Chapter 2

JL ran down the empty hallway in the Tarpon Springs Community Center, untying the green apron she’d worn while bartending at the Pier. She was supposed to have finished her shift an hour ago, but Penny, her replacement for the evening, had been late…again. Now she was late to her favorite pastime—art class. It was something virtually no one knew she did. Since most people saw her as carefree and single, they didn’t think she minded covering an extra shift or working an extra hour. Honestly, she never complained, because she really didn’t mind helping out her friends. And Penny was sort of her friend.

But she hadn’t wanted to be late today, because today the class would be sketching from a live model, and she’d been looking forward to it for weeks. Maybe if she could have afforded to go to a fancy art school this wouldn’t have been such a big deal, but an actual live model at TSCC wasn’t something that happened often.

As she came to a sudden stop in front of the room and yanked open the door, the soles of her sneakers screeched loudly against the linoleum floor, and all heads turned to her. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and she kept her eyes down as she made her way toward the sole open seat, which was on the far side of the room. Her big bag bumped everyone along the way, earning her a slew of glares from the mostly older students.

When she finally got to her seat, she let her big purse fall to the floor and dropped down into the seat, where a blank canvas was already on the easel in front of her. But as soon as her butt hit the chair JL heard someone whisper her name loudly. She looked around and was astonished to find Travis peeking out from behind a canvas in the row behind her. She furrowed her brow at her twin brother and whispered, “Why are you here?”

She was even more surprised to see Cain, Slade, and Tony peek out from behind their easels on either side of Travis. Tony pointed to the middle of the room.

Slowly she turned her head back to the front. There, in the center of the enormous room, buck-ass naked, with an apple in the palm of his hand and an embarrassed look in his eyes, sat the man who’d been starring in all her fantasies for the last year: Enzo Silva.

What the fuck…?

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she took it out, her eyes still glued to the flawless body on display.

The text was from Travis: Close your eyes and walk away, sis.

She texted back quickly. Why is Enzo here? Naked? And why are you all here?

The reply came back almost instantly. He lost a bet. We’re here to laugh at him.

JL slid the phone back into her pocket and rummaged in her bag for her charcoal, suddenly unsure where to begin.

Tan skin. Defined abs. Thick thighs. Jet-black hair that was meticulously styled with a side part that made him look unbelievably sexy. A solitary dimple on the right side of his face which softened the strong defined jaw and bone structure. He was gorgeous. But the icing on the cake was his very impressive and surprisingly large cock. She couldn’t help but think how it would look and feel fully erect. She wanted to jump over all the people in front of her and lick it.

JL knew that, short as she was, she often intimidated men with just a look. That’s what confidence did. And she had it in spades. It made you as tall as you wanted to be. As pretty as you wanted to be. As rich as you wanted to be. Because if you had confidence, nothing else mattered. That was a lesson she’d learned a long time ago.

But even with all that confidence, she wasn’t blind to the differences between her and Enzo. He was from a different world, and she could feel the distance between their worlds every time she thought about going out with him. It had all been harmless flirty fun until he’d taken things too far and kissed her a few weeks ago. And what a kiss it had been. He’d kissed her as if he were stuck in a desert and her mouth were the only thing that could quench his thirst. She still felt all sorts of things running through her body when she thought of the way he’d backed her up against a wall, not caring who the hell was around, gripped her neck, and slipped his tongue between her parted lips. She’d embarrassed herself by melting into him and mewling in need. In fact, she might have even dry-humped his leg. It had been that good a kiss. Then he’d let her go and challenged her by saying, “Next time you’ll beg me to kiss you.” Like she’d ever beg a man! But now, with his glorious body on full display…

As if he could sense her inappropriate thoughts, his eyes met hers. His stare felt like a warm caress all over her already ignited body. The charcoal fell out of her hand and a shiver ran down her spine. Is it getting hot in here? She shifted uncomfortably on her chair, but he didn’t break eye contact. Then, the ultraconservative man who had been asking her out constantly for almost a year winked at her. It caught her by surprise, and she quickly hid behind her canvas.

She never got embarrassed. She did what she wanted and made no excuses for her decisions or the things that came out of her mouth. But the jerk had caught her checking out his body—probably even saw that she had to wipe a little sweat from her now heated face.

The truth was, Enzo had been driving her insane for a while now.

Insane because he was the most attractive man she’d ever met.

Insane because he was also the most uptight man she’d ever met.

Yet seeing him do something like this, which was so out of character for him, made her think that maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to turn him down. She wondered how he would react to having a woman ask him out. She did like to rile him up, after all….

The lady sitting to her right tapped JL’s shoulder and handed her the charcoal she’d dropped, shaking JL out of her lust-filled spell.

When Enzo walked into the community center art class, he’d expected there to be a few retirees in a small classroom. He had not expected a large room with more than twenty easels set up in circular rows. He had not expected that among the older students there would be young women. And he certainly had not expected Jamie Lynn to come waltzing in late, creating an uproar in her wake. But if there was one single thing he didn’t expect, not just today but ever, it was to see JL blush. To see her nervous. To see her hide. He knew at that moment that she felt the same way he did. And he knew that he had to keep asking her out, and that she’d eventually say yes.

One date, that’s all he wanted. One date and she’d see that she had pegged him all wrong. One date would lead to another one and then another one, and eventually they’d sleep together and finally—finally!—he’d get her to see that there could possibly be more between them. That was the plan for now; the rest he’d figure out when the time came. Plus, he was happy that she was at an art class and not on a date, like he’d assumed.

When the hour was up, the elderly rail-thin man who taught the class walked to the middle of the room and handed Enzo a ridiculously small pink robe and his glasses, then asked the students to give Enzo a round of applause. The guys from the Academy quickly rose and grinned at Enzo on their way to the door.

“So you got a good look at my junk. That’s what you guys wanted?” Enzo joked.

“No, I wanted to see Alicia Turnberry’s face when you walked in and stripped. And her husband…” Travis was bent double with laughter. “He drew you in a very interesting light. Can’t wait for you to see it.”

“Man, you looked like you were going to throw up,” Slade said.

“I’d have owned that shit,” Tony said cockily.

“You try standing in front of all those people naked,” Enzo shot back. “Did you know your sister would be here?” Enzo said to Travis as he glanced across the room to where Jamie Lynn was deep in conversation with the teacher.

“Are you crazy? I was going to pose myself. A hundred bucks, brother! Trust me when I say that had I known she was planning to be here, I would have done anything to stop her from showing up. I don’t know what’s worse—her checking me out or her checking you out.” Travis feigned a shiver.

“No. You guys go. I’m going to wait for Jamie Lynn.”

“We’ll wait too,” Travis said immediately.

“Dude, you’re such a cock blocker,” Slade said to Travis.

“Damn straight! I am abso-fucking-lutely blocking any and all cocks that approach my sister.”

“Your sister is a grown-ass woman,” Tony pointed out. “Besides, what could he possibly do wearing a pink robe?”

“I’m not going to touch her, Tex. Just want to talk.” Enzo held two fingers over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

Travis guffawed. “You’re no fucking Boy Scout, asshole. Fine, I’ll leave.” He started to file out with the others, but then he spun back and leaned close to Enzo. “I like you. We’re friends. But you make her even a little sad, and I swear to all that is holy that I will cut off your balls and feed them to you. She’s my twin sister and she’s been through a lot. So keep that in mind.” He gave Enzo one last look and walked away.

That was probably the most serious conversation Enzo had ever had with Travis, and it gave him pause. What had Jamie Lynn been through that caused Travis to be so protective? He was her brother, yeah, but Enzo could tell there was more to it than familial protectiveness. He looked over to where she was packing up her canvas, and their gazes met briefly before her eyes darted away. Suddenly the thought of her ever having been hurt made him to want to kick the ass of anyone who’d hurt such a strong yet tiny woman.

With her big handbag on one shoulder and her canvas under her arm, Jamie Lynn walked over to where Enzo was standing. “Nice legs,” she cracked, looking down at the expanse of skin not covered by the petite garment.

“I know. The robe really shows them off,” he tossed back.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“I suppose that standing naked in front of strangers brings out the comedian in me,” he replied, grinning.

“So—” Jamie Lynn began, just as Enzo started to say, “You—”

They both broke off. “You first,” he said.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to maybe go to dinner or something tomorrow,” Jamie Lynn said.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Enzo said, his eyes widened in mock surprise. She playfully shoved his shoulder. “Well, we’ve already kissed, and now you’ve seen me naked. You really are overdue for a date with me, wouldn’t you agree?” he commented.

“I said dinner. Not a date.”

“I knew you’d eventually break.”

“I didn’t break. I guess ‘sometimes affection is a shy flower that takes time to blossom.’ ”

“That’s from some obscure movie, isn’t it?”

“Not that obscure. It’s from Becoming Jane.”

“Never seen it.”

“Not surprised,” she said.

“You know, you’re like a fortune cookie.”

“Fortune cookie?” Her face crinkled in confusion.

“You’re always saying these things that are either full of wisdom, funny nothings, or completely absurd,” he explained. “You make me think of fortune cookies every time.”

“Aw…you think about me.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn. I totally killed the mystery, didn’t I?” he teased. “So, a date?”

“That’s a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes,” he replied. “Can I walk you to your car?”

She stepped back and eyed him up and down with a sassy smile. “In that robe?”

He winced when he looked down at himself. “I’ll just run and change real fast.” As he jogged to the corner to grab his bag, he heard her snort with laughter, and he looked over his shoulder.

“You might want to be careful bending over,” Jamie Lynn called out, then turned to the middle-aged woman who was standing next to her and adjusting her glasses with a big smile on her face. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Davis?”

Enzo felt his face heat. He tugged down the back of the robe as he walked to the bathroom.

A few moments later he emerged dressed in gym shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers to find Jamie Lynn leaning against the wall. “Ready,” he told her. She pushed off the wall and followed him down the hall and out of the building.

“What made you change your mind about going out with me?” he asked as they crossed the parking lot. “Not that I’m complaining. But you’ve been saying no for almost a year.”

“Truth?”

“Always.”

“You always seem so predictable, but you doing this…” She shook her head. “I guess it made me see you in a different light.”

He held her car door open for her as she tucked the canvas facedown in the backseat and then got in the car. “I’m glad it took me completely humiliating myself to get you to go out with me. Maybe I won’t kill your brother for this ridiculous bet after all,” he said. “I’ll make reservations at the Tackle Box and pick you up at eight tomorrow.” When she looked at him for a moment too long, he said, “You don’t like the Tackle Box?”

“Do you work tomorrow?” she asked as she got back out of the car.

“Yes.”

“That was a dumb question. You’re always working. Let me rephrase the question. Can you take the day off tomorrow?”

Enzo quickly thought about all the teleconferences he had scheduled and all the reports he had to do. “I can.”

“Okay, so I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Uh…I don’t understand.”

“Eight in the morning,” she clarified. “I asked you out, so I pick. That’s the deal, okay? It’s my treat. I pick where we go and what we do.”

“I don’t think—”

“You hate giving up control, don’t you?” she asked wryly, already knowing the answer. “Don’t worry so much. Just be ready. It’ll be fun—spontaneous. You’ll like it. I promise.”

He let out a breath. “Fun and spontaneous isn’t something I’m very comfortable with,” he admitted. But then he decided, What the hell? He’d already survived taking the biggest leap of faith of his life by moving from Brazil to Florida, something that was so completely out of character his parents thought he was still mourning the end of his marriage. So, going on a date with a beautiful woman and letting her take the lead…what could possibly go wrong?

“Okay, fine. I’ll text you my address,” he said as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. She folded herself into her crappy fifteen-year-old Honda Civic, which was mostly red, except for some patches where the paint had chipped off. The bumper was held together with a hot-pink bungee cord, and there were bumper stickers plastered everywhere. He couldn’t picture her with any other car but this one; somehow it suited her perfectly. But she was absolutely out of her mind if she thought he’d be going anywhere with her in that clunker tomorrow.

As she always did, JL drove around the building until she found the closest parking space that sat underneath a light pole. She walked to her apartment, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and then slid shut the three deadbolts before turning on all the lights. JL hated being home now that Violet, her best friend, had moved out to live with her boyfriend, Cain. She had never liked being alone, but lately that was an all-too-common occurrence. At least Violet had left behind her surprisingly entertaining parrot—appropriately named Bird—while they remodeled their new home.

“Woof woof woof,” Bird cawed as JL turned the corner into her small living room. JL giggled. She’d taught Bird all sorts of animal calls. Violet didn’t appreciate her parrot’s new skills—including the string of curse words that now flowed out of it at the most inappropriate times—but it always made JL crack up.

“Good girl,” JL said to Bird. She’d been slowly trying to tame the bird into letting her pet it, but every time she got close to the enormous parrot, it snapped at her. “Oh, come on. I’ll give you a second helping if you let me pet you.” The bird snapped again. “Bitch,” JL hissed.

“Bitch. Bitch. Bitch,” the parrot repeated, making JL giggle again.

Turning on her stereo to drown out the silence, she heated up two frozen dinners and sat down on the couch to eat, chatting with Bird, who occasionally repeated the words. When she was finished, she went into the bathroom, reached into the medicine cabinet with her eyes closed, and picked out a box. Opening her eyes, she saw which color she’d picked. “Magenta. Nice.” She took off all her clothes and applied the dye to her head. Once she’d finished, she showered and blow-dried her short hair, then examined her reflection in the mirror, happy with the results. She always kept a stash of different colors for when the mood struck. Tonight the mood had led her to a shocking shade of red-purple.

After she was done with her bedtime routine, she looked at the clock and realized it was still early. She paced around her small apartment for a few minutes. Finally she pulled out the canvas from earlier in the day and studied her work. She’d spent too much time staring and not enough time sketching when she’d been in class. She took out her charcoal and began to finish it using just her memory.

In a trance, busy shading lines on the canvas, she reached for her ringing cell phone. The caller ID said UNKNOWN, but she knew exactly who would be on the other end of the line.

“What do you want, Mama?” she said by way of greeting.

“JL, I need your help.”

“How much?”

“It’s just that my electric bill is due and—”

“No, Mama, that’s bullshit. I paid the electric bill directly to the electric company last week when you called.”

Silence.

“Just fifty dollars, JL. That’s all. It’ll be the last time, I promise.” Rita’s voice sounded frail and distant, and JL could hear noise in the background. JL had heard this exact statement so many times throughout the years she had it memorized.

“Mama.” She closed her eyes and released an exasperated breath. “If you need something, I’ll go get it for you. You know I’m not giving you money.” Last time JL had given her mother money she’d gone on a three-day drug binge that had landed her at St. Mary’s Hospital after an overdose.

“You’re just being spiteful. I’ll call Travis.”

“And he won’t answer.” Travis had stopped talking to their mother a long time ago.

“You’ve always been worthless.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those toxic words from her mother. “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“Jamie Lynn Calhoun, you think you’re—”

JL clicked the phone off and threw it aside. She knew exactly what would be next. You think you’re better than me. That you can just leave the trailer park. It’s your fault I’m alone.

Rising abruptly, she shut off the stereo, because suddenly she didn’t want noise. She needed silence. She wanted to be lost in her drawing, which was the only way to quiet her mind after her mother’s hateful words. She knew her mom was sick. Addiction was a disease. But Rita Calhoun didn’t want to go into treatment. She didn’t want to mend her relationship with her children. She only wanted a quick fix.

Suddenly JL knew she was done. She would never be able to move on as long as there was an anvil attached around her ankle in the form of a beautiful albeit waif-thin blond woman who looked almost exactly like JL—the same woman who kept pulling her down every time she felt even a twinge of happiness.

She reached for the charcoal again in an attempt to put aside all thoughts of her mother. Thoughts about a certain Brazilian entrepreneur with a smoking-hot body that begged to be traced both onto the canvas and in real life had to improve her mood, right?