Into the Heat

by Tamara Lush

  Catalina rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s just business. You said he bought the bakery. Palmira’s changing. It’s not just the retiree heaven it once was.”

  Jessica shot her a sharp glance.

  “Okay, well, maybe I’m wrong. Still. I can see why someone would want to open a business here. Lots of tourists,” Catalina added quickly. “He looks good, hunh?”

  Jessica sighed. “He’s beautiful. Super muscular. Almost hard to believe he was the first guy to…break my heart. I mean, I got over it, I guess. But I don’t want to dredge up all that crap now.”

  “You two were kids.” Catalina put a hand on her back. “Come on. You’re a different person. I’m sure he’s a totally different person, too.”

  Jessica nodded. She was being melodramatic, acting emotional and immature like her sister always claimed. She lifted her head, and her thumb instinctively went to her mouth where she gnawed on her fingernail. “I’m sure I’ll run into him again. Maybe I’ll see if he wants to get coffee. I can’t handle dinner, though. That would seem too much like a date. There might be expectations.”

  The thought of her naked body pressed against Leo’s popped into her mind, and a little shudder of pleasure shot through her body. It was followed by a loud warning noise echoing through her brain. She didn’t need a guy. Didn’t want one. Especially not one who’d just up and disappeared after some of the best times of her life. And yet, damn, she was sure it would feel so amazing to be close to him again. Unlike—

  Catalina shrugged. “So relax. Be friends. Or…whatever.”

  “It’s the whatever that could be a problem.”

  “Why?” Catalina waggled her eyebrows. “You say you’re not pining for Mr. Assclown, so why not take a trip down memory lane and have some fun?”

  Jessica sighed again. “I’m afraid.”

  “I know, you don’t want to get your heart broken again, but maybe this could be a Netflix and Chill kind of thing with Leo. Casual. Temporary. Upfront. A rebound.”

  Jess shook her head, thinking of how they’d tried to watch movies five years ago but ended up alternately laughing like crazy and doing a heck of a lot more. She thought of how her body had reacted to him on the beach. Then she thought of—

  “No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to…you know, do it with him.”

  Catalina frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m not following.”

  Jess swallowed. “I never told you this, but I had problems with Jacob. Like, big problems.” Her friend looked surprised. “Problems?”

  “I never really did it with Jacob. We tried lots, but it…hurt. He couldn’t get in. And not because he was too big or anything.” A wave of shame washed over her as Catalina eyed her in horror. “I talked to my doctor about it during my annual exam. She called it situational vagi…vagini… So embarrassing. I can barely pronounce it. Vaginismus.”

  Catalina was wide-eyed with concern. “Jesus, are you okay? Do you need surgery?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. My doctor gave me exercises to do. Basically my vajayjay muscles contract in response to physical contact or pressure. It’s some disconnect between my brain and my muscles. I just close up shop down there.”

  Catalina tilted her head. “Whoa. That sucks. What about tampons?”

  “I’m fine with tampons.”

  “I don’t get it then. This didn’t happen with Leo, did it?”

  Jessica shook her head miserably. “That’s why my doctor called it ‘situational.’ It’s possible it will only happen with Jacob. She’s not sure.”

  Catalina snorted and rolled her eyes. “Maybe your vagina knew something your brain didn’t.”

  That made Jess laugh, hard. “Maybe. But what if I try with Leo and it happens again? I don’t think I can handle that. Not right now. And it’s not like I can tell him.”

  “Right. You can’t just go out to coffee after not seeing him for five years and then be all like, ‘by the way, my vagina sometimes malfunctions.’ Even I know that would be inappropriate.”

  That made Jess laugh more.

  Catalina sighed and gave a toss of her straight, dark hair. “Ohh, Jess. God. You’ve had such a shitty time of it recently, just relax and see what happens. Remember how really patient Leo was with you?” She grinned wickedly. “I was so fucking jealous. He really liked your body and, um, touching you and stuff before you actually had sex.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes but couldn’t help grinning in return. Leo had loved her body, even if she herself hadn’t, and that vacation they had messed around for days before actually having sex. By the time they got around to the main event, they’d already explored every inch of each other. It made her shiver just to remember.

  Catalina drained her coffee with a loud slurp. “But, what the hell am I saying? My first love also dumped me, and I haven’t had any luck in New York, either. Men suck. Forget my advice.”

  Jess shook her head. “You and Diego actually had a real relationship, though. Not just a two-week sex fest that ended in flames. He didn’t use you. He didn’t screw you then ghost you.”

  “No. But my heart was broken.”

  Jessica made a strangled noise in the back of her throat then laughed. “We’re a pretty sad pair, right? I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to remind you of Diego. Not after all you went through. Especially not while you’re here on vacation.”

  “Men.” Catalina took a deep breath. “Look, I can’t stay. My parents are taking my brother and me to Fort Myers for dinner. I just dropped by to say hi, but what are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Happy hour for business owners at the Sloppy Iguana. I should be there because I’m on the Chamber of Commerce committee for the seashell festival.”

  “You’re becoming a real community leader. Look at you. I’m proud.”

  “Right. Whatever. I’m just following in Mom’s footsteps. Come with me? Please? We can catch up more. I miss you.”

  “Come?” Catalina made a gagging noise. “Will anyone from high school be there?”

  “No. Don’t worry about running into anyone.” Jess paused. “Besides, even if we did, no one will remember—”

  “That I was the naked girl in the pictures on Diego’s phone? Right. Whatever. The whole island knows about that. Hell, I got a funny look from the clerk at the gas station this morning. But I need to let it go, I guess. That or never come back.”

  “Yeah, you do need to let it go. You’re a successful media executive in New York.”

  “Hardly. I’m a low-level social media whore at a content farm.”

  Catalina stood up and Jessica did, too. They hugged, and Jessica inhaled her friend’s scent.

  “Love you,” she said. Then: “You smell spicy but weird. In a good way. Like cinnamon and…pepper?”

  “Thanks. New perfume. And I love you too, Jess.”

  Catalina went to her car, and Jessica to hers. She checked her rearview mirror as she backed out of the parking space, almost wanting Leo to magically appear so she could gaze at him a bit more. His body had been so chiseled. His lips had looked as kissable as they were five years ago. More so, even. He still had the adorable upturns at the corners of his mouth, and he still looked at her as if she were something really sweet and yet forbidden to eat.

  No, she told herself. Dial it back.

  She had often wondered what kind of man he’d become over the past few years. If the butterflies in her stomach were any indication, the reality was much better than any fantasy she had entertained. And yet, there was a badass quality to him she couldn’t deny or explain. A twinge of danger.

  Maybe it had been those scars—were they burns?—on the outside of his right arm; he’d clearly tried to keep them away from her gaze. They covered his shoulder and bicep and possibly stretched to his forearm. She had noticed how they mingled with his tattoos, and she wondered which he had gotten first…and where. They were the only flaw on his otherwise perfect body. What were they about, and how had he gotten them
? She hadn’t wanted to stare or ask questions. His slate blue eyes were still beautiful, but now there were little lines in the corners like he was tired or stressed. He looked older, much older than her, even though they were only a year apart.

  She suddenly felt horrible and rude about practically running away from him. What if he thought it was because of his scars? Of course that hadn’t been the reason. It had been the talk of the starfish, which had brought back all of those bittersweet memories of their two weeks together, which had made her feel like crying. She hadn’t wanted to do that in front of him.

  Damn. She’d have to apologize to him now. How and when was the question, and she pondered as she drove.

  When she arrived home, she ran into her apartment through the back entrance of the hotel and quickly changed out of her beach clothes into a more polished, tropical print cotton dress. Then she walked down the hall with a serious look.

  Nicole, her sister, was in the front office and shot her a glare. Jessica held up a hand in anticipation of a lecture or a serious discussion. She didn’t want to tell her sister that she had seen Leo.

  “I’m sorry. I was at the sand sculpture contest.”

  “Okay, whatever,” Nicole said. “I need to pick up Grace at school.”

  Jessica smiled. Grace was Nicole’s daughter and also the main reason she had stayed sane through the tragedies of the past year. The girl and her wild imagination and giggles could draw her out of the darkest of places. Also, the five-year-old was so attached that Jessica felt guilty being in a down mood around her.

  Nicole. Seven years older than Jessica, she was already married to Daniel and pregnant with Grace when Jessica had her pregnancy scare. At the time Nicole had sided with Mom. She’d scoffed at Jessica’s feelings, telling her she was only a kid and that she had no business getting knocked up so young—or hanging out with the boy who would do that to her.

  “I’m only twenty-four and I’m pregnant,” her sister had screamed. “My life is OVER. Is this what you want?”

  At the time she had understood her mother’s anger but not her sister’s. Now Jessica blinked at Nicole and turned to the desk to shuffle through the day’s mail. Ugh. She hadn’t thought of that fight in years. Another side effect of bumping into Leo.

  Nicole scowled and grabbed her purse. “Oh. And you need to figure out something for breakfast. Grace has ballet, which means I can’t bake. Maybe grab something at the Daily Bread?”

  Jessica groaned aloud. Even before their mother’s death, it had been Jessica’s job to keep the hotel running. She had helped for years, since she was a teen, and had since graduated with honors and dual degrees in hospitality and business management from a small college in nearby Fort Myers. Nicole technically co-owned the hotel. But she was married to a cop on the island who, in Jessica’s opinion, was far too demanding of Nicole’s time. Daniel wanted a traditional, stay-at-home housewife to clean and cook three meals a day, and for the life of her Jessica couldn’t understand how her sister accepted that her husband did nothing around the house when he wasn’t working. Her sister was also involved with numerous volunteer projects at Grace’s school, and because of all this she couldn’t be bothered with the bulk of the hotel’s day-to-day affairs.

  “The Daily Bread’s closed. Someone…bought it.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who?”

  Jessica fished around in her bag and found her phone then pretended to fiddle with it. “I dunno. Catalina told me some guy bought it. Or something.”

  A lie of omission? No, of self-preservation. She already knew where Nicole stood on the subject of Leo.

  “Okay, whatever. Go to the grocery store. We have a full house the day after tomorrow and you need pastries at the very least. And something salty for the afternoon cocktail hour.” Nicole walked toward the door then stopped and turned. “Oh. And a property appraiser is coming soon. On the fourteenth.”

  Jessica avoided her sister’s gaze. Nicole always had a jam-packed schedule and tried to give her the same. “That’s a Sunday. Valentine’s Day. We’re always busy. We can’t wait till after? There’s so much to do. Why would he come on a Sunday, of all days?”

  “Don’t whine. You know I hate it when your voice takes that tone.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. Nicole could channel Mom so well sometimes that it made her want to scream.

  Shaking her head, Nicole waved her hand. “The appraiser had that afternoon free, and he’s a friend of Daniel’s. Might as well get the ball rolling so we can list the hotel first thing in March. Maybe you’ll be able to move by the summer, if we sell quickly. The less we have to invest in this hotel, the better. It’s a money pit. And don’t you want to go off-island and work for a bigger hotel chain or something anyway? We spent all that money on college for you.”

  “I’ve heard this all before and—”

  Nicole didn’t allow her to finish. “Hey. Gotta run. Gotta get dinner on.” She swept out the door, allowing a column of bright sunshine to enter the inn’s lobby, which was decorated with shells that the Clarke girls had collected over the years as children.

  Jessica hissed out a breath. Life was happening too fast. Since Mom died last fall, it seemed like Nicole’s way of coping was to steamroll ahead. First she’d insisted on cleaning out the closets, and then she gave most of Mom’s belongings to a charity. Now she wanted to sell the hotel. Jessica wasn’t sure she agreed. Nicole said that at twenty-two Jessica couldn’t handle running the business by herself, but that’s how old Mom had been when she took the business over from her parents, and if Mom could do it, Jessica could, too. Nicole was eager to move on, to unload the business that had been in the family for generations. All Jessica wanted was to slow down.

  The door opened, and Nicole poked her head back inside. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Jacob called. I told him you wouldn’t call back.”

  At least her sister had gotten one thing right. “Yeah. I wouldn’t call him back if he was the last man on this island. Or the planet.” Jessica rolled her eyes, and her sister chuckled, shutting the door.

  Jacob. He was the assistant to the mayor of the mainland city of Fort Myers, and when she’d caught him and an intern groping each other in his car outside his condo one night she was devastated. And pissed.

  “I love you, Jessica, but I have needs,” he’d texted a few days later.

  It made sense, really, given her physical problem, but he should have been upfront with her rather than going behind her back. She hated him for that—and for hounding her after they’d tried to have sex that first time and it hurt so much they had to stop. They’d tried some more, but it had always ended the same. She felt horrible and inadequate and broken. Then they stopped trying.

  She’d wondered sometimes if her body tightened up because of her time with Leo and how it ended with him. Her gynecologist had said that past sexual experiences involving fear and shame could trigger the condition. She’d certainly felt both of those when she had to tell Mom she thought she was pregnant.

  Or, maybe Catalina was right. Maybe her body had known all along that Jacob wasn’t ultimately good for her. She’d found out later through mutual friends that he was screwing other women their entire year-long relationship.

  It hadn’t surprised her when he split with the intern soon afterward, or his subsequent texts and calls. She’d ignored them. And then Mom died, and Jacob was an afterthought.

  “I’m sorry about your mom. I made a mistake, let’s talk, please,” he had bleated into her voicemail.

  Whatever. She didn’t care. It was just like Mom had told her over the years: Men couldn’t be trusted. That was the danger of the lure of sex.

  With a sigh, Jessica tried to push all her bad thoughts aside because she had to plan the week’s breakfast menu for the hotel. Her mother had special recipe boxes, one for each month and for every holiday, stacks of menu plans and shopping lists for all occasions. Jessica used to tease her about having menus for obscure holidays, like National Dog Day or Internat
ional Children’s Book Day.

  “Every day’s a celebration,” Mom used to say then laugh.

  For some reason, Jessica wasn’t now able to find the Valentine’s Day plan. She had torn through every closet and nook and come up empty, which was frustrating. Nicole. It seemed like every week she’d look in a new place and find nothing.

  For the millionth time, Jessica wished her mother was still alive. The thought made her want to burrow back into bed. But that wasn’t an option, not as the co-owner of a six-room bed-and-breakfast. The days were long because she had to prove to her sister that her degree hadn’t been a waste. She had to prove that there was no need to sell.

  Of course, Nicole wasn’t going to just let her take over the business no matter what. She wanted to sell it, to be rid of it. That was one of the so many reasons why Jessica was angry at the world this last year, wanting to do nothing more than cry in her beer at sunset down at any of the island’s tiki bars.

  Moving on or up seemed an impossible feat. Grief after Mom died felt like icy fingers inside of her, plucking out her very essence. Compared to that, Jacob’s devastating betrayal was merely annoying. And now, Leo. He and his handsome, distracting self. He was temptation despite all her better intentions, all her knowledge of what he’d done to her the last time. He was exactly what she didn’t want or need right now when she should be focusing on the hotel.

  When she should be focusing on that damned recipe box.

  She looked up, and her eyes landed on the walnut facade of a large, imposing art deco chest that sat at the far end of the lobby. Her mother had kept office supplies inside, and Jessica hadn’t looked there. Or had she? Now she couldn’t recall. Grief had a way of wiping her brain of thoughts.

  Jessica walked over and lifted the lid. She pawed around amongst pens and a ream of paper, extracting a medium-sized box. Closing the lid of the chest, she set the cardboard box on the hotel reception desk and opened the flaps. The little red-and-white recipe container was indeed inside.

  Grinning, Jessica placed it on the desk and paused. There was another box. She opened it, and nestled inside heavy padding was a beautiful statue of two flamingos. The figurine, about eight inches tall, was an expensive, handmade Lladro porcelain sculpture from the 1930s. The birds were a pale pink and elegant, not tacky and neon-colored like so many Florida baubles. This had been her grandmother’s, and while she had loved the statuette as a child, she had never, ever been allowed to touch it.