paradise found

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
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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.