Theirs is a game of give-and-take...

Schoolteacher Issy Brandine has a plan to build a stable, secure future for herself. No settling for second-best. Anything more than a sultry Caribbean fling with hotshot hockey star Jean Baptiste Larocque isn’t part of the plan. A New Jersey Ice Cat with the ultimate hockey trophy in his sights won’t fit into her low-key lifestyle. Except a surprise pregnancy changes everything.

Issy knows her child deserves more than a part-time dad. With JB’s eyes on the championship that will redeem his career, compromise is out of the question. But love—and the baby between them—might prove that nothing is impossible.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

JB’s soft question startled her. Issy’s gaze shot up to meet his. There was nothing but mild curiosity in his dark eyes.

“You’ll be disappointed, trust me.”

“Let me make up my own mind on that.”

Damn it. She should have made something up. He wouldn’t give up until she told him.

“It’s hard to talk about. Personal stuff.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “We shared a lot of personal stuff in Antigua. Why is this any different?”

Her throat ached at his gentle tone and the understanding in his eyes. She had no choice. The time had come to tell him.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to the world of the New Jersey Ice Cats! It’s time for another dedicated and delicious hockey player to face off against a lovely but challenging woman who will turn his world upside down.

There are some characters who steal your heart the minute they appear in a series. Jean Baptiste “JB” Larocque captured mine when he skated onto the page as an arrogant rookie who caused trouble for Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti in A Perfect Distraction. From what many of you have told me, and the number of requests I’ve received for JB’s book, I’m pleased that he’s one of your favorite characters, too.

I hadn’t planned for JB to redeem himself or to have his own story, but he had other plans! Of course, he had to wait until he’d grown up enough to be ready for love. And for the right woman to appear in his life. For sure, he didn’t expect that woman to be mousy, uptight Isabelle Brandine.

As for Issy, if anyone needed a little detour from the neatly laid-out path she’d created for her life, she did. And who better to provide that unintended detour than JB? All of which goes to show that sometimes the unplanned journey can yield the greatest pleasure and the person you least suspect is the one who makes your heart sing.

I love to hear from readers. Please contact me at anna@annasugden.com or via my website (annasugden.com). You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter.

A Perfect Compromise

Anna Sugden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Former marketing executive ANNA SUGDEN loves reading romance novels and watching films with happy endings. She also loves watching hockey and football, where she prefers a happy ending for her teams. When she’s not researching hockey players (for her books, of course), she makes craft projects and collects penguins, autographs and memorabilia, and great shoes. Anna lives in Cambridge, England, with her husband and two bossy black cats. Learn more about Anna, her books and her shoes at annasugden.com.

Dedication

For Laura and Julia, with love.

For Keith, love always xxxxx

Acknowledgments

Wanda Ottewell—who helped me become a better writer and without whom there wouldn’t be an Ice Cats series.

Jill Marsal—the best agent!

My gals—Beth Andrews, Terri Garey, Kathleen Long, Janice Lynn and Tawny Weber. I couldn’t do this without you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE HORN BLARED. Game over. Players vaulted over the boards. Helmets, gloves and sticks flew into the air and rained down onto the ice.

As the arena erupted, Jean-Baptiste “J.B.” Larocque stood stock-still—his mind numb—unable to believe it.

The New Jersey Ice Cats had lost. Game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. In overtime.

So damn close.

They’d put everything on the line but they’d fallen short by one goal. One lousy goal.

He’d had the puck and the game...the Cup...on his stick.

Only, he’d missed. He’d freaking missed.

Worse, in the shocked seconds after, Denver’s defense had grabbed the puck, streaked up the ice and done what J.B. couldn’t. Just like that, it was all over.

Sudden-death overtime had never lived up to its name so perfectly before.

The aches and pains J.B. had blocked for the past two months came flooding back full-force, making him stagger. Leaning on his stick, he fought to stay upright. As terrible as he felt, he wouldn’t let the watching world see him crumble.

Around him, his dejected teammates leaned listlessly against the boards. His closest friends, Kenny Jelinek and Taylor “Mad Dog” Madden, sat slumped on the ice. Scotty Matthews looked ashen beneath his gray-streaked play-off beard. The captain had stayed on, hoping to win one more Cup. Instead of retiring on a high, he’d hang up his skates as second-best.

J.B.’s throat tightened. Last time the Cats had gone to the Finals, he’d been the conquering hero. That meant nothing now.

He had to get out of here.

A stick tapped his leg “Come on, bro.”

Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti nodded to where Scotty and the Cats’ veteran goaltender, Ike Jelinek, were skating slowly to center ice to form the traditional handshake line. The rest of the team followed to congratulate the victorious Avalanche players.

Damn, that was the last thing J.B. felt like doing. But he had to man up and show his opponents the respect they’d earned.

“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get the hell out of here.” Jake laid a hand on J.B.’s shoulder. “Unless you plan to stick around for the Cup presentation.”

“Yeah, like I’m a glutton for punishment.” Each stroke of his skate on the pitted ice jarred his joints.

“Your goal got us to overtime.”

“I should’ve finished the job.”

“Truth is we should’ve put the game away in the second period. Those missed chances came back to bite us in the ass in the third.”

J.B. took off his glove and shook the first hand. He continued down the line, alternating between “good job, man” and “good game.” When he got to Tru Jelinek, J.B. hugged him briefly, congratulating his friend and former teammate.

“Thanks. I’m just sorry it means you guys had to lose.” Empathy shone in Tru’s eyes.

J.B. hitched a shoulder. “Yeah.”

“I’ll catch you guys before you all fly home tomorrow.”

“For sure.”

Never had J.B. been so relieved to get off the ice. Though he felt like crap, he tapped the hands of fans hanging over the glass by the tunnel. But he couldn’t face the disappointment in their eyes, so he looked straight ahead.

The quiet in the locker room was unnerving. Guys stripped off their gear and showered without saying a word. Here and there, pockets of bright light shone as the media carried out their postgame interviews quietly. They understood how devastating this loss was to the players.

J.B. slumped onto the bench at his stall, knowing his turn would come. He took off his skates, then rested his arms on his thighs and stared at his hands, unable to stop replaying those last moments in his head. When the light shone on him, it was almost a welcome relief.

Until the dumb questions started. How did they freaking think he felt?

Fighting his growing irritation, he toed the party line. “It was a tough series. Both teams were evenly matched.” Blah, blah, blah.

“Take us through that last play. What happened?”

Seriously? J.B. glared at the polished TV presenter, barely resisting the urge to shove the idiot’s microphone where the sun didn’t shine.

The jackass stared back at him intently, as if he’d asked the one question that would reveal something earth-shattering the public didn’t know already.

“My. Shot. Went. Wide,” J.B. said through gritted teeth.

“Do you feel responsible...?”

“Enough!” J.B. surged to his feet and pushed the mikes and cameras out of his face. “We lost. It sucks. If you’d ever strapped on a freaking pair of skates and played, you’d know exactly how it freaking feels and what freaking went wrong.”

He stomped to the shower room, ripped off his gear and stood under the pounding water, eyes closed.

“You just blew your Mr. Charming image to hell,” Kenny said beside him.

“Maybe the rest of us will finally get airtime,” Mad Dog added from the other side.

J.B. opened his eyes and swore colorfully. “The jerk deserved it.”

“Definitely.” Mad Dog’s blue eyes were shadowed from the loss. Probably also from the niggling pain in his lower back that he’d been playing through for the past few games. “Dude always asks the dumbest questions.”

“That’s why he got tossed from the Rangers’ locker room last year.” Kenny winced as he worked his jaw. A bruise was forming where he’d been caught by a high stick in the dying seconds. “Man, this blows chunks. I thought for sure the ice tilted our way when you got the equalizer.”

“Yeah.” J.B. leaned his head back against the tiles and let the water stream over his face. He swallowed to ease the tightness in his throat.

The three friends finished their showers in silence, each lost in his own miserable thoughts. By the time they walked back into the locker room, the media vultures had departed to cover the Cup celebrations.

While the players dressed, their equipment was packed away and loaded onto a cart for the journey home. The next time they saw their gear would be in a couple of days, when they cleared out their lockers at the Cats’ arena. The final act of the season.

J.B. pulled on his suit jacket. First he had to get through tonight. Because they were playing in Denver, it was still only 9:00 p.m.

“Ten minutes before the bus leaves,” one of the trainers called out. “You miss it, you walk back to the hotel.”

The good-natured heckling he got was subdued.

Mad Dog hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder. “What’s the plan now?”

“Tru told me about this rock club downtown that’s supposed to be real sweet.” Kenny ran a comb through his wet hair. “Great food and hot babes. You with me?”

“Hell, yeah. What about you, Larocque?”

Part of him wanted to hole up in his hotel room with a bottle of Jack. The other part preferred to drown his sorrows in the company of a sexy woman rather than his long-time roommate, Rick “Ice Man” Kasanski.

“Count me in.”

A few hours later he wondered if he’d made a mistake. His head throbbed from the loud music, his stomach roiled from the fiery nachos and tequila shots, and his entire body felt like it had gone the distance with a heavyweight boxer.

Kenny and Mad Dog were busy with a couple of hockey groupies in town for the game. Hailey, the blonde J.B. had been chatting with, wanted to dance, but he knew if he stepped into that mass of sweaty, gyrating bodies, he’d either pass out or puke. Or both. Kasanski was looking better by the minute.

“Sorry, Hailey. Another time. I’m beat. I’m gonna cut out of here.”

“Stay a little longer. Please.” She trailed a finger down his chest.

“I can’t. I’m dead on my feet.” He smiled wearily. “But I’ll take a rain check. Next time I’m in Denver with a free night, I’ll look you up.”

J.B. turned to let his friends know he was bugging out.

That was his first mistake. His second was underestimating how unsteady his legs were.

Hailey tugged his arm. As J.B. pulled himself free, he felt his feet slide out from under him and went down hard, smacking the back of his head on the floor.

Unfortunately, as he fell, J.B. caught Hailey with his arm and knocked her backward.

All hell broke loose.

“Oh, my God. That jerk hit Hailey,” a woman yelled.

“You drunk ass,” shouted another.

J.B. tried to check if Hailey was all right but couldn’t see her through the gathering crowd. “I didn’t mean to hit her,” he tried to explain but no one was listening.

A male voice joined the rising wave of female outrage. “We’ll show you how we treat bullies in this town.”

“Bastard,” someone else swore.

J.B. felt the kick but didn’t see it coming. Curling his body to protect himself brought on a wave of nausea. He should get up, get out of there, but he was so woozy he could hardly move.

After that, everything was hazy. J.B. was vaguely aware of Kenny and Mad Dog pulling people off him, dragging him to his feet and out of the club, and shoving him into a cab. They managed to get him back to his room before the nachos and tequila made a violent reappearance in the bathroom.

At some point they must have put him to bed because, when he awoke the following morning, he was facedown on the bed, still fully clothed. His mouth tasted like he’d spent the night licking his hockey gloves.

“Coffee, ibuprofen, juice and dry toast,” Kenny said.

J.B. groaned and gingerly rolled over.

“Do you want the good news or the bad?” Mad Dog’s quiet words triggered memories of what had happened the night before.

J.B. swallowed the pills, then drained the juice before answering. “I’m in a crapload of trouble. History has pretty much repeated itself, only this time no one can bail me out.”

Back in his rookie season J.B. had got into a predicament in a nightclub that could have ended his career before it got going. Not only had his teammates rescued him, but Bad Boy had taken the blame in the media. It had been a rude wake-up call and J.B. had steered clear of situations that could go belly-up ever since.

Until last night.

“Yeah. And the story is all over social media,” Kenny added helpfully.

Damn it! “Coach Macarty will love that. Not.”

“He’s taking it better than expected, but he doesn’t want to see your face until this has died down.”

“How am I supposed to avoid him? We’re taking the same plane back to Jersey.”

Mad Dog looked uncomfortable. “He’s arranged for you to fly home separately so you can keep a low profile. I volunteered to go with you.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Coach is also delaying your end-of-season interview for a week,” Kenny said. “He reckons he’ll have cooled down by then.”

Not only did J.B. feel like crap he also had the indignity of having to sneak out of Denver like a crook on the lam. Plus, he’d blown his reputation to hell—once again. “And the good news is?”

“Instead of going home,” Mad Dog said. “I thought it’d be better to get out of the country altogether and hang out for a few days someplace where they don’t follow hockey.”

“Where’s that? The Sahara Desert?”

“Funny.” His friend slapped a piece of paper on the bedside cabinet. “Antigua. The Golden Sands Resort. All inclusive. Adults only. A two-bedroom, beachfront bungalow.”

J.B. frowned. “Isn’t that the place we’re heading to in a couple of weeks for our vacation?”

“Ding, ding! Give the man a prize. I got hold of Tracy at Making Your Move and asked her to pull our reservation forward to tomorrow. Not today, because I don’t want you spewing in my lap at thirty thousand feet. We fly at noon.”

“But I’m supposed to go to my parents’ place.”

“You can head to the farm after you’ve got back from the Caribbean.”

“We haven’t got the right clothes with us.”

“Jeez, chill. You can buy what you need when you get there.”

“Okay. Great.” Maybe he’d feel half-human by then.

Kenny shook his head. “A vacation on a tropical island. Even when you screw up, you land on your feet. Think of me. While you’re sipping frothy drinks with umbrellas, I’ll be working with hordes of kids at Ike’s summer hockey camp.”

“Them’s the breaks.” Mad Dog grinned.

Kenny flipped him the bird. “Just make sure Larocque stays out of trouble.”

“It was a freaking accident,” J.B. protested, massaging his aching temples.

“We know. But bad stuff always seems to happen to you, even if you don’t go looking for it.”

“I promise to be on my best behavior. I’m not interested in anything but chilling and deciding which ‘frothy drink’ to have next.”

Besides, how much trouble could anyone get into at a fancy Caribbean resort?

* * *

“I CAN’T WEAR THIS.” Isabelle Brandine held up the tiny but admittedly cute red polka-dot bikini she’d just pulled out of her suitcase. “It’s so...small.”

“It’ll look great on you.” Her best friend, Sapphire Houlihan, who was lounging on the other bed in their resort room, waved her hand. “It’ll show off your fabulous figure.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about it showing, Sapphie.” Issy dropped the bikini on the bed and continued unpacking.

“Tough, because your frumpy one-piece is in the trash back in New Jersey.”

Issy stopped for a moment. “You threw away my swimsuit?”

Sapphie sipped the Antiguan rum punch they’d been given at check-in. “You’ve had it since college. Consider it a gift for coming on the trip with me.”

Though she knew it wouldn’t change anything, Issy made a token protest. “You already paid for my ticket and this gorgeous beachfront room. Besides, this is meant to be your thirtieth celebration. You should be getting presents, not me.”

“This is for me.” Sapphie shot her a wicked grin. “No hot guys would come near us if they saw you in that ancient thing. Now we’ll be fighting them off.”

“I’m not interested in a holiday fling.”

“Why not? A few days of sun, sand, sea and no-strings sex, and you’ll feel like a new woman.” Her friend sighed happily. “I certainly will.”

“You know that’s not me.” That sounded as frumpy as her trashed swimsuit. “I can have fun without having sex with a stranger.”

“Of course you can.”

Having grown up together, in the same small town, on the same wrong side of the tracks—not that there was a right side—they had no secrets. They’d been friends almost since birth; their heavy-drinking, heavy-partying parents were cousins. The two girls were even conceived at the same Labor Day blowout, though their birthdays were ten days apart.

Issy and Sapphie had spent their childhood being the responsible ones, looking after their younger siblings and trying desperately to make ends meet when their parents wouldn’t or couldn’t. When the two girls had left their small Southern town together at eighteen, they’d promised each other they’d never be like their parents.

Issy was determined to build the traditional family life she’d always dreamed of. She had a steady job at an exclusive private school for girls, which meant she didn’t have to worry about where her next meal would come from or how to pay her bills. She’d managed to save enough that she’d celebrated her own thirtieth birthday by buying herself a small apartment in a nice suburban town. A solid roof over her head was worth all the extra hours she’d worked to achieve tenure.

Someday she hoped to find a good, honest, hardworking man. Together they’d raise their children in the kind of happy and stable environment she’d been denied growing up.

Sapphie, on the other hand, was committed to her work and the highly successful corporate consulting firm she’d built, and rejected permanency of any kind in her personal life. Home for her was a serviced apartment on each coast, as well as one in Chicago. She had a similarly casual approach to men.

“Sex isn’t required.” Sapphie shrugged. “I want you to enjoy yourself while we’re here.”

“Then I’ll take the sun, sand and sea, and leave the rest to you.”

Her friend made a face. “I got you the bikini’s matching sarong wrap.”

“Thank you.” Issy pulled a couple of short but equally unfamiliar sundresses out of her case. “Did you toss out all the outfits I packed?”

“Nope. The rest of your clothes are back at my apartment. Though you may not want them after this.” Sapphie finished her drink and swung her legs off the bed. “Are you going to waste the whole afternoon unpacking? I want to hit the beach and get this holiday started.”

To heck with it—the world probably wouldn’t come to an end if Issy didn’t get everything put away right now. “Give me five minutes to change.”

A short while later the two friends headed down to the beach. As they strolled along the path, Issy hitched the red polka-dot sarong firmly around her chest. Though the bikini wasn’t as revealing as she’d thought, and it did flatter her figure, she was glad for the cover.

It didn’t take long to slip into the laid-back, Antiguan tempo. The rhythmic tinkling of the resort’s steel band by the pool bar seeped into her blood and gave her hips a subtle swing. The warm sea breeze, fragrant with lush tropical flowers, caressed her skin. The water was so clear and blue it looked fake. If she hadn’t been here, her toes sinking into the soft white sand, she’d never have believed it was real.

They managed to find two beach loungers in the shade of some tall palm trees. Sapphie had put their cooler under the table, shimmied out of her flowery beach shorts and settled onto her chair before Issy had straightened her towel.

“Stop dithering, Issy.”

She inhaled deeply then undid the wrap and draped it over the back of the lounger. When no one fainted at the sight of her scantily-clad, too-curvy body, she applied sunscreen and lay on the towel. But she found it hard to relax.

“You’re as stiff as a board.” Sapphie sighed. “Don’t worry—the chances of anyone from Farlingdale Academy being on this beach are slim to none.”

“I’m not worried.” Though the school had a strict morality clause, she doubted it applied to a tiny swimsuit. “It feels odd to be doing nothing.”

“So read your book.” Sapphie whistled softly under her breath. “Don’t look now, but a couple of prime examples of manhood are walking this way.”

Issy glanced up and caught her breath.

“Dibs on the one on the right and please don’t let him be gay.”

Both men were tall with finely honed bodies. Walking barefoot through the lapping water at the sea’s edge, they wore mirrored shades, ball caps with a logo that featured a snow leopard’s head and long, brightly colored swim shorts. Sapphie’s choice was dark-haired and good-looking with a nice smile. Totally her friend’s type.

But it was the somber man walking beside him who caught Issy’s attention. So handsome, he was almost beautiful. His straight nose, high cheekbones and angular jaw were so perfectly formed they could have been carved by a sculptor, and his lips were full, without being feminine.

How would they feel pressed against hers?

Shocked by her thoughts, she lowered her gaze. But only as far as his shoulders and broad chest. Her fingers tingled with the urge to stroke the man’s caramel-brown skin to see if it was as smooth as it looked. To trail over the ridges of that amazing six-pack.

He was clearly an athlete. Hardly the kind of dependable, responsible man she wanted in her future.

Issy snapped up her book and forced herself to focus on the text. She hoped Sapphie would put her heightened color down to the tropical temperatures and not...him.

Still, she couldn’t resist sneaking another peek as he came closer. Grateful that her sunglasses hid the direction of her gaze, her heart kicked when his head turned toward her. A bead of perspiration trickled down between her breasts.

Oh, my! Issy couldn’t help licking her dry lips.

When he turned away, she was unreasonably piqued at his easy dismissal. Don’t be silly, she scolded herself. That man was so far out of her league, she’d need a space rocket to even get close.

Beside her, Sapphie smiled and wiggled her fingers at the men. Issy tried not to grind her teeth when the one on the right grinned and waved back.

“Doesn’t act like he’s gay,” Sapphie said. “Hopefully we’ll see them at the beach party this evening.”

Issy gave a noncommittal reply. She pretended to be engrossed in her story, not watching the toned butt and great legs of a man who was clearly not interested in her.

“You know, there’s something familiar about those two,” Sapphie mused. “I swear I’ve seen them somewhere before.”

“On TV?”

“I’m not sure. It’ll bug me until I know.”

Sapphie drove Issy crazy for the rest of the afternoon as she tried to figure out who the men were. It wasn’t until they were dressing for the beach party that Sapphie snapped her fingers. “Of course. The ball-cap logo. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection. It’s not like I’m not a huge fan.”

Issy cursed the slight tremble in her hand as she applied her lipstick. The man’s identity made no difference to her. “Who are they?”

“Ice Cats.” At Issy’s blank look Sapphie added, “Hockey players. From our very own Jersey team. They were just in the Stanley Cup Finals. Unfortunately they lost.”

“Oh.” Not only in a different stratosphere from a private-school English teacher, but her suspicions had been correct—an arrogant sports star.

Professional athletes with their irresponsible attitude to life and money reminded Issy of her family.

Back in college she’d struggled to maintain her grades as she’d worked two jobs. Meanwhile the jocks with their scholarships had partied and barely attended classes. Later, when she’d taught in a public school, she’d had to fight for every resource while money was frittered away on the athletics program.

“My guy’s Taylor Madden,” Sapphie said. “Yours is Jean-Baptiste Larocque.”

Even his name was beautiful. “I told you, I’m not interested.”

“Uh-huh.” Sapphie looked over Issy’s shoulder into the mirror. “And you weren’t checking out his amazing body earlier?”

Issy blotted her lips then turned away—to get her clutch, not to avoid her friend. “I can appreciate good looks without having to sleep with the guy.”

“Sure, but what a waste.”

“I’m capable of entertaining myself. Let me know when you want to disappear with Taylor and I’ll go back to the room.” She held up her key card. “Make sure you have your own key, so you can let yourself back in.”

“I won’t abandon you.” Sapphie frowned. “What kind of friend does that?”

“One who’s getting the birthday present she really wants.” Issy smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll be happy sitting on the balcony and reading. Things are heating up in my romantic thriller.”

“They’d heat up in real life, too, if you’d give them a chance,” Sapphie grumbled as they headed out the door.

“I’m content with the way things are.”

“Boringly predictable.”

“I’ve had enough excitement and unpredictability to last me a lifetime.”

“A little spontaneity won’t turn you into your parents or Rosa.”

“I know.”

Despite Issy’s best efforts, her younger sister had followed in the family tradition and partied heavily, then ended up pregnant. The father, one of the town’s football stars, had chosen a college scholarship over marriage, so Issy had taken care of both Rosabelle and her daughter, Tinkabelle, until she’d left home.

Once she’d graduated and had a job, Issy had offered to move them up near her, but Rosa had preferred to remain with their parents. She knew her sister hadn’t chosen sides, as much as the easier path, but it had still hurt. And reinforced how different she and Rosa were.

The physical Brandine genes had missed her completely—they were all tall and slim, auburn and green-eyed, while she was short, curvy and dark-haired with blue eyes—why not the other genes, too? “I promise to have fun while we’re here. All right?”

“Okay.” Sapphie linked arms with her. “So how’s your limbo dancing? I hear there’s a contest with big prizes at the party, including a gorgeous emerald necklace.”

“What am I letting myself in for?” Issy shook her head and laughed, then let her friend lead her down the beach.

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU OWE ME, man, and I’m collecting.”

J.B. responded by clapping Taylor on the shoulder as they walked toward the flaming torches stuck in the sand. “Want tips on how to chat up that hot blonde you were drooling over earlier?”

“Funny.” Mad Dog punched him in the arm. “Good thing you make your living handling a puck, not doing stand-up.”

J.B.’s grin faded. “Yeah, well my puck skills aren’t so hot, either. We wouldn’t be here now if they were. We’d be riding around town in an open-topped, double-decker bus, showing off Stanley.”

“We agreed you wouldn’t beat yourself up over that while we’re on vacation.”

“Sure.”

Plenty of time for reflection and self-recrimination once he was alone. He owed Mad Dog, and repayment meant ensuring his friend had a great trip. Especially given Taylor was just as cut up about the loss, even if he tried not to show it.

He cracked his knuckles. “What do you need from the master?”

“Use your charm on the hot blonde’s mousy friend. Keep her occupied so she won’t mind when her roommate disappears with me.”

Ordinarily, J.B. wouldn’t have minded the request. Women were the perfect antitdote to a life filled with way too much testosterone. And the brunette in the red bikini wasn’t exactly mousy, though her dark hair had been scraped back into a severe braid. She was pretty in a girl-next-door way and her curves were definitely in all the right places.

What had given him pause was the stiff way she’d held herself, her full lips pinched, while supposedly relaxing. “She seemed a little uptight.”

He’d learned the hard way to steer clear of uptight women. They were impossible to please. They took things way too seriously and saw hidden meanings in innocent words or actions, which led to unfortunate misunderstandings. Like the woman in the Atlanta nightclub who’d nearly derailed his NHL career. Frustrated he wouldn’t take advantage of her blatant offers—J.B. didn’t mess with married women—she’d turned the tables and accused him of coming on to her. It was only thanks to Taylor, Jake and his other teammates that J.B. had come through the crazy situation relatively unscathed.

Still he’d chalked that up to experience. It had taken a female stalker, then a woman who’d lied about him fathering her child, for J.B. to decide uptight women were trouble.

Taylor winced, understanding in his gray eyes. “Maybe she was jealous that I waved at her friend. Women fight over me all the time.”

J.B. snorted with laughter. “In your dreams, bro.”

“Who got the highest bid in the Ice Cats’ charity bachelor auction?”

“Yeah, yeah. Shame the winning bidder was your mother’s age.”

“Gilda was a sexy, mature lady with a great body, a lot of experience and an insatiable appetite.”

“Glad to hear she got her money’s worth.”

Mad Dog swore. “Will you help me out or not? We’re only here for a few days and you’ll never see her again.”

J.B. hesitated as they reached the torches. The women were standing by one of the tables closest to the shoreline. Taylor’s blonde looked stunning in an ice-blue sheath that dipped low and clung to her body before ending mid-thigh. But it was her friend that fired J.B.’s blood. She wore a strappy knee-length red dress. Her dark hair was loose, the slight curl at the ends dancing over her bare shoulders as she laughed.

“She’s not looking mousy or uptight now,” Mad Dog said. “Pay your dues, man.”

J.B.’s reluctance vanished. He strode forward. “You got it.”

When they reached the table Mad Dog asked, “May we join you, ladies?”

“Sure,” the blonde replied enthusiastically.

J.B. noticed her friend didn’t say anything but smiled. He figured she was the shy type.

“I’m J.B. and this is Taylor.” He offered his hand to the brunette, who hesitated before taking it.

The blonde shook hands with Taylor. “I’m an Ice Cats fan. Season ticket holder, though work keeps me from getting to as many games as I’d like. I’m Sapphire, Sapphie for short, and this is...”

“Bella,” the brunette said firmly.

“Good to meet you, Bella.”

Mad Dog clapped a hand to his chest dramatically. “A beautiful woman who likes hockey, I’m in heaven!”

J.B. shook his head and looked at Bella, who rolled her blue eyes. The moment of shared humour was surprising and encouraging.

“You look like you’re in need of frothy drinks with umbrellas,” Taylor said.

Sapphie wrinkled her nose. “They’re too sweet for me. But I wouldn’t say no to a champagne refill.”

Bella held up her glass. “Ginger ale would be lovely. Thank you.”

“Your wish is my command,” Taylor said.

“I’ll come with you and help carry the glasses.” Sapphie stuck her hand through his arm. “I’ll try not to go all fangirl on you.”

“I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

The pair walked off toward the bar, laughing.

“There’s nothing fragile about your friend’s ego,” Bella said drily.

“He’s all talk. Under that boyish charm is a good guy.”

“Sapphie can handle herself. And him, too.”

Those uptight vibes were back. Perhaps Mad Dog was right about the jealousy thing.

J.B. stifled a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

Bella turned to him. “While they’re gone, I wanted to say that we know how the evening will end for them and you mustn’t feel obliged to stick with me.”

Her earnest comment caught him off guard. “We’ve just met and you’re already preparing to ditch me?”

She bit her full lower lip. “I’m sure you have things you’d rather do than entertain the spare-part best friend and I won’t be upset if you do them.”

He should be relieved; she’d given him the perfect out. Yet, inexplicably, he was slightly irritated that she was so keen to be rid of him. He smiled. “Let’s see how things play out. The night’s still young and there’s plenty of party left.”

“All right.” This time she gave him the puzzled look.

Good. He liked that he could throw her a little off balance. “How about we scout out the buffet table while we wait for our friends to return?”

“We might lose our places.”

He leaned past her, flipped out four napkins and turned over four water glasses. “Now it’s obvious someone’s sitting here.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Mad Dog and Sapphie, who were engrossed in each other, at the bar. “You’re right. It looks like it might be a while before we get our drinks.”

He cocked an elbow in invitation and she put her arm through his. His senses immediately snapped to attention at the touch of her soft skin. As they walked to the heavily laden buffet table, her fragrance—delicate, floral, but with an unexpected hint of spice—teased his nose. The contradiction intrigued him.

Hell, Bella was full of contradictions and they all intrigued him. She was as prickly as a porcupine, yet when she let her guard down, there were hints of a dry sense of humor. At times she seemed both innocent and uncertain; at others forthright and honest. Definitely able to give as good as she got, she stood up for herself but had an air of vulnerability that made him feel strangely protective.

As they filled their plates, she ribbed him that he was stockpiling enough food to feed a small army. He couldn’t help noticing that she carefully arranged her food so none of the portions touched. When he teased her about only taking one spoonful of the dishes she wanted, she replied coolly that it was polite to leave some for others to enjoy. Yet she gave him a conspiratorial grin when she sneaked an extra helping of potato salad.

Back at the table J.B. was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t pick at her food like a lot of the women he dated. But she was as prim and proper as if the Queen of England were seated beside her.

He mischievously speared a coconut-battered shrimp from her plate.

“Hey!” She jabbed him with her elbow. “You’ve got two mountainous plates. Leave mine alone.”

“But I didn’t get one of these.” He bit the end. “Mmm. Delicious.”

Bella surveyed his dinner. “Well, I didn’t get one of these chocolate-dipped maraschino cherries, so turnabout is fair play.”

J.B. plucked a cherry from his plate and held it to her lips.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his, indecision swirling in the blue depths. Then the tiniest spark of heat flickered. Her lips curved into a sultry half smile as, without releasing his gaze, she bit slowly, delicately, into the cherry.

Fire shot through him, tightening his groin. What the hell?

“Mmm. Delicious,” she said huskily.

J.B. popped the rest of the cherry into his mouth. “Not bad.”

“Looks like you guys started without us.” Sapphie laughed as she and Taylor appeared behind them, holding glasses.

Bella blinked. “We were wondering when you’d be back with our drinks.”

The edge was back in her voice, dousing the heat in J.B. as effectively as if she’d tipped her icy drink in his lap. He studied her, considering. He’d seen several sides to Bella this evening and he wasn’t sure which was the real one.

Would it be foolhardy to take the risk of finding out?

* * *

“IT’S TIME TO lower the bar!”

As the DJ played “Get Down On It” and the crowd chanted and clapped, Issy wondered how she got into these situations. She stood on the sandy dance floor, beside the other three finalists of the limbo competition.

Unlike her fellow contestants, who were lapping up the spotlight, she felt awkward. Other than when she was with her class, Issy preferred to be in the background. So why was she out here, center stage?

Because of Sapphie.

Ever since her childhood friend had teased, cajoled, pushed and dared Issy beyond her comfort zone. Although Issy was older by ten days, Sapphie had been the first to walk, talk and get into trouble. She’d also been the first to learn how to work the washer at the Laundromat. And how to sneak money from her mother’s purse so she could buy groceries.

Sapphie had also been the one to encourage Issy to follow her dreams. She’d bluntly pointed out that if Issy didn’t leave the town and her family behind, she’d spend the rest of her life taking care of them instead of having a family of her own.

Plain and simple, Issy wouldn’t be where she was today, so close to achieving everything she’d always wanted, without Sapphie.

So, although Issy didn’t want the emerald necklace, her friend clearly did, and Issy would try her damnedest to get it for her. Which meant winning the limbo contest Sapphie and the two hockey players had already crashed out of.

“As this is the final, we’re taking the bar down two notches,” the emcee announced.

“How low can you go?” the crowd chanted.

Part of her wanted to fail so she could return to the relative anonymity of the sidelines. But another part refused to surrender without trying. She hated to just give up.

“First up is the lovely Bella. Step forward and lim-bo.”

Issy walked over to the bar, which looked ridiculously low, and waited for the musical cue. The audience whooped and hollered.

“Go, Bella!” Sapphie’s voice mingled with Taylor’s deeper tones.

“You can do it,” J.B. encouraged. “Take your time and relax.”

How was she supposed to relax with him standing in front of her, his dark eyes watching every sway and shimmy? Making her feel sexy and a little naughty? Making her imagine a different, more private, dance with him?

Hot, hot, hot, blared the speakers.

Issy dropped her shoulders, arched her back and bent her knees. Slowly she inched forward.

When her chest brushed the wooden pole, she thought she’d blown it. Although the bar rattled on the stand, it stayed up. Even so, she didn’t move again until she was sure. Then she held her breath as she carefully made it through.

Giddy with success, she straightened to boisterous cheers. Sapphie ran over, squealed and hugged her tight, then pulled Issy off to the side. J.B. lifted her in the air and spun her around.

As he stopped and began to lower her slowly, their gazes met. Suddenly she was intensely aware of the hardness of his body as hers slid down the length of him. Of the crisp scent of his aftershave mingled with the heady fragrance of clean male skin. His arms around her seared her through the thin cotton of her dress.

Plastered against him—breast to chest, thigh to thigh—she felt every plane and dip of his taut muscles. Her cheeks flamed as his arousal pressed against the cradle at the top of her legs.

She should move...break his hold...step back...something.

The message in his dark eyes—he didn’t want to let her go—thrilled her.

She was venturing into dangerous, uncharted waters. For the first time in her life Issy wanted to dive straight in.

Excitement warred with her reason. As wonderful as that would probably—definitely—be, it would also be a mistake. There were bound to be consequences.

J.B. was like no one she’d ever met before. Her reaction to him was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

And, he clearly wanted her, too.

Loud groans from the gathered crowd and the clatter of the limbo bar interrupted her thoughts, breaking the moment.

J.B. eased her away from him but anchored her to his side with his arm around her shoulder. His reluctance to let her go thrilled her. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt. Besides, Sapphie and Taylor couldn’t keep their hands off each other; they’d disappear once the contest was over. Then J.B. wouldn’t have a reason to hang out with her anymore.

That was for the best. Really. In the meantime she’d enjoy the pleasure of the moment and the undivided attention of a gorgeous man.

More groans signaled the third contestant had failed. One more to go. If the last man succeeded, it would delay the end of the contest and extend her time with J.B. On the other hand, she’d have to step back out into the spotlight and do more limbo. A devil’s choice.

Raucous cheers told her which path had been chosen for her.

“Down, down,” the crowd chanted as the DJ made a show of lowering the bar another notch.

“You can take that guy. No problem,” J.B. murmured in her ear.

The feather touch of his breath against the sensitive skin of her neck made her shiver deliciously.

As she gently disengaged herself, he pulled her back, then tilted her face up to his. “A kiss for luck.”

Her knees went weak. Who knew that could really happen?

Good grief—it was the slightest brush of his firm, warm lips against hers. What would happen if he kissed her properly?

Issy managed what she hoped was a casual smile before heading over to stand beside the remaining contender.

“Bella and Kent, are you ready for ‘winner takes all’?” the DJ roared.

Hell, no.

“Ladies first,” Kent said with an exaggerated bow and a cocky grin.

“Age before beauty,” she retorted to the delight of the crowd.

Where had that come from? She never made that kind of snappy comeback.

Clearly it had shocked Kent, too, because his gaze narrowed, assessing. He waved his arms to pump up the audience then strutted over to the limbo bar. The music started. With a flourish, Kent bent his knees and leaned back.

He almost made it. But his arrogance did him in at the last second. He raised his head to gloat before he was fully clear of the bar and knocked it to the ground. He acknowledged her victory with a rueful smile and another bow.

J.B.’s laughter made her grin. But she blushed when she read the dark, delicious and definitely dangerous promise in his eyes. Now she had to win.

It didn’t help that Sapphie was in her line of sight, standing with Taylor behind her, his arms around her waist. Envy twinged.

“Go, Bella!” the crowd chanted.

Issy swallowed her nerves and positioned herself behind the bar.

Hot, hot, hot. Clearly her theme song tonight.

Whether it was the incentive or practice, this time she cleared the bar without trouble.

The crowd went wild, congratulating her and patting her on the back. Even Kent gave her a grudging “well done.” Sapphie couldn’t stop jumping up and down and hugging her.

Issy’s heart thudded heavily as she waited for J.B. to make his way through the mass of people. What would he do?

She didn’t get a chance to find out as the emcee called her over. Swallowing her disappointment, she joined the DJ on the stone promenade and accepted the necklace gratefully, thanking him and the resort.

Back on the sand she presented it to Sapphie. “Happy birthday.”

“You’re kidding?” Her friend’s eyes welled with tears. “You’ve earned this.”

“So have you, my dearest friend.” Issy hugged her, then helped her put it on.

Taylor and J.B. dutifully admired the necklace, as around them the party kicked up another gear. The DJ raised the volume of the music and people started dancing.

J.B. gave her a one-armed hug. “Great job. You made it look easy.”

Not exactly the celebration she’d been anticipating. What had happened to the promise she’d seen in his eyes? “Thanks. It was fun.”

Behind her she heard Taylor say softly to Sapphie, “I can’t wait to see you model this Marilyn-Monroe-style, only without the radio.”

“I don’t get it,” Sapphie replied then laughed huskily. “But let’s find somewhere private, so I can channel my inner Marilyn.” She raised her voice. “Issy, I’ll see you later. Okay?”

Suddenly, being alone and reading didn’t appeal quite so much.

Damn it. Why couldn’t she be as casual about a holiday fling as Sapphie?

Issy smiled brightly at her friend. “Have fun.”

As the pair walked arm-in-arm down the beach, Issy turned back to J.B., who was watching her, his expression thoughtful. Issy wished she had more experience with men so she’d know how to read him. And know what to do next.

She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Let’s get some champagne.”

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

She wasn’t a teetotaler, but her family’s weakness had made her cautious. “I only drink on special occasions and I think this qualifies, don’t you?”

“Okay. Let’s get you some bubbly.”

His ready acceptance lifted her spirits. They soared when he rested his hand in the small of her back as they walked to the bar.

Once he ordered their drinks he said, “Giving Sapphie the necklace was nice.”

“She liked it more than I did.” Issy shrugged.

“Still, that’s a generous gift.”

“An expensive necklace is nothing compared to what she’s done for me.”

“Sounds like a fascinating story.” He handed her a champagne flute.

Issy didn’t want to spoil the evening by talking about her past. She wanted to enjoy the moment. And, if she could pluck up the nerve, live a little dangerously.

She sipped her drink. The bubbles went straight into her blood, giving her the courage she wanted. “Another time, maybe. Right now, I want to dance.”

“Then let’s dance.” He linked fingers with her as they walked through the palm trees toward the makeshift dance floor.

When they put their glasses on their table, J.B. said, “I hope I don’t embarrass you. My moves won’t match up to yours.”

Issy laughed. “I’m afraid you’ve already seen the best of my moves.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Sapphie and I used to limbo when we were kids. Except it was usually under a barbed-wire fence and the prize was apples from the farmer’s orchard.”

He grinned. “I bet Kent wouldn’t be happy to hear he was beaten by a ringer.”

She leaned forward and pressed her finger against his lips. “Shh. It’s a secret.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He kissed her finger.

Just as before, her knees went weak.

Maybe it was those bubbles, but Issy’d had enough of being teased. Of fleeting little kisses that left her wanting more. Much more. Time for payback.

She traced his mouth with the tip of her finger, lingering over his full lower lip.

The fire she’d seen earlier in the depths of his dark eyes sprang back to life. He caught her finger between his teeth and licked the tip.

Need pulsed through her. Before she could second-guess herself, Issy stood on tiptoe and replaced her finger with her lips.

CHAPTER THREE

J.B. WAS IN trouble again.

That internal warning—the feeling in his gut when he was about to be blown out by an opposition D-man—was flashing. Still, he refused to back out of this woman’s kiss.

He’d only known Bella for a couple hours and she’d already managed to keep him off balance with those damn frustrating, damn intriguing contradictions. She definitely had an uptight streak, but instead of putting him off, it enticed him to dig deeper. To see if he could loosen her up.

Even her kiss was a contradiction. He sensed her inexperience, yet the way her tongue teased his lower lip was anything but innocent. She tasted of champagne and chocolate-dipped cherries with a hint of Caribbean spice. Sweet yet intoxicating. Slightly wicked.

J.B. took her up on the invitation she so blatantly offered and deepened the kiss. When his tongue touched hers, she sighed softly. He could feel her smiling. That made him smile, too.

A bump against his shoulder brought him back to reality.

“Oops. Sorry. Carry on.” A tipsy blonde waved a hand with hot-pink nails.

Bella stiffened in his arms and blushed as if suddenly realizing what they were doing.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere a little more private,” he suggested.

“Oh.” She bit her lip.

Sensing she might bolt, J.B. gave her an easy out. “Or we could dance, like we planned.”

Bella brightened and reached for her champagne. “Dancing sounds good.”

J.B. grabbed his drink, drained the glass, then took hers and put both flutes on the table. “Sounds like they’re playing our song.”

She tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. “‘Thriller’ is our song?”

“For sure.” He lifted his hands, fingers curled into claws, and waggled his eyebrows like an old movie villain.

Bella fluttered her hand against her chest. “Hey-yelp. I’m so scay-urred.”

Her damsel-in-distress voice made him grin. “Come with me, my pretty, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

As the DJ called out instructions, J.B. and Bella joined in and laughed their way through the zombie steps.

After “Thriller” came the “Macarena.” J.B. rolled his eyes and tried to head back to the table. But when Bella started dancing in front of him—suggestively swaying those hips, invitation in her eyes—once again, he couldn’t resist.

“How come you know all the right moves?” he teased.

“One of the benefits of teaching preteen girls who like to work on dance routines during recess,” she replied primly.

“Is it appropriate for me to be grateful to those girls?”

“Why not?” She grinned. “I am.”

When the DJ played the next song, a group of older people whooped, then sat on the sand in a long chain. They started swaying from side to side, patting the sand in time to the music. Then they shimmied their shoulders forward and back. Soon a second line had formed.

“You can all do this one,” the DJ called out. “It’s a bit of ‘Oops Upside Your Head.’”

J.B. and Bella looked at each other, confused by the strange dance.

“Come on, it looks like fun.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him over to join the end of a line. She dropped to the sand, pulling him down with her. “Scootch up behind me.”

Maybe this weird dance wasn’t so bad, after all, he thought as she nestled between his legs. They knocked heads when he leaned forward while the rest of the line leaned back. She looked over her shoulder at him and they laughed together.

It didn’t take long to realize that as pleasurable as it was to have the curve of Bella’s butt pressed against him, his body saw it as foreplay. The song was barely half-over and he was rock hard. There was no way Bella couldn’t have noticed; when she shimmied backward she was practically lying in his lap.

Think cold. Ice. A big sheet of clean ice.

Another freaking shimmy. Think colder. Freezing his ass off doing chores on a winter morning on his parent’s farm up in Canada.

That did the trick. His brothers might love being tied to the farm and that spit of a small town, but the mere thought chilled J.B. to the bone.

Bella jumped up the moment the song ended and headed back to their table. Her champagne had gone warm and flat, but J.B. snagged rum punches from a passing waiter.

“That’s delicious,” she said. “Very refreshing.”

“Yeah, but don’t have too many or you’ll be dancing on the tables. The rum packs a punch, if you’re not used to it.”

Bella put down the glass with such force that the drink splashed onto her hand. She rubbed it off with a napkin as if it was acid, an accusation in her eyes.

Surely she didn’t think he was trying to get her drunk?

“I don’t think one glass will do you any harm,” he said lightly.

Uptight Bella was back. “I should probably go back to the room, anyway. It’s getting late.”

J.B. debated trying to convince her that it was still early, but figured he’d cut his losses. “I’ll walk you.”

“There’s no need. It’s safe here.”

“I know.”

A hint of a smile curved her lips. “Honestly, you don’t have to hang out with me any longer. Your duty’s done.”

“Maybe I’d like to.” He took off his loafers. “Let’s walk along the beach.”

Bella nodded. Instead of reaching for his hand as she had earlier, she removed her sandals and held them by the heel straps. She started off at a decent clip, heading toward the accommodation block on the far side of the property. But, even barefoot, it was hard to walk fast along the soft, shifting sand, so she soon slowed. Beside her, J.B. matched her pace.

Though lamps cast a golden glow along the promenade, down by the water’s edge their way was lit by the large, almost-full moon. The clear sky was filled with a mass of stars, the constellations showing up in brilliant relief.

The sounds of the party faded as they strolled farther along the beach. The silence between them wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. J.B. wondered what he’d done to piss her off. Only one way to find out.

“Whatever I said to upset you, I apologize. It wasn’t intentional. For sure, I don’t want to ruin a great evening.”

She didn’t say anything for several moments before she sighed. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m a little sensitive about people getting drunk.”

He tried not to wince. “A bad experience?”

“You could say.” Her short laugh had a raw edge to it. “My family has an unfortunate tendency to drink too much. As a result, I only have alcohol on rare occasions and then nothing strong.”

J.B. sensed a wealth of pain behind that bald explanation. “Your parents are alcoholics?”

“My whole family drinks heavily. Though, to be fair, so does a lot of the community in the small town I come from in North Carolina,” she clarified. “There aren’t many jobs and even they pay poorly. But alcohol is cheap and helps everyone make it from week to week.”

That explained a lot.

J.B.’s parents had never disappeared into a bottle, but plenty of their neighbors had. Then again, his parents had two sons who’d devoted their lives to keeping the farm afloat.

He pushed aside the familiar guilt twisting his gut because he’d hated that life and got out as soon as he could. It didn’t matter that his earnings now enabled his family to have a financial cushion. He’d always be the black sheep.

J.B. cleared his suddenly tight throat. “The farming community where I grew up has similar problems. A bad crop or a problem with the animals and life gets real tough.”

Bella stopped and looked at him in surprise.

He hitched a shoulder. “You thought I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth? Everyone was responsible for doing their part on the farm. And as a player, I’ve worked damn hard to earn every penny I have.”

She gave him a chagrined smile. “I never really thought about where you came from or how you got to be where you are.”

He tapped her chin with his finger. “See, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Really? And you don’t live up to the image you present?”

This time, he did grimace. “Busted. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes because I drank too much. But that doesn’t change the fact that I understand how difficult it is growing up with poverty on your doorstep.”

“In our house, poverty was in the front room, making itself comfortable on the couch.” Bella shook her head. “I’m sorry. This is hardly the topic for a Caribbean evening.”

Even though he was curious to learn more about Bella, he backed off. “No problem. Now I know not to give you alcohol unless you specifically ask for it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You make me sound like a killjoy.”

“Nah. You forget, my job requires me to be in prime physical condition. I have more than my share of drink-free nights during the season. Especially now that I’m older. My body takes longer to recover at twenty-five than it used to.”

“Twenty-five?” she squeaked, her eyes widening.

“How old did you think I was?”

“I don’t know. My age, I guess. But I’m thirty.”

“Cool. I like older women. And you make a pretty hot cougar.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly cougar material.”

J.B. let his gaze wander slowly, deliberately, down her body. Over those curves, down the length of those gorgeous legs to her dainty feet and back up again. Then he stepped closer. And closer. Until he stood toe-to-toe with her.

Bella held her ground, though he sensed that one wrong move would have her scampering like a scared rabbit. She tilted her head up until their eyes met, then ran her tongue over her lower lip.

He leaned down, just a little, and mimicked her action with his tongue. Once. Twice.

Her eyelids fluttered closed. She dropped her sandals in the sand.

His loafers joined them. Then he took her mouth completely.

He didn’t know how long they stood there locked in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s kisses, but the swirl of cool water around their ankles startled them. They jumped apart, laughing. Realizing the tide had caught their shoes, they retrieved them and headed up to the promenade, holding hands.

It didn’t take long to reach the building where Bella’s room was located. They continued up the stairs to the second floor.

Outside her door, she turned to him. “Would you like to come in for a nightcap?”

Her tentative question was yet another contradiction—her tone was an invitation, but he could read indecision in her eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. Hell, his aroused body was screaming at him to take advantage of what she was offering. If her kisses were this mind-blowing, there was no question the rest would be amazing. Yet she didn’t seem the type who’d be happy with a holiday fling, and he didn’t want anything more. Which meant the whole thing could blow up in his face big-time.

The memory of the crazy redhead who’d stalked him for a year almost made him shudder. He’d naively thought they were on the same page about the one-night stand.

“I’d love to.” The regret in his voice was genuine. “But I don’t think you’re ready to go there tonight.”

He was pleased that her disappointment mirrored his own.

“We both know if I cross that threshold, we won’t be sipping drinks on the balcony.” Gently stroking a wisp of hair from her cheek, he teased, “At least not until breakfast.”

“There was me thinking I’d get it brought to me in bed.”

J.B. laughed softly. Once again she’d surprised him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He ran a fingertip across her bottom lip, leaned down and gave her one quick, hard kiss, then pulled back with a heavy sigh. “Now go inside before I change my mind.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and turned to open her door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure. How about breakfast at the beachside restaurant?”

“I’d like that.” She fluttered her fingers at him. “Good night. Sleep well.”

J.B. waited until the door closed behind her and then walked away. As he headed back along the beach to the bungalow, he noticed that the resort was quieter now. He passed several couples, arms wrapped around each other as they made their way to their rooms, and envied them.

He’d been right to leave Bella tonight, no question. But he couldn’t help feeling that doing the right thing sucked.

* * *

THE SNICK OF a key card in the door woke Issy, pulling her out of a very steamy dream starring J. B. Larocque.

She kept her eyes closed for several seconds, trying to hang on to the amazing feelings coursing through her, moaning softly with frustration as they faded. That J.B. featured in her dream was hardly surprising. Although she’d spent the past couple of days on the beach with Sapphie, the evenings had been spent alone with J.B. after her friend and Taylor had disappeared. Both nights had ended with hot, thrilling kisses that even now aroused her.

The lock clicked again, followed by muttered curses. She should get up to help but she wanted desperately to go back to sleep and rekindle the dream that had become...interesting.

Sapphie finally managed to work the key card and crept in, holding her sandals.

“I wasn’t expecting you back until morning.” Issy sat up, leaning on one elbow.

“It is morning.” Sapphie pointed her shoes at the floor-to-ceiling windows where the sun was peaking over the horizon. “And a beautiful one, too.”

“True, but it’s still early. Yesterday and the day before, you got back in time for us to make the last call for breakfast in the restaurant. Is everything okay?”

Her friend flopped onto the bed and yawned. “It’s great, but I must be aging. I need some sleep.” She grinned. “Give hockey players their due—they are the fittest athletes. They have amazing stamina.”

Issy fought the color that rose in her cheeks. She really didn’t need further fuel for her fantasies. She’d seen enough of J.B.’s body to know that he was in prime physical condition. Her palms tingled at the memory of running her hands over the firm muscles in his arms and back. Her nipples tightened, as if they were still pressed to the solid wall of his chest.

“That’s TMI.” Issy hoped her friend would put the husky note in her voice down to her having just woken up.

Sapphie laughed. “That’s exactly the kind of information you need. If you’re going to break your sexual drought, you should do it with the best. J. B. Larocque is perfect. Far better than that other idiot you slept with.”

The problem with best friends was that they knew all your secrets. Like the fact that Issy had only had sex once before, in college, and it had been an unmitigated disaster.

She’d fancied herself in love with the skinny, studious guy who’d sat in front of her in English. He’d been the complete opposite of the hulky, square-jawed jocks who attended reluctantly to fulfill their scholarship criteria. She’d been thrilled when he’d started paying attention to her.

Until the night the jerk had spiked her drink.

Her only consolation was that he’d barely got inside her before he’d come.

Luckily, there hadn’t been an unwanted pregnancy. Still, the whole miserable experience had soured her on men. She’d buried herself in her courses and focused on getting top grades.

“I haven’t made up my mind whether I’m going to—” Issy twirled her finger in the air “—you know.”

Scorching-hot kisses were one thing. Going further was something else altogether. And not just because J.B. had probably slept with hundreds of gorgeous, confident women who were probably wonderful in bed.

“I figured you were dithering when there wasn’t a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.” Sapphie sighed heavily. “This is a great opportunity. You get an amazing night with a superstud like J.B., then you won’t have to see him again. He won’t want more than a fling, either, so it’s a win-win.”

Issy ignored the twinge beneath her breastbone. She didn’t want, nor was she ready for, a relationship right now. Once she got her promotion to head of department, and her future was stable and secure, then she’d think about settling down. Besides, as nice as he was, and as much as he turned her on, J. B. Larocque would not be the right man for her to have a relationship with.

Still, one night was very tempting. “Sounds too good to be true.”

“What could go wrong?” At Issy’s raised eyebrow, Sapphie shook her head. “You’re not Rosabelle. Or our parents. Besides, there’s this wonderful invention called contraception.”

“Funny. I’ve been on the pill since college.”

“Then you’re okay, because J.B. won’t want a child to interfere with his career. Nothing bad will happen because neither of you will let it.”

“I suppose so.” Could she take the risk? Should she?

“You know you want to,” Sapphie said gently. “It’s now or never—we leave tomorrow. I don’t want you to regret a missed opportunity.”

Issy was thirty years old and had never enjoyed anything like that. How many more chances would come her way? Surely, if she was very careful...

“All right.” Issy nodded. “I do want to and I will. Tonight.”

“About time.” Sapphie clapped delightedly.

Anticipation began to fizz through Issy’s veins. “What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Trust me, the man is desperate for you.”

She smiled. “As long as he doesn’t run away from me screaming.”

“Puh-lease. He could’ve spent his vacation with any woman on the island. He’s chosen to be with you.”

“What if I’m not good enough? I’m not exactly experienced and he...is.”

Sapphie’s expression softened. “One of the benefits of his experience is that he’ll understand you’re not and he’ll make sure it’s great for you. He’ll definitely make you forget what happened before.”

“He’d have to be a magician.”

Her friend winked. “From what I’ve heard, he has amazing hands and a...”

“Please don’t mention his magic wand.” Issy rolled her eyes.

They both laughed.

Sapphie yawned again. “Now, I really need some sleep. Especially if I’m going to help you prepare for your big night.”

Issy wished she had her friend’s confidence. “What you mean is you want to make sure you’re ready for one more all-nighter with Taylor.”

“That goes without saying. I plan to enjoy every moment.”

Issy bit her lip. “It doesn’t bother you that it’s only a holiday fling?”

Sapphie shrugged. “It’s what we both want. I’m sure I’ll see him again—probably at a hockey game—but neither of us wants commitment. Would it be nice to hook up again? Of course. Will I be upset if it doesn’t happen? Disappointed, but nothing more.”

“And he feels the same?”

“Sure. We’ve both been up-front about it from the start. As long as these past few days have been as much fun for him as they’ve been for me, then it’s all good.” Sapphie closed her eyes. “See you in a few hours.”

Her friend fell asleep in seconds. Issy, on the other hand, was wide awake. She slipped on the cotton robe the resort had provided and went to sit on the balcony. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she rested her chin on her knees and watched the resort slowly coming to life.

“How do you go about asking a man to sleep with you?” she wondered aloud.

She’d never thought of herself as one of those women who longed to be swept off her feet by a swashbuckling hero, but it would certainly make things less awkward if J.B. could do the honors.

Issy was no closer to figuring out how to even raise the subject with J.B. when Sapphie awoke and they headed to the beach for the day. Taylor and J.B. joined them after lunch and the four decamped to the pool bar, where they frolicked in the water and enjoyed cocktails. Issy was touched that J.B. made a point of ordering her the virgin version of whatever colorful concoction they were drinking.

She watched his behavior closely. Sapphie was right; he didn’t look at anyone but Issy, even though there were several stunning women who tried to get his attention. Not only was J.B. solicitous, but he also touched her a lot. Her arm, her shoulder, tucking a curl behind her ear, playing footsie with her when they were seated on the bar stools. When she lay on the pool float, he rested his arms beside her and occasionally dropped a kiss on her lips.

Each touch, each kiss, heated her blood far more than the blazing temperatures. They also built her confidence so that she found herself impatient for the sun to go down.

* * *

“A TOAST TO the four most fabulous people in Antigua.” Sapphie raised a champagne flute.

“Make that the Caribbean,” J.B. added, clinking his glass against hers.

“You guys are too modest. It’s the world.” Taylor grinned.

“I’ll drink to that.” Issy took J.B.’s glass and sipped from it before returning it to him.

The look he sent her was so hot, her skin practically sizzled. When he made a point of placing his lips exactly where hers had been, Issy’s insides turned liquid. The promise in his dark eyes suggested he might be the mind reader she’d hoped for.

Dessert couldn’t come quickly enough.

Issy’s nerves returned when Sapphie and Taylor left them to go dancing. The moment of truth was getting ever closer.

“How about a walk along the beach?” J.B. took her hand, pressed his mouth to the pulse point at her wrist, then linked fingers with her.

She smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

They took off their shoes, headed down to the water’s edge and strolled through the water until they were away from the main part of the resort. While they walked, they talked—about her job and his, about his family and hers. They carefully avoided mentioning the future, not even what they’d be doing when they got home.

At the end of the property there was a long stretch of empty beach with no buildings or lights, only a few palm trees. The moon turned the sand silver, making the place look magical. J.B. and Issy sat beneath one of the trees—he leaned against the trunk, while she sat between his legs, as she had during that crazy dance on the night they’d met—and watched the twinkling lights of the vessels out at sea.

And kissed.

Long, slow, deep kisses. Hot, hard, urgent kisses.

Soon, it wasn’t enough. J.B. jumped up and helped her to her feet. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, they didn’t stop walking until they were outside her door.

This time, Issy didn’t invite J.B. in for a nightcap. Now that the moment was actually here, she couldn’t say the words. Her throat was too tight. Her mouth too dry. So she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. Then she took the Do Not Disturb notice and hung it on the handle before closing the door.

J.B. stood in front of her, his expression solemn. “Are you sure?”

She closed her eyes briefly. Last chance to back out.

The knowledge that he’d accept her decision, even if it was no, gave her the courage she needed. “Definitely.”

“Thank God,” he murmured before lowering his head and taking her mouth.

CHAPTER FOUR

J.B. HAD PLANNED to take things slowly. Not that he’d taken anything for granted. He’d hoped, for sure. Tonight was their last chance, with Bella leaving tomorrow, but he’d known the odds of ending up in her bed were as evenly balanced as a shoot-out.

Although this was only a one-time thing, he understood it was a big deal for her, so he needed to make tonight special.

No pressure.

It had taken every ounce of self-control to let her set the pace while they’d kissed. Especially when the tip of her tongue had slipped between his lips and tentatively touched his. The combination of sweet innocence and passionate intent was killer.

Even once they were inside her room, he’d been determined not to rush.

And he didn’t. Not when she eased his shirt out of his pants. Not when she undid his buttons, her knuckles brushing against his chest with each one.

Things got a little dicey when she pressed soft, moist kisses to his bare skin.

When she licked the ridges of his six-pack, his good intentions began to crumble. He closed his eyes and bit back a moan.

J.B. held strong until she reached his belt buckle. Then his intentions were blown to hell.

“My turn.” His hoarse words sounded sharp in the silent room.

Bella’s hands stilled. Her uncertain gaze shot up to meet his.

He stroked a finger along her cheekbone and down to her mouth. “We don’t want this over before you’ve got started.”

She didn’t look reassured, so he traced her full bottom lip. “Trust me. Any more ready and I’ll embarrass myself.” He smiled.

Bella frowned. “But...?”

His finger across her lips silenced her. J.B. replaced his finger with his mouth, letting his hot, deep kiss take over the convincing.

Her resistance melted. He felt the nervous tension ease from her body, to be replaced quickly by desire.

When she tried to wrap her arms around his neck, J.B. caught her wrists and lowered them to her sides. “Uh-uh. Turnabout is fair play.”

She bit her lip but didn’t argue. Curiosity and need replaced the uncertainty in her eyes.

J.B. licked her lip, kissed both corners, before nibbling his way along her jaw. He dipped his tongue into the hollow behind her ear, then tugged her earlobe gently with his teeth. His smile broadened at the tremor that went through her.

Unhurried, he alternately kissed and nipped his way down the side of her neck and along her collarbone to her shoulder, relishing the way she sighed with pleasure. He licked along the edge of her strapless dress, across the swell of one breast, through the valley between and over the other, before returning to the center and the pink, flower-shaped top button of her dress.

He slipped the button out of its hole and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the fragrant skin he’d revealed. Bella’s breath hitched, straining the fabric around the second yellow button.

Undo. Kiss. Hitch. Repeat.

The next button was orange, the one after green. It was like eating a bag of hard candies. Different colors, different flavors; each more mouthwatering than the one before.

Her dress fell partly open as he reached her waist, the fabric catching on the peaked nipples of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His erection surged as he freed both sides, laying her bare.

Beautiful. He wanted to taste and touch every delicious inch.

J.B. swept Bella into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down, then sat beside her. He continued unbuttoning until the dress was completely undone, while he explored her with his mouth. As he trailed his tongue along the underside of each creamy breast, then circled each taut, dark cherry nipple, his fingers caressed the tanned skin of her belly. The muscles of her stomach tightened at his touch, but she didn’t stop him.

He went lower still...to the top of her white, silky panties. Then under the lacy trim to the dark curls beneath. He deliberately avoided touching the most sensitive part of her, even though she raised her hips, slightly offering him access. He also didn’t dip his fingers into her damp heat, despite her tiny mewl of frustration and his own need.

Hooking a finger into the elastic, he pulled the panties slowly down her legs before tossing them aside.

Her hands tugged his shirt open and stroked feverishly over the heated skin of his chest. When she tried to push his shirt over his shoulders, he pulled it off, throwing it behind him before returning to her side. “Where was I?”

Bella shook her head. “Not so fast. Pants, too. You’re overdressed.”

J.B. did as she instructed. He kept his boxer shorts on; the last barrier protecting his sanity. He also took several condoms out of his wallet and placed them on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m already protected, but I appreciate you being responsible, too.”

“Better safe than sorry.” He stretched out beside her, his head propped on one hand. “Okay?”

“Definitely.” An appreciative smile played over her lips as her gaze skimmed the length of his body. But the uncertainty returned to her eyes when she spotted the unmistakable bulge in his shorts.

“I know you’re desperate to get your hands on my magnificence, but you’ll have to wait. It’s still your turn.”

She giggled. “Your ‘magnificence’?”

He feigned offense. “I assure you it lives up to its billing.”

“I’m sure,” she soothed. “Can I call it Mag for short?”

And there was another intriguing contradiction. She was nervous, but she was making jokes. That was more of a turn-on than any seductive move.

“Lady, there is nothing short about it,” he growled.

Her eyes widened. “So I see.”

He rolled over onto his back and pulled her on top of him.

Other than a squeak of surprise, Bella didn’t protest. Her smile turned worldly as she stretched her body along the length of his. Her breasts crushed against his chest, their stomachs flattened against each other, their legs tangled. And Mag fit perfectly into the V at the top of her thighs.

Their kisses became a duel—who could turn the other one on more—with hands, mouth and...everything else. In truth, it wasn’t much of a contest. Bella had one hell of an advantage. Then again, she was ready for him, too. But she didn’t make a move to commit them to the final stage. Almost as if she didn’t know how.

He lifted his head. “I reckon you’re all caught up, don’t you?”

Her lips twisted wryly. “I’m not very experienced at this, but I think you’re right.”

“This...isn’t your first time, is it?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “No. But it might as well be. The first time was in college. It was...awful.”

Her softly spoken words set off alarm bells. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I don’t want to kill the mood.”

Crap. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Honey, nothing you say could do that.” He placed her hand on his erection. “Mag can handle whatever you tell me.”

“Impressive.” She left her hand there. “Suffice it to say the guy I was with didn’t worry too much about foreplay.”

J.B. bit back his rage. Better he didn’t know the details. It wasn’t like he could hunt down the jerk and pound him to dust. It also didn’t help Bella. “At least tell me he embarrassed himself by coming too quickly.”

“Almost immediately.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “I rewarded him by throwing up all over him.”

A surprised laugh escaped him. “Atta girl.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll be careful. Anything you’re not comfortable with, say so. Okay?”

She nodded firmly.

“Good. The only rule tonight is that you enjoy yourself.”

“In that case, can we stop talking and get to the fun part?” Her gaze was clear; all signs of uncertainty gone.

“Hell, yes.” He flipped her beneath him and proceeded to kiss and caress her to fever pitch.

It didn’t take long. For either of them.

J.B. held off, even though he knew from the way she writhed beneath him that she was ready for him. Instead he slipped his finger inside her and used his thumb to rub her swollen bud.

Bella gasped, then moaned.

Only when he was certain that she hovered on the brink of orgasm did he put on the condom and ease into her. And nearly embarrass himself like that college ass.

She was tight, wet and so hot.

He gritted his teeth and held still as he waited for her to adjust to having him inside her. His body raged against his restraint, but he refused to give in. Only when she began to grind her hips against him did he give in to her wordless demand.

Slowly at first, then, with increasing speed, he began to pump in and out. She met each thrust eagerly, urging him for more. Their rhythms synced, as it had when they’d danced.

Harder. Faster.

Sweat slicked their skin.

His body seemed to be on fire. He wanted to explode, but he couldn’t. Not yet. His muscles quivered with the effort of maintaining control.

Just when he thought he couldn’t hold on a moment longer, she came apart beneath him with a keening cry. As she pulsed around him, J.B. finally let go and claimed his own release.

Before he could collapse on top of her, he rolled and pulled her with him into his arms. Her head rested against his heaving chest as he rasped in oxygen.

“Wow.” Bella’s voice was unsteady but awestruck. “That was pretty amazing.”

“Yeah.” J.B. grinned wearily. “Any more amazing and you’d have killed me.”

She giggled. “Mag certainly lived up to his promise.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

They lay silently for a few minutes while their bodies cooled and their breathing steadied. Her fingers traced a meandering path across his chest and stomach. He twirled a lock of her hair around one finger. Despite the reasons for being in Antigua earlier than planned, he couldn’t complain. Otherwise he’d have missed Bella. And this.

He was half-asleep when she said softly, “J.B.?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we’ll be able to do that again before I leave?”

He laughed. That was his Bella—always keeping him off balance. “Give me half an hour and I’ll see what I...and Mag...can do.”

* * *

ISSY DIDN’T WANT to open her eyes.

From the bright light filtering through her closed lids, she knew it was morning but she didn’t want to break the wonderful spell. Or leave the cocoon of J.B.’s arms.

She’d never spent the night with a man. Never woken up with a man in her bed. She probably wouldn’t again for a long time. It was a moment to savor because all too soon reality would intrude. For now, though, she was content to snuggle closer to J.B. and enjoy it.

They fit together perfectly. He was curled around her, every inch of him pressed against her back and legs. His knees curved into the back of hers. His hand cradled her breast. His even breathing stirred the tiny hairs at the back of her neck. Definitely the best way to start the day.

Issy found it hard to believe how amazing the night before had been and how special J.B. had made her feel. Everything she’d read about in romance novels but never thought could happen in real life. Not for her. Certainly not with a guy like J.B. A successful, professional athlete; a charming lady-killer.

His consideration and understanding had been as unexpected as the responses he’d managed to elicit from her. Although she didn’t have much to compare him with, he’d more than lived up to anything she could have imagined. Who knew it really was possible to make love three times in one night?

Issy stifled a giggle. She felt deliciously wanton and a teensy bit proud. After all, she’d made sure that J.B. had enjoyed himself as much as she had.

He’d recovered surprisingly quickly after that first time. Then he’d carried her into the bathroom. Under the rainfall shower, he’d carefully washed her from head to toe. The memory of his skilled hands, slippery with soap, turning a simple task into an erotic adventure, sent heat flooding through her. She’d probably never be able to take a shower again, or smell cherry-blossom soap, without recalling her unbelievably intense climax.

Then J.B. had handed her the fragrant bar and encouraged her to do the same to him. Uncertain at first, but with increasing surety as his unbridled response to her touch made her heady with confidence, she’d lathered his incredible body. His smooth, caramel-colored skin, the ripped muscles of his back, his broad chest that tapered to a well-defined six-pack. His powerful legs, with thighs and calves so firm they could have been carved out of stone. His ridiculously sexy feet.

Once they were rinsed clean, the exploration had begun again, teasing and tasting with their hands and mouths, until they’d both been so turned on they could hardly stand.

A satisfied smile curved Issy’s lips. Recovery for both of them hadn’t been nearly as fast as the first time. Exhausted, they’d slept for a few hours.

The third time had been slower, softer. Although neither of them had voiced it out loud, they’d known time was running out. They’d moved to the balcony where, on cushions they’d taken from the room’s sofa, they’d made achingly sweet love beneath the slowly lightening sky.

Tears pricked her eyes. If only...

A beeping sound alerted her to a text. Raising her head slightly, she saw it was from Sapphie.

We need to pack. Shuttle leaves at 12. You have one hour. Make the most of it!

And there it was—the reality she’d dreaded. Like the clock chiming midnight for Cinderella, the message signaled the end of Issy’s night and with it the fairy-tale world she’d been living in. Even though she’d known it was only for one night, the thought that she probably wouldn’t experience anything so wonderful again for a long time, if ever, was hard to take.

As the last remnants of her afterglow faded, so did Issy’s confidence. She began to feel awkward and a little foolish. However she dressed it up and in spite of the exotic setting, she and J.B. had still only had a one-night stand. Was she really so different from her family?

Stop! She wouldn’t beat herself up and she wouldn’t allow herself regrets. The night, the experience, had been too special to be spoiled by recriminations.

Even so, suddenly she wasn’t as comfortable sharing her bed with J.B. She shifted slightly, trying to ease away from him before he woke up. But he stirred behind her, pulling her tighter against him. He brushed a kiss against her neck, below her ear. His second kiss was a little lower. His third at the curve of her shoulder.

With each kiss, Issy’s pulse jumped. How was it possible that he could still coax a response from her so easily? She’d have thought that he’d wrung every last bit out of her.

Clearly not.

“Hello, beautiful.” His husky voice sent a delicious shiver though her.

“Good morning,” she said with false brightness as she started to move away again.

He wouldn’t let her. “Not so fast.”

His erection pressed against her bottom.

She swallowed hard. “I see Mag is an early riser.”

“Honey, with you around, he never sleeps.”

The urge to wriggle against him, to reposition her body so he could easily slip inside, almost overwhelmed her. She reveled briefly in his hardness against her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be a mistake. It certainly wouldn’t change anything.

Issy pushed out of his embrace and sat up. “Our time’s up. Sapphie will be coming back to the room shortly.”

J.B. propped himself on one elbow. “Shortly, as in she’s outside the door, or do we have a few minutes to welcome the new day properly?”

She could lie—tell him Sapphie was nearby—but she didn’t want to. Not when she could create one last precious memory with him. Knowing she’d probably curse her weakness later, she gave in. “We have less than an hour.”

“No problem.” He reached over, snagged the last condom and rolled it on.

Their lovemaking had a desperate edge this time. They drove each other higher, faster, using what they’d learned through the night about their bodies, their needs and their desires until, as one, they shattered. Though the throbbing from their completion had faded, they clung together tightly, still intimately joined, for long minutes afterward.

A tear trickled down Issy’s cheek. This really was the end.

“So...” J.B. cleared his throat as he gently dried the damp trail with his finger. “I know this was meant to have been one night, but maybe we could see each other again. It wouldn’t be too hard, since we both live in Jersey. We could meet up for a drink or dinner. No pressure, no commitment.”

Her heart leaped, but she quickly tamped it down.

Much as she hated to admit it, that simply wasn’t possible. Spending any more time with J.B. raised too many red flags. Even though he’d changed her opinion of a professional athlete—from their conversations over the past few days and especially last night—she knew that they wanted completely different things from their lives. She couldn’t risk ending up like her sister or derailing the course she’d set. Ultimately he could be nothing more than a pleasant—okay, a wonderful—but dangerous distraction.

Fighting the urge to agree, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. This has been incredible—the best night of my life—but we’re from two very different worlds.”

Frustration filled his dark eyes, mirroring the feeling that clawed at her. “We’re only talking dinner.”

Be strong. “We both know it wouldn’t just be dinner.”

“Okay, dinner with a really nice dessert. Would that be so bad?”

“Of course not.” She caressed his cheek apologetically. “But if we do it once, what’s to stop us doing it a second time? Then a third. Or more. How long will we let it go on before we know we have to call it quits? A month? Six?”

He started to speak but she stopped him.

“You know about my family, my background. Why I want stability and security. If I start a relationship, I want to be sure it’s with someone who feels the same. Who’s ready for and, more importantly, wants commitment.”

The regret in his expression told her that he wanted to disagree but couldn’t.

“It’s okay. I know that’s not what you want.” Issy smiled sadly.

J.B. was silent for a few minutes. Finally he sighed. “You’re right.”

Even though she knew it was the correct decision, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he didn’t argue his corner a little harder. “If it’s any consolation, I wish I wasn’t.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips, then eased away.

She missed his warmth instantly and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Damn it!” J.B. jumped up. “Freaking condom broke.”

Issy’s gut tightened. “You’re kidding.”

“That’s one thing I don’t ever joke about.” He stalked to the bathroom.

No! She’d only stepped outside her carefully drawn lines once—once—it wasn’t fair. This couldn’t be happening. She buried her head in her hands.

The bed dipped as J.B. sat beside her and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking.”

His soothing voice had the opposite effect. “It’s a disaster. I can’t get pregnant.”

“The chances of you getting caught this one time are really slim. You’re on the pill, aren’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then you’re protected. The condom was only a backstop. Trust me—it’ll be fine.”

While her panicking brain fought to deny his reassurance, his logic seeped in and began to calm her. Her thundering heart slowed.

“Of course,” she said finally, when she could trust herself not to sound hysterical. “I’m sorry. I lost it for a moment there.”

“That makes two of us.” His chuckle sounded relieved. “All’s well that ends well.”

He turned her more fully into his arms, leaned down and touched his forehead to hers.

They remained like that, silently, lost in their own thoughts, until the clatter of a trolley on the path outside jolted them out of their reveries.

“I should go.” J.B. eased himself from their embrace and gathered his clothes.

Still feeling vulnerable after the scare, Issy wound the sheet around her. “Thank you. For...everything.”

“Thank you.” He shrugged into his shirt. “You are an incredible lady. Make sure you choose a guy who really deserves you.”

A tall order after last night. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll see you before you leave. I’ll help you take your luggage to the shuttle.”

She wanted that so much—to have a final hug, one more kiss—but it was hard enough to let him go. Delaying would only make it tougher. “I think we should say goodbye now. Make a clean break.”

J.B. looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

No. “It’s difficult enough here, in private. It’ll be impossible in the crowded lobby.” Her voice wobbled on the last word.

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Okay. Sure.”

J.B. pressed one last, hard kiss to her mouth and then walked out the door.

By the time Sapphie returned to their room, Issy had regained some composure. Obviously not enough, judging by her friend’s concerned look and tight hug. Issy was grateful that Sapphie didn’t ask any questions while they packed, but chattered cheerfully about how much she’d enjoyed the holiday.

As they checked out, Issy tried not to watch for J.B. She told herself he wouldn’t be there, yet she couldn’t help one last glance as they boarded the shuttle bus.

Her heart skipped when she saw a familiar silhouette in the shadows of the lobby. He stood there until the bus turned the corner and she couldn’t see him anymore.

“You’ll be all right,” Sapphie murmured, squeezing her hand.

Issy let out a heavy breath. Yes, she would.

The line to get through security stretched out in front of the airport. She and Sapphie joined the end and began the torturous process of inching toward the passport-control booth.

Once they were finally through security, she and Sapphie got sandwiches and soft drinks at one of the airport cafés. After all the fabulous resort food, the stale roll was hard to swallow—literally. Issy made herself eat so she could take some ibuprofen to ease her throbbing temples.

Sapphie tossed her sandwich in the trash and looked around the crowded, noisy, waiting area. “Newark Airport is looking more appealing by the second. Do you think it’ll work if I click my sandals and say ‘There’s no place like home’?”

“Probably not, since you don’t actually have a ‘home.’”

“Good point, darn it.”

“Try ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ instead,” Issy suggested. “Beaming us back to Jersey sounds pretty good right now.”

Before her friend could respond, the speakers crackled and their flight was announced for boarding. As they walked out to the plane, the waves of heat from the tarmac combined with the smell of aviation fuel made Issy feel queasy.

Once in their seats Issy adjusted the winged headrest, leaned against it and closed her eyes. She welcomed the soothing stream of cool air from the vent above her head. The noise of people finding their seat was soon replaced by flight attendants slamming closed the overhead lockers and the drone of the safety announcement. The vibration of the engines firing up exacerbated her sickness.

Issy drank some more water, then tried to fall asleep. But despite the tiredness that washed over her in waves, she couldn’t drop off.

After takeoff, her nausea eased a little. But it returned full-force when the meal service started. The smell of coffee made her stomach roll.

Oh, no. She was going to be sick.

Issy jumped up and dashed for the toilets. She barely got the door closed before she threw up.

Welcome back to reality, Isabelle Brandine.

CHAPTER FIVE

“GOOD TO SEE our Millionaire Ice Boy still gets his hands dirty.”

From wading in the Caribbean to wading in cow crap in three weeks: the two sides of J.B.’s life.

He didn’t give his oldest brother the satisfaction of a verbal response but continued mucking out the stalls in their parents’ barn. Shame the shovel of manure slipped, slewing its contents over Marc Andre’s jeans and boots.

“You ass,” his brother spluttered, jumping back. “I just got cleaned up to go into town.”

“I’m sorry, but what do you expect from a lowly ‘ice boy’?” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m out of practice at shoveling crap.”

“Perhaps I should get Dad to send you over to my place to do chores, too.”

His father would love that. “Nah. Not much call for this skill in my day job.”

“Maybe not, but it might improve your aim, kid.”

“I’d say my aim’s pretty damn good.” He grinned and reached for the hose. “Want me to wash you down?”

Marc Andre laughed and stepped out of the line of fire. “By the time you’re done I’ll need to change everything, even my underwear, and I don’t have time.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone walked around town covered in Eau de Cow Dung. No one will bat an eyelid.”

“True. But sometimes even us yokels need to spruce up.” Marc Andre punched his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, bro. Been too long.”

“I know.” Guilt twinged his chest. The last time J.B. had come to the farm was back in December when he’d flown out a day early for the team’s swing through Western Canada.

Though he knew he should make more of an effort to get home, it wasn’t easy to find the time. Unlike the guys who played sixteen games of football and were done by the end of January, J.B.’s season was eighty-two games over seven months. If he was lucky, that was followed by a postseason that took him through to June.

And it wasn’t like he took the summer off. Technically, J.B. had three months before he had to report for training camp. But in reality, if he didn’t start his workout schedule in the next couple of weeks, he wouldn’t be in peak physical condition come September.

He’d tried in the past to draw the comparison with farming, where there was little downtime in the calendar, but it had gone over his folks’ heads.

“This was a tough year for visits, with me being selected for the All-Stars and then our Cup run.”

“We understand. Well, Dad doesn’t, but the rest of us get it. Who’d have thought a Larocque would be burning up the NHL?” His brother rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It’s a good thing, because you suck as a farmer.”

“Yeah. So, how come you’re going into town during the day, midweek?”

“I’ve got a meeting with the bank. Now Amelie and I know for sure that baby number four is due in the new year I want to simplify my finances.”

“Congratulations.” That would make seven nieces and nephews. Another reason J.B. felt like he’d been born into the wrong family. Much as he loved the rug rats, for sure he wasn’t ready for one of his own. There was plenty of hockey left to play and life to enjoy, before he settled down and burdened himself with those responsibilities.

“If you weren’t so freaking stubborn, you wouldn’t have any mortgages or loans. Neither would Pierre Luc.”

“I’m not taking your money.” Marc Andre’s expression was fierce. “You’ll need it to live off when you’re retired. You sure as hell can’t make a living off the land.”

J.B. leaned on the shovel to stop himself from using it to knock some sense into his brother. This was an old argument that always ended the same. While he respected independence and appreciated that his family weren’t spongers, they were too damn proud. “By the time I’m done, I’ll have more than enough for several lifetimes.”

“You never know. You could get injured or traded. The team could be sold or go belly-up. And once you’re done, you’ll still be young, with a long life ahead of you.”

Like farming was any more secure. “So take the money as a loan. I bet the bank can’t beat a no-interest repayment plan.”

“Appreciate the offer, but it’s best we don’t muddy the family water with money.”

Straight out of the mouth of Bastien Larocque. Their father said the same thing often enough.

“Anyway, we’re not destitute,” his brother continued. “This winter was rougher than usual and things got a little tight. The bank’s been great about reworking payments to help ease the pressure.”

It burned his butt that his brother preferred help from a bank manager over J.B. “If you won’t let me give you the money, at least let me invest in your place. Buy machinery, refurbish buildings or something. It’ll give me a tax break.”

Marc Andre’s jaw set. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

J.B. knew that stubborn look. “All right. But if you ever need money badly enough to not care about muddy freaking water, you know where to come. Deal?” He stuck out his hand.

“Deal.” Marc Andre shook his hand.

“So, what time’s your appointment?”

His brother swore as he checked his watch. “I should get going. See you at dinner.”

J.B. brooded about the situation as he finished his share of the chores.

He understood his dad’s stance. Even when J.B. couched it as repaying what his parents had spent on his hockey, Bastien had refused to accept his money. In his father’s mind, professional athletes were a step above gigolos. Earning money playing sport didn’t count.

The old man had spent his whole life working the farm, which had never made much of a living for the Larocques. If not for his mom, J.B. wouldn’t be where he was today.

He hosed off the floor, hung the tools on the rack and headed to the house to clean up.

In the kitchen his mom was busy cooking. She always made plenty so that her daughters-in-law—who worked alongside their husbands on their farms, as well as looked after their kids—didn’t have to. A good thing since both Amelie and Clare were lousy cooks.

Twelve loaves were cooling on wire racks on the counter, next to a dozen jars of homemade spaghetti sauce. On the table two coolers were filled with foil-wrapped parcels.

His stomach rumbled. It had been hours since breakfast and he wouldn’t get lunch until after his mom had done her weekly grocery shop. J.B. sneaked a piece of the potato salad his mom was mixing. “Mmm. Are you sure I can’t steal you away to come and cook for me in Jersey? You’re still the best.”

She patted his cheek. “Much as I’d like to make sure you eat properly—you look a little skinny—I couldn’t leave the farm. Besides, I’m not sure I’d be happy where you live.”

Like most people who’d never been to the Garden State, his mom thought the whole area was an industrial monstrosity. “You’d be surprised how nice it is, Ma. Come visit and see.”

“Maybe later in the year.”

J.B. wouldn’t hold his breath. Like the discussion about money, this was another old conversation. “Are you ready to go into town?”

“Definitely. If you’re still happy to take me.” She slipped off her apron.

He grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl. “For sure. I’ll have the prettiest woman in the area on my arm.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. Ellen Larocque’s lovely face and cute figure still turned heads. Her black hair was just beginning to be streaked with gray and her pale skin was barely wrinkled.

She swatted him with a dish towel. “I don’t think so. Maybe if you brought one of those women you’re always photographed with...”

He kissed her cheek, breathing in her familiar scent: a mixture of her floral perfume and cooking spices. “None of them can match up to you, Ma.”

“You always were the charmer. I’ll just grab my purse and my shopping list.”

On the half-hour drive, his mom chattered away about the latest happenings with friends and neighbors. J.B. didn’t know half the people she talked about and was relieved to pull into a parking spot outside the diner.

Though they only had a block to walk to the grocery store, progress was slow with people stopping them every few yards. A few he recognized, but most he relied on his mom’s clues as to who they were. It was the same at the store and the diner.

He was grilled about when he was coming home for good. Those who followed hockey were keen to discuss his career. J.B. gave bland answers, his smile becoming more strained with each one. He accepted good-naturedly the usual ribbing about how he should play for a Canadian team, then posed for photos and signed napkins and scraps of paper thrust at him. He never turned down a request, especially from kids.

By the time they got back into the car for the drive home, J.B. was wrung out, as if he’d played triple overtime.

Only a few more days, he told himself as he did the evening chores. It was pathetic that he’d barely been home twenty-four hours and he was already counting down to leaving. He loved his family, but he didn’t fit here. New Jersey was more his home than this small town.

Luckily, he couldn’t brood for long because his brothers and their families arrived for his welcome-home barbecue.

Dinner was a rowdy affair. His dad sat at the head of the picnic table, while everyone else squeezed down the sides. His mom sat opposite her husband, beaming, clearly thrilled to have all her chicks under her roof.

“Welcome home, bro.” Pierre Luc raised his bottle in salute. “Congratulations on making the Finals. Tough loss.”

“You’ll get ’em next year.” Marc Andre clinked his beer bottle against J.B.’s.

“Damn—darn straight,” J.B. said.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make any of your games.” His mother frowned. “Finding someone to look after the farm is difficult.”

“Jean-Baptiste knows we can’t up and travel at the drop of a hat.”

J.B. bit back his irritation at his father’s words. Other families—even other farmers—managed it. He understood it wasn’t easy, but his dad didn’t want to make the effort.

“No worries, Ma.” J.B. smiled at his mom. “Maybe next year.”

“Did you get the mess with that woman in the nightclub sorted out, Jean-Baptiste?” his father asked.

Why couldn’t his old man ever call him J.B.? He forced a casual tone. “She got hold of Coach Macarty and explained that it was an unfortunate accident. She told the media, too, but the truth wasn’t appealing and the story got buried.”

His father huffed. “Your team can’t have been happy. It’s not like this was the first time you’ve been at the center of a scandal.”

Although that wasn’t quite true—Jake had taken the fall before—J.B. didn’t bother to correct his dad. He wouldn’t listen, anyway. “Once they had the facts, they were cool.”

“It’s time you started being more responsible. You’re not a kid anymore.” His father loaded his plate with more potato salad. “Speaking of which, while you’re here, Jean-Baptiste, I’d like you to survey the fences. You should keep your hand in the farm.”

J.B. exchanged wry looks with his brothers.

“Give the kid a chance, Dad,” Pierre Luc said. “He just got here.”

“He hasn’t even had a chance to stop by our places yet,” Marc Andre chimed in.

“They’re right, Bastien,” his mother chided. “Our boy’s only here for a few days. He should rest, not ride the fence line. He works hard enough. He’s earned a vacation.”

“He just had a week on a beach.”

Before J.B. could react, his mother laid her pale hand on his father’s dark one. As it had for as long as he could remember, the action calmed his dad.

Later that night, as J.B. sat out on the front porch, nursing a beer, he thought about his parents’ marriage. The gentle former teacher and the rough farmer seemed to fit together perfectly; to complement each other. His brothers’ marriages were strong, too.

Bella popped into his head, as she had every day since he’d returned from Antigua.

Never before had a woman had such a lasting impact on him.

J.B. shook his head. It didn’t matter. Their relationship was over and he was good with that. He didn’t have the time, energy or inclination for commitment. Being back here only emphasized his feelings. His family’s responsibilities weighed heavily, as if he were the one suffocating under the pressure.

Bella was...had to be...nothing more than a pleasant memory.

* * *

“IF WE CAN’T paint the town red, then watching Colin Firth isn’t a bad alternative.”

Relieved that Sapphie didn’t mind their last-minute change of plans for the Labor Day weekend, Issy sighed. “Thanks. I really don’t feel up to a dinner cruise tonight.” The thought of putting on a fancy dress and heels, and spending the evening on a boat on the Hudson made her stomach pitch. “I promise I’ll make it up to you on your next visit.”

“You’ll get that chance sooner than you think. Part of the reason I wanted us to go out was that I’ll be spending a lot more time on the east coast over the next twelve months.”

“You got the contract with Marty Antonelli?”

“Starting Tuesday, I’ll be evaluating the basketball team he bought and advising him on how to make it a more financially viable enterprise.”

“Congratulations!” Issy squealed as she jumped up and hugged her friend.

This was a major coup for Sapphie. She’d worked hard to get her foot in the door with the technology billionaire who’d recently acquired several sports franchises.

They danced around like lunatics for a few minutes, then collapsed on the sofa, laughing.

“I know you like hockey and football. What do you know about basketball?” Issy asked.

“Not a lot. But I used that to my advantage. I told Mr. Antonelli that he didn’t need someone with preconceived ideas about the team.”

“And he bought that?”

“Of course.” Sapphie blew on her nails and polished them on her top. “That, and my impressive track record.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

Sapphie had always found a way to make things work more efficiently and effectively while squeezing a quart out of a pint-pot budget. She’d put herself through college with her projects on the side for local companies. It hadn’t been a surprise when Sapphie had formed her own management consulting firm.

Issy couldn’t help being envious of the way her friend was able to improvise and adapt, to achieve whatever she set her mind to. If she’d had even half of Sapphie’s talent, Issy would have been made head of department before, instead of being passed over for ‘more experienced candidates’ the past two times the position had become vacant. Certainly she wouldn’t have had to jump through hoops for one more year to prove to Farlingdale Academy’s board that she was capable of taking over the retiring head’s position.

She frowned at the snack foods on the coffee table. “We should be celebrating with something fancier than popcorn, chips and sodas.”

“Trust me, this is great. I get enough fancy food at work. Besides it’s the company and—” Sapphie indicated the Pride and Prejudice DVD “—the entertainment that makes this a real celebration.”

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