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Her Forbidden Cowboy
Charlene Sands
Nothing is off-limits for this cowboy in USA TODAY bestselling author Charlene Sands’s story of fame and redemptionJilted by her ex-fiancé, Jessica Holcomb finds refuge at her former brother-in-law’s beachfront Southern California mansion. There she discovers country superstar Zane Williams still hunkering down after the devastating loss of his wife.These two wounded souls find their easy friendship healing. So Jess’s sudden attraction to Zane comes as a complete shock. Even more shocking, Zane’s acting like a jealous boyfriend, running interference with men who show interest. Is he just being overprotective? The answer becomes clear when Jess ends up in his bed…


“Do you know how incredibly perfect you are?”
Zane’s hands wrapped around Jess’s waist, and thrilling warmth heated her skin. “I’m not.”
“You are. You can’t let what those two did to you change who you are. That guy was the stupidest man on earth. You have every right to feel hurt, Jess. But don’t let what he did change the person that you are.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it? You changed your hair, your eyes. You dress differently now. Don’t get me wrong, you look beautiful, sweetheart. But you were beautiful before.”
She shrugged. She found it hard to believe.
“I needed the change.” Tears misted in her eyes.
“I get that.” Zane took her into his arms and hugged her, as a friend now. “But promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“Don’t try to find what you need with another man. It makes me crazy.”
* * *
Her Forbidden Cowboy is part of the Moonlight Beach Bachelors series—Three men living in paradise … and longing for more.
Her Forbidden Cowboy
Charlene Sands

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHARLENE SANDS is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty-five romance novels, writing sensual contemporary romances and stories of the Old West. Her books have been honored with a National Readers’ Choice Award, a CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award, and she’s a double recipient of the Booksellers’ Best Award. She belongs to the Orange County chapter and the Los Angeles chapter of RWA.
Charlene writes “hunky heroes with heart.” She knows a little something about true romance—she married her high school sweetheart! When not writing, Charlene enjoys sunny Pacific beaches, great coffee, reading books from her favorite authors and spending time with her family. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter. Charlene loves to hear from her readers! You can write her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA, or sign up for her newsletter for fun blogs and ongoing contests at charlenesands.com (http://charlenesands.com).
To our own Zane William (Pettis), the bright little light in our family. And to his mommy, Angi, and daddy, Kent, with love to all!
Contents
Cover (#u963f6d0b-dabe-5427-b0a3-1bb80cedebcf)
Introduction (#u3721ff72-37d1-58ea-8a76-9449c1b497d6)
Title Page (#u4062eb8a-6586-5059-914a-75969d601b92)
About the Author (#uad81b860-72fc-5308-970a-2de3db469cbf)
Dedication (#u594f35fc-0116-5967-b2da-111b8c50f5e6)
One (#ud61c1442-01c6-5746-8cc4-e7056c642adc)
Two (#uaf9b51c2-d46c-5c63-b33d-33ad5c107795)
Three (#u2cbdae30-476e-5765-9c18-7858c6e6ada2)
Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_a95a2bb6-64f3-57f1-8d1a-2d8b4237f504)
The heels of Jessica’s boots beat against the redwood of Zane Williams’s sun-drenched deck overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Shielded by the shade of an overhang, he didn’t miss a move his new houseguest made as he leaned forward on his chaise longue. His sister-in-law had officially arrived.
Was he still allowed to call her that?
Gusty breezes lifted her caramel hair, loosening the knot at the back of her head. A few wayward tendrils whipped across her eyes and, as she followed behind his assistant Mariah, her hand came up to brush them away. Late afternoon winds were strong on Moonlight Beach, swirling up from the shore as the sun lowered on the horizon. It was the time most sunbathers packed up their gear and went home and the locals came out. Shirt-billowing weather and one of the few things he’d come to like about California beach living.
He removed his sunglasses to get a better look at her. She wore a snowdrift-white blouse tucked into washed-to-the-millionth-degree jeans and a wide brown belt. Tortoiseshell-rimmed eyeglasses delicately in place didn’t hide the pain and distress in her eyes.
Sweet Jess. Seeing her brought back so many memories, and the frigidness in his heart thawed a bit.
She looked like...home.
It hurt to think about Beckon, Texas. About his ranch and the life he’d had there once. It hurt to think about how he’d met Jessica’s sister, Janie, and the way their small-town lives had entwined. In one respect, the tragedy that occurred more than two years ago might’ve been a lifetime ago. In another, it seemed as if time was standing still. Either way, his wife, Janie, and their unborn child were gone. They were never coming back. His mouth began to twitch. An ache in the pit of his stomach spread like wildfire and scorched him from the inside out.
He focused on Jessica. She carried a large tapestry suitcase woven in muted tones of gray and mauve and peach. He’d given Janie and Jessica matching luggage three years ago on their birthdays. It had been a fluke that both girls, the only two offspring of Mae and Harold Holcomb, were born on the same day, seven years apart.
Grabbing at the crutches propped beside his lounge chair, Zane slowly lifted himself up, careful not to fall and break his other foot. Mariah would have his head if he got hurt again. His casted wrist ached like the devil, but he refused to have his assistant come running every damn time he wanted to get up. It was bad enough she’d taken on the extra role of nursemaid. He reminded himself to have his business manager give Mariah a big fat bonus.
She halted midway on the deck, her disapproving gaze dropping to his busted wrist and crutches before she shot him a silent warning. “Here he is, Jessica.” Mariah’s peach-pie voice was sweet as ever for his houseguest. “I’ll leave you two alone now.”
“Thanks, Mariah,” he said.
Her mouth pursed tight, she about-faced and marched off, none too pleased with him.
Jessica came forward. “Still such a gentleman, Zane,” she said. “Even on crutches.”
He’d forgotten how much she sounded like Janie. Hearing her sultry tone stirred him up inside. But that’s about all Janie and Jessica had in common. The two sisters were different in most other ways. Jess wasn’t as tall as her sister. Her eyes were a light shade of green instead of the deep emerald that had sparkled from Janie’s eyes. Jess was brunette, Janie blonde. And their personalities were miles apart. Janie had been a risk-taker, a strong woman who could hold her own against Zane’s country-star fame, which might’ve intimidated a less confident woman. From what he remembered about Jess, she was quieter, more subtle, a schoolteacher who loved her profession, a real sweetheart.
“Sorry about your accident.”
Zane nodded. “Wasn’t much of an accident. More like stupidity. I lost focus and fell off the stage. Broke my foot in three places.” He’d been at the Los Angeles Amphitheater, singing a silly tune about chasing ducks on the farm, all the while thinking about Janie. A video of his fall went viral on the internet. Everyone in country music and then some had witnessed his loss of concentration. “My tour’s postponed for the duration. Can’t strum a guitar with a broken wrist.”
“Don’t suppose you can.”
She put down her luggage and gazed over the railing to the shore below. Sunlight glossed over deep steely-blue water as whitecaps foamed over wet sand, the tide rising. “I suppose Mama must’ve strong-armed you into doing this.”
“Your mama couldn’t strong-arm a puppy.”
She whipped around to face him, her eyes sharp. “You know what I mean.”
He did. Fact was, he wouldn’t refuse Mae Holcomb anything. And she’d asked him this favor. It’s huge, she’d said to him. My Jess is hurtin’ and needs to clear her head. I’m asking you to let her stay with you a week, maybe two. Please, Zane, watch out for her.
He’d given his word. He’d take care of Jess and make sure she had time to heal. Mae was counting on him, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Janie’s mother. She deserved that much from him.
“You can stay as long as you like, Jess. You’ve got to know that.”
Her mouth began to tremble. “Th-thanks. You heard what happened?”
“I did.”
“I—I couldn’t stay in town. I had to get out of Texas. The farther, the better.”
“Well, Jess, you’re as far west as you could possibly go.” Five miles north of Malibu by way of the Pacific Coast Highway.
Her shoulders slumped. “I feel like such a fool.”
Reaching out, he cupped her chin, forcing her eyes to his, the darn crutch under his arm falling to rest on the railing. “Don’t.”
“I won’t be very good company,” she whispered, dang near breathless.
His body swayed, not allowing him another unassisted moment. He released her and grabbed for his crutch just in time. He tucked it under his arm and righted his position. “That makes two of us.”
Her soft laughter carried on the breeze. Probably the first bit of amusement she’d felt in days.
He smiled.
“I just need a week, Zane.”
“Like I said, take as long as you need.”
“Thanks.” She blinked, and her eyes drifted down to his injuries. “Uh, are you in a lot of pain?”
“More like, I’m being a pain. Mariah’s getting the brunt of my sour mood.”
“Now I can share it with her.” Her eyes twinkled for a second.
He’d forgotten what it was like having Jess around. She was ten years younger than him, and he’d always called her his little sis. He hadn’t seen much of her since Janie’s death. Cursed by guilt and anguish, he’d deliberately removed himself from the Holcombs’ lives. He’d done enough damage to them.
“Hand up your luggage to me,” he told her. With his good hand, he tucked his crutches under his armpits and propped himself, then wiggled his fingers. If he could get a grip on the bag...
Jessica rolled her eyes and hoisted her valise. “I appreciate it, Zane. But I’ve got this. Really, it’s not heavy. I packed light. You know, summer-at-the-beach kind of clothes.”
She let him off the hook. He would’ve tried, but fooling with her luggage wouldn’t have been pretty. The doggone crutches made him clumsy as a drunken sailor, and he wasn’t supposed to put any weight on his foot yet. “Fine, then. Why don’t you settle in and rest up a bit? I’m bunking on this level. You’ve got an entire wing of rooms to yourself upstairs. Take your pick and spread out.”
He followed behind as she made her way inside the wide set of light oak French doors leading to the living room. “Feel free to look around. I can have Mariah give you a tour.”
“No, that’s not necessary.” She scanned over what she could see of the house, taking in the expanse—vaulted ceilings, textured walls, art deco interior and sleek contemporary furniture. He caught her vibe, sensing her confusion. What was Zane Williams, a country-western artist and a born and bred Texan, doing living on a California beach? When he’d leased this place with the option to buy, he told himself it was because he wanted a change. He was building Zane’s on the Beach, his second restaurant in as many years, and he’d been offered roles in several Hollywood movies. He didn’t know if he was cut out for acting, so the pending offers were still on the table.
She sent him an over-the-shoulder glance. “It’s...a beautiful house, Zane.”
His crutches supporting him, he sidled up next to her, seeing the house from her perspective. “But not me?”
“I guess I don’t know what that is anymore.”
“It’s just a house. A place to hang my hat.”
She gave his hatless head a glance. “It’s a palace on the sea.”
He chuckled. So much for his attempt at humble. The house was a masterpiece. One of three designed by the architect who lived next door. “Okay, you got me there. Mariah found the house and leased it on the spot. She said it would shake the cobwebs from my head. Had it awhile, but this is my first summer here.” He leaned back, darting a glance around. “At least the humidity is bearable and it never seems to rain, so no threat of thunderstorms. The neighbors are nice.”
“A good place to rest up.”
“I suppose, if that’s what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?”
He shrugged, fearing he’d opened up a can of worms. Why was he revealing his innermost thoughts to her? They weren’t close anymore. He hardly knew Jessica as an adult, and yet they shared a deeply powerful connection. “Sure it is. Are you hungry? I can have my housekeeper make you—”
“Oh, uh...no. I’m not hungry right now. Just a bit tired from the trip. I’d better go upstairs before I collapse right here on your floor. Thanks for having a limo pick me up. And, well, thanks for everything, Zane.”
She rose on her tiptoes, and the soft brush of her lips on his cheek squeezed something tight in his chest. Her hair smelled of summer strawberries, and the fresh scent lingered in his nose as she backed away.
“Welcome.” The crutches dug into his armpits as they supported his weight. He hated the damn things. Couldn’t wait to be free of them. “Just a suggestion, but the room to the right of the stairs and farthest down the hall has the best view of the ocean. Sunsets here are pretty glorious.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her quick smile was probably meant to fake him out. She could pretend she wasn’t hurting all that badly if she wanted to, but dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin told the real story. He understood. He’d been there. He knew how pain could strangle a person until all the breath was sucked out. Hell, he’d lived it. Was still living it. And he knew something about Holcomb family pride, too.
What kind of jerk would leave any Holcomb woman standing at the altar?
Only a damn fool.
* * *
Jessica took Zane’s advice and chose the guest room at the end of the hallway. Not for the amazing sunsets as Zane had suggested, but to keep out of his hair. Privacy was a precious commodity. He valued it, and so did she now. A powerful urge summoned her to slump down on the bed and cry her eyes out, but she managed to fight through the sensation. She was done with self-pity. She wasn’t the first woman to be dumped at the altar. She’d been duped by a man she’d loved and trusted. She’d been so sure and missed all of the telling signs. Now she saw them through crystal clear eyes.
She busied herself unpacking her one suitcase, layering her clothes into a long, stylish light wood dresser. Carefully she set her jeans, shorts, swimsuits and undies into two of the nine drawers. She plucked out a few sleeveless sundresses and walked over the closet. With a slight tug, the double doors opened in a whoosh. The scents of cedar and freshness filled her nostrils as she gazed into a girl cave almost the size of her first-grade classroom back in Beckon. Cedar drawers, shoe racks and silken hangers were a far cry from the tiny drywalled closet in her one-bedroom apartment.
Deftly she scooped the delicate hangers under the straps of her dresses and hung them up. Next she laid her tennis shoes, flip-flops and two pairs of boots, one flat, one high-heeled, onto the floor just under her clothes. Her meager collection barely made a dent in the closet space. She closed the double doors and leaned against them. Then she took her first real glimpse at the view from her second-story bedroom.
“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 eyes, 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?”
Zane stared at her. “No. He should be on his knees begging you for forgiveness. He did one thing right. He didn’t marry you and make your life miserable. I hate to say it, darlin’, but you’re better off without him. The man doesn’t deserve you. But you’re hurt right now, and I get that. You probably still love him.”
“I don’t,” she said, hoisting her glass and swallowing a big gulp. “I pretty much hate him.”
Zane leaned back in his seat, his gaze soft on her. “Okay. You hate him. He’s out of your life.”
She braced folded elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. The sea was black as pitch now, the sky lit only with a few stars and clouded moonlight. “I just wanted...I wanted what you and Janie had. I wanted that kind of love.”
Her fuzzy brain cleared. Oh, no. She hadn’t just said that? She whipped her head around. Zane’s expression of sympathy didn’t change. He didn’t flinch. He simply stared out to sea. “We had something pretty special.”
“You did. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“Don’t be.” His tone held no malice. “You’re Janie’s sister. You have as much right to talk about her as I do.”
Tears misted in her eyes. “I miss her.”
“I miss her, too.”
She sighed. She didn’t mean to put such a somber mood on the evening. Zane was gracious enough to allow her to stay here. She didn’t want to bring him down. It was definitely time to call it a night. She put on a cheery face. “Well, this has been nice.”
She rose, and her head immediately clouded up. The table, the railing, the ocean blurred before her. She batted her eyes over and over, trying to focus. Two Zanes popped into her line of vision. She reached for the tabletop, struggling to remain upright on her own steam. She swayed back and forth, unable to keep her body still. “Zane?”
“It just hit you, didn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah. I think so.” She giggled.
“Don’t move for a second.”
“I’ll...try.” A tornado swirled in her head. “Why?”
He rose and hobbled over to her. Using one crutch, he tucked it under his left arm. “I’m going to help you get inside.”
“But, you said...you c-couldn’t. Uh...” She giggled again.
Zane wrapped his right arm around her shoulder. “Okay, now, darlin’, I’ve got you. Your body will be my other crutch. We’ll help each other. Move slowly.”
“W-where are we g-going?”
“I’ve got to get you to bed.”
Her head fell to his shoulder. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought how nice it felt to have him hold her. He smelled good. He would take care of her.
“Focus on putting one foot in front of the other.”
She tried.
“That’s good, honey.”
Hobble-hopping, they moved together. It seemed to take forever to go a short distance in the dark shadows of the night. Keeping her eyes down, she watched her feet move. Then blinding light appeared in a burst. She squinted. “What’s that?”
“We’re inside the house now,” Zane was saying.
“That’s g-good, right? I’ll be in b-bed soon.” A warm buzz spread through her like soft, sweet jelly.
“Not upstairs. You’ll never make it. We’re going to my room.”
She couldn’t wait to lay her head down someplace. She didn’t care where. More careful steps later, they entered a room. A ray of moonlight beamed like an arrow, aiming straight at the bed.
“Okay, we made it,” Zane said. He sounded weird and out of breath. “You’ll sleep here tonight.”
He guided her down. The bed hit her bottom quickly and cushioned around her. She swayed sideways and was immediately set to right. Zane held her steady as the mattress dipped again and he sat next to her. Dizzying waves bombarded her head. She’d sat too quickly.
“Think you can take it from here?” he whispered.
No. Aware of Zane’s eyes on her, she waited until the twister in her head calmed. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.”
Her giddiness fading, her lighthearted high dropped to a pitiful low. It hadn’t taken her long to become a burden to Zane. If only she hadn’t sucked down that second margarita. Zane had warned her to go slowly. Expensive tequila and jet lag had done her in. Man, chalk another mistake up to her lousy intuition.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said.
But she was, and an urge to thank him wiggled through the fog in her head. Pursing her lips, she leaned forward toward his cheek. Her aim off, she missed and caught the corner of his mouth instead. As she brushed a soft kiss there, he tasted of tequila and the sea. So good. Inside, a warm sprinkling of something wonderful spread through her body. “Thank you,” she whispered, not sure if her words slurred.
Then his arms wrapped around her and gently lowered her down. Her head was enveloped in a large, fluffy pillow, and a silky sheet came to rest over her body.
She heard a whispered, “Welcome,” right before the world finally stopped spinning.
Two (#ulink_72a165ce-832d-5f9f-a93b-5a332a0db041)
Jessica gazed at the digital clock on the nightstand. Eight-thirty! She flashed back to last night and drinking those two giant margaritas, then slowly looked around. She was in an unfamiliar bed.
She’d finally let go and given herself permission to have a good time, and where had that gotten her? She’d made a fool of herself. Zane had hobbled her inside the house and slept heaven only knew where. Was there another bedroom on this floor? Maybe a servant’s quarters? She’d seen an office, a screening room and a game room. No beds, just couches. “Oh, man,” she mumbled.
She scanned the stark but stylish bedroom where she’d slept. A flat-screen TV, a dresser and a low fabric sofa were the only other furniture in the room. If it wasn’t for a shelf that housed Zane’s five Grammys, as well as a couple of CMA and ACM awards, she wouldn’t have guessed it was his master suite. There was nothing personal, warm and cozy about the space.
Hitching her body forward, she waited for signs of pain, but there was nothing. Thank goodness—no hangover. She grabbed her glasses from the nightstand, tossed off the covers and rose. Seeing she was still dressed in her shorts and tank top, she emitted a low groan from her throat as she slipped her feet into her flip-flops. How reckless of her. She’d abused Zane’s hospitality already.
She entered the bathroom, another ode to magnificence, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Smudged mascara and rumpled hair reflected back at her. She washed her face and finger-combed her long wayward tresses. She’d take care of the rest once she reached her own room.
Exiting Zane’s room, she made her way down a short hallway. Voices coming from the kitchen perked up her ears.
Mrs. Lopez spotted her and waved her inside. “Just in time for breakfast.”
Mariah and Zane sat at the kitchen table, coffee mugs piping hot in front of them. Upon the housekeeper’s announcement, both heads lifted her way. Blood rushed up her neck, and her face flamed.
“Morning,” Zane said, peering into her eyes and not at her wrinkled mess of clothes. “You ready for some breakfast?”
“Good morning, Jessica,” Mariah said. They’d obviously been deep in concentration, poring over a stack of papers.
“Yes, yes. Sit down,” Mrs. Lopez insisted.
“Oh, uh...good morning. I don’t want to intrude. You look busy.”
“Just same old, same old,” Mariah said. “We’re going over plans for Zane’s new restaurant. We could use your input.”
She’d given Zane her input last night. God. She’d kissed him. Remembering that kiss sent a warm rash of heat through her body. She’d missed his cheek and gotten hold of his lips. Was it the alcohol, or had her heart strummed from that kiss? The alcohol. Had to be. He must have known it was a genuine miscalculation on her part. She hadn’t meant to kiss him that way.
“Yes, have a seat, Jess,” he said casually. “You need to eat. And we sure need a fresh perspective.”
Before her shower? Luckily Zane hadn’t mentioned anything about her lack of discretion last night or her state of dress today. She’d overslept, that much was a given. Back home, she rose before six every morning. She loved to go through the morning newspaper, take a walk in the backwoods and then eat a light breakfast before heading to her classroom.
There were a platter of bagels with cream cheese, a scrambled egg jalapeno dish and cereal boxes on the table. The eggs smelled heavenly, and her stomach grumbled. Seeing no other option, she sat down and reached for the eggs as Mrs. Lopez provided her with a bowl and a cup of coffee.
“Bien.” She gave a satisfied nod.
Jessica smiled at her.
As Zane and his assistant finished up their breakfast, she ate, too, complimenting Mrs. Lopez on the food she’d prepared.
Zane told Mariah, “Janie and Jessica worked at their folks’ café in Beckon. They served the best fried chicken in all of Texas.”
“That’s what most folks said,” she agreed. She couldn’t claim modesty. Her parents did make the best fried chicken in the state. “My parents opened Holcomb House when I was young. They worked hard to make a go of it. It wasn’t anything as grand as what you’re probably planning, but in Beckon, the Holcomb House was known for good eats and a friendly atmosphere. When Dad died five years ago, my mom couldn’t make a go of it by herself. I think she lost the will, so she sold the restaurant. I’m no expert, but if I can help in any way, I’ll give it a try.”
“Great,” Mariah said.
“Appreciate it,” Zane added. “This restaurant will be a little different than the one in Reno, in cuisine and atmosphere. The beach is a big draw for tourists, and we want it to be a great experience.”
Zane probably had half a dozen financial advisors, but if he needed her help in any way, she’d oblige. How could she not? She cringed thinking that Zane slept on a sofa last night. A quick glance at his less than crisp clothes, the same clothes he’d worn last night, meant that he probably hadn’t got to shower this morning, either. Because of her.
Once the dishes were cleared, Mariah pushed a few papers over to her. “If you don’t mind, could you tell us what you think of the menu? Are the prices fair? Do the titles of the dishes make sense? We’re working with a few chefs and want to get it just right. These are renderings of what Zane’s on the Beach will look like once all done, exterior and interior.”
For the next hour, Jessica worked with the two of them, giving her opinion, voicing her concerns when they probed and offering praise honestly if not sparingly. Zane’s on the Beach had everything a restaurant could offer. Outside, patio tables facing the beach included a sand bar for summer nights of drinking under the moonlight. Inside, window tables were premium, with the next row of tables raised to gain a view of the ocean, as well. It wasn’t posh, but it wasn’t family dining, either. “I like that you’ve made it accessible to a younger crowd. The prices are fair. Have you thought about putting a little stage in the bar? Invite in local entertainment to perform?”
Mariah shot a look at Zane. “We discussed it. I think it’s a great idea. Zane isn’t so sure.”
Zane scrubbed his chin, deep in thought. “I’ve got to get a handle on what I want from this restaurant. My name and reputation are at stake. Do I want ocean views and great food or a hot spot for a younger crowd?”
“Why can’t you have both?” Jessica asked. “Quality is quality. Diners will come for the cuisine and ambiance. After hours, the place can transform into a nightspot for the millennials.”
Amused, Zane’s dark eyes sparked. “Millennials? Are you one?”
“I guess so.”
His head tilted, and his mouth quirked up. “Why do I suddenly feel old?”
“Because you are,” Mariah jabbed. “You’re cranking toward forty.”
“Thirty-five is a far shot from forty, and that’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re wise to stop there,” Mariah said playfully, yet with a note of warning. Jessica could tell that Mariah Jacobellis wasn’t a woman who put up with age jokes. Although Mariah was physically lovely, she seemed to take no prisoners when it came to business or her personal life. Jessica admired that about her. Maybe she could take a lesson from her rule book.
Zane leaned way back in his seat. “You got that right.”
Mariah stacked the papers on the table and rose, hugging them to her chest. “Well, I’m off to make some phone calls. Zane, think about when you want to resume your tour. I’ve got to let the event coordinators know. They’re on my back about it. Oh, and be sure to read through that contract that Bernie sent over the other day.”
Zane’s lips pursed. “I’ll do my best.”
“Jessica, have a nice morning. And if you’re around Zane today, please give him a hand. He may look like a superhero, but he’s really not Superman.”
Could’ve fooled her. Last night, he’d been super heroic.
Mariah pivoted on her heels and strode out the door.
Zane chuckled.
“What?”
“The look on your face.”
“I’m mortified about last night. Where on earth did you sleep, and does Mariah know what happened?”
“First off, don’t be upset. It’s our little secret. Mariah doesn’t know that you’re a margarita lightweight.” He smiled. “That woman’s been babying me for weeks. Doesn’t do a man a bit of good being so dang useless. For the first time in a month of Sundays, I was able to help out and do something useful with this banged-up body.”
“I took your bed.”
“Glad to give it up.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“The office sofa is the most comfortable place in the whole house.”
“Oh, boy. I’m sorry. The first night I’m here, I give you trouble.”
He smiled again, a stunning heart-melter. “If livening up my life some is trouble, then bring it on. Fact is, I’m glad you’re here. You bring a bit of home with you. I miss that.”
She needed to believe him. She’d been afraid coming here would remind him of Janie and all that he’d lost. To have him say he was glad she’d come made a big difference. “Okay.”
He put his palms on her cheeks and leaned forward. Her heart stopped. Was he going to kiss her? His touch sent tingles parading up and down her chest. Oh, wow. It wasn’t alcohol this time. Probably wasn’t the alcohol last night, either. She’d been dumped by a scoundrel, and now a man she had no right responding to made her feel giddy inside. How screwed up was that?
She gazed into his eyes. He was looking somewhere above her eyeglasses. Then he lowered his mouth—she stilled—and he brushed a brotherly kiss across her forehead. Breath eased from her chest, and her foolish heart tumbled. Of course, Zane wasn’t going to kiss her that way.
“And thanks for the input about the restaurant,” he said. “I respect your honesty and what you have to offer.”
She swallowed hard. Tamping down her silly emotions, she offered a quick smile. “Anytime.”
* * *
Beaming sunshine simmered over Jessica’s body, the invading heat soaking into her bones. Salty air, a cushion of sand beneath her and the soothing sounds of waves crashing upon the shore gave her good reason to forget her disastrous relationship with Steven Monahan. He didn’t deserve any more of her time. But the sting of his rejection stayed with her, leaving her hollowed out inside, afraid to trust, questioning her intuition. She feared she’d never fully recover the innocence of her first love. Good thing she didn’t have to make any decisions here on Moonlight Beach. She could just be.
Drenched in sunscreen, she lay on a beach blanket in a modest one-piece bathing suit, a folded towel under her head. Slight breezes just outside Zane’s beachfront home deposited flecks of sand onto her arms and legs. Children’s giggles and adult conversations drifted to her ears. For the first time in days, her nerves were completely calm.
She promised herself to keep out of Zane’s hair, and she had for the most part these past three days. He spent hours inside his office working with Mariah, and occasionally they would ask for her input on the restaurant. She figured it was just a way for him to keep her entertained and make her feel welcome. Each morning, under an overcast sky that would burn off before noon, she walked a three-mile stretch of beach, loosening up her limbs and clearing her head. At night, she’d dine with Zane on the patio facing the ocean, and except for having an occasional glass of white wine or a cold beer, she kept her alcohol consumption to a bare minimum. The Pacific Ocean and fresh air were her balm. She didn’t need to rely on anything else.
She wiggled her tush into the sand, carving out a more comfy spot on her blanket, and closed her eyes. The flapping of wings and piercing squawk of a seagull overhead made her smile.
“Glad to see you’ve taken to Moonlight Beach.”
Blocking rays of sunlight with a hand salute, she opened her eyes. The handsome face of Dylan McKay came into view.
“Hi, Jessica.” He stared at her with his million-dollar smile. “Don’t let me disturb you.”
Gosh, he remembered her name.
Wearing plaid board shorts and a muscle-hugging white T-shirt, and fitting into beach society with the casualness of a megastar, he sort of did disturb her. Yet he did so in such a friendly way, she didn’t mind the intrusion. As she sat up on her elbows, his gaze dipped to her chest. To his credit, his eyes didn’t linger on her breasts, and that was more than she could say about most men.
“Hello, and I am enjoying the beach. When in Rome, as they say.” She chuckled at the cliché. It was Mama’s favorite saying, and she’d used it a zillion times over the years. The most recent was last night when they’d talked on the phone. Did others in her generation get that phrase?
Her eyes fell on a black portfolio tucked under his arm. It looked odd there, as if he should be wearing a three-piece suit while carrying that austere leather case. Instead of moving on, he squatted down beside her, his tanned knees nearly in her face. Obviously, he wanted to chat.
“I see you sometimes in the morning, walking along the beach.”
“You’ve inspired me,” she said. “Of course, I only do three miles. How are your runs going?”
“Killing me, but I’m getting in the ten miles.”
His legs were taut, like those of a natural runner, and the rest of his body, well...it would be hard not to notice his muscles and the way his T-shirt nearly split at the seams around his shoulders and upper arms. “Good for you.”
“So, how’s it going?” he asked. “Other than sunbathing and taking long walks, are you having a good time?”
“Yes. It’s nice here. I’m working on some new lesson plans for my class. I teach first grade back home.”
“Ah...a teacher. Such an honorable profession.”
She waggled her brows. Was he poking fun at her? Or was he being genuine?
“My mother taught school for thirty-five years,” he added, his smile wistful, pride filling his voice. “She was loved by her students, but she wasn’t a pushover. It wasn’t easy pulling my antics on her. She was too savvy. She knew when kids were up to no good.”
“I bet you gave her a run for her money.”
He laughed, the gleam of his lake-blue eyes touching her. “I did.”
“What grade did she teach?”
“All grades, but she preferred fourth and fifth. Then, later on, she became dean of a middle school, and eventually, the principal of the high school.”
She nodded. She didn’t have much else to add to the conversation. Not that Dylan McKay wasn’t easy to talk to. He was. And she loved talking about education to anyone who would listen. It was just that he was fabulous, famous Dylan McKay. And he kept smiling at her.
“Hey, I’m having a party on Saturday night. If you’re still here, I’d love for you to come. Maybe you can get Zane to get out and have a little fun.”
“Oh, thanks.” He’d caught her off guard. Wasn’t that what she needed right now, to be a wallflower at an A-list party? “I’m...uh, I’m not the partying type. Especially now.”
“Now?”
She shrugged. “I’m going through something and need a little R and R.”
“Ah...a breakup?”
She nodded. Her pride aside, she opened up a little to make her point. “Broken engagement as the wedding guests were taking their seats in church.”
“Ah...gotcha. I’ve been there once, a long time ago, when I was too young to know better. It turned out for the best, so believe me, I understand. Listen, I promise you, the party is low-key. Just a few friends and neighbors for a barbecue on the beach. I’d love to see you there.”
“Thanks.”
He smiled, and she smiled back. Then he pointed to her upper thigh, on the right side, closest to him. “Uh-oh. Looks like you missed a spot. You’re starting to burn.” Grabbing the sunscreen tube from the blanket, his long fingers brushed the soft underside of her hand as he set the sunscreen into her palm. “Better lather up and—”
“Stop corrupting my little sis, McKay.”
Jessica whipped her head around. Zane stood on the sundeck railing, staring at Dylan. His voice was a far cry from menacing, but the cool look he shot Dylan made her wonder what was up.
Dylan winked at her. “Maybe she wants to be corrupted.”
“And maybe you want to turn tail and go home. I don’t have to read that script, you know.”
“Whoops,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “He’s got me there. Maybe you can help me convince him to take this role. Wanna try? Since you’re about to turn into a fried tomato out here.”
Under normal circumstances, she was probably the least starstruck person in Beckon, Texas, but how could she not take Dylan up on his offer to go over a movie script? The notion got her juices flowing, and excitement buzzed around her like a busy little bee.
She glanced down at her legs. Oh, wow. Dylan was right. There were more than a few splotchy patches on her body. Time to get out of the sun. “Sure, why not?”
“Great.” He swiveled his head in Zane’s direction. “We’re coming up right now.”
Gallantly, he offered her his hand. She couldn’t very well refuse the gesture. She slipped one hand into his and simultaneously clutched her cover-up with the other as they rose together. He was too close for comfort, his eyes smiling on her, their hands entwined. Gently she pulled away, making herself busy zipping herself into a white cotton cover up and ignoring his rapt attention. He was a charmer, but thankfully his touch hadn’t elicited a jolt of any kind. She glanced at Zane, leaning by the railing, his sharp gaze fixed on her.
Something hot and unruly sizzled in the pit of her belly.
She ignored it and pushed on, climbing the steps with Dylan McKay following behind.
* * *
“Did he ask you out?” Zane probed the minute Dylan McKay exited the house. Looming over her, Zane was a bit foreboding, as if he was her white knight protecting her from the wicked prince of darkness. Geesh.
“Wh-what?”
“The guy couldn’t take his eyes off you down on the beach.”
She shrugged and picked up three empty glasses, reminiscent of her waitress days at Holcomb House.
After coming back into the house she’d left the two men to take a quick shower and slip on a sundress. She’d listened to Dylan’s script proposal to Zane with keen interest in a spacious light oak–paneled office on the main level of the house. The meeting took almost an hour. Then they’d had drinks in the cool shade of the patio. Iced tea for her. The men were content to knock back whiskey and soda.
Dylan was a charming lady’s man to the millionth degree, and she knew enough to steer clear. The idea that he’d be interested in a little ol’ school teacher from Beckon, Texas, was ridiculous. She had no illusions of anything else going on between them, and Zane should know that.
Her mama’s image flashed before her eyes. That was it. She bet her mother put Zane up to watching out for her, making sure her tender heart didn’t get broken again. Well, heck. She’d let him off the hook, but not without giving him some grief. Her chin up, she said, “He invited me to his beach party Saturday night. It was just a friendly invitation.”
Zane’s mouth tightened into a snarl and he snorted. “Doubtful.”
“I told him I probably wouldn’t go.”
“Good.” Zane nodded, satisfied. “You don’t need to get involved with him. He’s—”
“Out of my league?”
His eyes widened. “Hell, no.”
“Well, he is. And I know it all too well. Heck, my life is messy enough right now. There’s no room for romance, though it’s absurd to think of Dylan McKay actually being into me.”
Zane immediately reached out to grab her arm. Surprised, she jerked from his touch, and the glasses she held nearly slipped from her hand. “Don’t put yourself down, Jess.”
A jolt sprang to life, spiraling out of control where the strong fingers of his bandaged hand pressed into her skin. Sharpness left Zane’s dark eyes, and he gave her a bone-melting look. “I was going to say, he would never appreciate you. You’re special, Jess. You always have been.”
Because she was Janie’s sister.
Zane held dear her sister’s memory, closing his heart around it and not allowing anyone else into his life. He was a sought-after hunky bachelor, but he’d been true to Janie’s love even now, years later. Jessica understood she was only here because Zane was too nice a guy to refuse her mama a favor. “Thank you.”
He nodded and released her to go lean against the railing.
Free of his touch, she marched the glasses into the kitchen, handing them to Mrs. Lopez one at a time. She had to do something to quell her pounding heart. What the heck was wrong with her?
“Dios, you do not do the work around here. That’s my job, no?”
“Yes. But I like to help.”
It was the same conversation she’d had with Mrs. Lopez since she’d arrived here. Jessica saw nothing wrong with putting clothes in the washer and turning the thing on, or clearing the dishes, or helping slice potatoes for a meal. Today, especially, she needed to do something with her hands.
“Sí, okay.” A relenting sigh echoed in the kitchen.
She picked up dirty dishes on the counter, loaded them in the dishwasher and put things back in the refrigerator. A few chores later, after scanning the clean kitchen they’d both worked on, she gave Mrs. Lopez a bright smile. The woman was shaking her head, but with a twinkle in her eyes. Progress.
Jessica strode out the kitchen door and was immediately knocked against the doorjamb. Pain shot to her shoulder. The jarring bump brought Mariah’s face into view. “Oh, sorry.”
Mariah was equally shocked from the collision. “I didn’t see you.”
“My fault. I should learn how to slow down.”
She chuckled. “I’m the same way. I’ve got to get where I’m going fast, no matter if it’s just to sip coffee and read the newspaper.” Mariah, always impeccably dressed, rubbed her shoulder through her cognac-colored silk blouse. “Guess we’re alike in that regard. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere. Just outside. I left Zane hanging and I wanted to go back to talk to him.”
“Good luck with that. I just left him, and he’s a bear right now.”
“Oh, really? Why?” It couldn’t be the Dylan McKay thing, could it?
“I don’t know exactly what set him off other than he hates being confined. He feels like a caged animal. Though he doesn’t make an effort to go anywhere, other than for business.”
“I can see how that would make him restless.”
Mariah smiled. “That’s the perfect way to describe it. He’s restless. But I’m afraid that came on well before his fall. I think a change of pace is good for him. I’ve helped him make the decision to open this second restaurant, and now he’s thinking about movie roles. It might be just what he needs.”
Or maybe he was running away from his past, the same way she was. Zane loved music. He loved writing lyrics and composing songs. He was meant to entertain. His sexy, deep baritone voice made his fans swoon. That’s the only Zane she’d known.
“Dylan invited you in to hear his pitch, I understand. What did you think of the movie?”
“Me? Well, I, uh...to be honest, I think the idea of Zane and Dylan being estranged brothers coming home after the death of their father might work. If Zane can act, he’d be great in the role. The only issue I see is the love triangle about the girl back home. I saw Zane’s reaction to Dylan’s description of the romantic scenes he’d have to do. Zane instantly shut down. I’m not sure if Zane’s up to that.”
“That’s exactly what I think, too. Zane’s not going to do something he’s not comfortable with. Believe me, I know. I’ve had plenty of discussions with him about his recent decisions. He bounces things off me. He asks me a question, and I tell him the truth.”
“Which is?”
“I will say this. Zane can act. He’s been doing so for over two years now. His public persona is far different than the real Zane.” Mariah was ready to say more and then clamped shut. Her eyes downcast, she shook her head. “Forgive me. I keep forgetting who you are.”
Jessica drew her brows together. “It’s because of Janie. He’s still hurting.”
Mariah nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Mariah’s eyes fell on her softly, her genuine warmth shining through. “Please forget I said anything. It’s none of my business.”
The idea that after two years, Zane was still making decisions based on the love he had for Janie, nestled deep into her heart. It was beautiful in a way, but also incredibly sad. “You’re Zane’s personal assistant. You spend a lot of time together. I can see that you care about him as a friend, too, so maybe it’s more your business than mine.”
“Zane thinks of you as family. He’s said so a dozen times since you’ve come here.”
“I’m the little sis he never had.” Wasn’t that the term he’d used this afternoon with Dylan McKay?
Stop corrupting my little sis.
Zane’s loyalty to her family was very sweet. She didn’t take it lightly, but she also didn’t want him to think of her as a pity case. From the moment her shocked guests walked out of the church on her wedding day, weeks ago now, something harsh and cold seeped into her soul. Trust would be a long time coming, if ever again. So Zane didn’t have to worry over her. She wasn’t a woman looking for love. She wasn’t on the rebound. He could sleep well at night.
“So, what are you up to today?” she asked Mariah. She was learning the ins and outs of Zane’s superstardom. Mariah sifted through a dozen offers a day for special appearances, television interviews and charity events on Zane’s behalf. She’d learned that Zane was a generous contributor to children and military charities, but lately, he’d declined any personal appearances. Mariah worked with his fan club president on occasion and took care of any personal business, such as setting up medical appointments or shopping trips. It was a different world, one that her sister, Janie, had resigned herself to because she’d been with Zane from the launch of his career. They’d grown into this life together.
“More restaurant business to do today. We’ve got a decorator working on the interior design, but Zane’s not sure about the motif.” Mariah’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself.
Jessica walked over to the French door leading out to the deck. Zane was sprawled out on a lounge chair, shaded from the sun, his booted foot elevated, reading the script Dylan had brought over. Keen on the subject matter, he seemed deep in thought. As her gaze lingered, she watched him close the binder and stare out to sea, his expression incredibly wistful.
She followed the direction of his gaze and honed in on the vast view of the ocean. The sounds of the sea lulled her into a soothing state of mind. It was a place to find infinite peace, if there ever was such a thing. Her nerves no longer throbbed against her skin. These past few days, she’d been much calmer. Were time and distance all she’d needed to get over Steven Monahan? Geesh, Jessica felt at one with nature and started to believe. A chuckle rose from her throat at the notion. She was beginning to sound like a true Californian.
“Crap! Damn things.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Zane’s crutches fall to the ground. The slap echoed against the wood deck. Zane was off the chair, bending to pick them up and trying to keep weight off his bad foot. It looked like a yoga move gone bad. She moved quickly, her legs eating up the length of the deck to get to him.
“Zane, hang on.”
He stumbled and fell over, landing on his bad hand. “Ow!”
By the time she reached him, he was on his butt, cursing like the devil, shaking out his wrist. She kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
He tilted his head toward her. “You mean other than my pride?”
She smiled. “Yes, we’ll deal with that later. How’s the hand?”
“I managed to catch the fall on the tips of my fingers, so the wrist should be fine.”
He moved his fingers one by one as if he was playing keys on a piano. So much for keeping his hand immobilized. “Maybe your doctor would be a better judge of that.”
“Now you sound like Mariah.”
“I knew an old goat like you once,” she said, putting his right arm over her shoulder. “Let me help you up.”
“I knew the same goat,” he bounced back. “Smart critter.”
“Pleeeze. Okay, are you ready? On three.” She swung her arm around his waist. “One. Two. Three.”
His weight drew her toward him, the side of her face against his chest, her hair brushing his shirt. He smelled like soap and lime shaving lotion. His heart pounded in her ear as she strained to help lift him.
Zane did most of the work, his brawny strength a blessing. Together, they managed to stand steady, Zane keeping weight off his foot by using her as his right crutch. Once again, just like the other night, she was wrapped tight in his arms. Ridiculous warmth flowed through her body. She couldn’t explain it except she felt safe with him, which was silly because this time she’d done the rescuing. “There,” she said, satisfied she’d gotten him upright. “Now, we’re even.”
His arm over her shoulder, he turned to her with eyes flickering. “Is that so?”
Well, maybe not. She was getting drunk on him, minus the alcohol. “Yes, that’s so.”
“I could’ve gotten up on my own, you know.”
“It wouldn’t have been pretty.”
He laughed. “True.”
“So, I’m glad I was here to help. Show a little gratitude.”
He wasn’t a man who liked taking help. That was part of the problem. His gaze roamed over the deck where he’d spent most of his day, and she sensed his frustration.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asked.
“Sure. Where would you like to go?” Mariah said he didn’t like to go out, so she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by. If he needed some breathing room, away from his gorgeous house and his familiar surroundings, who was she to deny him?
“Anywhere. I don’t care. Are you up to driving my car?”
“I can manage that. I’m going to get your crutches now, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer.
She released him and he stood there, balancing himself for the two seconds it took her to pick up both of his crutches and hand them over. Tucking one under each arm, he pointed a crutch toward the door. “After you.”
Three (#ulink_a822e366-89ff-57cb-8e8f-a7431b2c1b74)
To her surprise, Zane picked his silver convertible sports car for her to drive over the black SUV sitting in his three-car garage. The other car, a little blue sedan, had to be Mariah’s car. Jessica helped him get into his seat, taking his crutches and setting them into the narrow backseat before closing his door.
As soon as she climbed behind the steering wheel, she understood why Zane didn’t venture out much. Sitting in the passenger seat, he was encumbered by his foot, broken in three places, which required him to be extremely careful. He also put on a disguise. Well, a Dodgers baseball cap instead of his signature Stetson and sunglasses wasn’t much of a disguise, but she knew where he was coming from. He couldn’t afford to be recognized and surrounded by fans or paparazzi. In his condition, he couldn’t make a fast getaway. “Why am I driving this car?”
“More fun for you.”
“You mean more scary, don’t you? How much is this car worth, just in case I wreck it, or—heaven forbid—put a scratch on it?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s insured.”
Stalling for time, she fidgeted with her glasses and took several deep breaths before she turned to Zane. He was still smiling at her. At the moment, she didn’t enjoy being his source of amusement.
“Here goes.” With the press of a button, the engine purred to life. Zane showed her how to adjust her seat and mirrors using the control buttons. Once set, she supposed she was as ready as she would ever be. She pumped the gas pedal and gripped the steering wheel. She’d never driven anything but a sedan, a boring four-door family car with no bells and whistles. This car had it all. A thrill shimmied up her legs...all that power under her control.
She backed the car out of the garage and made the turn into a long driveway that reached the front gate. Upon Zane’s voice command, the gate slid open, and she pulled forward and onto the highway. She drove along the shoreline, keeping her eyes trained on the road and her speed under thirty miles per hour.
His back was angled against the passenger door and his seat. She sensed him watching her. He’d opted to keep the top up on the convertible, for anonymity, she supposed. Even though he’d not had a hint of scandal to his name, every time Zane went out, he risked being photographed. Putting the top down on his car in the light of day would be like asking for trouble.
She didn’t dare shoot him a glance, keeping her focus on the road.
“What?” she asked finally. “Your grandmother drives faster than me?”
“I didn’t say a word.” His Texas drawl seeped into her bones. “But now that you mention it, I think my great-grandmother drove her horse and buggy a mite faster than you.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Maybe I’d drive faster if I knew where I was going.”
He sighed. “I’ve learned that sometimes, it’s better not to know where you’re going. Sometimes, planning isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Some roads are better not mapped out.”
After that cryptic statement, she did look his way and found him resting his head against the window. His sunglasses hid his eyes and his true expression. The mood in the car grew heavy, and she didn’t know how to answer him, so she buttoned her lips and continued to drive.
After five minutes of silence, Zane shifted in his seat. “Wanna see the site of the restaurant? The framework is up.”
“I’d love to.”
He directed her down a side road that wound around a cove. Then the beach opened up again to a street that faced the ocean. Unique shops and a few other small restaurants sparsely dotted the shoreline before she came upon the skeletal frame of a building.
“There it is. You can park along the side of the road here.” He gestured to a space, and she swung the car into the spot.
“This is a great location.”
“I think so, too. On a clear day, there’s visibility for miles going in either direction.”
The beach was wide where the restaurant would sit, far enough from the water to avoid high tides. A rock embankment jutted out to the left, where pelicans rested, scoping out their next meal. Above them and across the road, far up on the cliffs sat zillion-dollar homes overlooking the coastline.
“Do you want to get out?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Hold on,” she said, killing the engine and climbing out. She reached into the backseat and grabbed his crutches, then strolled to his side of the car. He was lifting himself out of his seat by the time she got there. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
She waited for him to get his bearings, and they moved through the sand until they reached the beach side of the restaurant. “So this is Zane’s on the Beach.”
“Yep. Gonna be.”
“I suppose it’s good that you’re branching out. You’ve become a regular entrepreneur.”
“Can’t sing forever.”
Why not? Willie Nelson, George Strait and Dolly Parton weren’t having career problems. And neither was Zane. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not eager to go back to doing what you love to do?”
It was a personal question. Maybe too personal, given that Zane didn’t react to it at all. He simply stared at the ocean, thinking.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Don’t apologize, Jess,” he rasped with a note of irritation. “You can ask me anything you want.”
Okay, she’d take him up on that. “So, then, why are you searching for something else when you’ve established yourself as a superstar and you have fans all over the world waiting for your return?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m tired of being in my own skin.”
It was the most honest answer he could’ve given her. Zane was hurting. Still. And he didn’t know how to deal with it. “I get that. After my disastrous breakup with Steven, I felt totally out of options. I didn’t know who to trust, what to believe. I couldn’t make a decision to save my life. That’s why when I had to get out of Dodge, I let my mother take over and make arrangements. After she did, I didn’t have the gumption to argue with her. No offense, but visiting you wasn’t even on my radar.”

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