Heather Holt picked her way through the paper bags, empty bottles and…oh no, was that a used…? She didn’t want to think about what else was under her feet on the crowded dirt road. The man at the airport told her it was Main Street, but it was unlike any main street she’d ever seen. And she’d been living in Central America for five years. It wasn’t just the road that was dirty and littered. It was the very air she pulled into her lungs. It was heavy. Heavy with humidity, yes. But more than that. Heavy with the cloying scents of curry and fried foods, some type of blossoming flower that she couldn’t pin down and…people. It was a dizzying perfume. One Heather was absolutely certain she didn’t want to wear.

She tried to fight the growing sense of desperation. No. Not desperation. It was more like a terrifyingly crippling realization that she had nowhere else to go. For better or worse, she would be staying in Bocas Town in the Bocas del Toro archipelago on the west side of Panama. At least for a few months. Even looking through her veil of emotion, Heather feared she’d only seen a small part of the worse, and there was definitely no better in sight.

It’s not as if she was new to the country or the people. But if she hadn’t seen it for herself on a map that Bocas Town was part of the Panama she’d come to know and love, there’s no way she would have believed it. Not that she’d come to know much of the country, living as a dockmaster’s wife at a well-to-do marina just a few hours north of Panama City for the last five years. If she’d had anywhere else to go, she would have gone there.

As it was, all Heather had was a name—Mick. And the name of a bar—the Bitter End—scratched on a piece of napkin. It wasn’t much. But it was all she had. She’d make it work.

It’s not as if she had a choice.

The more she looked around at the mix of locals, backpackers who wished they were locals, and transplanted North Americans, who likely were some sort of mix of the two, the tighter the knot in her stomach pulled.

“Great idea, Heather.” She mumbled the words to herself, but a passerby heard and tried to high-five her. She dodged him, but it didn’t deter him any.

“Whatever it was, man, I’m sure it was stellar.”

Stellar? It was anything but stellar. It was a gut reaction, last minute, completely foolish, act of a woman out of options. That’s exactly what she was. A woman completely and totally out of options.

She’d been worse. And she’d be better, too. Just not today.

Heather straightened her shoulders and hitched her backpack higher on her back. Everything she owned, or at least, everything she wanted to own, was in that pack. She’d only had a few hours’ notice when her friends Cass and Archer confirmed that they’d have room for her on their charter sailboat to take her to Bocas del Toro. Not that she needed much more. Everything back at the Shelter Bay Marina was full of memories of a different life. An old life. A life she no longer wanted anything to do with. If she was honest, it was a life she’d never really wanted. At least not with Joe. But it wasn’t until he’d had a baby with one of his waitresses that she got the out she’d been looking for.

It didn’t make her proud to think that she’d stayed in a loveless relationship because it was easy, but it was what it was and she couldn’t go back and change it.

No. It was all about looking forward now.

Bocas would most certainly not be the cushy life of Shelter Bay, but that’s why she knew it was going to be okay. No. It would be more than okay. She was more than ready for a change and a challenge.

Heather glanced down at the scrap of napkin again as if she hadn’t memorized the details days ago, a full five minutes after it was given to her. She owed a lot to her friends, and the connections they had in the islands that had led her to that address on that napkin. What was waiting for her after she checked in with Mick, she couldn’t be entirely sure. Although, she hoped her friends were right and it involved a bed-and-breakfast run by a woman who could use some help. More specifically, her help. Because that’s why Heather was there.

Only a few weeks earlier, when she’d hopped on another charter with Cass and Archer out to the tranquil San Blas Islands, she’d met Josie, an eccentric old woman who, in one afternoon, had changed her life. Heather couldn’t even explain it. She wished she could. But ultimately, it didn’t matter because Josie had seen that she was lost and broken, and with only a few words, the older woman gave her hope. And at that moment, that hope looked like a beer shack with a broken surfboard hanging over the door, a scrawny mutt curled on the crumbling concrete step, and a crate full of empty bottles sitting next to him. The Bitter End was painted in block letters on the surfboard.

She looked at the napkin.

Back to the surfboard. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, that was for sure, but Heather had long ago learned to expect the unexpected. She stepped up, resisting the urge to pet the flea-ridden dog, and reached for the door at the same moment as it opened. The pumping beats of what sounded like Top 40 hits on a steel drum band spilled from the opening; a shirtless, golden brown man who looked as though he could have been riding that surfboard in a different circumstance, appeared. His back to her, the man walked backward down the stairs as he yelled back to someone inside. Instinctively, Heather stepped out of the way, narrowly missing the dog. Or maybe she didn’t miss him, judging by the growl beneath her.

The man turned at the sound.

“Hey, Poco.” He bent to scratch behind the dog’s head. “You all right?”

“Excuse me?”

The man looked up, seeing her for the first time.

He was gorgeous, if you liked the rough around the edges surfer boy type with hard, tight muscles, golden skin, salt-tousled-curling-over-the-ears dirty blond hair, and an attitude to match. She swallowed hard.

“Did you need something?”

She did. She needed a lot of things. And judging by the way her body vibrated into a full-scale heat, he might just have exactly what she needed.

If only she had time for that. Heather cleared her throat. “Mick?”

“Depends.” Looking up at her from his squat, his lip curled up in a smile so sinful, in any other instance there was no doubt she’d be in trouble.

Any instance where she didn’t need a place to sleep that night. Alone. She narrowed her eyes, fairly certain she wasn’t speaking to Mick. “Where can I find him?”

He laughed and straightened. “It’s like that, is it?”

“It’s like, I need to find Mick.” Heather crossed her arms, which only made Surfer Boy laugh again.

“Don’t get all twisted up, sugar.” He pointed behind him. “You’ll find him behind the bar.”

Heather twisted to look past the golden muscles in front of her. “This is a bar?”

“Of course. And a hostel. And…” His mouth twisted up in that damned sexy grin again. “Let’s just say, this place lives up to its name.”

“Its name?” She glanced around but didn’t see any other sign telling her where she was.

“The Bitter End.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just like it sounds.” Surfer Boy swallowed his laugh so hard he looked as if he might choke. “It’s also a nautical term.”

She didn’t respond, unsure of what any of that meant. What any of it meant.

She didn’t realize she was staring at him until he winked at her, flashed a smile that could only mean he came from money, and said, “Mick’s inside.”

“Right.” She shook her head, embarrassed that he probably thought she was checking him out. It wasn’t entirely untrue, but even if there was truth to it, she certainly didn’t need him thinking that. Heather pulled herself together and squeezed past him through the doorway, careful to avoid both the dog, who’d returned to sleeping, and Surfer Boy, who made no effort to move out of her way.

He smelled like salt, suntan lotion, and sex. She couldn’t help but inhale his scent, holding her breath to keep it in just long enough to push out the stench of the street but not long enough for her body to register the effect he had on her.

Too late.

* * *

He waited until she finally moved past him to let out his own breath. Damn, he didn’t usually go for the fresh-off-the-plane backpacker type. Too young. Too idealistic. Too needy.

But that woman was different. Sure, she had a backpack, and yes, he hadn’t seen her around. Bocas Town was a small place, and Ash knew everyone, including—no, especially—the ladies. The woman was obviously new to Bocas, she wasn’t new to traveling. That much was clear by the slight wear of her clothes, as if they’d been kissed by the sea a few too many times, the scuffs of her pack, and the tan on her skin. He was willing to bet that tan probably didn’t have a whole lotta lines if he looked close enough.

And he would be happy to investigate closer.

On any other day, that’s exactly what he would be doing.

But not today. “Damn. Hey, Paco?” The dog lifted his head before tucking down again.

Ash shook his head to clear himself of the sight of her long, dark braid, and toned, tanned legs. It didn’t totally work.

No. Not today.

He didn’t get into town very often these days, and he’d felt the loss of companionship in his arms, as well as his balls. His dick twitched, needing attention. With one more look behind him at the now closed door, Ash shook his head. “Maybe later,” he assured himself.

His trips to Bocas Town didn’t come as frequently anymore, and although he usually had time to fool around and play for a bit, today he didn’t. He’d promised Sherri he’d pick up all her packages, including the new caretaker of her jungle bed-and-breakfast.

He’d somehow become the self-appointed caretaker of Sherri’s bed-and-breakfast, and more importantly, of the older woman. She was like an eccentric old aunt who’d taken him in when he was new to Bocas and as lost as anyone else in what could only be described as the Land of the Misfit Toys. She’d recognized something in him that he couldn’t even see himself. At least, not at the time. Sherri probably didn’t even know it, but she’d saved him with the unconditional love she’d had no reason to give him. No reason beyond the fact that Sherri’s heart was too big for her own good.

He’d do anything for her. Including missing a primo surf day to take the boat into Bocas Town to pick up anything she needed.

And that’s just what he was going to do.

His flip-flops provided a thin barrier protecting him from the street. He hardly noticed anymore. Not that he noticed it much when he’d first come to Bocas four years earlier. The contrast between his ordered, all too clean life back in the States and the tousled mess of Bocas was exactly what he’d been looking for when he’d arrived. After time, as he slowly woke to his new life, the disorder and chaos around him, the pure opposition of his surroundings to his past, gave him comfort. He’d craved something different. Anything.

“Ash. Ash. Señor Ash!” The familiar high-pitched shriek Ash had come to know would be followed by Miguel’s toothy grin, made him grin and was just about enough of a distraction for him to forget about the long-legged beauty. Just about.

“Hey, kiddo.” Ash turned just in time to catch the small boy before he crashed into his legs. Miguel had the ability to pop out of nowhere and if Ash wasn’t careful, he’d take him out. It’d happened before. But only once. As soon as he untangled the kid from his legs, he reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and handed Miguel the peppermint he’d stashed there.

“Gracias.” He unwrapped the candy; it disappeared in an instant. “Help today, Señor Ash?”

“You know it, Miguel.”

Ash had sort of adopted the boy—or more likely, it was the other way around—only about a year before on a trip into town. He had a huge order from Sherri that required more than one trip to the boat, where he’d have to leave supplies unsupervised. That was never a good idea in a place like Bocas Town. Not unless you felt like paying for those supplies twice. The second time with a local tax attached. That’s where Miguel came in. For a small fee, usually the price of a sandwich or a bottle of soda, he’d happily guard anything for Ash. Or carry bags, or pretty much help out with whatever was needed.

As far as Ash was concerned, it was the perfect symbiotic relationship.

“Where we headed?”

Ash pointed up the street. Everything in Bocas Town was within a few streets. It was small, but the town managed to pack in a whole lot of trouble in such a tight space.

“The clinic?”

Ash nodded.

“What ya gettin’ there?”

He shrugged. “You know Ms. Sherri. Could be anything.” And it could have been. With Sherri’s place so far away from town and the clinic—as basic as it was—she liked to have a well-stocked first-aid kit for her guests. Just in case. Not that there’d ever been a case. Nothing more serious than a monkey bite, anyway. “Comin’?”

Ash didn’t need to ask. Miguel was right behind him like a crow picking up crumbs. Not for the first time, Ash wondered what Miguel’s home life was like.

Or whether he had one at all.

“All right, kid. We have lots on the list today. I’ll need all the muscle power you can handle.”

Miguel flexed his scrawny arms. His smile was so hopeful, Ash would find him a whole afternoon’s worth of work, even if he had to make it up.

* * *

The inside of the Bitter End was not at all what Heather expected. Not that she had any idea what to expect. But if it was a bed-and-breakfast she was looking for, the Bitter End was decidedly not that. Just inside the door was a small doorway with numbers labeled on a piece of paper tacked to the wall. She peeked inside and saw two rows of bunkbeds with backpacks, towels, and underwear slung over the frames.

Interesting choice for a bed-and-breakfast.

She followed the pumping music, lulled as if it was the Pied Piper leading her out of town instead of into what could only be described as a pit of pleasure. If your idea of pleasure was lounging around on hammocks and overstuffed chaise chairs, spending your day drinking and smoking all kinds of things. It wasn’t hers. But maybe because she got her hard partying days out of her system many years ago. Now, Heather would settle for a good book and a quiet place to enjoy it. Far away from the pounding music.

She took another look around.

She’d signed up to run a bed-and-breakfast. Not a youth hostel. But things were a little foggy in Central America and there were more shades of gray when it came to things like this than there were colors in the rainbow. It wouldn’t surprise her if she’d signed up, sight unseen, to spend the next six months slinging drinks to backpackers.

She would have sighed—or more likely, cried—if she thought it would do any good. But Heather had been out in the world long enough to know it wouldn’t have any impact on the outcome. Besides, she was up for an adventure if need be. Anything that allowed her to move on.

Which was exactly why she was there and exactly why she was going to keep forcing her smile until finally it stayed put on her face, where it needed to be.

She’d do what she had to.

Especially if it meant staying in Panama and not returning home to her I told you he was no good—you should have listened to me and stayed home mother.

Heather dropped her hand on the plywood but it wasn’t necessary. A glass of something red, sweet, and dangerous-looking appeared in front of her.

“Welcome, chica.”

Heather waved her hand to dismiss the drink. “I didn’t order that.”

“You didn’t have to.” The man’s grin was toothy, warm and practiced. “It’s on me. And you clearly need it. Name’s Mick.” He didn’t offer his hand, a fact Heather was grateful for. It had been a long day, followed by a long week on Cass and Archer’s boat, preceded by a long life. At least that’s how it felt at that moment. She’d lived a lifetime in the last few months. A life she no longer wanted to live. “Drink, Heather. Then we’ll talk.”

He left her alone, another fact she was grateful for. She was halfway through the drink that was every bit as sweet as she expected it to be, and only half as strong as she needed, before she realized that he’d known her name.

She finished the drink, and then another that was placed in front of her before the man came back. This time he held out his hand, and she was ready for it. “Nice to meet you, Heather. Welcome to Bocas. Feeling better?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Nah. You’re okay. But Bocas Town can be a bit much the first time. But it’s just the town.”

That was an understatement. From the moment she left the serenity of Cass and Archer’s sailboat, all five senses had been assaulted to the point of complete overload.

“Whatever you put in that drink helped.”

“It always does. The rest of Bocas del Toro is…well, paradise,” Mick said. “Wait until you get a chance to see it.”

“I look forward to it.” She slid the glass around the bar top. “How did you know who I was? Is it so obvious that I don’t fit in?”

He laughed. “Sweetheart, you fit in just fine. Everyone fits in here. Look around.”

She did as she was told and for the first time noticed the mixture of those around her. There were men, women, and people who could only be described as both, all ages and colors in a variety of clothing or in a few cases, not much clothing at all, scattered around the room. The mix was eclectic to be sure, but no one looked out of place.

“Am I right?”

“You are.”

“Bocas Town is the Land of the Misfit Toys. Even if you don’t belong anywhere else, you will here.”

Land of the Misfit Toys. Perfect. She reached for her empty glass.

“How about a water?”

“Probably a better idea,” she agreed. Whatever he’d given her had been delicious, but she could see how it could be dangerous. She drank half the bottle of water he placed in front of her before she finally asked, “You seem to have a good handle on things around here. Why do you need me?”

“You?” His eyes danced under the frayed brim of his San Francisco Giants cap. “Oh no, chica. I don’t need you.”

A flicker of panic lit in her chest. No doubt it would have burst into flames had it not been for the two magic red drinks currently flowing through her. “You don’t need me?”

If this bed-and-breakfast deal didn’t work out, where was she supposed to go? No doubt, Archer and Cass had already moved their boat, Cassiopeia, to their next destination. They had paying guests aboard and had only been doing her a favor bringing her to Bocas Town. Without them, she’d have to—

“You’re thinking.” Mick’s friendly tenor interrupted the train of panic that was quickly picking up speed in her brain. “Another drink then?”

Heather shook her head. “No. But if you don’t need me, I will need a—”

“Chica. I don’t need you. But Sherri does.”

“Sherri?” The train in her brain slowed slightly. “Who’s Sherri?”

“The one who needs you.” He wasn’t helping. “At Casa del Sol. Chica, you didn’t think you’d be staying here, did you?”

She could lie. There was no point. “I did.”

“And you’re glad you’re not.”

“A little.” She laughed. The first real one in a long time. “Okay, a lot.”

Mick winked, and the train slowed even more. He had that effect. “Sherri’s place is a little piece of paradise. It’ll be exactly what you need.”

“And what is it I need?”

“I need to tell you?”

There was no point in answering him. He didn’t need to tell her anything. At the same time, there was nothing he could tell her. How could anyone else possibly see what she needed, when she herself was blind to it?

“Sherri,” she said the name again to clarify. “She needs my help?”

Mick nodded. “That’s why you’re here. I guess Josie wasn’t too clear with the details.”

There hadn’t really been any details. Not that she’d asked for any.

“When I say that Sherri’s place is paradise, it’s not an exaggeration. It literally is. Or at least the Garden of Eden.”

“Then it can’t be nearby.” She raised her eyebrows and Mick laughed.

“No. It’s about a twenty-minute boat ride from here. Cut off from the world. People go there to unplug and hide.”

“Hide? From other people?”

“From themselves, chica.” Mick winked at her.

Perfect.

“So how do I get to Sherri’s? She’s expecting me?”

“She is. And I’m sure she’s just as eager for you to get there as you are. Ash will take you when he gets back.”

“Who’s Ash and where is he?”

Mick shrugged. “Ash helps Sherri out with things. And honestly, there’s no telling what he’s gotten up to this afternoon. He probably had a list, but he’ll be back by three. He likes to get the boat out there before the sun goes down. You’re welcome to wait here. Make yourself comfortable.” He pointed to a lounge chair on the deck close to the ocean, away from the business of the bar.

“Thank you.” She hoped the weariness didn’t show in her eyes, but it was false hope, because there was no way it didn’t. She hefted her backpack up and grabbed the water on the bar. Just as she turned away, Mick stopped her.

“Chica?”

Heather glanced over her shoulder.

“Welcome to Bocas. You came to the right place.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

* * *

“I’ve got what you need right here, Ash.”

There was no doubt in Ash’s mind that Sara had exactly what he needed in all the right ways, and without a doubt there was no one who filled out scrubs the way she did. His dick twitched just thinking about the curves that the thin piece of pink cotton was concealing. Ash had personal experience with those curves and those experiences were more than enough to deserve a replay. If it weren’t for—

“I’m also free tomorrow night for dinner. Rumor has it Oscar got some fresh lobsters this morning.”

If it weren’t for that.

Sara was a nice girl. Despite the fact that she fell for his moves, she was a smart girl, too. She was in Bocas on some sort of work exchange, which made her dangerous. Because she was not like any of the other women Ash dated. Sara wanted more. She wanted Ash to take her out. She wanted to date.

Like all nice girls did.

Ash didn’t.

Ash avoided nice girls.

Ash wasn’t a nice guy.

“Ah, if only I could, Sara.” He ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair and gave her a smile he knew was devastating. “But I have to get back to Casa del Sol. Sherri has a big order and a new manager starting today. She’ll need a bit of help getting everything set up and you know how that is.”

The girl didn’t even bother trying to hide her pout. “Another time?”

“Of course,” he lied.

The truth was, Ash could have a lot of fun with Sara if she didn’t try to push so hard for a relationship. It was too bad, but there was no way Ash was going there. Not with anyone. No matter how fun they were. Or how far their legs bent—

“Ash, did you hear me?”

He hadn’t.

“Sorry. My mind drifted.”

“I bet it did.” The mischief in her eye and the way she licked her lips almost made him change his mind. Almost.

“Behave.” Not that she would. “How many boxes did Sherri order for me today?”

“That’s what I was telling you. Her order today is quite large. You’re going to need help.”

“I have Miguel.” He pointed to the boy, who’d been standing by, listening to everything with an interested ear. No doubt, the kid had gotten quite an education hanging out with Ash, despite his efforts to keep things as G-rated as possible when he was around.

“I think you might need more than Miguel for today’s load.” She shot the boy a doubtful look.

“Two strong men like us?” Ash nudged Miguel and they both flexed comically. “We got this.”

Sara rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the way her eyes traveled over his bare chest. Damn, he should have found a T-shirt to put on. Not that it would have stopped her.

“Wait here. I’ll get your stuff.”

When she returned moments later, wheeling a cart full of boxes and bags, even Ash had to admit it might be a little more than he and Miguel could handle. What had Sherri ordered this time? There was more than a few first-aid supplies on that cart. He mentally calculated the size and weight of each box, what each of them could probably handle and in the end, admitted defeat.

“I’ll have Miguel bring the cart right back.” He put one hand on it and attempted to glide it away from her. But Sara wasn’t having it. She held firm, the cart jostling awkwardly between them.

“No can do, Ash.” She shook her pretty little head, her mouth pressed into a line. “Clinic property.”

He gave her his sexiest smile, but still she didn’t relax her grip.

Ash knew when he’d been beat. “Okay, what will it take to let me borrow the cart?”

It was clearly the right question. She opened up; her lips curled into the smile of a woman who knew she was about to get exactly what she wanted. “A date. A real one.”

Dammit.

He took a step toward her, reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before his fingers drifted across her cheek. “Oh, baby. You know you don’t need to bribe me for a date.” He leaned in, just enough so she’d feel his breath on her skin.

Just as he knew she would, her body trembled, a sigh escaped her lips, and her hand released the cart. Ash pressed his lips in a gentle, sweet, dismissive kiss and pushed the cart back to Miguel, who started down the street with it long before Sara knew what’d hit her.

Ash was already a few steps away when she called out after him. “Call me about that date.”

“I’ll have Miguel bring the cart back right away.” He blew her a kiss. “Thanks, Sara.”

He probably should have felt bad about using the girl’s affections for his benefit, but she was a grown woman, and he’d been upfront with her from the beginning. She made her choices; he made his. It wasn’t his fault if they didn’t line up.

Besides, he didn’t have time to dwell on her or the feelings she may or may not be having for him. Feelings that may very well include causing him bodily harm when she realized he had zero intention of taking her on that date. He still had more orders to pick up before he headed back to Casa del Sol and if he didn’t hurry, he’d run out of daylight.

“Miguel, can you take this and load it in the boat? I’ll meet you there.”

“Si, Señor Ash.”

“You’re a good kid.”

The boy beamed and hurried off with the overloaded cart. Ash wished he could do more for the boy. He never asked what Miguel’s family life was like, but he had a sneaking suspicion there wasn’t much of one.

Ash hurried through the rest of the list Sherri had given him and by the time he returned to the dock outside of the Bitter End where he’d tied up his boat, Miguel had almost finished up loading the supplies.

“Good job.” He patted the kid on the head as he hopped into the boat with a practiced, fluid motion. “Almost ready?”

“Si, Señor Ash. All done.” He grabbed the last box and tucked it under the front seat. The boat was full. It would be a slow ride back if he wanted to keep the splash down.

“Good work, Miguel.” Ash reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few bills. “You’ll get that cart back to Sara for me?”

Miguel nodded. “I’ll get the woman now.”

“Right. The woman.” Ash shook his head. “Wait. The woman?”

“Si, Señor. La mujer.” His scrawny arm pointed toward the deck of the Bitter End and the same dark-haired beauty who’d tempted Ash to break his self-imposed rules.

Damn.

While he watched, she stood and stretched her arms overhead. Her T-shirt crept up just enough that he knew he’d be able to see a band of sun-kissed skin if he stood close enough.

Double damn.