A Taste Of Paradise. Leslie Kelly

but for a few lines on his face that had probably been caused by the stress of this last year. They didn’t lessen his attractiveness one bit, serving only to make him more mature and handsome. Which was why, even as her stomach churned with tension, her heart was fluttering and her panties were getting a little damp.

      She’d been telling herself for ten months that what they’d shared had only been lust—just hot sex, easily forgettable. But seeing him again now, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She’d been well on her way to falling in love with the man. His silence had crushed her, especially after her father’s death, when she’d begun to evaluate her own life, to realize how fleeting it could be, and how desperately she wanted someone to share it with.

      Someone like Nate.

      And then, finally, he spoke. “You have got to be kidding me. How much worse can this whole thing get?”

      Heather had never realized shock and embarrassment could segue so immediately into fury. So much for love and happily-ever-after. Who the hell did he think he was to ask her to come back to Florida with him, then tell the press she was a nobody? To ignore her for months? And now to act as though he’d been injured by having to run into her again? What a prick.

      “So nice to see you, too, superstar,” she snapped as she strode up the steps to the porch.

      Nate thrust a hand through his thick, dark hair. He rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily before finally facing her head-on.

      “I’m sorry, Heather, that wasn’t directed at you. I was just caught off guard.”

      “You and me both.”

      Her mother and the older man she assumed was his father had been watching them, their eyes rounded. Her mom said, “Nathan? I’m Amy, and I’m so happy to meet you.”

      Nate offered her a very tight smile in response.

      “Am I correct in thinking you’re acquainted?” she added.

      “We’ve met,” said Heather.

      Nate nodded. “We, uh, got to know each other last year during a trip to Vegas.”

      “What a small world!” His father stuck out his hand to her. “I’m Jerry. So nice to finally meet you, Heather.”

      “Hello Mr....Watson.” God, she’d barely even listened when her mother had mentioned Jerry’s last name. If she’d been more attentive, would she have been a little more prepared for tonight? Doubtful. The surname wasn’t exactly a unique one. Besides, who could possibly prepare for such a catastrophe?

      Heather shook her future stepfather’s hand. That much, at least, was easy, since her whole body was shaking.

      She’d imagined running into Nate again, visualizing a hundred ways it could happen without her having to stalk him at a Thunder game. Yet her imagination could never have come up with this situation.

      Bad enough having to run into her fickle ex-lover on the very same night she felt as if her personal life and world were imploding. Worse, though, was that he was so obviously furious about it, apparently having hoped to never lay eyes on her again.

      She had, many times, told herself she wished she’d never met him. Right now, she actually believed it.

      “This must be quite a surprise then,” the groom said.

      “Surprise. That’s one way to put it,” said Heather.

      Sick might be another way.

      Still, queasy or not, her heart was fluttering as she recalled that last morning in bed at the hotel. Nate had been so attentive, so sexy, so adoring, as if he had meant it when he’d said she was becoming his addiction.

      That seemed, sometimes, to have been her last truly happy moment. By that afternoon, everything had gone to hell. First, she’d been cornered by some obnoxious reporters about the rumors of her being the “other woman” in a celebrity love triangle. Before she’d even had a chance to process those rumors, or what he’d supposedly said about her—a nobody?—she’d gotten the call that Dad was in the hospital, in critical condition.

      She’d barely made it home to say goodbye. He’d died the next day. And every moment since, she’d been busy trying to hold herself together, and her mother, too. All the while, she’d wondered if she’d already met the love of her life and if he would end the silence and come find her.

      She’d wanted that, desperately. Wanted a once-in-a-lifetime love like her parents had had. Wanted a man who would adore her the way her dad had adored her mom. She’d fantasized about having that kind of love with Nate.

      Boy, had she been wrong.

      “Isn’t this fun,” her mother said, clapping her hands together and looking absolutely delighted. “You two are already friends...and now you’re going to be siblings!”

      Oh, my God. Nate Watson, the lover she’d almost flown off to Florida with last spring was about to become her stepbrother.

      Heather suddenly couldn’t breathe. How could her world have turned so completely upside down so fast?

      Before she could think better of it, given the presence of the parents, she said the only thing that made sense right now.

      “Fuck my life.”

      * * *

      NATE DIDN’T SAY the words, but he echoed Heather’s sentiment. Because, damn, how could he be expected to deal with his father’s crazy, impulsive engagement to someone Nate totally believed was a money-grubber...when said money-grubber was the mother of the woman he’d lost his head over last year?

      It really was her. Heather Hughes. In the flesh. He hadn’t believed his eyes at first, but once she’d spoken and he’d heard that soft, sexy voice, he’d been unable to deny it.

      The beautiful woman hadn’t changed since he’d last seen her. Well, maybe a little. He’d certainly never seen her with such a dark frown on her face. The faint shadows of sadness he noticed in her eyes were unexpected, too.

      Had he contributed to that sadness? He knew he’d probably hurt her by never reaching out after their fling in Vegas. He’d had her number and could have used it at any time. Unfortunately, his life had become so ugly he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There’d been tabloid reporters digging through his trash, private investigators following him and lawyers subpoenaing his medical records. Just crazy crap for months, right through his first losing season.

      The experience had changed him, hardened him. Frankly, he hadn’t been fit company for anyone, much less a woman. Which was one reason he hadn’t ever tried to reach her.

      The other reason was...well, he’d been burned by Felicity. Badly. As much as he liked to think Heather was different, in truth, he’d only been with her a few days. He’d begun to question every decision he’d made—including the decision to ask a near stranger to come home with him. His judgment could have been screwed up about her, too. Maybe she’d been aware of who he was all along. Women constantly pretended to feel things they didn’t feel when it came to men with money. He should know.

      So, he feared, should his father, who’d been married three times and messily divorced twice.

      And was about to embark on adventure number four.

      With his ex-lover’s mother.

      Heather was right. Fuck my life.

      “Shall we all go inside? I’m sure the other guests have already arrived,” Amy said, choosing to pretend she hadn’t heard her daughter’s muttered obscenity. She tucked her arm into his dad’s and added, “We’re going to have a lovely party.” Her comment sounded more like a threat than a promise.

      Nate was left to escort Heather, who was glaring at him as if she’d scraped him off the bottom of a shoe. Not even one of hers, maybe a garbage man’s shoe. Or a...a dogcatcher’s.

      “I