Perfect for the Beach (24 page)

He softened. She could tell he didn’t want to, that he was trying hard to hold on to his righteous anger, but it just wasn’t in him.
Oh, jeez, I’m crazy about this guy, I really am.

“I can’t, Robin. It was your father’s. It’s all you’ve got left of him, I bet.”

She refused to close her fingers over it, and the ring dropped to the bedspread.

“Now you’re just being stubborn.”

“It runs in my family,” she agreed.

“Well. I suppose I could keep it. You know, hang on to it for you and Rich. For a while.”

“A long while.”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking. A long while. Because if it took you guys ten years to decide what to do with it, I should be prepared to hang on to it for at least that long, don’t you think?”

“Possibly longer,” she said seriously.

“Right. Uh. Do you know what this means?”

“Uh-huh. I stole you. And I’m keeping you.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s what I thought it meant,” he said, sounding supremely satisfied. He slipped the ring onto his third finger and pulled her down for a long kiss. She could feel the gold against her cheek as he cupped her face, cool at first, then quickly warmed by their skin.

When he broke the kiss they were both breathing hard, and she had trouble looking away from the gleam on his hand. “Explaining you to my family is going to be fun,” he said cheerfully.

That
got her attention. “Oh, God … you have parents?”

“And siblings. And aunts and uncles. All of whom are strictly law-abiding. Yep, no two ways about it, it’s going to be a hell of a Thanksgiving.”

She groaned and buried her face in the pillows while he laughed and laughed.

HOT AND BOTHERED

Kayla Perrin

Chapter One

She was back.

Trey Arnold spotted her out of the corner of one eye the moment she entered the bar. His hands froze on the bottles of liquor he held, causing at least an extra ounce each of vodka and Kahlua to spill into the ice-filled tumbler. The beautiful Cuban woman before him hadn’t asked for a double shot, but that was what she’d have now—courtesy of the woman who had just walked through the door.

In all the years Trey had been serving drinks at Castaways, he hadn’t once lost his rhythm. Until now.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. There had been one other time. The first time he had poured a drink for
her.

“Hey, sugar. You trying to get me drunk?”

The soft voice with the distinctive Spanish lilt drew his attention. Trey grinned absentmindedly at Adriana’s comment, then placed her drink on a napkin and slid it across the counter to her. “A double shot for the price of a regular. I’d say that’s a good deal.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So you
are
trying to get me drunk.”

“Just trying to keep you happy,” Trey countered. “That’ll be four dollars.”

But as he spoke, his eyes wandered. Wandered to Jenna.

She looked just the way he remembered her, from her luscious caramel skin to those full, pouty lips. Even her hair hadn’t changed. Her short black tresses looked like they had been finger-combed, creating an unkempt appearance that was entirely sexy.

“Here you go.”

With effort, Trey looked away from Jenna and met the Cuban beauty’s eyes. This was Adriana’s third time here in as many days. Her bashful smiles and lingering looks told him she was attracted to him. They had chatted briefly yesterday, which was how he knew her name. He also knew that she had been born and raised in Cuba, but was now living in Miami. She liked to get to Key West at least a few times a year, but this was the first time she had discovered Castaways.

If there was one thing Trey knew about tourists, they were a different breed altogether. At home, they might be model citizens. Kindergarten teachers, demure secretaries, cops. But on vacation, getting drunk and stupid was par for the course. They left their inhibitions at the door and looked for a good time wherever one was to be had.

He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Adriana wanted to have a good time with him. He’d also bet this bar that she had a husband back home, if the pale rim on her ring finger was any indication.

Adriana’s lips curled in seductive invitation as she slid a five across the bar, along with a slip of paper. With deliberate slowness, she got off the bar stool, then cast Trey a simmering look before walking away.

Trey glanced at the note.
I’m here till Friday, staying at the Best Western. Room 1202. Call me.

Trey crumpled the paper and dumped it in the nearby trash bin. He was flattered, sure, and had this been a few years ago, before he’d met Jenna, he would have been tempted to lose himself in a night of mindless sex with a gorgeous woman like Adriana. But he had come a long way since the lonely days after Irene had left him and he’d thrown himself into his work.

Besides, he was a married man now. The kind of married man who believed in the sacredness of his vows, no matter what Jenna might believe.

“I’ll have a draft,” a guy said, squeezing his way between two bar patrons. “Whatever’s light.”

“Sure thing.” Trey reached behind him for a draft glass, then whirled around in one fluid motion, trying to get back into his flow. But as his hand curled around the draft beer’s tap, his stomach clenched.

Where was Jenna?

He pulled the tap, his eyes searching the dimly lit, well-populated room. Only once the glass was full of beer did he spot her again. At the far right of the room, she was standing at a high, round table with a girlfriend.

Not just any friend, Trey realized. Ruby.

Ah, Ruby. He couldn’t help smiling. So Jenna had come with reinforcements.

Trey watched Jenna and Ruby settle onto bar stools at the table as he handed the man his change. Ruby swayed her body to the calypso beat. Jenna, on the other hand, looked like she was facing a firing squad.

That firing squad being him.

She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see him, but he had given her no choice. And if Jenna was the way he remembered, a fireball of passion, he knew she had to be pissed.

But he’d be damned if he was simply going to stand by and let her walk out of his life forever, so he had done what he’d had to do to get her back here.

Here, where it all began.

She may have traveled over fifteen hundred miles to get a divorce, but by the time he was through with her, he’d make sure she knew that she was still his wife—in every sense of the word.

Two years, three weeks, and four days after she had fled Key West, Jenna Maxwell was back. Back in the place where it had all begun, after a whirlwind courtship and spur of the moment marriage two and a half years ago.

This was the last place in the world she wanted to be. But, like someone about to go under the knife to remove a tumor, this was a necessary evil.

Still, she would have done almost anything to avoid this trip, avoid a reunion with her estranged husband, Trey—including give up chocolate for a year. But Trey had forced her hand, making her come here to deal with him in person before she could move on with her life.

“Earth to Jenna.” “Huh? Oh, we’re here.”

“We sure are.” Ruby, Jenna’s longtime best friend, reached across the front seat of their rented sports car and squeezed her hand. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m about to be disemboweled.”

Ruby threw her head back and laughed. “It’s not
that
bad. At least the weather’s great.”

That was the only plus about this trip. Jenna and Ruby had left behind four feet of snow and thirteen-degrees-before-the-windchill weather up north. Getting to sunny Florida at a time like this would top anyone’s To Do list. If only the occasion were a pleasant one.

“Are you getting cold feet?” Ruby asked.

“Of course not,” Jenna replied quickly. Too quickly. But the truth was, she was dreading seeing Trey.

The last time she had seen him was that awful January morning two years earlier. They’d had an explosive argument, said all kinds of hurtful things to each other, and Jenna had known that their marriage was over. Devastated, she had thrown her things into her car and left hastily—left without even thinking of signing any type of official separation document. It was that legal glitch that had her coming back here now, to get Trey’s signature on separation papers her lawyer had drawn up. Because although they’d physically been separated for two years, barring adultery or cruelty or some other “cause” for a divorce, the state of New York wouldn’t grant her one without an official separation of at least one year.

She hadn’t even considered the legal ramifications of simply up and leaving him, but at the time she had been utterly distraught over the death of her marriage, which had been incredibly short-lived. In her grief, she had simply wanted to run away, avoid the unbearable tension between them, while in her heart a smidgeon of hope still burned that she and Trey would work things out.

Trey knew her cell number, as well as her parents’ number back in Buffalo. And he had to have known she would head back to work at the WBLK radio station as a receptionist. But he had never called. The only thing he’d done was ship her bookshelf and novels back to her—as per her last parting instruction.

It was all water under the bridge. She had learned a valuable lesson, and was ready to move on with her life. This time, when Jenna left Key West, she would be officially one step closer to her freedom—freedom from a foolish mistake that was holding her back. It had been her New Year’s resolution, to get the ball rolling on her divorce before she turned thirty in May. God knew she was practically over the hill, and if she wanted to settle down and have a family, she had to do everything in her power to make that happen.

Thankfully, this would be the last time she had to see Trey. Once he signed the separation agreement, effectively letting her go, she doubted he’d be stubborn enough to get on a plane and head to Buffalo to sign the final divorce papers, rather than see a notary here. Then she could finally get on with her life, search for Mr. Right without the dark cloud of her failed marriage hanging over her head.

“Ready to head inside?”

Jenna slipped off her sunglasses and stuffed them in the
V
of her cotton shirt. The sun was already setting, so she hardly needed them, but she’d kept them on in an attempt to avoid seeing this place with clear eyes. “I may as well get this over with.”

Ruby closed the sunroof and got out of the car. Jenna followed her, her stomach fluttering as she did.

“If he’s not here, do you want to swing by the house?”

“Oh, he’ll be here,” Jenna said confidently. This bustling bar and eatery was Trey’s baby, his life. She knew he would be inside, doing his thing. He made an art form out of serving drinks.

She had appreciated his commitment to the bar in the beginning, until she’d realized that he preferred spending time here as opposed to spending time with her.

Ruby pulled open the heavy wood door, then stood back, allowing Jenna to enter first. Jenna hesitated. But after a moment, she took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold.