One Kiss In… Miami

“And if she happens to fall in love and it’s not temporary?”

Pretorius narrowed his eyes. “You think she’s the only one who’ll fall in love? Not the both of you?”

Justice knew better than to expect that. He doubted he was capable of love any longer. “Just her,” he confirmed.

“In that case, I like my dinner served at six.”

Justice St. John.

Daisy Marcellus stopped dead in her tracks the instant she caught sight of the familiar name centered on the Coronation Hotel’s advertisement placard. Late-afternoon sunlight cascaded across the stunning black-and-white photo of him, threatening to bring her to her knees. Her bright fuchsia carryall slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the floor, pens and stickers and trinkets for toddlers spilling at her feet.

It was him.

Granted, a much different him than the one she’d known a full decade ago. This man appeared harder, far fiercer than the version she’d known. Oh, his eyes were the same, betraying that heartbreaking wariness she remembered so vividly, like an animal constantly on the alert for danger. But that wariness seemed more intense now, and shaded with cynicism.

She studied each line of the revealing photograph, searching for other changes and finding them all too easily. Time had weathered creases into strong masculine features, the deepest ones bracketing a mouth set in far too severe a line. He’d acquired a grim edge over the years, a hardness that she could only hope was at the instigation of the photographer for overall effect, rather than a true reflection of the man.

Despite the worrisome changes, desire vied with a bottomless longing, while desperate joy cascaded through her. She reached out to trace his image, a shaky smile slipping across her face. After all these years, they’d found each other again. Well, okay. So they hadn’t found each other. She had found him. But what did that matter?

Would he be equally delighted to see her? Would he even remember her? Considering how much she’d changed, possibly not. But she remembered him, and she also remembered every incredible summery moment of those short three months they’d spent together. She laughed out loud, drawing attention to herself. Not that she cared. Not when today meant she’d get to see Justice again.

Daisy stooped and shoved her belongings back into her carryall while she read the information on the placard. It would seem Justice had made a name for himself in the engineering world. Well, good for him. Even better, in just five short minutes his keynote speech would start. Excellent. She had nothing else scheduled for this late in the afternoon. Surely no one would object if she crashed the party, considering she and Justice were old friends—not to mention old lovers.

In fact, he’d been her first lover, the most special of them all, and she’d never forgotten him. Never known a love as wonderful or carefree as what she’d shared with him. Never found a man who quite equaled him. Generous. Patient. Kind. Someone who embraced life despite the turmoil of his past. Oh, she couldn’t wait to see him again!

A pair of men stood outside the conference room, checking the badges the attendees all wore before allowing them entry. She waited until they were distracted to slip past and into the jam-packed room. People already lined the back wall, having given up on finding a vacant seat. Others milled in the aisles. Finally, she spotted an empty spot near the front row. She didn’t really want to sit that close to the stage, but she’d feel even more uncomfortable standing in the back with the masses of engineers when she considered herself as far from being one of them as a butterfly was from a calculator.

For one thing, she’d dressed for a book signing, not a conference. Most of the attendees wore suits and ties, though she considered it a more casual, absentminded professor version than strict Wall Street “businessman” attire. Her breezy slacks and blousy red shirt—perfect for autographing children’s storybooks—might as well have come with a sign that said: Alien being here. Give her the hairy eyeball until she makes a break for it.

For another, she hadn’t understood a single word anyone had spoken since she walked into the place. She’d overheard any number of conversations, but she didn’t understand Basic Geek, even though once upon a time Justice had attempted to teach her.

And finally, with the exception of a few women, the place reeked of testosterone. Not that she had anything against testosterone, but the sheer overwhelming number of men made her feel like a plump pigeon dropped among a roomful of cats.

Slipping into the vacant seat, she smiled at the men on either side of her. They didn’t smile back. Instead they seemed to dissect her with their gaze, and not in a sexual way. It was almost as though she represented an equation they couldn’t solve. And maybe she did.

Right when she was on the verge of bolting, the lights dimmed and a portly man approached the podium. Whispered comments filtered through the room while everyone settled into their seats. The man didn’t waste any time, but got right to his introduction of Justice St. John. He ran through an impressive list of credentials and accomplishments, told a brief, dry story that, based on the chuckles peppering the auditorium, was meant to be funny. Maybe it was an engineering thing, but she didn’t get it. Finished, he stepped aside and glanced expectantly toward the left side of the stage.

Silence drenched the auditorium and people strained forward, watching eagerly for the keynote speaker. And then he appeared, sweeping across the stage with a feline grace that she remembered from their youth. Memories crashed over her. That day he’d stepped into her parents’ home, a feral panther waiting to attack or be attacked. The lines he’d drawn to keep himself neatly boxed in and everyone else boxed out. “Respect the line,” he’d ordered. A line she’d taken such delight in pushing. Erasing. Redrawing. The amazing night at the lake where their clothes had slipped away and their bodies had melded with such perfection. That blissful innocence that had tumbled into passionate knowledge.

Justice’s gaze brushed the audience with impatient disdain and then he launched into incomprehensible Engineering Geek, which was clearly several levels up from Basic Geek. Despite understanding only one word in twenty, the deep, rough tones of his voice held her as mesmerized as everyone else in the audience.

He’d changed in the years since they’d last been together, changed beyond belief. But then, so had she. Would she have recognized him if they’d passed on the street? She frowned. Possibly. If she looked hard she could just make out the boy overwhelmed by the man he’d become.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” the man beside her muttered. A whisper of consensus swept around him.

“Think of what?” Daisy asked.

The man turned to look at her, outrage flashing behind thick glasses. “His suggestions for future inventions. Weren’t you listening?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I was too preoccupied looking.” A few snickers greeted her comment.

“I swear, when it comes to creating robotic sensors and actuators St. John is the best on the planet,” an awestruck whisper came from the row in front of her.

“Especially robotics in relationship to autonomous cooperation with humans,” an answering mutter drifted from behind, one equally awestruck.

Interesting. She returned her attention to Justice … and her self-appointed task of looking. She hadn’t a clue what all that meant, but color her impressed if he was considered the best on the entire planet. But at what cost? She studied him more carefully.

His features were harder and more defined than they’d been at eighteen. Okay, nearly eighteen. Seriously, what difference did a few weeks make? His eyes were still that dangerous blaze of tawny gold, just like a jungle cat. His hair stopped a shade shy of ebony, the texture rich and dark. He wore it nearly as long now as he did all those years ago, as though far more weighty matters occupied his mind than something so insignificant as getting a haircut. He’d disdained wearing a suit and settled instead on a black shirt and slacks which seemed to swallow all the light on the stage leaving him shrouded in shadows.

He was Hades escaped from the Underworld and everything feminine within her shivered in response to the threat he posed.

Where had the Justice she remembered gone and who was this creature who’d taken his place? He’d changed in some ineffable way that defied her ability to identify. He’d always possessed a logical nature, governed by exquisite self-control. Before, that control hadn’t been so reserved or icy. There’d been an openness to him that had allowed her to break through his barriers and lose herself in all that made him the remarkable person he’d been. Laughter had come easily to him, delight in their world a natural part of his personality, his attitude as brilliant as the spill of hot, golden sunshine that had encased them that long-ago summer.

Looking at him now, she realized that had all changed. He wasn’t open, but locked up tight. She suspected he rarely laughed. And far from being delighted with the world, he regarded it with a cynical edge that eclipsed that hot, golden sunshine, leaving behind a cold, impenetrable darkness.

What had happened to him? It crushed her to see that he didn’t resemble the character she’d created for her storybooks, the one based on her memories of him. How could she have gotten it so wrong? When she’d imagined what sort of metamorphosis he’d undergo transitioning from youth to adult, she’d never, ever conceived this.

Just then his gaze settled on her and something odd passed between them. Did he recognize her? Did he remember, even after all this time? Not likely, since her appearance had changed so dramatically in the past decade. His eyes gleamed beneath the overhead lights, like tarnished gold, yet lit with the fire of want.

And that’s when Daisy decided. No matter what, before she left here she’d find out what had happened to Justice. She’d take the opportunity, once and for all, to deal with that long-ago past, one she’d never been able to forget. One that she’d used as a measuring stick in every relationship she’d had since their time together. She’d prove to herself that what they’d experienced wasn’t so special since, clearly, he was no longer that amazing person he’d once been.

And then, finally, she’d be able to put him back in the box from which she’d released him … and move on.

He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to deliver a speech he not only didn’t believe in, but one that involved shoveling the most bull he’d ever attempted in his twenty-eight years. He’d been in Miami Beach for less than a day and already he’d reached the conclusion that it was an abysmal waste of his time.

The minute he arrived, he’d checked into his suite, unpacked his bag and then went after the first name on his list. Why waste time, right? Dorothy Salyer stood just a few inches shy of his own six-foot-three-inch frame and seemed quietly attractive. There was no questioning her intelligence. Knowing the requirements Pretorius had incorporated into his program, all the women would be brilliant. But Dorothy—or Dot, as she’d insisted he call her (shudder)—had been even more shy than his uncle and utterly incapable of stringing even a half-dozen words together.

Strike one.

The second woman on the list was neither tall nor attractive and she never shut up, at least not once she found herself in the presence of The. Great. Justice. St. John! She even put the little italic on the John every single frigging time she said his name, which was so often he was tempted to change it then and there. He didn’t know if she hoped to impress with her unending staccato chatter, but she’d definitely succeeded in terrorizing. He barely made it through coffee.

Strike two.

Deciding not to waste any further time, he went after the third woman. She proved to be quite delightful (a pleasant change). Pretty (a plus). Normal (a big plus). Intelligent (of course). He almost offered her the position of apprentice then and there. He probably would have if she hadn’t chosen that moment to mention that she considered herself a city girl at heart, adored the cultural opportunities Chicago provided and couldn’t imagine living anywhere other than the Windy City and—worst of all—she survived on takeout since she couldn’t cook.

Third strike and he was almost ready to call it quits. Or he would have if not for a few salient points.

A. He liked women.

B. He liked sitting and having a quiet, adult conversation with a woman.

C. His uncle, damn him to hell and back, was right. He’d hoarded his knowledge instead of spreading it around. Worse, the level of isolation to which he’d dedicated himself had caused a certain stagnation in his intellectual processes, thus his inability to work.

D. The computer program wasn’t working.

And that damnable E. Nothing had changed since his accident. He still needed … more. Wanted to take a passing shot at normalcy. To have a life. To feel again, even if he wasn’t capable of the sort of depths of emotion romantics ascribed to. To have a family. Children. A legacy.

Which brought him to the woman in the red blouse. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She struck some odd note that resonated deep within him, something that tickled a memory, though he couldn’t quite place it. All he knew for certain was that he wanted her with a gut-wrenching desire he hadn’t experienced in ages. Maybe ever. Which begged a single, urgent question.

Why the hell wasn’t she on the list of candidates?

There must be something wrong with her, something the computer defined as unacceptable. Not her looks. Coltishly slender and fine-boned, she epitomized the type of woman he found most appealing. Even better, she was a blonde, the ruler-straight length streaked with just about every permutation of that color. Her features fell somewhere between elegant and fey, except for her mouth, which he could only describe as sultry. So, if it wasn’t her appearance, why had she been eliminated from consideration?

Not smart enough? She couldn’t be lacking in intelligence, not considering her presence at the symposium. Possibly he had set the intellectual standard a shade on the high side. Perhaps he could lower the bar an IQ point or two if she fell outside the parameters he’d predetermined. He ran through the list he’d given Pretorius again. Physically attractive. Big red check. An engineer. She was here, wasn’t she? Double check. That left logical, kind and someone who could handle isolation and wouldn’t make waves.

Maybe the computer had deduced in its inimitable fashion that she wasn’t logical. Well, hell. He’d be willing to settle for reasonable if she didn’t quite qualify as full-blooded rational. Kind? She looked kind to him. So, let’s make that a check with a question mark. Perhaps the isolation had caused her to be rejected. He mentally flagged that for future reference. If they put their minds to it, they could find a way around that particular problem. Which left someone who didn’t make waves … A nonissue, really. He was a man, wasn’t he? He’d simply subdue any waves she made.

Justice smiled in satisfaction. It looked like he might have just found his apprentice/wife, and without any help from the computer. Just went to show that his intellect was more than a match for Pretorius’s program. And wouldn’t he take great pleasure in rubbing that fact in the old man’s face.

Two

Daisy remained in her seat and waited while the line snaking toward the stage diminished. It would seem that everyone wanted a piece of Justice St. John and she wondered why. What had he done to inspire such effusiveness and excitement in the engineering world? Maybe she’d better research him when she returned home because, clearly, she was missing some vital information about her former lover.

The last individual reluctantly turned away and headed for the exit and in one lithe movement, Justice leaped from the stage and came straight for her. She wasn’t surprised. She’d known from the first moment their eyes had met that he’d pursue her. For now, she’d let him.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

She tilted her head to one side. Interesting. No wasted time. No social niceties. “Hello,” she said and held out her hand. “Daisy Marcellus. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

To her amusement that stopped him dead in his tracks and she could practically see the gears turning. “We’ve met before.”

It wasn’t a question so she didn’t bother treating it like one, though part of her felt a stab of disappointment that her name didn’t elicit more of a reaction. Or any reaction whatsoever. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No.”

Ah, that was the Justice she remembered. Blunt and to the point. “Maybe it’ll come to you over coffee.”

He folded his arms across an impressive expanse of chest. “Why don’t you save us both time and refresh my memory?”

“I don’t think I will. It’s more fun this way.”

“Fun.” He said the word as though it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

She stood, startled to realize he’d picked up several inches in height along the way. When she’d known him, he’d been barely over six feet. He’d packed on at least three more inches in the ensuing years. “Yes, fun. As a noun, an amusement or playful activity. Alternately, the source of merriment. As an adjective, to give pleasure or enjoyment. As an intransitive verb, to play or joke.” She grinned. “The mixed blessings of a photographic memory.”

For some reason the admission allowed him to relax and he even managed a smile. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you for the explanation. I wasn’t familiar with the word.”

“I’m shocked. How about work? Are you familiar with that word?”

He held up a hand before she could launch into a new set of definitions. “Quite familiar.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” she murmured.

“Surprise. Something unexpected that causes wonder or astonishment.”

She chuckled, filled with wonder and astonishment at the unexpected sight of his laughing along with her. Impulsively, she caught his hand in hers. “I believe you said something about joining you for a cup of coffee?”

He stared at their linked fingers for a long moment. Then he looked at her. Banked fire stirred in the brilliance of his gaze, a hunger and longing she couldn’t mistake. Warmth filled her, splashing like hot liquid over and through her, sinking deep into her very core where it generated a hunger and longing as powerful as the one reflected in his eyes. From the moment he’d walked into her parents’ home, he’d had the exact same effect on her. At least that much hadn’t changed.

“Coffee would be an excellent start,” he stated.

An excellent start? “And the finish?” she dared to ask.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

And she did. They would end up the same place they had the last time they’d been together.

In bed.

Hoping they wouldn’t be interrupted by other conference attendees, Justice requested the hotel’s café hostess show them to one of the more private tables buried toward the back and surrounded by greenery. It also happened to provide an impressive view across Biscayne Bay toward downtown Miami. The late afternoon rapidly transitioned toward dusk and the lights of the city flickered to life, the glow reflected in the soft blue water.

Daisy slid into the seat opposite Justice and he took the opportunity to study her. She was quite stunning, he acknowledged from a purely analytical standpoint, possessing features that society deemed beautiful. It didn’t seem to matter whether he considered them each individually or took them in combination, they possessed an elegance in the same way he considered a carefully crafted mathematical formula elegant.

Her hair swept back from her brow to fall in a thick, straight line to cup her shoulders. Perhaps her left eyebrow was a tad off center, no more than a millimeter or two, but it only served to draw attention to the unusual green of her eyes, a shade that made him think of spring growth. Even more interesting, he could see every thought and emotion reflected there, her expression as open and ingenuous as a child. It disconcerted him since most female engineers were more guarded, perhaps as a result of working in such a male-dominated field.

He continued his appraisal. Her nose was much as a nose should be, straight and neither too narrow, nor too broad. Her cheekbones arched high, adding to that overall quality of elegance. As for her mouth … There, his gaze lingered. If she deviated from true classic beauty, it might be here. Her mouth was far more lush than elegant, full and a delicate pink. For some odd reason the shape and color made him want to bite it. Well, hell. That wouldn’t do.

He cleared his throat. “So are you going to give me a hint?” he asked.

“I assume you mean you want a hint about where we met before?” Daisy asked, then shook her head in response to her own question. A tantalizing smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. Did she have any idea what that smile did to a man? The urge to bite grew stronger. “Give it time. It’ll come to you.”

“It might not.” He frowned at the menu the hostess handed him and set it aside, unopened. He pushed the scientist in him to the fore, sliding into the reserved, analytical side of his nature with frightening ease. More and more he tended to retreat behind the facade whenever he found himself in an emotionally charged situation. He found it … safer. “I was in an accident six months and three-and-three-quarter days ago. Sometimes I struggle to recall names and certain events from my past.”

She stared, shocked. “Oh, Justice, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“There’s no reason you should since I worked quite hard to keep the general public from finding out.” He hesitated. Maybe he should clarify. Women tended to appreciate that characteristic in a man. “Although it’s caused a few memory issues, it hasn’t affected my intellect, if that’s of concern.”

She caught his hand in hers and squeezed. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s the least of my concerns.”

He realized then that she was a touchy-feely type of woman. Unusual in an engineer, but he could live with it. Live with it? Hell, he could get used to it damn fast. He shrugged. “It’s just one of those things you learn to accept. Sort of like the scars.”

To his utter astonishment, tears pricked her eyes. “Oh, Justice. Scars?” She leaned toward him, speaking in a fierce undertone, her hand tightening on his. “Those don’t matter, either. All they mean is that you’re a survivor.”

Another thought occurred. “We have the option of making love in the dark if you think the scars might have an adverse impact on your libido.”

To his surprise, she burst out laughing. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you’d changed. But you still have that marvelous sense of humor.”

Did she think he was making a joke? He’d been dead serious. “Does that mean you’re not interested in making love?” Maybe he should have led into the subject more gradually. But it seemed a logical progression, one that sandwiched quite neatly between coffee and asking her to be his apprentice/wife. “There’s no rush. We have sixty-one hours and thirty-four minutes.”

She laughed again, a light, carefree sound that arrowed straight to the icy core of him and thawed it ever so slightly. For the first time in years he felt the budding tendrils of hope. Maybe he wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe winter would end. Maybe Daisy could deliver him into the warming arms of spring.

“I’m very interested in making love to you,” she informed him. Her amusement faded, replaced by a bittersweet longing. “It’s been so long, Justice. I wish I’d thought to look for you sooner.”

“You wouldn’t have found me. Pretorius keeps us well hidden.”