Left Turn at Paradise Read online

  As dusk settled – and the curiosity seekers finally drifted away – Layla relaxed enough to take in her surroundings. She looked around the park. Children chased around the trees. Some people threw Frisbees or tossed baseballs. An impromptu football game had started on the beach, and she could hear shouts and bursts of laughter drifting across the dunes. Lawn chairs and colorful blankets spread out as far as the eye could see, forming a living, breathing quilt. A few feet away, Layla spotted a family. A gray-haired matron bounced a baby, while a younger, dark-haired woman regarded them with a softened gaze of love.

  Layla couldn’t help but think she might have experienced nights like that if things had been different. She might have been able to attend 4th of July picnics with an intact family, instead of having to paste on a smile and pretend to get along with the woman sitting next to her.

  Layla pulled her gaze away from the tableau before she did something embarrassing. Like burst into tears.

  “I’m going for a walk,” she said, jumping up before anyone had a chance to stop – or join – her.

  She headed in the opposite direction from Happy Family, dodging people and picnic baskets alike. She managed to sidestep a torpedo disguised as a two-year-old, and bumped into a man trying to make the same move.

  “Stupid kids,” he muttered. His head lifted, and his expression turned from disgust to lascivious in an instant. “Well, if it isn’t the ice queen.”

  Layla’s blood congealed. “T.J.”

  Terrence Jennings, III. Son of one of the richest families in town. Blessed with all the Golden Boy characteristics. Golden-blond hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders that had led the football team to the District Championship. Full of good looks and charm.

  Until something stood in the way of what he wanted.

  She’d always taken care to stay clear of T.J. whenever she’d come home for a visit, and she hadn’t been this close to him since high school. Now, he smiled as his gaze took a long, snaking path from her shoes to her head. Pole dancers probably didn’t experience anything so degrading. They probably didn’t feel so exposed either.

  T.J. whistled. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Neither have you,” she said, arming herself with bravado and hoping sarcasm disguised the tremors racing through her.

  He moved in, close enough so she could smell sour beer on his breath. Layla refused to back away, even though panic gripped her lungs like a steel vise.

  “Back off, T.J.,” she said through gritted teeth.

  A self-satisfied grin curved his lips. “You didn’t always say that.”

  “When I say no, I mean it.”

  The smile disappeared. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t want it, Layla,” he said, with a matter-of-factness that took her breath away.

  “Terry?” a feminine voice called out.

  A moment later, Tammy-Lynn appeared. Layla swallowed a groan. As if her evening needed another level of torture.

  Layla endured a long, intense, suspicious stare. Then Tammy-Lynn turned to T.J. “What’s going on, honey?”

  T.J. gave Layla another cold glare and then transformed right before her eyes.

  “I was only saying hello to Layla,” he said. “We were almost victims of an out-of-control toddler, but luckily we saved each other.”

  “Yes, how lucky,” Tammy-Lynn said. She stepped closer and wove an arm through Terry’s. The move put her hand – the one with the wedding band and huge, honking diamond – on full display. She focused once more on Layla and smiled. “Isn’t it great that we’re all still friends?”

  “It’s wonderful,” Layla said. “I need to get back to my family.” She turned on her heel before either of them could say another word.

  “Layla!” Tammy-Lynn called out. Sharp talons dug into Layla’s skin, spinning her back around.

  “Let go of me,” Layla said.

  “Not before I give you a warning.”

  “A warning?” she said. “You sound like you’re in an old melodrama.”

  “I don’t care what I sound like,” Tammy-Lynn said. “I’m telling you to stay away from Terry. He’s my husband, and I don’t share.”

  “As if I want him.”

  “You always did. The way you chased after him in high school was absolutely shameless. Why, I was almost embarrassed for you.”

  Layla folded her arms. “Is that what he told you? That I chased him, and he couldn’t resist?”

  “Some guys have a weakness for certain types of women,” Tammy-Lynn said, running a disparaging eye from the tip of Layla’s head down to her feet.

  “Some guys also make up gigantic lies to cover up their own sins.”

  “He didn’t have to make anything up.”

  Layla wanted to shout a protest, but she knew Tammy-Lynn would never accept the truth.

  “I saw your mother,” Tammy-Lynn said. “She’s come slinking back with her tail between her legs, hoping everyone will forget what she did. Well, we won’t ever forget, and we’ll never forget what you are, either.”

  Anger burned a trail of hot bile up Layla’s throat. “You don’t know anything about me, Tammy-Lynn. You never did.”

  Tammy-Lynn laughed. A cruel, taunting sound. “You think your fancy degree and your career make you better than me?” She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a menacing tone. “You’re nothing, Layla McCarthy. If it weren’t for your grandmother, no one would have anything to do with you. Now, you stay away from my husband or you’ll regret it.”

  Layla fought to hang on to her temper. “Don’t threaten me.”

  “I’m not threatening. I’m promising. My Daddy is still Mayor here, and one word from me could have your little theatre shut down for good. You think about that before you set your sights on what’s mine.”

  “I don’t have any designs on your husband, Tammy-Lynn. And you two really are well matched,” Layla said.

  “Yes, we are, aren’t we?” Tammy-Lynn clearly hadn’t caught the sarcasm in Layla’s voice, or perhaps she chose not to acknowledge it. She executed a little pirouette and pranced back to T.J.’s side like she hadn’t just done her best impression of a Mafia don.

  Layla waited until they were gone before she allowed the tremors she’d been holding back to wrack her body. She took off along the path, heading away from the crowds and noise. Soon she hit the beach and relative isolation. She sank to the sand, pulling her knees up against her chest.

  She closed her eyes, willing the panic to subside.

  More than ten years had passed. She shouldn’t still be so vulnerable. So scared. Except she could still feel his hands, and his hot breath on her neck. She could still taste her own fear…stupidity.

  The car pulled into an empty space in the parking lot and shut off. Muted music and rhythmic thumps cut through the silence of the night. Lights blazed all around the school. Guys in suits and girls in flirty dresses made their way inside. Layla had her hand on the door when he reached out to stop her. T.J. shifted closer, flashing an expectant grin.

  “Aren’t we going in?” Layla asked, hoping she was misinterpreting the lust-filled gleam in his eyes.

  T.J. leaned closer. “Thought we’d hang out first.”

  His cologne wrapped around her like a cloying, suffocating chain. “I want to go in.”

  She cursed herself for thinking T.J. could be interested in anything other than getting into her pants. That’s all guys seemed to want from her. She’d thought – hoped – T.J. would be different from the other boys in school. He never leered at her like they did. He looked at her face, not her chest.

  Apparently, he was a better actor than the rest of them. T.J. must have taken her silence for acquiescence because he moved in for a kiss, his hand finding her right breast with enough skill to let Layla know he’d made the move before.

  She shoved on his chest. “Stop it.”

  He only chuckled and lunged forward.

  Layla put up both hands as a roadblock this time. “I said no, and I meant
it.”

  T.J.’s pea-sized brain registered her refusal. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

  “I could say it in Spanish or French, but it would sound the same.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his handsome features distorted into something ugly. “You think you’re so high and mighty. The ice queen.”

  “Whatever,” she said, fumbling for the handle.

  Quick as a snake, he reached across her and held the door shut. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  For the first time, a tremor of fear wound its way along her spine. “Well, I’m done with you.”

  He slithered over the console, and before she could move he was on top of her. He slammed his mouth down on hers at the same time as one hand slid up her dress. The other tore at her bodice, ripping it off her shoulder.

  “T.J.…Terrence…Get off me!”

  “You’ve been begging for this all year,” T.J. said, kneading her breast through her bra. Pinching her nipple hard enough to cause pain. ”I’m just giving you what you want.”

  Bile rose in her throat, and she bucked, trying to dislodge him. “I don’t want this.”

  “That’s what you all say.” When his hand touched her underwear she went wild. “That’s better, baby. Tell me how you like it.”

  She thrashed and squirmed, tried to rake her nails across his face, but he clamped her wrists together. Terror seized her lungs, until she thought she might pass out. She was going to be raped right here in the school parking lot while hundreds of kids slow-danced inside.

  He ground his teeth against her mouth, trying to force her mouth open. The corner of her mind not closed off in panic whispered of a way out. She relaxed and opened her mouth. The moment his tongue slid in, she bit down. Hard.

  “Bod bm itch!” he howled.

  He loosened his grip, giving her enough room so she could bring up her knee, connecting solidly with his groin.

  He screamed and slumped back over the console. Layla shoved and wrenched open the door. She hit the pavement hard, scraping her hands and knees, but she didn’t look down to see the damage. She scrambled to her feet and ran.

  Layla never saw the group of girls a few rows over – a group that included Tammy-Lynn – but they saw her. They’d seen her torn dress and wild hair and made their own conclusions. By Monday, the whole school was talking about how Layla McCarthy had screwed T.J. in the parking lot. T.J. himself embellished the tale. Her entire life she’d tried to be the “good” girl, to prove she wasn’t like her mother, but after that night no one saw her as anything other than a slut and a tease. Her mother’s daughter.

  Nothing she said or did could change their minds, which is why she’d left Shellwater Key behind, determined to be a success.

  “Layla?” a masculine voice called out from the shadows. “Is that you?”

  Still lost in the past, her body jolted in panic, and she sprang to her feet, ready to flee.

  “Hey…hey! Layla, it’s Grayson.”

  Grayson. His familiar voice stopped her fight or flight instinct. She blinked up at him, trying to bring her scattered thoughts together.

  He stepped closer, and his eyes narrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing wouldn’t make you cry.”

  Startled, she swiped at her wet cheek. “I can’t believe I still give him this much power over me. It’s not like he really did anything. I got away.”

  He took her by the arms. “Got away from what?”

  Grayson’s voice had gone soft, and even in Layla’s heightened state, she sensed the menace in him. “It was no big deal. Nothing happened.”

  “Yet you’re here on a darkened beach, alone and crying. Who is he?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Does this nobody have a name? Anyone I can pummel?”

  “Stop gesticulating,” she said. “You’re not going to attack him.”

  “For you, I might.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, though her heart seemed to find the notion of Grayson defending her honor enticing beyond reason. She didn’t know what that made her. Maybe pathetic. Maybe old-fashioned. She was way beyond needing a knight in shining armor to rescue her.

  She rolled her eyes to cover the onslaught of girlish thrill. “What are you going to do, challenge him to a duel at dawn?”

  “I think my hands would do the job just fine.”

  A shiver of alarm threaded through her, crowding out romantic images of Grayson on a lawn with a pistol aimed at T.J.’s heart. Mostly, alarm for the safety of her heart. “He used to be a football player.”

  “Did I mention I’m a Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do?”

  For the first time all night, a smile tugged at her lips. “An honest to goodness warrior. I’ve never had a man willing to fight for me before.”

  “Then you’ve been involved with the wrong kind of men.”

  “No doubt.”

  “You still haven’t told me who he is.”

  “That’s because I don’t want a public brawl on my hands. Please drop it.”

  He enfolded her against his chest. “Did you really get away before…” his voice trailed off as if he didn’t even want to say the words.

  She nodded. “Did my best to make sure he couldn’t reproduce.”

  He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

  “I should have ripped out his tongue. A knee to the groin didn’t stop him from spreading tales about his supposed conquest.”

  He smoothed her hair back, his hands settling to massage her shoulders. “I told you, give me a name.”

  “No names. Stupid rumors don’t kill a person.”

  “Maybe not, but they can make a young girl’s life hell.”

  She shrugged again, as if the leers, the whispers, the eyes trained on her back as she walked down the hallway hadn’t ripped her heart and her self-esteem apart. “I survived.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, I left for college and never looked back.”

  “Except now you are back, and you have to see this guy. I assume he lives here?”

  “Oh yeah, and he’s married to my old high school rival. She’s already warned me off.”

  “Double whammy. Sure you still want to stay here and tackle The Paradise?”

  She pulled away, squaring her shoulders. “I won’t be driven out of town like a criminal.”

  Admiration flared in his pale eyes. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  He took her hand, and they started strolling along the water.

  “Since we’re making confessions, now it’s your turn,” she said, willing to do anything to get out of talking about T.J., the attack, and the ensuing demise of her reputation.

  “About?”

  “You know why I was hiding out on the beach,” Layla said. “Why are you here?”

  His chest rose and fell as he let out a soft sigh. “I signed my divorce papers today,” he said, staring straight ahead. “It’s done.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed her hand and glanced over. “Nothing to be sorry about now. She’s free, and so am I. Whatever we might have felt for each other died a long time ago.”

  “Still, it couldn’t have been easy.”

  “I’ve had better days. My last root canal comes to mind. I came down to the beach because somehow gazing out at the sea, at the power of nature, makes even divorce seem like nothing by comparison.”

  The evening breeze sent a lock of his hair across his forehead, and she reached up to smooth it back into place. “Your ex-wife is an idiot for throwing you away.”

  He stopped, catching her hand before she could draw away. “My aunt said the same thing, but she’s supposed to think that.”

  “I’m not your aunt.”

  He applied subtle pressure to bring her closer. “Trust me, I’m aware.”

  Tremors rose up her spine, but she pushed down fear. Music drifted across the sand. The gentle crash of waves accompanied strains of jazz coming f
rom the bandstand in the park. He slipped an arm around her waist. His feet started moving, and she couldn’t help but fall into the rhythm. She slipped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

  He lowered his head, nuzzling the shell of her ear. She shuddered from the heat of his breath on her neck, and the impact of his words. She pulled back far enough to look him in the eye, even knowing she risked falling even deeper into the undertow of her feelings. Knowing she could be pulled out to sea.

  He lowered his head…slowly…giving her plenty of time to stop him.

  She didn’t stop him, instead diving head first into the center of the maelstrom. He pulled her up against him and kissed her. With all of the intensity she’d seen in his eyes. Methodically, thoroughly. Until she was kissing him back.

  His lips coasted to the hollow of her neck. “Right now I’m almost grateful to Skye.”

  The mention of his ex acted like a dash of icy water to her face. His mouth was inches away when some sense of self-preservation surfaced. What was she doing? Grayson had signed his divorce papers. Today.

  She pushed against his chest. “Wait.”

  He ignored the faint – very faint – pressure of her hand and brushed his lips over hers once more. “For what?”

  “For my brain to start working again.”

  A tiny puff of warm air swept across her cheek as he let out a soft chuckle. “Thinking is overrated. Just feel.”

  She pushed a little harder. “Our feelings right now are not reliable.”

  He sighed and lifted his head, staring down at her with equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Why not?”

  “There are so many reasons why not. First, you’re not ready to be involved with anyone. Your wife – who is arguably the most beautiful creature on the planet – left you for another man. You’re hiding out to avoid the press, and probably your own feelings. But you’re only here temporarily, and someday soon you’ll return to your life in Chicago or another big city. You have a career. Meanwhile, I have nothing except a run-down theatre, and I’m stuck in Shellwater Key for the foreseeable future. Not to mention my track record with men is abysmal. Allowing myself to become tangled up with you would mean adding one more heartbreaking statistic to that list.”