The Heart of a Hero (11 page)

U
NBELIEVABLE.
Her ex-husband sitting in her kitchen drinking coffee was the last thing she expected this morning.

Paul looked good; she’d give him that. Being outside three hundred days a year had given him a permanent golden tan, which his highlighted hair and pale blue golf shirt accentuated perfectly. In fact, everything about him was flawless, from his wardrobe to his features. There wasn’t a mark or weathered line on him.

It made him look quite superficial, she realized.

“This is good,” he was saying. “You always did have a knack for brewing a fine cup of coffee.”

“Seeing how you spent more time in hotels than our apartment, I’m surprised you noticed.”

He chuckled. “I’ve missed that sarcasm, too.”

“Yes, it’s always been one of my charms.” She walked around him to lean against the kitchen counter. “Why are you here?”

“Did you get my flowers?”

“I got them.” Memories of Jake bringing her coffee on the beach came to mind, bringing with them an ache in her chest. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much expense.”

Paul waved off the remark. “Nonsense. You’re worth every penny. And I remembered how much you liked calla lilies,” he added with a smile.

Actually she liked tiger lilies, but why argue the point? “You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“To see you, of course. Why else would I come to this godforsaken island?”

Zoe could think of a few reasons, most of them with dollar signs. “I told you on the phone I didn’t want to see you.”

“That was almost three weeks ago, Zo. You were still angry. I figured you had time to cool down since then.”

Had it really been that long? She glanced at the calendar. Dear Lord, it had. She’d been too caught up with Jake to notice time passing. Automatically, her eyes went to the kitchen window, seeking a glimpse of the house next door. How would time pass now? she wondered.

Still at the table, Paul set down his coffee. “I’m assuming you have. Cooled down, that is.”

Outside on his run, Reynaldo was barking, angry he’d been banished to the backyard at Paul’s arrival. “If you mean do I still want to castrate you for
cheating on me, the answer’s no. It’s not worth the anger.”

His sigh of relief filled the room. “Good. I’m glad. I knew you’d realize what we had was too good to throw away, though I admit…”

She heard the sound of a chair, and suddenly Paul was behind her, hands on her hips. “I was willing to get down on my knees and beg if I had to. Still could, if you want.” Perfect teeth nipped at her ear lobe.

“Oh, good Lord, stop.” She pushed him away. “All I said was I wasn’t angry anymore. What on earth makes you think we’re getting back together?”

“But, babe, if you’re not angry, what’s holding you back?”

“How about the fact I don’t want you?”

The expression on Paul’s face made it seem like she’d spoken a foreign language. “Of course you want me,” he said. “We’re Team Brodsky. Don’t you remember all our plans? Our dreams?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Then how can you throw all that away? I came all the way here to get you. Surely that means something.”

“It means your short game’s gone to pot,” she told him. “You gave it your best shot, Paul, but Team Brodsky’s history. You’ll have to find another way to fund your dreams.”

“No, I don’t believe you.” He closed the distance between them. Grasping her shoulders, he forced her
close. “I need you, babe,” he whispered in his honeyed voice. “I need you too much.”

Zoe looked into the brown eyes she’d once found so irresistible. They were really quite bland, she realized. Passionless even as he declared his desire for her. Dear Lord, Jake showed more emotion closed off than Paul did at his most effusive.

Jake. Just thinking his name made her heart catch. She thought of the hunger he tried to disguise when they were close. Of the way she could see down to his soul when she stared into their green depths. Those were the eyes she wanted to look into. Not these.

“You don’t need me, Paul. You’re just needy.”

She moved to push him away, but Paul held fast. His voice grew a little rougher. “I’m not giving up that easily, babe. You’re still upset—I get that. Soon as I show you how I need you, though, things will be different.”

“No, Paul.”

“Remember that time in the condo? You were making toast, and I came up behind you? You said you liked when I took charge.” One hand snaked its way to her neck, cupping her jaw, forcing her face upward. His eyes glittered with determination. “That what you want now, babe? For me to take charge?”

Zoe couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear. Blood pounded in her eardrums, drowning everything but her fear. Paul had always been selfish, but he’d never been violent.

Then again, she’d never turned him down before, and he hated to lose.

“Let me go!” She shoved at his shoulders, but years of swinging a golf club left him with a powerful grip. His knee slipped between her thighs. She felt the edge of the counter cutting into her back as he bent her backward.

“I believe the lady said stop.”

Jake.

Zoe had never been so relieved to see a man in all her life. Everything would be okay, now. Jake was here.

Crossing the room in one giant step, he grabbed Paul by the collar and yanked the golf pro off her.

“Hey!” Paul hollered, breaking free of his grip. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m her handyman.”

No,
thought Zoe, heart in her throat.
He was her hero.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Handyman, my wife and I were having a private discussion.”

“Doesn’t look like much of a conversation,” Jake replied. “And last I checked, Zoe was divorced.”

Jake leveled his green eyes like lasers straight at Paul, making it clear he was about to mount another attack. From the way his fingers flexed, she could tell this time he wouldn’t be as gentle. Paul folded his arms. Zoe recognized the stance. He wasn’t going
quietly. That had been his problem as a golfer, too. He never could read the breaks in a green.

“And last time
I
checked,” he said with more than a little bravado, “the
handyman
didn’t call the shots in my house.”

“
My
house.” Both men looked at her as Zoe finally found her voice. “This is my house.”

Paul nodded. “Sure, babe. Then tell this
handyman
to leave us alone so we can talk.” His eyes raked her up and down, as if to silently add, “You know you want to.”

The leer made her sick inside. Instinctively she moved toward the one thing that made her feel safe. Jake. “The only person leaving, Paul, is you,” she said. “Get out.”

Her ex-husband looked like he’d missed a two-inch putt. “You can’t mean that.”

“You heard the lady,” Jake added. “Get out.”

“And stay out,” Zoe added. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

At first Paul didn’t budge, preferring to stare at the two of them, and making Zoe fear the altercation would escalate. Venom shone in his eyes. At last, she thought to herself. He’s finally showing his true colors.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyers about this, Zoe,” he said at last. “I won’t stand for being assaulted.”

“Neither will I,” she replied. “I suggest you rethink that call.”

Before he could say anything else, Jake escorted him to the front door, remaining in the open entrance until the golfer had climbed into his car and driven away. As soon as his car disappeared over the horizon, Zoe sagged against the wall. Shivers racked her body. What if…? She hugged her midsection, trying to hold herself together. Jake’s large frame appeared before her. “Zoe?”

“What if…? He…” She took a sharp breath. Her lungs burned for the effort. “If you hadn’t come by when…you…did…”

The smell of bay rum wrapped itself around her, along with a pair of strong, warm arms. Zoe buried herself in the embrace, letting the security of Jake’s presence calm the storm inside her.

“It’s okay,” she heard him murmur. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Zoe believed him. Inside, her heart opened, finally acknowledging the emotion she’d been dancing around for weeks. Everything would be all right. Jake was here.

Her fingers brushed the lip of Jake’s breast pocket. Beneath them, she could feel his heart, the erratic beat mirroring her own.

“Zoe…” Jake’s voice had deepened. Looking to his face, she saw his eyes had darkened, too, the
pupils blown so wide, their green depths were nearly black.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he whispered. “So bright. So sweet.” His hand reached up and thumbed her cheek. “So tempting.”

Her, tempting? She’d have looked away in embarrassment, but he had too tight a hold on her.

Meanwhile, Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Her throat ran dry in anticipation. “You make me feel—” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Yes, it did. “Why not?”

“Because.” His smile was sad. “Nothing’s changed, Zoe. I’m still as dead inside as I ever was. I could never give back to you what you deserve.”

Nothing’s changed.
Red flashed in front of Zoe’s eyes. “Damn you!” The events of the day had left her insides ragged. Hearing his rejection, the tenuous hold on her nerves snapped and she began beating her fists against his chest. “You son of a bitch. Who the hell gave you permission to walk out on life? Huh? Who decided you get to sit on the sidelines while the rest of us carry on?”

“Look, I know you—”

“No, you don’t know anything.” Hot, angry tears sprang to her eyes. She was sick of it. Sick of caring and not being cared for back. Sick of investing her heart and soul only to get hurt time and time again.
Stay out of the way, Zoe. Don’t be a bother, Zoe. Help me, Zoe.

“Know what?” she asked, wiping her nose. “Paul might have used me, but at least he wasn’t a coward.”

Jake drew in a breath. “A what?”

“You heard me, a coward. At least he went after what he wanted. He didn’t lock himself away, afraid to live life.”

The ragged sound of his breathing told Zoe she was treading on thin ice, and she didn’t care. It was worth the risk if she could get through to Jake. All this time everyone had been treating him with kid gloves, afraid of opening his wounds or making him lose control. Well, maybe it was time to take off the gloves and give him a strong dose of truth. Maybe losing control was exactly what he needed.

“You say you’re barricading yourself from the rest of the world because you’re dead inside. You’re not dead. You’re afraid. You’re afraid to be happy. At least be that honest. Don’t act all noble and pretend you’re doing the ‘right thing’ when the truth is you’re simply too scared to live.”

“Don’t.” One word. One simple word of warning. Zoe ignored it.

“Worst thing of all is, you’re too blind with guilt to see happiness when it’s standing right in front of you, offering itself on a silver platter. Tell me, Jake. How long are you going to keep punishing yourself
for coming home alive? What would your men say if they knew you were using them as an excuse to avoid the world?”

Jake slammed the front door behind him, leaving her standing alone in the foyer. Anger still coursing through her, Zoe watched until his blond head disappeared behind the fence, then buried her face in her hands. She didn’t know whether to cry or throw something. Stupid blind fool.

The only bigger fool was her. Because now she knew Kent Mifflin was right.

She was in love with Jake.

Of all the insane ideas…

He was not afraid of living. He
wasn’t.
He dragged his sorry self out of bed every morning, didn’t he? If anything, he spent every freaking day painfully aware that he was alive.

Zoe was simply wrong. All the more reason he needed to back away from her. Despite all his explaining, she didn’t understand he couldn’t be the kind of man she deserved. Eventually she’d see the wisdom of his decision and thank him. She would.

Back in his house, he was halfway through grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, when he caught the date on the calendar. June thirteenth. The day before Flag Day. Terrific. Now he had two subjects
to ruminate about when the nightmares woke him up. Zoe and Kent Mifflin’s big “hero” celebration.

He grabbed a backup beer. Looked like it would be a long night.

The dream was the same as always. Flames surrounding him. The smell of blood and sulfur in his nostrils. Ramirez and the others crying out for him.
Ayúdame!
Don’t forget us!
Ayúdame!

Jake lay prone in the sand, his body sticky with blood. He was trying to crawl his way to the truck.

Ayúdame! Ayúdame!

A new voice joined the chorus. Soft and sweet, like a siren song. “Over here, Jake! Over here!”

Looking to the hills behind him, he saw Zoe hopping from rock to rock. She wore her orange T-shirt and denim cutoff shorts. Her messy ponytail bounced with each hop she took.

“Get down!” he hollered. “Take cover!”

But Zoe ignored him. “I’m not in danger,” she told him. “It’s perfectly safe here. Come and see.”

He tried. Digging into the sand with his elbows, he pushed himself forward. But he went nowhere.

“Ayúdame!”
Ramirez and the others chanted. “Captain! Captain!”

“Jake, come over here. It’s safe here!”

“Don’t forget us….”

“You’ll be safe here.”

Back and forth the two sides called to him. Jake
could hear them, but he couldn’t move. Not in either direction. The sand had turned into a giant block of cement. He was stuck.

“Move, Jake. Move!” the voices began chanting.

“I can’t,” he told them. “I can’t move.”

“You have to move…”

Jake’s eyes flew open. His clothes were cold and damp from sweat, but at least he could move his legs again.
He could move.
The realization hit him square in the gut. He. Could. Move.

Swinging his feet to the floor, he moved to stand, but not before glancing at the alarm clock to see how long he’d managed to sleep. Four-thirty, the display read.