into a family without so much as a voice in the matter.
She supposed he hadn’t minded—he was still hanging around.
Lora exhaled loudly and climbed to her feet, needing to clear her head. There was too much clanging around in her mind, too many variables to consider. The best course of action would require concise thinking.
Larimar was in serious trouble. And by Lora’s way of thinking, Heath was partially to blame. If he hadn’t talked Pops into that business deal, at the very least the money would be there so she could straighten out this misunderstanding with the IRS. But the reserve was terribly low—barely enough to cover a plumbing issue if the need arose—and that made her alternately nervous and angry.
Well, anger was something she was familiar with and even if she wasn’t proud that she’d been perpetually accused of shouldering a chip her entire life, at least she knew how to handle herself.
She didn’t have enough in her own personal accounts to pay off the debt and if Heath had the money, she was fairly certain he would’ve paid the debt by now. At the very least, to her knowledge, he wasn’t one to shirk his debts.
And, whether she liked it or not, Heath truly loved her family and they loved him.
So that left one option—an option she wasn’t comfortable with, but when backed into a corner one could either spit and scratch or surrender quietly to fight another day.
Lora flopped on her childhood bed, the scent of summer and sun surrounding her, and stared at the ceiling.
“Damn it,” she murmured, a well of frustration laced with something else. She’d have to put aside her grievances with Heath and work with him to fix this problem. However, as soon as Larimar was in the clear, she would be having a serious discussion with him about moving his business out of Larimar. If he wanted to be a businessman, he could peddle his goods elsewhere. She wasn’t interested in his success or failure—only that of Larimar.
Tomorrow she’d call a meeting with Heath and try to work out a solution together. A small, reluctant grin found her lips as she chuckled without humor. Grams was probably watching from her beach in heaven—giggling.
The mad woman had always enjoyed stirring things up.
* * *
HEATH©DOVE©ONE©LAST©TIME under the dusky waves as the sun crested the horizon, bathing the beach in soft amber-yellow light. He always swam with the morning light, enjoying the way the water muted the early chorus of bugs and birds welcoming the day with a cacophony of noise. The brief moment of stillness soothed his turbulent thoughts and he welcomed the respite.
He was a ways from the shore. Flipping on his back, he floated, gazing at the breaking dawn sky, loving his slice of heaven no matter how difficult it seemed to make a living. If it weren’t for tourists and the internet…he’d be screwed.
Sighing, he turned and made a slow, almost reluctant return to the beach, only to find Lora walking the shore, her white gauzy sarong swaying with the movement of her hips. She walked head down, gazing at her feet in the soft sugar-white sand as the water reached for her with each tidal surge. Her hair drifted down her back, rippling in lazy waves, the humidity curling her hair with wild abandon. Something in him clenched, twisting him in knots, a remnant from the time when he was a poor, neglected island boy with nothing to his name and even less to aspire to as both his parents had run off, leaving him to fend for himself at the age of ten.
What was it about Lora that made him want what she’d never offered? He’d been a fool then, but he wasn’t the same love-struck boy now. Today he saw her for what she was, a beautiful woman with ice in her veins.
“I brought this for you,” a voice whispered from his past, the hushed voice of a young Lora as she handed him a basket of fresh fruit and beef pâté. “The pâté is fresh. Pops bought it from Simon today.”
The sharp hunger cramping his belly roared like an angry beast at the sight of the basket and the knowledge that food was inside. He took the basket, not sure why she was being so nice. He’d seen her around the island in the square; she was hard to miss with that dark hair and exotic features, and he’d followed her home, curious to see where such a beautiful girl lived. Lora must’ve seen him creeping along the fringe of the private beach, but worse, she must’ve guessed the hollows in his cheeks weren’t natural. He’d like to say he accepted the basket with some sort of grace, but as he flushed with the memory, he remembered how it’d happened.
He’d torn into the basket and eaten the entire pâté before Lora’s astonished eyes with great gobbling bites, stuffing his mouth until he thought he might choke but he hadn’t eaten anything aside from what he could scrounge from the restaurant scraps for the past month. He might’ve been two steps away from death, if it hadn’t been for Lora’s basket.
And then, clutching the basket to his chest, he’d run away.
He’d come back the following day, seeing her at the marketplace buying fresh fruit. She’d caught sight of him and waved him over. He’d shyly thanked her for the food, but stopped short of telling her just how bad things were for him. She seemed to understand that he was holding something back and must’ve known what it was like to need to keep some things private, because she didn’t mention it again. In no time, they’d become fast friends. He’d meet her in the plaza and they’d spend the day romping around, swimming, fishing, sharing smoothies.
Until the day came when he’d come home and discovered his parents had truly taken off for good this time. He’d been terrified. So he’d tried to follow. With disastrous results.
It would be a year before he saw her again when Pops brought him to the resort on the guise of needing a young strapping boy to do the heavy lifting for him in the form of odd jobs.
That’d been the year Pops had unofficially adopted him.
Lora hadn’t been happy. In fact, she was so cold and closed off, he almost wondered if she remembered that he was the same boy that she’d saved from starving only a year prior. She’d rebuffed any attempt he’d made to explain, sending the message quite clearly that whatever they’d had before he left, hadn’t survived the absence. Which, honestly, if he hadn’t developed feelings for her, would’ve been fine. But that’s not how it had turned out. He’d been doomed to fall for Lora Bell because fate had decided his life hadn’t been filled with enough turmoil.
Man, when he thought of how many nights he’d stayed awake thinking about Lora…good God. It made him sick to think of all that wasted time.
Shaking off the memory with effort, he exhaled and walked from the water, startling Lora with his appearance, as he headed for the towel he’d hung on a tree. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as an involuntary, gasped squeak gave away her distress.
Probably because he was nude.
* * *
“WHAT©ARE©YOU©DOING?” Lora managed to blurt out, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she could scrub her brain but it was no use, nothing would erase what she’d seen—Heath in all his morning glory—and she was fairly certain she was scarred for life. A growing heat in the center of her belly caused her to squirm as disquiet at her own reaction made her want to run away. But she couldn’t very well turn tail and run like a scared little rabbit just because she’d happened to catch Heath in his birthday suit. His wasn’t the first penis she’d ever seen, for crying out loud. But… she thought miserably,
