paradise found
 

Paradise Found
by K.N. Casper, Roz Denny Fox, and Eve Gaddy

Chapter One: Page One



• The Story So Far... • Recommended Reads • Books in this Miniseries • About the Authors K.N. Casper Roz Denny Fox Eve Gaddy • Authors' Current Releases K.N. Casper Roz Denny Fox
Layla St. Cloud stood at the dock after having waved away her last group of bass fishermen. This was shaping up to be a profitable month, she thought, enjoying the morning mist rising like wraiths off the murky bayous of Caddo Lake.
She'd spent the bulk of her 30 years fishing the mysterious brakes most town folks only discussed in hushed tones, adding to the legends Layla loved. Spooky tales attracted tourists, and those who made their way to this remote section of the East Texas–Louisiana border allowed her to continue a lifestyle she wouldn't trade for anything in the world.
Heading back to her office, she aimed a kick at a weathered boat she hoped to replace with this year's profits. It leaked a bit and was the last of the inventory that had belonged to her parents. She sank into a worn leather armchair, popped the top of a diet cola, thumbed back her baseball cap, and opened the paperback she'd started yesterday.
Anyone not as used to silence would probably be lulled to sleep by the gentle lap, lap of water against the marina pilings. Layla loved the solitude, though she did suffer twinges of regret when pals coupled up and she spent Saturday nights alone. But the two men she might have grown serious about had turned out to be unsuitable. Each expected her to leave Uncertain, when what she really dreamed of was settling down right here and raising a happy family.
Once, she'd been young and in love. Once, she'd believed she had a chance for happiness. But that illusion hadn't lasted long.
Suddenly, a distress signal beeped and flashed red on one of her array of shortwave radios. "Uh-oh!" She dropped her book and leaped to her feet. Boating mishaps of any kind spelled bad news for marina owners, even one as adequately insured as Layla St. Cloud.
Layla spun dials and a child's frantic voice filled the room. "Help. Help. My daddy's cut his arm with a saw. Help. Help."
It took her a moment to recognize the voice. Jimmy Gibson. Seven or so. His dad was building a cabin in a remote cove at the north end of the lake. Mr. Gibson's boat was in for repairs so this weekend he'd rented one of hers. "Jimmy? This is Ms. St. Cloud. Calm down, honey, and tell me exactly what happened." Layla closed her eyes against the bloody vision she'd conjured up.
The teary voice rose hysterically. "The chain saw hit something hard and..." He sniffled. "Daddy has a real bad cut on his arm. He's holdin' it together with his other hand. If he lets go, blood gushes. I ain't strong enough to pull the rope on the motor. Please, Miz Cloud, come quick. I don't want my daddy to die."
"I will. I mean, I won't let him die, Jimmy. You take care of your dad. Keep him warm. Cover him with a blanket." It wasn't much, but it might protect him from shock. "I'll bring a doctor."
"Please hurry."
Chapter One: Page Two


Clicking off, Layla frantically flipped through her emergency numbers. There was only one doctor in town. Her fingers froze. Dr. Rico Santiago — the very man whose life she'd wrecked — twice. Even now it pained her to remember the consequences of their actions. They'd been young, in love. Even though Rico had been slated for the priesthood.
They'd tried to ignore the feelings. Had nearly succeeded, but then, one warm spring day, while drifting around the lake, they couldn't keep away from each other any longer. They'd made love. A first for them both. A cataclysmic event.
Neither had been able to deal with the guilt. Rico had said they must confess. What a disaster, Layla remembered. They'd both been made to see that Rico's calling lay with the church. His grandmother had ordained it from the moment of his birth. The priest knew, everyone knew, what Rico had to do.
Forget Layla and become a priest.
"But how can I now?" he'd said, eyes dark and brooding — to Layla, accusing. He hadn't exactly said, "after you seduced me." But he might as well have.
If what had happened between them 14 years ago had been the only thing to deal with, Layla believed she could have put it behind her. No, it's what happened the last time she'd seen Rico — nine years ago now — that truly filled her with shame.
But none of these reminiscences would help Mr. Gibson. She smoothed the card with the clinic's phone number that she'd crumpled and quickly dialed. Rico's nurse answered. "I'm sorry, Ms. St. Cloud, but you'll have to call the park rangers. The doctor doesn't make house calls."
Someone fumbled with the phone. "Wait! I'm here. I just walked in the door." Rico sounded a little out of breath. "Layla, is that you? What is it? What do you need?"
His deep baritone sent ripples of heat up Layla's spine. Heat and memories she'd better quash. Mr. Gibson didn't deserve to bleed to death because she couldn't rise above old history with the drop-dead gorgeous medicine man.

Chapter One: Page Three


"I-It's a medical emergency. A guy in a cove several miles north of here has apparently had an accident with a chain saw and needs medical assistance right away."
"Chain saw? Has he lost a limb?"
"No, thank God. His son says he's holding the wound together to keep it from bleeding."
"Has he had a tetanus shot?"
"How the hell do I know?" Layla wanted to kick herself for not even asking.
"Next time, find out," he said tersely. "Get a boat ready. I'll be over in a minute."
Irritated at his peremptory tone, she started to hang up, but he stopped her with a word. "Layla..."
Heart pounding, she waited for him to finish his sentence.
"You can't avoid me this time. We're going to talk, you and I."
The heck we are, Layla vowed, hanging up the phone. It would be a cold day in hell before she opened herself up to public humiliation again.
Chapter Two: Page One



• The Story So Far... • Recommended Reads • Books in this Miniseries • About the Authors K.N. Casper Roz Denny Fox Eve Gaddy • Authors' Current Releases K.N. Casper Roz Denny Fox
Read previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Get a boat ready? Layla thought. What boat? She only had one left. The engine needed an overhaul and it leaked like a sieve. She picked up the phone and started calling the other marinas. Every last one of them was in the same fix — their good boats were all rented.
Rico came storming through the front door in jogging shorts and a tank top, carrying his medical bag. Layla hoped she wasn't drooling. He must have just come back from his noontime jog.
"Ready?" he asked and kept moving past her desk to the dockside door.
"I've only got one boat left. It has a few problems." She took a step to follow him. "I'll show you what they are. If you're careful..."
"Let's go, Layla. You can tell me all about it on the way."
She stopped short. "On the way? I'm not going with you."
He turned and faced her, his expression impatient. "Of course you're going with me." He took a deep breath, then spoke more slowly, as if to a child. "It's been more than 10 years since I navigated Old Swampy, Layla. I don't have a clue where this cove is you mentioned, and I don't have time to find out. Nobody knows the lake better than you do. Now let's get going."
Spending time alone in the close confines of a boat with Rico Santiago sent her into a panic. He'd been good-looking as a teenager, and in his 20s. But now, as a fully mature man — with his thick, shiny black curls and lean, athlete's body — he was drop-dead gorgeous. Those dark eyes still promised all manner of sweet sin, too. The kind of sin Layla didn't want to dwell on, but that which would be impossible to ignore if they went out in her leaky boat together.
The kind of sin she remembered even now. A vision lit a neon sign in her mind — the two of them steaming the paint off the walls of her bedroom. Nine years vanished in the blink of an eye as she catapulted into the past. To that fateful trip to the post office after her parents had died.
Hurrying down the street, hand clenched on the letter that held the insurance payment, she wished desperately her parents had left her in better financial shape. Due to their poor investments, she was barely making it. She wanted desperately to keep the marina. It was all she had now, all she was ever likely to have. Not watching where she was going, she yanked open the post office door and smashed right into a man coming out.
Strong hands gripped her arms. Her head came up and she stared directly into flashing black eyes. Her heart stopped.
Rico Santiago.
Chapter Two: Page Two


Wearing a priest's collar.
"Layla, are you all right? I hoped I'd run into you —" his slow, wicked smile, so at odds with his clerical garb, appeared "— but I didn't expect it to be literally. How are you?"
Her breath returned in a rush. "I'm fine. And so are you, obviously. I didn't know you'd been ordained."
Something — regret, pain — flashed in his eyes. "I haven't been. I haven't taken my final vows yet." He dropped his hands, though her imagination told her he'd held on a little longer than necessary. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"
"I'm not sure that's a good idea." In fact, she was certain it wasn't. Even with the collar, he was still too good-looking for her peace of mind.
"Please, Layla."
She never had been able to tell him no. They went to her house, behind the marina. Rico stood at the mantel, fiddling with the framed pictures adorning it. He seemed uncomfortable, as if he didn't know where to begin. Layla couldn't imagine what he wanted to say. After all, he was practically a priest. What did they have left to talk about?
"I have a confession." He smiled slightly, as if amused by his choice of words. "I didn't just hope I'd run into you. I came home expressly to see you. And my family."
At sea, she shook her head. "I don't understand."
"I'm not going to be a priest," he said. Stunned, she stared at him. He smiled and added, "You're the first person I've told."
"Why? And why...why tell me?" she whispered.
"Because you're the reason I can't do it, Layla. It took me years to admit what I've known in my heart all along. I was never meant to be a priest. And I've known, ever since that day on the lake. The day we made love."
"Rico, this is crazy. You don't mean this. We haven't even seen each other in four years. Except at a distance. Not since you graduated."
"I know. Don't think I've come to this decision lightly." His mouth tightened. "I haven't. I tried to accept my calling. Tried to believe I was destined for the priesthood. But I've never forgotten you. Never forgotten what happened between us." His heated gaze locked on hers. "And I have to wonder...if you've forgotten me any more than I've forgotten you."
"I…tried," honesty compelled her to say.
"Did you succeed?"
Chapter Two: Page Three


Oh, it wasn't fair. How could he ask her to open herself up to more hurt? But how could she deny him the truth? She met his eyes. "No. I haven't forgotten."
His hands went to his collar. Slowly, he unfastened it, then laid it gently on the mantel.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"What I've wanted to do for the past four years," he said, and crossed the room to her. Gently, his hands encircled her arms. "Stop me now, Layla, if this isn't what you want."
Her heart thundered in her ears. Finally, she whispered, "Don't stop, Rico."
His lips claimed hers as she melted against him. She felt a sense of rightness, of belonging, as his arms came around her and he drew her closer still. She still loved him, still wanted him, she thought as his tongue swept her mouth with abandon. Had she ever really stopped?
"Well?" Rico snapped. "What's the matter with you, Layla? A man's life is at stake."
Abruptly brought back to the present, Layla blinked and drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"Move it, St. Cloud," he said sharply. "Andale, andale!" He made hurrying motions with his hands. "Saws are wicked and dirty. And since we don't know if Mr. Gibson's up on his tetanus shot —"
"I'm coming." Even though she knew she'd regret it. Thankfully, her journey into the past had halted at the bedroom. Like the first time, making love with Rico then had been wonderful. It was only later that the memories became too painful to bear.
The next day Rico's grandmother confronted her in the general store with, it seemed, all of Uncertain looking on. Nine years later, she could still see the tiny despot, still hear her voice berating Layla for daring to turn her grandson from the church. For sinning, and leading him into sin.
Nine years, and she could still feel the pain of writing Rico that final letter. The letter destroying their relationship, telling him not to come back because she planned to marry another man.

Layla snatched a ship-to-shore radio and a first aid kit and marched out the door. Rico hid a smile. Finally, he would have Layla St. Cloud exactly where he wanted her. Stuck with him in a boat, with no possible chance of escape.
"This is it." Layla pointed to a battered, grimy, low-riding craft.
"It doesn't look very seaworthy," Rico said doubtfully.
"It'll have to do. It's the last boat I have." She started the outboard.
He climbed in and helped her cast off. At least the motor worked. "Can you raise them again on that radio? I'd like to talk to the patient himself, rather than the child. There might be something I need to tell them to do until we can make it there."
Layla shook her head. "Jimmy said he'd be waiting outside, and from what I gathered, his father's not in any shape to be handling communications."
Damn. Well, they'd just have to make the best of it. He glanced at the sky with a worried frown. "I heard there might be some weather blowing in."
"Yes, I did, too. But you know how those reports are. The only thing you can trust is that summer will be hot and humid." When Rico didn't speak, she added, "What's wrong, Doc? Afraid of my navigational abilities?"
"I've always trusted you, Layla. But then, you know that."
She flushed and didn't respond. A moment later she reached beneath the dash and pulled out a bucket. "Here." She gestured toward the bow of the boat. "Start bailing."
Shooting her his best smile, he said, "I guess bailing water beats being alligator bait."


Chapter Three: Page Two


Neither spoke for a while. Layla kept glancing at him warily, but the longer he remained silent, the more she relaxed. When he judged the time right, he said, "You know, I take the fact that you've been avoiding me as a good sign."
Startled, she turned to look at him. "I haven't been avoiding you. I've just been...busy."
A weak excuse and they both knew it. "Right." He scooped more water, emptied it over the side. "So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're still running scared."
She gave him an incredulous look. "Excuse me? Running scared of what?"
"Of your feelings." He grinned at her outraged sputter. "You didn't want to even risk seeing me, because you knew what could happen when we saw each other again."
"Did medical school include lessons in ego, Rico?" she asked sweetly.
He had to laugh. "Querida, I've been shot down plenty of times in the past several years. My ego's taken a number of hits." But none of those women had been Layla. None of them had mattered as she always had. He emptied a bucket, keeping his eyes on her. "Haven't you asked yourself why I came back to Uncertain? Aren't you curious?"
Her chin lifted. "I haven't thought about you at all, except as a mistake that happened a long time ago." Her grip on the wheel tightened until her knuckles showed white.
"Liar," he said, then reached out and traced his fingers over her mouth, gently. The soft, sexy mouth that he still dreamed of kissing. Dreamed of making his. "But a beautiful one."
His fingers dropped and though he itched to touch her lips again, to caress far more than her mouth, he didn't. "Once you might have explained away as a mistake. After all, we were very young. But how do you explain the second time, Layla? Nine years ago when we made love and I asked you to marry me?"
"I don't have to explain it," she snapped, her jaw tightening. "I already did that years ago."
No, she hadn't. But he allowed the subject to slide for the moment. "I'm tired of the singles scene, of dating a lot of different women. That's in the past. I came home because I want to settle down. In Uncertain, where my family is."



Chapter Three: Page Three


"So what's stopping you? It's not up to me whether you settle down or not. There are plenty of women in Uncertain. Which, from what I hear, you're very well aware of." Her mouth primmed as she glanced at him sideways. "You know small-town gossip. According to Amanda Jennings, the local authority on such matters, you're quite the ladies' man."
"Don't believe everything you hear," he said mildly. Because he didn't want other women. He wanted Layla St. Cloud. Always had, always would. Still, her comments sounded a bit like jealousy, which cheered him. "I've taken out a few local women, but nothing serious. I don't fall into bed with every woman I meet, if that's what you're implying."
She shrugged. "It's nothing to me if you do."
He didn't say another word, but left her and resumed bailing out the craft. The way his luck was running, they'd sink right in the middle of a forgotten channel.
They entered a cove. "This is the place," Layla said, pushing her cap back and pointing in the general direction. "That's Jimmy on the dock, waving to us." The boy was jumping up and down and screaming unintelligibly to them.
"Layla," Rico said as they neared the pier. "We still haven't talked about the real issue here. Why you wrote me nine years ago, claiming to be marrying another man." Alarmed, her gaze darted to his. "Why you broke it off between us. And why you lied."
"How did — I didn't —" she stammered, then fell silent.
The boat bumped the pier. "Save it for later. Right now I have a patient who could be bleeding to death," he told her, pinning her with a direct gaze. "Unlike the last time, there will be a later.…"

Layla secured the boat to the dock cleats while watching Rico stride away. Her hands shook, making it difficult to tie the proper knot. No man — erase that — no doctor should look so sexy. Wasn't there an unwritten code saying small-town physicians should be portly, kind-eyed, and gray-haired? Rico Santiago fit none of those descriptions.
She felt weak thinking about having his hands on her body even in the impersonal manner of doctors. But there had been nothing impersonal in his earlier touch of her lips. In fact, they still tingled. She blinked back a more erotic image. One having no place, given the grave circumstance that had thrown them together.
She focused instead on the pinched face and bloodstained clothes of Jimmy Gibson. He hovered outside the rough structure his dad was building. Layla gave a last hitch of the boat line and ran up the ramp. "Wait out here, Jimmy. I'll see what's happening." She craned her neck to peer into the partially walled cabin.
Unable to see much, she stepped inside. Blood — the smell of it, the sight of it — assaulted her senses. Layla's stomach tightened as she gazed at a scene straight out of a nightmare. Splotches of red coated every surface. My God, she thought, how could anyone bleed so much and still be alive?
The injured man lay stretched out on an improvised worktable, one arm crossed over his chest to hold the blood-encrusted skin of his other arm. His once white T-shirt was tie-dyed crimson, as were the blue jeans covering the lower half of his body. His face looked pasty white and blood streaked it liberally, as well.
She took a faltering step forward. "Rico, is he —"
"I need some help here, Layla." Calm and cool, Rico stood beside the man, opening a pouch of Ringer's. "Get some gloves from my bag and come over here."
Nausea bubbled in her stomach. "I'm not sure I can."
Rico glanced at her sharply. "Yes, you can. I need you, and so does the patient. Take a deep breath. You don't faint at the sight of blood, do you?"
"No. But I'm not —" she drew in a shuddering breath "— I'm not used to seeing this much of it."
"Fortunately for Mr. Gibson, it looks worse than it is. Only a couple of cuts deep enough to require sutures." He finished hanging the IV and said, "Hand me those scissors. The curved pair at the front."
Feeling a little steadier, Layla pulled on a pair of latex gloves and reached over to where he'd laid out several instruments and supplies, handing him the requested instrument. "Why is there so much blood?"
His attention focused on the patient, Rico said, "This kind of wound bleeds a lot. Tends to scare you if you're unused to it."
Seeing him slice the shirtsleeve, she decided she'd do better to watch Rico's face rather than what his hands were doing. Much safer.
"Now the sutures," Rico said, giving her the scissors and leaving his hand out. "And the needle holder. It's that instrument closest to me."
She did as he asked, pleased to find she was beginning to enjoy assisting him. It made her feel good to help both Rico and his patient.
Rico's concentration was stern, unyielding. He murmured assurances to his patient as he worked, his movements quick and efficient, occasionally asking Layla for another instrument. Brad had yet to open his eyes or utter a word. Layla wondered if he'd fainted.



Chapter Four: Page Two


"Is my daddy all right?" a small voice piped from the doorway. "Can I see him?"
"Best keep him out for a few minutes," Rico murmured.
"I wanna see my daddy," the boy insisted plaintively.
"Just give the doctor a minute," Layla called. "Wait by the door, honey."
"Thanks," Rico said, and continued suturing. "Why don't you tell me what happened, Mr. Gibson?"
The man opened his eyes. "Chain saw hit a knot. Jumped like a son of a gun. If it hadn't been for Jimmy, I don't know what I would've done."
"Your son did a fine job," Rico assured him. "We'll make sure he knows it, too." After a moment, he said, "If you want to tend to the boy, Layla, I can take it alone from here. Give me 10 minutes and then bring him in."
Layla nodded, and stripped off the bloody gloves. She found Jimmy hovering at the door and gathered him into her arms for a supportive hug.
Rico poked his head out the makeshift doorway a few minutes later. "Your dad's a lucky man, Jimmy," he said with a gentle smile. "You were real brave, son. Thanks to you, he's going to be fine."
Layla felt the boy sag with relief. She could have kissed Rico for taking the time to ease Jimmy's mind. Her heart gave a small hitch as she recalled a young Rico finding an injured egret on the lake. He'd built a pen and set the broken wing with wooden stir sticks.
To Brad, Rico said, "I'm giving you a tetanus shot and an antibiotic shot, then we'll be through here." He smiled. "You should be as good as new in a few days. Come by the office and I'll remove the stitches. Keep the area dry and watch for signs of infection. Are there tools you need stored before we transport you back to town? I hate to rush you, but I need to get to the Marshall hospital to check out a patient. A first-time mom."
The injured man, his color much better than when Rico and Layla arrived, frowned. "Weather broadcast says there's a bad storm coming. This cabin may only have three walls, but the roof's sturdy. I'm staying put. I don't think y'all should head back to Uncertain tonight, either."
Layla moved to the window that had been framed. She scanned the lake and the sky. "A few clouds drifting in." Surely they could make it back before the weather broke. "I think we'll be okay. If we leave now, we should dock before dark. We just need to gas up first."
"That I can supply, but I wish you'd reconsider, Doc." Brad appealed to Rico.
"You're the lake expert," Rico said, deferring to Layla.
It amazed her to hear the level of trust in Rico's voice. "I saw where you stockpiled the gas," she told Gibson. To Rico, she murmured, "I'll only be a minute. While I gas her up, you bail any residual water. No sense starting out riding low."
"Can do," Rico said as she walked away.


Chapter Four: Page Three


A short time later as she returned to the boat, she saw Jimmy in the driver's seat, turning something over in his pudgy, still bloody hands. "Cool," he said.
As Layla drew nearer, she realized what he held. "Put the radio down, Jimmy."
A pout tugging at his mouth, the boy ignored her. "I'm not hurtin' it."
"Leave it alone, son," Brad called. "Now."
"Here, Jimmy, give it to me." Rico reached for it. As Jimmy jerked backward, the radio slipped from his grasp and tumbled into the water with a plop.
Layla and Rico lunged for the instrument at the same time, crashed into each other, and came up empty.
Horrified, Layla stared at Rico. "I don't have a spare."
She realized she had two choices: spend the night with Rico or head back without a radio, in the face of possible bad weather.
No contest, she thought. She wasn't about to get caught in the dark with Rico Santiago. Not ever again.

Pausing in his work, Rico risked a glance at the sky. Not a reassuring prospect. Dark gray clouds threatened ominously. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Wind whipped the water into sharp white-capped points. Added to that, Layla had insisted they both wear life vests on the return journey, saying she didn't want to take any chances.
"Can we make it back?" he asked, raising his voice over the whistle of the wind and the chug of the motor.
"Yes," Layla snapped, but he could see the worry lines on her face. "Bail faster."
"Damn it, I'm working as fast as I can." Bending, he started scooping water again. He grunted as a wave swooped over the side of the rocking boat. "Maybe we should turn back. Brad will be glad to have us."
Layla shook her head. "We've come too far now. I'm heading for an inlet that parallels the main channel. More ********************************ter, even if it will take longer."
He wondered if she wanted to get back to the mainland to get away from him or because he'd been worried about his patient.
"There it is," she said, and swung the boat sharply to starboard, almost toppling Rico overboard.
He caught himself on the gunwale. "Are you trying to get rid of me or just experimenting to see how many of my bones you can break?"
"Sorry." They slipped behind a stand of pine and hardwood trees. "Rico, can you come steer for a minute? I want to check the leak."
Glad to have a change from the endless bending and dumping, he took the wheel. He didn't like the worry he heard in her voice, but they were in her territory now, not his. "Bad news?" he asked as she resumed her place.
Her eyes met his. "The leak's worse, which is why we're riding lower in the water. We need to find ********************************ter and wait out the storm."
He grimaced at the gathering darkness. "Any great ideas as to where we can do that?"
She seemed to hesitate, gripping the wheel tighter. Finally, she said, "My grandparents have a cottage on a little island up ahead."
"We don't have much choice, do we?"
They reentered the broad stretch of deep water. The wind was angry now, shrieking with rage. Rain pelted them with sharp, icy stings.


Chapter Five: Page Two


"Dios! We're more at the mercy of the elements out here in the open," Rico shouted. As if his voice invoked the wrath of Mother Nature, lightning bolted from the heavens.
Layla's jaw was clamped tight. "This is the only way to ********************************ter. I'm doing my best to coax every last ounce of speed from this old tub. If you have a pipeline to the Almighty, now might be a good time to invoke the Santiago name."
He grinned. "Mi abuela is the only Santiago with any pull upstairs," he said affectionately. "Lord knows Tita does her best to save us all during her daily trips to mass."
He thought he saw a flash of pain in Layla's eyes, but she turned away from him to look out at the water. "What is it? Did Tita say something to you?" He knew his grandmother wasn't especially fond of Layla, believing she'd led Rico astray from his calling.
"There's no point in bringing up the past now."
Wasn't there? Dios, he thought, he'd let her put it off long enough. This time he intended to get some answers. "I think there is. I think the past matters a lot. To both of us," he shouted above the wind. "Why did you lie to me, Layla? There was no man, no engagement. We both know it."
"Rico, I can't talk about it now. The weather —"
"Damn the weather. I want to know what happened. Why are you so afraid to tell me?" He stopped bailing and stood next to her. Laid a hand on her icy cold cheek. "Please, Layla."
Her eyes closed for a brief moment, only to open filled with anguish. "It will only hurt you more. You don't want to know, Rico. Trust me on this."
Unsatisfied, he vowed to have his answer later.
Sheets of rain blew in swirls, now merely running off their clothing, which was too soaked to absorb any added water. Rico flinched when the whistling wind broke two tree limbs in succession and they cracked like gunshots as they landed on the fat lily pads.
"I hate repeating myself," he panted, pausing in his constant bailing. "But do we have any chance in hell of making it back alive?"


Chapter Five: Page Three


"I teach lake survival," Layla responded grimly. "We'll make it. I think we're seeing the worst. Bail faster."
Darkness closed in, blanketing them in a suffocating shroud. "Layla? Yell out every few minutes. Otherwise I won't know if you wash overboard."
"I'm sorry I got you into this, Rico. I thought we could make it home before dark. I saw how worried you were about your patient."
"Nothing we can do about it now."
"But you aren't happy about leaving her in someone else's care, right?"
"I'm a realist, Layla. And I'm in water above my ankles. The storm is only getting worse, and my arms are about to fall off from bailing. I'm open to any alternative. Other than drowning, that is."
"Up ahead," she shouted. "Watch during the next lightning strike. There's a dock of sorts and my grandparents' cabin, where we can wait out the storm."
Lightning cracked, split the sky in a brilliant flash. Following sharply on its heels came a loud bang, but from the water, not the sky. The boat shuddered, coughed, and died.
"Damn it!" Layla shouted. "Tighten your life vest. We hit some debris and I think the boat is coming apart." Even as she spoke a deep rending sound filled the air as the weakened craft shuddered and split.
Cold water closed about Rico. He heard Layla yelling, felt her grab onto him. "Can you see the shore?" she screamed in his ear. "It's not far. Swim for it!"
"Are you all right?" he shouted back.
"Rico, watch out for that —"
And his world went dark.

"Rico! Rico, answer me!" Bending over the prone body she'd dragged onto the rocky shore, Layla searched frantically for his pulse. Her shaking fingers finally found his carotid artery. The steady beat fluttered reassuringly. Thank God he's not dead.
But he wasn't talking. She leaned close, pushing his dark, wet hair back from his face, and gently ran her fingers over his scalp. She knew that branch had hit him, but with darkness closing in, it had been impossible to tell how hard a blow it'd been.
It was all her fault. Rico was injured, possibly badly. If only she hadn't been so determined to get home. So determined not to spend any more time with him. No stranger to guilt, Layla accepted it with dreadful clarity. She'd not only ruined his life, keeping him from the priesthood, but now...
Strong hands framed her face. "Layla."
Her gaze flew to his. His eyes were open wide, staring into hers. "Thank God," she breathed.
"Thank you," he said, and pulled her head down until her lips met his.
His lips were warm, firm, and knowing. His tongue searched her mouth, hot and devastating, the heat generated at direct odds with the slap of cold rain still beating down on them.
She didn't think, couldn't think. Instead she kissed him back with all the pent-up fear, relief, and longing that had been lodged so long in her heart. His mouth shifted, he deepened the kiss, and drew her closer, and she melted against him with a breathless whimper of desire.
She didn't want it to end. Ever. That realization had her pushing her hands against his chest and jerking her mouth away from his. "What do you think you're doing? I thought you were hurt!"
His grin flashed, bright in the gloom. "Just a scratch, querida. Thanks to you."
"Next time you can show your appreciation another way," she told him, scrambling to her feet. "A box of chocolate would do it."
"Not nearly as much fun." He rose, stripped off his life vest and looked around. "Which way is the cabin? And I hope it has heat. I don't think I can feel my fingers anymore."
Layla resisted saying they hadn't felt cold to her. He didn't need that opening. "Follow me." The path was overgrown. Wet ferns and trailing vines slapped at their faces and bodies as they trudged toward the cabin. Rico couldn't know that she'd refurbished her grandparents' cozy honeymoon cottage with his image in the back of her mind. No, he didn't know, and she wasn't about to tell him.



Chapter Six: Page Two


They reached the cottage without further mishap. She tried the lights, but unsurprisingly, the power was out. Luckily, she located the matches, kept near the door for just such an emergency. She lit a candle and crossed the floor to the huge stone fireplace, leaving Rico to follow. As she lit more candles, she said, "As soon as I get the fire going I'll find some towels."
"I'll see to the fire," he said from behind her. "You find the towels and blankets."
"You sure? What about your head?"
Already he'd begun to crumple paper and lay kindling. He shot her a smile and said, "My head is fine. But we both need to dry off and warm up."
Teeth chattering, Layla had to agree.
By the time she returned, the fire blazed merrily and Rico had stripped off his shirt and hung it over a chair. She handed him a bulky, terry-cloth robe along with a fluffy towel.
"I found a couple of these," she said, already warmer after changing into one. Mesmerized by the sight of that broad, bare expanse of skin, she watched as he dried off. Her mouth went dry, her heart rate increased. He still had a beautiful body, she thought, maybe even better than when he was younger. Slinging the towel around his neck, his hands rested at the waist of his jogging shorts. She caught her breath. Once, she'd touched him, caressed him. Once...
"Layla?" His voice was soft, deep, seductive, her name a song on his lips. "Unless you want an eyeful, I'd suggest you turn around."
Heat flooded her face. Furious at herself, at him, she whirled and grabbed blindly for a blanket. "I'm going to lay these out by the fire, but don't let it give you ideas, Romeo. If I could have avoided this, I would have."
A soft chuckle escaped him. "I'm well aware of that. You can turn back around now. I'm decent."
Decent, hah! Irritating, infuriating... Sexy, she acknowledged with a silent groan.
Rico stretched out on the blanket and patted it invitingly. "Why don't you join me?" A slow, wicked smile lifted his mouth. "I won't bite.... Unless you want me to."
"In your dreams," she said. She sat cross-legged beside him, arranging her robe primly around her. "I suppose you think I'm going to spill the beans now. That I'll tell you what happened with my fiancé."
"Nonfiancé," he corrected. "I believe we already established that." He reached out and cupped her cheek. "Querida, is the truth so bad? Can't you just tell me?"
She didn't want to hurt him, and she knew the story would. To discover that the grandmother he loved dearly had been responsible for their final breakup would affect him more strongly than he realized. But still, didn't she owe him the truth?



Chapter Six: Page Three


"You know your family wasn't happy when you told them our plans. When you said you were giving up the priesthood and intended to marry me."
He nodded. "Mi abuela — Tita — was very upset, that's true. My mother and father understood."
"You'd gone back to the seminary and I ran into your grandmother in the general store. One of those days that everyone in town seemed to be there."
"Layla —" He took her hand and held it. "What did she say to you?"
"That only a —" She hesitated, not wanting to use the word his grandmother had used. Somehow the Spanish word for it sounded even worse. "Only a loose woman would tempt a man destined for God." Her breath shuddered in. "She said I'd been that way when we were teenagers, and I hadn't changed a bit. Even Father McInnes was there to hear her tell the world I was the instrument of your destruction."
"And you listened to her? You knew how disappointed she was. How could you let her words — words spoken in anger — affect you so much?"
She shook away the image of that scene. "Rico, she said it in front of the entire town. I doubt there was a soul who hadn't heard the whole story by the next day. I felt like an outcast, the lowest of the low. And I thought...I thought she might be right." Rico made a sound of outrage. "Oh, not about what she called me. But I'd always felt guilty. You know that's why we broke up the first time. I felt as if I'd ruined your life, or that I would if I married you."
"I always wondered. Why something that had meant so much to me could have meant so little to you."
She gave a strangled groan. "I'm sorry. I know I hurt you."
"I tried to forget you. Tried to drown myself in work, in women." He laughed. "I dated a lot of women over the years. Nice women, pretty women. Women I should have been able to fall in love with. But I never could."
"Why?" she whispered, barely able to breathe.
His gaze locked with hers and he smiled. A smile that made her heart stop, and tumble down a long slide. "Because none of them were you, Layla."
"Don't do this to me, Rico. Don't tempt me with...dreams that can never be."

"Are you tempted?" Rico asked softly.
His voice caressed her like velvet. He feathered a touch over her hair, her cheek, the curve of her neck. She resisted the urge to arch into him, to let those talented hands glide like liquid sin over her body. He's not for you, she thought. He never was, and he never will be.
Not trusting her voice, Layla shook her head and gazed at the fire.
He moved and murmured in her ear, his breath warm, his fingers tracing her cheek. "Not even a little?"
"The past is gone," she said harshly, trying to break the spell he wove.
"Is it, querida? Is our past truly gone?" He pushed her hair aside and laid his lips on her neck, cruised along her jawline in a heated trail.
A throb of desire trembled in her breast. Oh, how had she gotten into this position with him? Rico Santiago. The one man she could never resist. The fire, the night, the magic combined, and she knew fate had taken a hand in her destiny.
"The first time," he said huskily, his lips hovering near her ear. "You were so young. So sweet. And I was so...clumsy."
"No," she choked out. "You were...wonderful."
She felt him smile against her temple. "But the next time. Ah, Layla, making love with you showed me a side of paradise I'd never even imagined."
How was she supposed to resist? This man who had always seen into her soul. This man she'd never forgotten. Could they lay aside the guilt from the past? Start new, tonight?
Chapter Seven: Page Two


His arms came around her, drawing her to him. His chest was warm and solid against her back. "Tell me to stop, Layla. Say the word and I'll leave you alone. And we'll never know what might have been."
She turned and gazed into his eyes, so dark, so serious. She couldn't deny she wanted him. And for tonight, at least, she would have him. Her hands slid around his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft curls on his neck. "Don't stop," she said, and pressed her lips to his.
He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, his tongue seeking hers, his arms banding strong around her. She let herself savor, be savored, like a treat long denied. Rico groaned and pulled back, his dark eyes boring into hers, fever bright.
"I've wanted you for so long," he said. "Forever." The knot of her sash gave way and he slipped her robe from her shoulders. His gaze traveled slowly over her body, then returned to meet her eyes. "Bonita."
When he said things like that, in that lovely lilting Spanish, she melted inside. She lifted a trembling hand to tug at the tie of his robe. Soon he was as naked as she, his skin glowing bronze in the firelight, the smile on his lips only for her. He kissed her again, his lips firm, his touch devastating.
"Querida," he said, drawing back, his mouth a whisper away. She felt his heart beat fast against hers. "Lie with me."
Soon he lay cradled between her thighs, as though he'd always belonged there. Perhaps he had. He suckled her nipples, each in turn, murmuring endearments in Spanish and English, stroking those strong, sure hands over her body until her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she writhed with need.
"Rico, I want you," she finally said, panting. Her hands slid over his back, down to caress his firm buttocks.
"And I want you, mi corazَn. Toda mi vida," he said and slipped inside her.
For all my life, he'd said. Too filled with him, too consumed with emotion to consider what he meant, her hips rose to meet the rhythm of his thrusts. Gasping, she spun higher, crying out when he surged into her a final time, sending her over the edge as he spilled deep inside her.
Wrapped in each other's arms, they fell into an exhausted sleep, waking in the predawn hours to make love again. Dawn came, yet still the storm front continued to shroud the island in thick fog.
Layla didn't care. She could stay cuddled up with Rico forever. She only wanted to be with him, love him, and not worry about what the future would bring.


Chapter Seven: Page Three


"I hate to bring this up," Rico said eventually, "but how are we going to get off the island? Much as I'd like to stay with you, I have patients who need me."
"I'm sorry I got us stuck here," Layla said, remorse dragging at her.
He rose on his elbow and smiled down at her. "I'm not." He kissed her, long, slow, deeply. "Not sorry at all," he murmured huskily, and kissed her again until neither spoke for a long while.
Through the haze of their preoccupation with each other, they heard a voice calling their names through a bullhorn. "Sounds as though someone has found us," Layla said. "I guess you'll get to see your patients after all."
Quickly, they dressed and ran down to the dock. The fog had cleared.
Rico pointed to the boat. "Isn't that a Park Service rescue squad?"
Moments later, the boat docked, and a tall brown-haired man stepped out, followed by a shorter dark-haired one. "Rico Santiago," the taller man said. "I heard you'd come back to Uncertain. How the hell are you?"
"Chad Moore? Is that you?"
"Guilty," he said, chuckling. "I knew Rico when we were kids," he told his partner. "I figured the next time we met I'd be calling you Father, not Doctor Santiago." His words were aimed at Rico, but he was eyeing Layla with an appreciative smile. "At least that's what your grandma told everyone," he went on. "What happened to the old lady's ambition for you to join the priesthood?"
Layla sensed Rico stiffening and risked a glance at him. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought him jealous. His expression wasn't welcoming, to say the least.
"Layla St. Cloud happened to me," Rico said, slipping a possessive arm around her waist and drawing her close against his side.

How did you know to look for us?" Rico asked Chad as they pulled away from the rickety dock.
"Brad Gibson called us after he failed to raise Layla on the radio at the marina. He was concerned something might have happened to you."
Dios, didn't it? Rico thought, hiding a smile.
"Do you have a cell phone?" he asked as the boat shot across the now placid lake. "I need to check on a patient."
Chad reached into his pocket and extracted a small digital device and handed it to him.
"Thanks." Rico snapped it open and hit a series of numbers. "Hazel, this is Dr. Santiago. Yes, I'm fine. Any word on Mrs. Lederman?" He listened a moment. "All right. I should be back in about 15 minutes. I'll get cleaned up there at the office and head into Marshall. Yes. Reschedule everything." He clicked off and handed the phone back to his old schoolmate.
"I have to go to that patient I told you about," he told Layla.
She looked up, a concerned expression on her face. "Is she going to be all right?"
He nodded. "The hospital in Marshall admitted her last evening. Just as I expected. Eclampsia. It looks now as though she might be going into premature labor."
"I hope everything turns out all right." She finger-combed her disheveled hair.
"Me, too." Though he put forth a positive front, he was worried. Eclampsia could be tricky.
A few minutes later they tied up at the St. Cloud marina. He jumped onto the dock, then reached out a hand for Layla. Regardless of their audience, who didn't even pretend not to watch, he kissed her. "I'll call you from the hospital."
Layla flushed, and smiled at him. "I'll be waiting."


Chapter Eight: Page Two


Rico went directly to the maternity ward at the hospital and conferred with the obstetrician in charge of Pam Lederman's case.
"We're in the gray zone," Dr. Nashworth, a respected specialist in the treatment of prenatal complications confirmed. "Since she's fewer than 26 weeks along, inducing labor may well result in loss of the fetus."
Rico knew how much the young mother wanted her baby. He ached for her. And he intended to do everything in his power to insure both she and her baby made it.
"But that may be a moot point," Nashworth continued, "since she's already showing early signs of labor."
"Then we need to stop it," Rico insisted. "Have you prescribed magnesium sulfate?"
"It's being administered now, but if seizures persist, we may not have any choice."
The thought of giving up on a new life was completely anathema to Rico's system of values. "I'll stay with her," he told his colleague, "and monitor the situation."
Hours went by, anxiety and fear draining the first-time mother, her distraught husband, and the physician with every tick of the clock. It was already after sundown by the time Rico was able to find a few minutes to phone Layla — just to hear her voice — but he had to settle for her answering machine. She was probably out helping her neighbors cope with the storm's havoc. Layla wasn't one to sleep when other people needed her.
Thoughts of her kept him going through the long dark night. The memory of how stoic she'd been and how well she'd worked with him during Mr. Gibson's surgery. How bravely she'd faced a storm that could have destroyed them. Most of all, he recalled their lovemaking. They belonged together. Neither could deny that now.
His long, sleepless night brought rewards. Along about dawn, Pam Lederman turned the corner. Her labor halted, which gave him hope that she would carry the child at least a few weeks longer. At this point, every week, indeed, every day counted.
He never did reach Layla, but left a message on her machine to meet him at his office that afternoon. He meant to let his family know as soon as possible exactly what his intentions were regarding the lovely Ms. St. Cloud. Marriage. Family. A life together.



Chapter Eight: Page Three


He walked into his office waiting room shortly after one, feeling good despite the lack of sleep. The first person he saw was Layla, her face white, poised as if she wanted to run. Then he saw his grandmother, a tiny, elderly woman with graying dark hair, a foot shorter than Layla, speaking more angrily than he'd ever heard her.
"How can you show your face in this town?" Tita railed. "That you dare to chase my Rico again, when you're the one who ruined his life. He will tire of you, as all men do women of your sort. And I will laugh when he does so, knowing you have reaped what you deserve."
Rico didn't wait for more. "That's enough!" he said in a voice sharp enough to slice rock. "Tita, apologize to Layla immediately." Reaching Layla's side, he slid an arm around her. She looked faint, and ill. And no wonder, he thought, worrying about the extent of his grandmother's tirade. What he'd heard had been bad enough.
His grandmother simply stared at him. Then in a torrent of impassioned Spanish, she began justifying her words. Rico cut her off. "Apologize," he repeated. "I can't believe you have so little respect for me that you would speak like this to my fiancée. Or bring your venom into my place of business."
Far from apologizing, his grandmother shrieked and threw up her hands. Crying hysterically, she swooned in a dramatic effort that Rico didn't believe for an instant. Still, he could hardly allow his grandmother to collapse in his office without lifting a finger.
"Get my nurse," he told Layla, and dragged the elderly woman to a chair. "Lean over. Put your head between your knees and breathe deeply."
Several minutes later, he had her calmed down, at least to the point of crying quietly rather than at full roar. "Crying won't help," he said sternly, never less in sympathy with his grandmother. "I'll have my secretary take you home. And don't think you're going to get away with this." He looked around for Layla, anxious to assure her that he wouldn't let his grandmother's actions pass.
Layla was gone.

Resolutely, Layla ignored the pounding on her door. Coward or not, she couldn't face Rico right now. Not after such drastic proof that they could never be together. Their time on the island had been a fantasy, pure and simple. One conversation with his grandmother brought reality crashing down.
"Layla, I know you're there," Rico called. "Let me in. Please."
He was perfectly capable of standing there all day if he had to, she knew. Or breaking down the door, if that failed. Bracing herself, she let him in. "Rico, we were kidding ourselves before. Let's just end this cleanly." And then he could go away and she'd nurse a broken heart for the rest of her life.
He gathered her into his arms, murmuring soothing words against her hair. She didn't have the willpower to push him away, and clung to him for a moment, wishing desperately that she had the right to allow him to console her. But she didn't. She had no right to love Rico at all.
"I'm so sorry, querida." His voice rumbled, deep and comforting in her ear. "If that scene with Tita was anything like the one you told me about, I can't blame you for wanting to be rid of me."
She shook her head, denying his words, and stepped back. "You know that's not it. But how can we be together when I'll only alienate you from your family? Your grandmother thinks I'm the devil incarnate."
"Mi abuela doesn't run my life. I'll admit, she's tried to from the time I was a child, but I'm in charge of my own destiny now." His fingers tightened on her shoulders; he gazed into her eyes with determination, sincerity shining in his. "Layla, my destiny is with you."
"How can you say that? Your family —"
"My family will adapt," he said firmly. "Besides, Tita is the only one with the problem. My parents think you're wonderful."
Oh, if only that were true. She suspected he was just trying to give both of them hope. "I won't be responsible for breaking up your family." She'd ruined his life twice. Three times was just too much.
"So that's it? You're just going to cut me loose, say adios, and never think of me again."
As if she could. She twisted her hands together and bit her lip. "I'm — I'm going to try. And you have to, as well."
"Forget it."
Frustrated, she snapped at him. Couldn't he see she was trying to do the right thing? "What do you mean, forget it? We have to break this off now. It's the only solution."


Chapter Nine: Page Two


He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When she started to speak, he kissed her again. Finally, when her knees wobbled and her heart beat like a sledgehammer, he let her up for air. Smiling down at her, he said, "The only way I'd accept that solution would be if you didn't love me. I think you just blew that idea out of the water."
"You know I love you," she said miserably. "But the point is —"
"The point is we love each other and belong together."
"How, Rico? What are we going to do?"
His mouth grew stern, his eyes flashed. "Do? We're going to my parents' house. To set my grandmother straight about a few things."
Layla followed him, a curious mixture of dread and hope and joy in her heart.
* * *
Grandmother Santiago sat enthroned in an easy chair in Rico's parents' comfortable living room. To Layla she didn't appear to be a woman who'd just had her world rocked. If anything, Layla detected a smug look in her eye. She must be awfully sure of her grandson. But then why wouldn't she be? Everyone knew Rico doted on his family. Everyone knew how important they were to him.
Rico's mother, Carlita, entered the room a few moments later to offer everyone tea. She didn't seem surprised when no one took her up on the offer. "Rico, what is this about?" she asked, darting a worried glance at her mother-in-law. Tita came back with some wild tale of —" she broke off and stared at Layla, standing uncomfortably with her hand in Rico's. A slow smile, much like her son's, overtook her face. "Ah, comprendo. Well, hijo, what do you have to say for yourself?"
The tightness in Layla's chest eased as Rico laughed and hugged his mother. "Mamacita, welcome your future daughter-in-law while I talk to mi abuela."
Carlita laughed and hugged Layla. "Sي, of course you're welcome here. And to the family! At last! We're lucky to have you." Turning to her son, she said, her mouth lifting mischievously, "We're not going anywhere, hijo. I've been dying to know what put Tita in such a state."
The elder Seٌora Santiago said something in Spanish, which Layla didn't catch. "Speak English, Tita," Rico said. "My fiancée understands Spanish, but she is more comfortable in English."
"I said I forbid it! You shall not marry her! That woman is evil. She tempted you to sin."
"Her name is Layla. And she is the love of my life." He smiled at Layla and held out a hand.
Though she still couldn't see a happy conclusion, Layla allowed him to pull her toward them. He put an arm around her and murmured in her ear, "Her bark is much worse than her bite. You'll see."
"Tita, Layla and I would like your blessing. But make no mistake, with or without it, I intend to marry Layla St. Cloud as soon as possible. I lost her twice before, and I won't risk losing her again."



Chapter Nine: Page Three


"You throw away your family, your honor, for this woman?" Her hands gripped the arms of the chair convulsively.
"I'm not throwing away anything. But you are. You can have me and Layla and our children, if God blesses us, in your life. Or you can have none of us." He released Layla and knelt down before his grandmother, taking her gnarled hand in his. "Don't you see, Tita, I've never been happy without her. I never will be. I love her. I always have."
The elderly woman didn't answer, but her lips trembled as he rose and stood beside Layla once more. It's up to me to try to make peace, Layla thought and moved forward to speak to her.
"Rico loves you very much, Seٌora Santiago. Please, for his sake, don't make him choose between us."
The old lady stared at her solemnly. "You love him?"
Layla looked at Rico and smiled. To his grandmother she said simply, "Hoy, maٌana, siempre." Today, tomorrow, forever.
"Bueno." She nodded decisively. "The wedding will be at the Holy Divinity Catholic Church on Main Street," she announced. "We will have the reception here. And your first girl child will be named after your grandmother," she said to Rico, daring him to disagree.
Rico laughed and swept Layla into his arms. "We'll discuss our children's names later," he said. "The important thing is, we're getting married."
Layla's heart was full to bursting. Rico stopped spinning her around and looked down at her. "I haven't actually asked you yet, have I?" He stroked a gentle hand down her cheek, framed her face with it. "That night with you was magic. I want more. I want a lifetime of nights with you, Layla, and all the days in between. I love you, Layla St. Cloud. Will you marry me?"
"Name the day," she said, pulling his head down to kiss him. "And make it soon," she murmured, handing her heart, brimming with love, to the man who'd always owned it. Rico Santiago.
The End

hope u enjoy it
if u want i have many others to add

Woooooooow روااااااااااية حلووووووووووووووووة شكراااااااااا

thnx u alot and don't stop

شكرا ليك حبيبتي على اسهامك معنا وعلى الرواية الرائعة

شكرا على الرواية الحلوة وطبعا احنا عايزين روايات تانية منك كتييييييييييييييييييييييييييييييير