"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