The Navy Seal's Rescue. Jo Leigh

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      The young man looked alarmed when the cab pulled away from the curb. “Don’t you have more luggage?”

      Shaking her head, she inhaled the familiar scent of the ocean, felt the salty breeze stir her hair. “Just these.”

      Another employee hurried over with a large cart and she let him take both bags from her. She could’ve easily carried them herself, but she didn’t like denying them the tip. On the other hand, maybe she wasn’t doing them any favors.

      Tourist season was in full swing. Three cabs had lined up at the curb and most of the other carts were loaded down with luggage. She’d been lucky to get a room at the last minute. It was a pricey suite she wouldn’t necessarily have booked, but she had to admit, the idea of getting a massage and soaking in a jetted tub sounded like heaven.

      “I’m Hector,” the husky young man told her and started pushing the cart toward the glass doors. “Are you here for the reunion?”

      “Yes, I am.” She glanced around at the busy port cache and dug into her purse. “Look, my bags are light, and I see you’re busy. I’ll probably end up bumping into people and—”

      Ignoring the five-dollar bill she tried to give him, Hector shook his head. “For you, I have all the time in the world,” he said, his grin growing wider as he gestured for her to lead the way through the open glass doors.

      She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she preceded him into the stunning, open lobby with a killer view of the ocean. It had been updated since she’d last seen it, although the same beautiful hardwood floors were polished to a shine, and the stark white reception desk with the old-fashioned wooden pigeonhole room slots was still there. The furniture was more elegant—suede chairs and couches, all variant colors of the sand and rock of the landscape, were placed in perfect groupings with convenient, antique tables and plenty of room to maneuver. Stunning bouquets led the eyes from one gorgeous view to the next.

      Most of the chairs were occupied with people sipping cocktails and chatting away. She assumed a number of them were here for the reunion, though she hadn’t recognized anyone yet.

      Luckily, only two guests were waiting at the front desk. Jessica’s gaze returned to the blue sky and even bluer water, and she had the sudden urge to kick off her flats, make a dash to the shoreline and dig her toes into the warm sand. Soak up enough sunshine to get her through a Chicago winter. More than once Ronny had told her the ocean flowed through her veins. And that she’d be back sooner than she’d thought...that she’d always come back.

      By the time she turned to Hector he’d passed the cart to another bell attendant and was holding her things in his large, tanned hands.

      “So I’m guessing you’re from Temptation Bay,” he said. “Went to school here.” It was a statement, not a question. “Your family, did they live at Waverly Hills?”

      Jessica laughed, unsure if she should be insulted. But in truth her bloodline extended to both sides of the track. Her dad’s clan were townies, less charitably known as the fish people. Ronny came from a long line of fishermen who’d settled on the coast generations ago. The hill people were newbies, relatively speaking, and consisted primarily of wealthy tourists who’d bought prime land atop the bluffs and built second homes.

      Ultimately, some of the families made Temptation Bay their permanent residence. Jessica’s grandparents might’ve followed suit, if their only daughter hadn’t announced that she wanted to marry Ronny, a local surfer, who, despite his two championship titles and his big heart, they could never see as anything but a beach bum.

      Much as Jessica adored her dad, she knew her grandparents hadn’t been completely wrong. The next week they’d sold their gorgeous vacation home sitting high on the bluff and returned to Connecticut. Of course that hadn’t stopped their headstrong daughter.

      At eighteen, Victoria Danes had returned to Temptation Bay two weeks later, on her own for the first time, armed with determination and confidence born from a healthy sense of entitlement. The next day she and Ronny were married on the beach, the water lapping at their bare feet. By most accounts Jessica was born eight months later, give or take. The marriage had barely lasted two years after that.

      Noticing Hector’s odd look, she pulled herself back to the present. It took a moment to remember his question. “Any chance you know a local surfer named Ronny? He has a shack on the beach near the old docks.”

      “Sure, I know him,” he said, grinning. “Everybody knows Ronny.”

      “He’s my dad.”

      Hector’s dark eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “No kidding.”

      “No kidding.” She moved closer to the front desk when she realized a couple had slipped in ahead of her because she hadn’t been paying attention. “What about you? Your family lives here?”

      He nodded, still looking puzzled. “How long have you been away?”

      “Hmm...” It wasn’t a simple answer. Home every summer while she was in college. Three years of law school hadn’t given her much leisure time. Then while waiting to take the bar, she’d spent a month abroad with her mom and husband number four. “Not counting visits, about ten years.” Jessica wondered if he could hear the defensiveness that had crept into her voice. Probably not. Although Hector had somehow managed to identify her as a local in a matter of minutes, whereas Grant knew so little about her that he’d had the gall to ask her to help free a rapist.

      Generally she wasn’t quick to judge someone. But after being subjected to Sanford Burbidge, she wouldn’t put anything past him. The guy was a sociopath. She pitied his defense team. Which would not include her and she sure as hell didn’t need a weekend away to think about it. Although, the idea of starting over with a tainted reputation sticking to her like a shadow made her want to cry.

      Luckily, that didn’t make her any less glad to be here. She hadn’t realized just how much she needed this trip home.

      “So, you must surf, right?”

      “I used to.” She’d been pretty damn good, too. “But like I said, it’s been a long time.”

      “I bet once you get back on that board you’ll rock.”

      Jessica laughed. “I doubt I’ll be putting it to the test,” she said, estimating Hector to be in his midtwenties, about ten years younger than herself. So it wasn’t a surprise that she didn’t recognize him. It still made her a little sad, though. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d known just about everyone who lived on the other side of town.

      She stared past him at two women across the lobby waving frantically at her. The glare was awful with the bright sunlight flooding in. Perhaps she wasn’t the intended...

      Ginny?

      “Oh, my God, it’s Ginny Landry,” Jessica murmured, waving back.

      Harlow was with her...a little slimmer, quite a bit blonder. At least she was pretty sure it was Harlow, another member of their high school gang—the Fearless Four as they’d called themselves. But Ginny was the only classmate Jessica had seen since they’d graduated because Ginny still lived in Temptation Bay. Ironic since of all of them, Ginny had been on the fast track to become a concert pianist just like her late mother. But life often didn’t turn out as expected. Jessica could attest to that.

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