“Wow.” Breath tunneled from her chest.
Aqua seas and the sun-glazed sky made for a spectacular vista from the wide windows facing the horizon. She swallowed in a gulp of awe. Then suddenly, a strange bone-rattling feeling of loss hit her. She shivered as if assailed by a winter storm.
Why now? Why wasn’t she reveling in the beauty surrounding her?
Nothing’s beautiful. You lost your sister, her unborn baby and your fiancé.
“Would you like to go out onto the balcony?”
She whirled around, surprised to find Mariah, Zane’s fortyish blonde assistant standing in the doorway. She’d worked for him since before he had married Janie. Jessica and Mariah’s paths had crossed a few times since then. “Oh, hi.” She glanced at the narrow glass door at the far end of the wall that led to the balcony. It was obviously situated there to keep from detracting from the room’s sweeping view of the Pacific. “Thanks, but maybe later.”
“Sure, you must be tired from the flight. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve unpacked. A shower and a nap and I’ll be good to go.”
Mariah smiled. “I’ll be leaving for the day. Mrs. Lopez, Zane’s housekeeper, is here. If you need anything, just ask her.”
“Thank you... I’ll be fine.”
“Zane will want to have dinner with you. He eats dinner just before sunset. But he’d make an exception if you’re hungry earlier.”
“Sunset is fine.”
Mariah studied her, her eyes unflinching and kind. “You look a little like Janie.”
“I doubt that. Janie was beautiful.”
“I see a resemblance. If you don’t mind me saying, you have the same soulful eyes and lovely complexion.”
She was pale as a ghost, and ten freckles dotted her nose. Yep, she’d counted them. Though, she’d never had acne or even a full-fledged zit to speak of in her teens. She supposed her complexion wasn’t half-bad. “Thank you. I, uh, don’t want to cause Zane or you any trouble. I’m basically here because it would’ve been harder to convince my mother otherwise, and I didn’t want her to worry about me off in some deserted location to search my soul. Mama’s had enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to fret over me.”
“I get it. Actually, you might be exactly what Zane needs to get his head out of the sand.”
That was an odd statement. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it.
“He’s not been himself for a while now,” Mariah explained without spelling it out. Jessica gave her credit for the delicate way she put it.
“I figured. He lost his family. We all did,” Jess said. She missed Janie something awful. Sometimes life was cruel.
Mariah nodded. “But having family around might be good for both of you.”
She doubted that. She’d be a thorn in Zane’s side. A kink in his plans. She would bide her time here, soak up some fresh sea air and then return home to face the music. Humiliation and desperate hurt had made her flee Texas. But she’d have to go back eventually. Her face pulled tight. She didn’t want to think about that right now.
“Maybe,” she said to Mariah.
“Well, have a good evening.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
After Mariah left, Jessica plucked up her shampoo and entered the bathroom. Oh, boy, and she’d thought the closet was something. The guest bathroom came equipped with a television, a huge oval Jacuzzi tub and an intricately tiled spacious shower that was digitized for each of the three shower heads looming above. She peered closer to read the monitor. She could program the time, temperature and force of the shower and heaven knew what else.
After she punched in a few commands, the shower spurted to life, and water rained down. Jess smiled. A new toy. Peeling off her clothes, she opened the clear glass door and stepped inside. Steamy spray hit her from three sides, with two heads spewing softly and one pulsing like the pumping of her heart. She turned around and around, using the fragrant liquid soap from a dispenser in the wall. She lingered there, lost in the mist and jet stream as pent-up tension seeped out of her bones, her limbs loose and free. Eventually, she got down to business and worked shampoo into her hair. Much too early, the shower turned off automatically. As she stepped out, the steam followed her. She dried herself with a cushy white towel. How nice.
She dressed in a pair of tan midthigh shorts and a cocoa-brown tank top. She hoped dinner with Zane wasn’t a formal thing. She hadn’t brought anything remotely fashionable.
After blow-drying her hair, she lifted the long strands up in a ponytail, leaving bangs to rest on her forehead. A little nap had sounded wonderful minutes ago, but now she was too keyed up to sleep. The time change would probably hit her like a ton of bricks later, but right now, the sandy windblown beach below beckoned her. She slipped her feet into flip-flops and headed downstairs.
Lured by the scent of spices and sauce wafting to her nose, she headed in that direction. Inside a magnificent granite-and-stone kitchen, she came face to face with an older woman, a little hefty in the hips, wearing an apron and humming to herself.
The woman turned around. “Hola, Miss Holcomb?”
“Yes, I’m Jessica.”
“Hola, Jessica.” She nodded. “I’m Mrs. Lopez. Do you like enchiladas?”
She was Texan. She loved everything Mexican. “Yes. Smells yummy.”
Mrs. Lopez lowered the oven door, and a stainless-steel rack automatically pushed forward.
“They will be ready in half an hour. Can I get you a drink? Or a snack?”
“No, thank you. I’ll wait for Zane. Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, retreating from the kitchen. “I’ll be back in—”
A boom sounded. “Double damn you!” Zane’s loud curse echoed throughout the house.
Jessica froze in place.
Mrs. Lopez grinned and shook her head. “He cannot dress himself too well. He will not let anyone help him. He is not such a good patient.”
They shared a smile. “I see.” But when she’d first arrived, he was wearing jeans and a casual cotton shirt. Was he dressing up now? “Do I need to change my clothes for dinner?”
“No, no. Mr. Zane spilled iced tea on his shirt. You are dressed nice.”
“Thank you.” Okay, great. She felt better now. When she’d packed her clothes, she hadn’t given much thought to her wardrobe. All she hoped for was to clear her head a little while here. “I thought I’d go for a walk on the beach. I’ll be back in plenty of time for dinner. See you later.”
Mrs. Lopez nodded and focused on the stove. Jess’s stomach grumbled as she left the spicy smells of the kitchen and walked out the double doors to the deck. From there, she climbed a few more stairs down, until warm sand crept onto her flip-flops.
* * *
There were no lakes or rivers back home that compared with the balmy breezes whipping at her hair, the briny taste on her lips or the glistening golden hues reflecting off the ocean. Her steps fell lightly, making a slight impression in the packed wet sand until the next wave inched up the shore and carried her footprints out to sea. Even with the sun low over the water’s edge, her skin warmed as she walked along the beach. To her right, beachfront mansions overlooking the sea filled her line of vision, each one different in design and structure. She was so intent on gauging the houses, she didn’t notice a jogger approaching until he’d stopped right in front of her.
“Hi,” he said, his breaths heaving.
“Hello.” A swift glance at his face made her gasp silently. He was stunning and tanned and one of the most famous movie stars in the world. Dylan McKay.
He hunched over, hands on knees, catching his breath. “Give me a sec.”
For what? She wanted to ask, yet she stood there, feet implanted in the sand, waiting. He was easy on the e
yes, and she tried not to stare at his bare chest and the dip of his jogging shorts below a trim waist.
He righted his posture, and blood drained from her body as he aimed a heart-melting smile her way. “Thank you.”
Puzzled, she stared at him. “For?”
“Being here. For giving me an excuse to stop running.” He chuckled, and white teeth flashed. Was the sun-gleaming twinkle from his smile real? Could’ve been. Dylan McKay was every red-blooded woman’s idea of the perfect man.
Except hers. She knew there was no such thing.
“Okay. But...you could’ve just stopped on your own, couldn’t you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m supposed to run ten miles a day. It’s a work thing. I’m preparing for a role as a Navy SEAL.”
No kidding? She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t know who he was. Or that his bronzed body wasn’t already honed and ripped. “Gotcha. How many did you do?”
His lips twisted with self-loathing. “Eight.”
“That’s not bad.” Judging by the pained look on his face, he was a man who expected perfection of himself. “There aren’t too many people who can run eight miles.”
His expression lightened and he seemed to appreciate her encouragement. “I’m Dylan, by the way.” He put out his hand.
“Jessica.” It was a one-pump handshake.
“Are we neighbors?” he asked, his brows gathering. “I live over there.” He pointed to a trilevel mansion looming close by.
She shook her head. “Not really. I’m staying with Zane Williams for a short time.”
When his brows lifted ever so slightly and his eyes flashed, she read his mind. “He’s...he’s family.”
He nodded. “I know Zane. Good guy.”
“He is. My sister...well, he was married to Janie.”
A moment passed as he put two and two together. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, I think I’ve gotten my second wind. Thanks to you. Only two miles to go. Nice meeting you, Jessica. Say hi to Zane for me.”
He about-faced, trotted down the beach in the opposite direction and soon picked up his pace to a full-out jog.
She headed back to the house, a smile on her lips, a song humming in her heart. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
She spotted Zane braced against the patio railing and waved. Had he been watching her? She was hit with a surge of self-consciousness. She wasn’t a beach babe. Her curvy figure didn’t allow two-piece bathing suits, and her pale skin tone could be compared only with the bark of a birch tree or the peel of a honeydew melon.
As she climbed the stairs, her gaze hit upon his shirt, a Hawaiian print with repeating palm trees. She’d never seen Zane look more casual and yet appear so ill at ease in his surroundings.
“Nice walk?” he asked, removing his sunglasses.
“It beats a stroll to Beckon’s Cinema Palace.”
Zane laughed, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You got that right. I haven’t thought about the Palace in a long time.” His voice sounded gruff as if he’d go back to those days in a heartbeat.
There wasn’t a whole lot to do in Beckon, Texas, so on Saturday night the parking lot at the Palace swarmed with kids from the high school. Hanging out and hooking up. It’s where Jessica had had her first awkward kiss. With Miles Bernardy. Gosh, he was such a geek. But then, so was she.
It was also where Janie and Zane had fallen in love.
“I met one of your neighbors.”
“Judging by the glow on your face, must’ve been Dylan. He runs this time of day.”
“My face is not glowing.” She blinked.
“Nothing to worry over. Happens all the time with women.”
“I’m not a wom—I mean, I am not gawking over a movie star, for heaven’s sake.”
He should talk. Former brother-in-law or not, Zane Williams was a country superstar hunk. Dark-haired, six foot two, a chiseled-jawed Grammy winner, Zane wasn’t hard on the eyes, either. The tabloids painted him as an eligible widower who needed love in his life. So far, they’d been kind to him, a rare thing for a superstar.
He picked up his crutches and lifted one to gesture to a table. “This okay with you?”
Two adjacent places were set along a rectangular glass table large enough for ten. Votive candles and a spray of flowers accented the place settings facing the sunset. “It’s nice, Zane. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. I don’t expect you to entertain me.”
“Not going to any trouble, Jess. Fact is, I eat out here most days. I hate being cooped up inside the house. Just another week and I’ll be out of these dang confinements.” He raised his wrapped wrist.
“That’s good news. Then what will you do?”
Inclining his head, he considered her question. “Some rehab, I’m told. And continue working out details on the restaurant.” He frowned, and the light dimmed in his eyes. “My tour’s not due to pick up until September sometime. Maybe.”
She wouldn’t pry about the maybe. He hobbled to the table. Leaning a crutch against the table’s edge, he managed to pull out her chair—such chivalry—and she took her seat. Then he scooted his butt into his own chair. Plop. Poor Zane. His injuries put him completely out of his element.
Mrs. Lopez appeared with platters of food. She set them on the table with efficient haste and nodded to him. “I made a pitcher of margaritas to go with the enchiladas and rice. Or maybe some iced tea or soda?”
“Jessica?” he asked.
“A margarita sounds like heaven.”
He glanced at the housekeeper. “Bring the pitcher, please.”
She nodded. Within a minute, a pitcher appeared along with two bottle-green wide-rimmed margarita glasses. “Thanks,” he said. Zane leaned forward and gripped the pitcher with his wrapped hand. His face pinched tight as he struggled to upend the weighty pitcher. He sighed, and she sensed his frustration over not being able to perform the simple task of pouring a drink with his right hand.
“Let me help,” she said softly.
She slipped her hand under the pitcher and helped guide the slushy concoction into the glasses. She gave him credit for clamping his mouth shut and not complaining about his limitations.
“Thanks,” he said. He reached out, and the slide of his rough fingers over hers sent warm tingles to her heart. They were still connected through Janie, and she valued his friendship now. She’d made the right decision in coming here.
The food was delicious. She inhaled the meal, emptying her plate within minutes. “I guess I didn’t know how hungry I was. Or thirsty.”
She reached for her second margarita and took a long sip. Tart icy goodness slid down her throat. “Mmm.”
The sun had set with a parfait of swirling color, and now half the moon lit the night. The beach was quiet and calm. The roar of the waves had given way to an occasional lulling swish.
Zane sipped his third margarita. She remembered that about him. He could hold his liquor.
“So what are your plans now, Jess?” he asked.
“Hit the beach, work on my tan and stay out of your way. Shouldn’t be too hard. The place is huge.”
Tiny lines crinkled around his eyes, and he chuckled. “You don’t need to stay out of my way. But feel free to do whatever you want. There are two cars parked in the garage, fueled and ready to go. I can’t drive them.”
“So how do you get around?”
“Mariah, usually. When I’m needed at the restaurant site or somewhere, she’s drives me or I hire a car. She’s been a trouper, going above and beyond since my accident.”
Mrs. Lopez picked up the empty dishes, leaving the margarita pitcher. A smart woman.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lopez. Have a good night,�
� Zane said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” she said to both of them.
“Thanks for the delicious enchiladas.”
On a humble nod and smile, she exited the patio.
Zane pointed to her half-empty glass. “How many of those can you handle, darlin’?”
“Oh, uh...I don’t know. Why?”
“’Cause if you fall flat on your face, I won’t be able to pick you up and carry you to your room.”
He winked, and a sudden vision of Zane carrying her to the bedroom burst into her mind. It wasn’t as weird a notion as she might’ve thought. She felt safe with Zane. She truly liked him and didn’t buy into his guilt over Janie’s death. He wasn’t to blame. He couldn’t have known about faulty wiring in the house or the fire that would claim her life. Janie had loved Zane for the man that he was, had always been. She wouldn’t want Zane’s guilt to follow him into old age.
“Well, then, we’re even. If you got pie-eyed, I wouldn’t be able to pick you up, either.” She took another long sip of her drink. Darn, but it tasted good. Her spirits lifted. Let the healing begin.
Zane cocked a crooked smile. “I like your style, Miss Holcomb.”
“Ugh. To think I would’ve been Mrs. Monahan by now. Thank God I’m not.”
“The guy’s an ass.”
“Thanks for saying that. He sure had me fooled. Up until the minute I was having my bridal veil pinned in my hair, I thought I knew what the future had in store for me. I saw myself married to a man I had a common bond with. He was a high school principal. I was a grade-school teacher. We both loved education. But I was too blind to see that Steven had commitment phobia. He’d had one broken relationship after another before we started dating. I invested three years of my life in the guy, and I thought surely he’d gotten over it. I thought I was the one. But he was fooling himself as well as me.” A pent-up breath whooshed out of her. A little bit of tequila loosened her tongue, and out poured her heart. The unburdening was liberating. “My friend Sally said Steven looked up his old girlfriend seeking sympathy after the wedding that never happened. Can you imagine?”
Her Forbidden Cowboy Page 2
