asked his father to fly Connie home.
Marcus, being the man he was, was happy to help, and Beverly didn’t want him flying back alone so she went along.
The plane never made it to Chicago.
And Connie’s
someone
was her husband.
So yeah, Trent was hiding from life. Licking his wounds and what of it? He’d lost two of the most important people in his life because of his inability to see the truth.
Jason was talking and it took a minute for Trent to focus on his brother’s words. “They wouldn’t want you to piss your life away. And they sure as hell wouldn’t have blamed you.”
He hated that his brother was right.
Somewhere between the last time he’d talked to his brother about all this and now, something had changed. Something inside Trent had thawed.
“Come home,” Jason encouraged him.
“I don’t know if that’s home anymore.”
“Maybe it’s not. But you won’t know if you stay there.”
Maybe it was time to move on. But he couldn’t abandon Jamaica… not yet. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really?” Jason sounded hopeful.
“Yeah.” They said their good-byes and Trent tried to relax.
It didn’t last long.
He took a last look at the empty chair next to him and jumped to his feet. “Come on, Ginger. Let’s take a drive.”
Chapter Nine
A child laughed, and the happy sound caught Monica by surprise. There had been so little laughter in her life in the past few days. She glanced up and noticed Ginger licking the hand of a small girl sitting beside her mother’s bed.
Trent?
He stood in the doorway, his attention directed at her, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
Why is he here?
He walked toward her, leaving Ginger to entertain the child and another teenager who slid off his chair to pet the dog.
As Trent drew closer, Monica looked around to see if anyone else noticed his direct stance. The thin line of his lips. She couldn’t tell if he was pissed or happy. She shifted in her chair as he approached.
“Hey?” she managed when he was close enough to hear her.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She sighed, not trusting herself. “Uhm.”
“Just for a minute.”
Monica swallowed and stood. She dropped the chart on the table and wrapped her stethoscope around her neck.
Trent turned toward his dog. “Stay!”
Ginger sat on her haunches and watched them as Monica led him out the back door.
The light outside was growing dim. Before they cleared the door, Monica tried to put distance between them. “I thought I said you didn’t need to come back.”
The door closed behind him and Monica turned around. He removed his sunglasses, hung them on his shirt. “I had to come back,” he said.
He stood over her, looming with a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Why?”
He moved forward, and before she could step back, his arm was around her waist and he was pulling her close. Monica couldn’t breathe and Trent didn’t give her time to think.
His lips took hers so swiftly and so completely, Monica’s world exploded. She’d thought of him all day. About his body close to hers, the soft touch of his fingers on her arm, and how much she wished she’d at least sampled his kiss, and here he was folding her into his arms. There was no hesitation on his part. He acted as if he’d kissed her a hundred times and had a right to do so whenever, wherever he pleased. Trent’s confident possession of her lips, his tongue mating with hers, wasn’t sloppy or poorly executed.
It was heaven.
Monica closed her eyes, reached up, and touched his shoulders, his neck, before she fanned her fingers in his hair. She was alive, whole, and completely aware of every cell in her body reaching for the man in her arms.
His sunglasses bit into her chest. Before she could protest about their barrier, Trent slid a hand between the two of them and tossed the glasses to his feet.
She giggled under his kiss and attempted to get closer.
He kissed her breathless, until her breasts felt
Marcus, being the man he was, was happy to help, and Beverly didn’t want him flying back alone so she went along.
The plane never made it to Chicago.
And Connie’s
someone
was her husband.
So yeah, Trent was hiding from life. Licking his wounds and what of it? He’d lost two of the most important people in his life because of his inability to see the truth.
Jason was talking and it took a minute for Trent to focus on his brother’s words. “They wouldn’t want you to piss your life away. And they sure as hell wouldn’t have blamed you.”
He hated that his brother was right.
Somewhere between the last time he’d talked to his brother about all this and now, something had changed. Something inside Trent had thawed.
“Come home,” Jason encouraged him.
“I don’t know if that’s home anymore.”
“Maybe it’s not. But you won’t know if you stay there.”
Maybe it was time to move on. But he couldn’t abandon Jamaica… not yet. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really?” Jason sounded hopeful.
“Yeah.” They said their good-byes and Trent tried to relax.
It didn’t last long.
He took a last look at the empty chair next to him and jumped to his feet. “Come on, Ginger. Let’s take a drive.”
Chapter Nine
A child laughed, and the happy sound caught Monica by surprise. There had been so little laughter in her life in the past few days. She glanced up and noticed Ginger licking the hand of a small girl sitting beside her mother’s bed.
Trent?
He stood in the doorway, his attention directed at her, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
Why is he here?
He walked toward her, leaving Ginger to entertain the child and another teenager who slid off his chair to pet the dog.
As Trent drew closer, Monica looked around to see if anyone else noticed his direct stance. The thin line of his lips. She couldn’t tell if he was pissed or happy. She shifted in her chair as he approached.
“Hey?” she managed when he was close enough to hear her.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She sighed, not trusting herself. “Uhm.”
“Just for a minute.”
Monica swallowed and stood. She dropped the chart on the table and wrapped her stethoscope around her neck.
Trent turned toward his dog. “Stay!”
Ginger sat on her haunches and watched them as Monica led him out the back door.
The light outside was growing dim. Before they cleared the door, Monica tried to put distance between them. “I thought I said you didn’t need to come back.”
The door closed behind him and Monica turned around. He removed his sunglasses, hung them on his shirt. “I had to come back,” he said.
He stood over her, looming with a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Why?”
He moved forward, and before she could step back, his arm was around her waist and he was pulling her close. Monica couldn’t breathe and Trent didn’t give her time to think.
His lips took hers so swiftly and so completely, Monica’s world exploded. She’d thought of him all day. About his body close to hers, the soft touch of his fingers on her arm, and how much she wished she’d at least sampled his kiss, and here he was folding her into his arms. There was no hesitation on his part. He acted as if he’d kissed her a hundred times and had a right to do so whenever, wherever he pleased. Trent’s confident possession of her lips, his tongue mating with hers, wasn’t sloppy or poorly executed.
It was heaven.
Monica closed her eyes, reached up, and touched his shoulders, his neck, before she fanned her fingers in his hair. She was alive, whole, and completely aware of every cell in her body reaching for the man in her arms.
His sunglasses bit into her chest. Before she could protest about their barrier, Trent slid a hand between the two of them and tossed the glasses to his feet.
She giggled under his kiss and attempted to get closer.
He kissed her breathless, until her breasts felt
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