at my smartphone. It was ten-thirty. I took a long inhale, and my stomach rumbled when I smelled cinnamon.

I rose to unlock the door. Maybe a guest couldn't find something and needed assistance, or maybe I could offer someone a cup of herbal tea. One of the guests from London had mentioned she suffered from insomnia. Maybe it was her.

I gasped as I burst into the kitchen and saw Leo slipping a tray into the oven. Suddenly, it seemed obvious he'd be the one moving around in here.

"Oh! You startled me." I pressed a hand to my chest.

He straightened. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you."

I licked my lips. The smell of his baking made me hungry.

"Cinnamon?"

Leo nodded and pushed another tray into the oven. "Muffins. I'm making two batches."

A zing went through me. There were worse things than waking up to warm muffins and a hot guy in my kitchen.

"Do you want something? Maybe hot chocolate?" he asked.

I swept past him, rubbing my tired eyes, shaking my head. "No. I was thinking maybe water."

Leo leaned against the counter, folding his arms, grinning, and his hungry, searching eyes made me wonder if he wanted more than a late-night snack. Was he thinking, like me, of earlier in the day in the ocean?

Those forearms of his were so muscular, accentuated by his tan skin and that short-sleeved black T-shirt. Never had I imagined I'd want to stare at a man's forearms, but my fingers lost the grip on the fridge door as I did a double take.

I covered by talking fast. "I guess I was exhausted, because I fell asleep on the sofa. That's why I heard you. I don't normally sleep there."

Leo's eyebrow quirked upward. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just kind of strange because..." my voice trailed off.

"Because?"

"I found Mom's journals the other day. I've been reading them off and on when I get spare moments. It's wild. It's as if she's speaking to me."

"That must be a good feeling, right?"

"It is. Oh, and you know what I read tonight? Your dad and my mom dated. I had no idea. My mom wrote pages and pages about it. How they met when she was in college. Fell in love. Did you know that?"

Leo cleared his throat and rubbed his neck. "Yeah, I guess I vaguely remember my dad telling me something about that."

I extracted a pitcher from the fridge. "Water?"

He shook his head.

"I wonder what happened between them that vacation. I was so into...well, you, I didn't pay attention."

He laughed. "Yeah, it was hard to think about anything else than what we were doing."

I fidgeted with the water pitcher handle as we gazed at each other.

"Hey, thanks for making room for me here. I tried to find other accommodations, but they were all booked because of Winterfest. I wanted to be close by so I could continue work on the bakery—"

I interrupted, taking a glass from a cabinet. "I'm glad you're here. I actually was hoping you'd be around anyway. Nicole and Grace are coming over for dinner Saturday. Catalina, too. Nicole and I try to eat together once a week. Dunno why, when she's so annoying and wants to get rid of the hotel."

"I'll definitely be there." He glanced at me. "So, how is business? I mean, since your mom passed. I can't imagine this hotel being owned by anyone but your family."

I paused, loving that he was taking an interest in me—something Jacob had rarely done. It was surprising we hadn't discussed this in the past four days, but I suppose there had been other things to discuss. "Not bad, I guess. We've been full or close to full on lots of weeks."

"You're doing an excellent job," Leo said. "I heard some of the guests raving about this place. They love you in particular. For what that's worth."

"Thanks. I feel like if I stay, I can make it into something bigger. I have plans for yoga retreats and cooking weekends, different events to draw younger people. But my sister doesn't seem to want to listen. She just wants to sell. She just..."

Leo eyed me. "Family can be difficult, that's for sure."

I nodded. He understood. And maybe he was right. My sister was trying to honor Mom in a different but valid way. "We're supposed to get the appraisal done soon. You know, how you overheard what my sister set up? I'm planning on talking to her about it after Valentine's Day. Is it cowardly if I'm not sure I want to leave?"

"No," Leo said. "If something's in your heart, you have to fight for it."

That was an interesting way of looking at it. I wondered what exactly Leo would fight for.

He reached out and swept a lock of hair from my face. My stomach clenched. I couldn't help but remember how he'd bailed on me all those years ago. I busied myself by putting the pitcher back in the fridge.

"Sorry about your asbestos," I said. "That happens a lot with these old buildings."

Leo shrugged. "It's not the end of the world. It doesn't really affect the bakery much. It's only the upstairs that has asbestos in the walls. The bakery had been previously remodeled, so that's why it was problem-free. I'm hoping to still open on time, and it's a lot easier to coordinate everything from here instead of a hotel on the mainland, seeing as all the local ones are booked. It's a lot more comfortable here too."

He grinned, and my stomach flip-flopped. Did he want me as much as I wanted him?

I thought so, but I'd always allowed myself to be led, always gone along with whatever the stronger people in my life wanted, like my mother and sister. I'd always catered to everyone else's desires and never my own, except maybe that time five years ago with Leo.

But we'd both wanted that and reached the decision together. Maybe now...well, maybe it was time to take a stand and really put some effort into what I wanted and desired. Assuming we both wanted it.

"Leo?"

He tilted his head. "Yes?"

"I know we...earlier you and I..." I found it difficult to say out loud. It was really hard to voice what I wanted. I couldn't handle rejection. Especially not from Leo.

He grinned again and eyed me expectantly. "We...?"

"We kissed. And I pretty much begged you to touch me in the water today." I exhaled, my body tingling. "But with you staying here, we're going to be around each other a lot, so I wanted to make it clear that...um, you don't have to do anything you don't want."

"Like?" His voice was a slow growl. "What should I not want?"

"You know. More than a kiss. I don't want you to think anything else has to happen while you're staying here." I swallowed hard. "We can be friends if that's all you want."

Was it wrong to say this again, to remind him he should only kiss me from pure desire? Why wasn't he answering? Old insecurities raged, worse because I could now potentially spend the night with Leo. Or thought I could. Was I trying to push him away before my body did?

"So...um, don't hesitate to do whatever you want while you're here. With whomever. Don't let me—"

My words were interrupted by Leo taking two steps forward. With feather-light fingers, he cupped my jaw and neck as if I were fragile and shook his head.

"You really don't get it, do you?" he said softly. "I don't want to go out with anyone else. I don't want to be with any other woman on this island or anyone else in Florida. Or anyone else in the world."

Heart thundering in my chest, I looked up at him, and he smoothed back my hair. "Why would I want anyone else when you're here?"

My gaze drifted to his full bottom lip. "I...I just wondered if maybe our connection was a teenage crush. One that went away. One that sparked again when we saw each other but could vanish in a heartbeat."

"Do you think that's all it was?" he murmured.

"No." I could only muster a whisper as I tilted my head toward his, wanting his lips. His fingers worked into my hair, and the tingle in my body intensified. Spread downward.

"Neither do I."

He bent to kiss me, but at that moment, the oven's timer let out five chirps. I jumped out of Leo's arms, and he went to collect his muffins.

"Almost ready. They just need to cool down," Leo said, setting the muffin tins on the range.

The mood ruined, I tried to catch my breath. They needed to cool down? I turned away and faced the counter, shaking. Started straightening some errant napkins. I folded a napkin into a little pyramid.

He turned and stood behind me as I continued folding napkins, and I thought I would melt when I felt his lips press against the back of my head and his hands slide down my arms.

I was wearing another of my oversized T-shirts, but he found the bare skin of my stomach underneath. Electricity surged through me when he swept my hair off my neck and bent to kiss the sensitive skin near the edge of my jaw. With his lips parted slightly, he ran his mouth over the edge of my ear.

God, I'd never felt anything so erotic.

He continued trailing his mouth over my ear as his fingers skimmed the undersides of my breasts. My nipples tightened and poked through my T-shirt, then tingled when his thumbs reached them, circling and pinching, circling and pinching.

Wait, no. This was even more erotic than his soft lips near my ear. Everything he did made me want him more.

I spun around and looked into his gray-blue eyes. There, in the late-night silence of the kitchen, in a room that smelled like cinnamon, I'd never experienced desire like I did in that moment. It was so overwhelming in its headiness, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut.

"Doesn't this feel real?" he murmured, almost as if to himself. "Because it does to me. The way you fit against me, the way you gasp a little when I touch you here." His hand went under my shirt again and continued the gentle assault of my nipples. Sure enough, I groaned.

"The way you respond to me instantly."

Now, both hands were under my shirt, and he kissed me again. My whole body coiled with needy tension. It was as if there was an invisible thread tugging between my breasts and clitoris. I felt an insistent throbbing between my legs.

"This feels right, Jess. You felt right all those years ago and still do."

I shuddered in a breath, fighting a war inside myself. One side wanted to strip off my clothes and beg. The other told me to run into my room, lock the door, and hide—there was no way I could withstand another heartbreak.

I raised my head to look at him. Just as I was about to move in for another kiss, I heard footsteps on the tile kitchen floor.

"Why, hello!" chirped a woman in an English accent. It was the guest with insomnia. I stopped myself from screaming in frustration. Instead, I glanced at Leo and moved away. His hand went to his mouth, wiping the corner of his lips with his thumb. He was obviously trying not to laugh.

"I thought I smelled something