Dirty Secrets Read online

  Dirty Secrets

  Tamara Lush

  Contents

  DIRTY SECRETS

  1. Back When Life Was Sweet

  2. Moon Dust

  3. Tall, Dark, and Shirtless

  4. Lucky For Me

  5. Or Whatever

  6. A Rebound?

  7. Finding the Past

  8. Sugar Rush

  9. Crumbling Defenses

  10. A Mermaid

  11. The Kiss

  12. I Care, a Little Too Much

  13. Swoon

  14. Dance

  15. The Journal

  16. Fast and Forever

  17. Horror of the Past

  18. Frosted Vanilla Yum

  19. Psychic Wounds

  20. To the Rescue

  21. Claim Her

  22. Size Sexy

  23. Ever

  24. A Beautiful Model

  25. Wetter Than the Ocean

  26. A Change of Plans

  27. Questions Forever Unanswered

  28. Cinnamon Kisses

  29. In Her Arms

  30. Awake

  31. Dessert

  32. Logic

  33. A Whole Life

  34. Bliss

  35. The Fight

  36. A Chance

  37. Growing Up

  38. Forgiveness

  39. Finding Him

  40. A Team

  41. Relief

  Epilogue

  DIRTY GAMES

  CRAVING MORE STORIES?

  A note to the reader

  About the Author

  DIRTY SECRETS

  Burning Secrets Series

  * * *

  Head to Tamara’s website for info on new releases:

  www.tamaralush.com

  Copyright © 2016 by Tamara Lush

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  *THIS BOOK WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED UNDER THE TITLE INTO THE HEAT. This edition has been edited extensively from the 2016 original.

  Chapter 1

  Back When Life Was Sweet

  JESSICA

  Finding a starfish on Sunset Beach was rare and magical. My eyes widened. The most stunning guy I'd ever seen was standing in front of me, displaying the sea creature as if it were a precious jewel.

  The bone-white starfish sat atop his wide palm. It had five thin tentacles, and in its middle, an imprint of another five-pointed star.

  "I found this on the beach when I was out running this morning. I thought of you."

  My heart thumped fast at his proximity. "Oh! That's a serpent starfish. We almost never find them here on Sunset Beach, and never in perfect shape like this. It's gorgeous."

  "Like you," he murmured. "Here. It's a gift."

  He gently slid the starfish into my cupped hands. Hopefully he didn't notice I was shaking from his compliment. Being around him made me nervous, in a good way.

  Leo Villeneuve from New Orleans was crazy handsome, with his Louisiana accent, short brown hair, and a mouth that curved upward even when he wasn't smiling. And he smelled incredible and fresh, like pine trees and soap.

  Leo was eighteen, a year older than me, and in Florida for the winter holidays with his father.

  "Thank you." My eyes met his dark blue gaze, and we stared at each other, unblinking, mesmerized. I had to get back to cleaning the rooms in my family's small beach hotel, but as we stood at the end of the hallway near a window, I couldn't move, too captivated by the way the sunlight bounced off his bronze skin.

  He was so different than any guy I'd ever seen. Just…breathtaking. Mom said his heritage was Cajun and Creole, and his mom's side was from Haiti.

  Leo lowered his gaze from mine slowly, and the way his long eyelashes brushed the top of his cheekbones when he blinked made my insides melt everywhere.

  He traced the delicate, whip-like arms of the starfish with his index finger, and I longed for him to do the same on the skin of my palm.

  "I also wanted to ask you something, Jessica."

  He swallowed hard, seeming nervous, and that endeared him to me even more.

  "Yes?" My voice was shaky.

  The words tumbled from his lips. "Would you watch the fireworks with me on New Year's Eve? Your mom's giving a party for the adults here at the hotel. My dad said it was okay if I go with you and I've already asked your mom if we can hang out together."

  Yikes. He must have really wanted to hang out if he went to the trouble of asking my mom. "Did she say yes?"

  "She did."

  Never did I dream my mother would let me watch the fireworks alone, with a guy, on New Year's Eve. But Mom had been acting strange since Leo and his father had arrived on the island.

  I suspected it had something to do with the fact that Mom and Leo's father, Adam, had been friends in college, way before I was born. But I hadn't paid attention to any of that.

  No, all my focus was on Leo and his infectious laugh. We'd flirted all week.

  First, we locked eyes during breakfast, when I put out pastries for all the hotel guests, and later, when Mom invited both father and son over for dinner. Leo had grabbed my hand under the dinner table, and at one point, I slipped my foot out of my flip flop and rested my toes lightly on his bare foot.

  It was the boldest thing I'd ever done with a guy. My whole leg crackled with warmth from the feeling of his skin near mine.

  "I would love to." A giddy feeling bubbled inside me, and it took everything I had not to squeak with excitement.

  Leo beamed, then bit his lip. "Awesome."

  I excused myself, saying I had to put the starfish in a safe place in my room. I tore down two flights of stairs, hoping to race the nervousness away.

  Me and Mom lived on the hotel's first floor, in a modest, converted two-bedroom apartment just past the reception desk. My older sister had recently graduated from a local college and was working on the mainland, so I finally had a room to myself. The aqua-and-white Art Deco hotel on Palmira, a small, sleepy barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico, was the only home I'd ever known.

  "Mom! Mom! Mom!" I burst into the apartment. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

  Mom was sitting at her paper-strewn desk in the cozy living room, reading glasses atop her nose. She looked up, amused. "For what, sweetheart?"

  I ran into my bedroom and gingerly set the starfish on the bureau, then rushed back into the living room and folded her into a giant hug. "For letting me watch the fireworks with Leo on New Year's."

  Mom slid her reading glasses down the bridge of her nose. "I'm letting you go because I know you two will be bored here with all the adults. But remember, he's a boy. Actually, he's almost a man. And you have to be careful around men. Remember what happened with your father and me. I was only twenty-five when I met him."

  Mom always said my dad's name in a tight, tense voice, and it always accompanied a lecture.

  "Okay, whatever, Mom."

  "And I want you to check in every hour. That's why I gave you a cell phone. Make sure you stay with the crowds of people, and your curfew is twelve-thirty. Sharp. That gives you two enough time to watch the fireworks and get home."

  "Fine. But I need to figure out what I'm going to wear," I said, twirling around the living room, feeling like a princess even though I was wearing a hot pink tank top and black yoga pants. Was it possible that sophisticated, handsome Leo liked me?

  "You need to clean those two rooms on the fourth floor," Mom chuckled. "Wait. Let's make a deal. If you clean all six rooms, I'll buy you a new outfit."

  "I l
ove you!" I planted a kiss on Mom's cheek and skipped out the door. Never had I been so eager to clean hotel rooms.

  * * *

  "It's almost midnight. Make a wish." Leo spoke low in my ear and slipped his arms around my waist.

  I looked up at the green and red fireworks booming in the sky and shivered when his chest pressed against my back. The salt-scented air was cool for Florida, but my whole body tingled with heat from the feel of Leo's arms. I should have worn a sweater over my new striped red-and-white cotton dress with spaghetti straps, but the way Leo kept looking at me made the slight chill worth it.

  I couldn't wait to tell my best friend Catalina about tonight.

  Leo and I had spent all night together, getting pizza, then ice cream. Finally, we sat on the sand and talked for a solid two hours.

  Our voices drowned out the sound of the surf and noise from nearby bars. I discovered his dad was from New Orleans and his mother from Florida. His mother died when he was little, and I'd wanted to hug him when he talked about how he missed her. I settled instead for grabbing his hand and holding it awkwardly.

  I told him about how I loved drawing and reading manga comic books, and he didn't make fun of me for being a bit of a geek like the guys in school did. Because Leo seemed so kind, I also shared some things I'd never told anyone. Like how I'd never met my father and how frustrated I got when my sister treated me like a child.

  About a half hour before midnight, we walked to the pier and settled ourselves in the waiting crowd. Just minutes before the year-end countdown, Leo whispered in my ear, telling me he might come back to Florida for college in the fall.

  "That would be great," I said, trying to contain my happiness. "We could hang out."

  "I'd want to do more than hang out. I'd want you to be my girlfriend."

  Leo hugged me, right in public, as if I was already his girlfriend. I wrapped my hands over his, squeezing his fingers. Everyone around us began to chant.

  "Ten…night…eight..."

  I pressed my body back into Leo's, his warmth spreading through me. He responded by dipping his head to kiss my neck. Goosebumps spread across my skin.

  "Seven…six…five…four…"

  I grinned to the heavens, my eyes searching the stars.

  I wondered what Leo's going to wish for.

  "Three…two…one!"

  I spun around in his arms. As the throngs around us cheered and sparkling white fireworks rained down from the sky, he cupped my face with both hands.

  Everything went silent, and all I could focus on was the feel of his soft lips on mine. His mouth was warm, and I yielded to him, not knowing how his body could feel so hard and his lips could be so gentle. My body was deliciously dizzy, almost faint from the fluttery, needy sensation inside me. I didn't understand the feeling, didn't want to understand it, because it scared me a little and left me aching.

  It made me think something big was about to happen.

  What was I doing? I'd never really kissed a guy, not like this. Oh sure, I'd pecked and smooched with a couple boys after school, in the shadow of the pale pink lifeguard shack on the beach. But nothing like this. Leo's kiss was reverent. Searching. Hot.

  We kissed long and slow while the chaos of celebration erupted around us.

  I wish Leo comes back to Florida. And stays forever. With me.

  Chapter 2

  Moon Dust

  five years later...

  LEO

  I'd never seen anyplace so brown.

  The tents. The uniforms. The vehicles. Everything was covered in a fine, tan dust.

  On most days, even the sky took on a haze from the microscopic particles, leaving the heavens above a swirly, near-colorless blue. The guys at Camp Leatherneck called the sandy substance moon dust, and I thought that was appropriate.

  Because Afghanistan was as far from my lush, native New Orleans as the moon.

  I hated moon dust.

  Muscles aching from a beast of a workout at the on-base gym, I stood outside my tent and stretched. The early evening sun was still hot, and I was sweating like a whore in church.

  The IDF alarm went off, but after two weeks on base as a private first-class rifleman, I no longer flinched inside when the loud wail echoed through camp.

  Surely this was another raid siren test, so I waited for the surreal, computerized voice to come over the camp loudspeaker and tell everyone it was just that—a test.

  The pitch of the alarm rose and fell, rose and fell. The sound pierced my ears and left me dizzy, made me feel disembodied. Then the robotic, recorded female voice giving the all clear bounced off the dusty earth, sounding almost warped with her formal, stiff English accent.

  "This is a test of the all-clear alarm... This is a test of the all-clear alarm..."

  "Yo, V!"

  I looked up to see my buddy Steve from North Carolina. As usual, Steve was grinning. Guy couldn't stop, even in a damn war zone.

  "What up, bro?" I grabbed the towel hooked into my waistband and wiped my face. Damn, it was hotter than anything I'd ever felt in the swamps of Louisiana.

  "She's kinda got a sexy voice, that computerized British chick. Or do you Cajuns not understand what she's sayin'? 'Who dat' and all?"

  I chuckled. "Bro, you know I like a sweet southern accent on my girls."

  Well, one girl in particular.

  I kicked a rock on the ground, thinking about the girl I'd left behind. I should've gone to college near Jessica in Florida, not joined the Marines like all the other men in my family. God, I missed her so much. Now, she was probably pissed at me, after I'd followed Dad's order to stay away.

  That pregnancy scare had just about caused World War III the way my dad and her mom carried on.

  Well, I might have lost Jess for now, but dammit, I was going to try to win her back once I got out of this hellhole.

  If I got out of this hellhole.

  Kicking the rock had caused a cloud of dust to swirl up from the toe of my boot, and I stared, captivated. My stomach churned, and my brain felt as hazy as the sky.

  Then came the explosion.

  It seemed to blow a hole in the sky from the direction of Camp Bastion, the nearby British military base. The blast was like a punch into the air. It drowned out the IDF alarm, and I swore loudly when I spotted thick clouds of dirt bursting upwards not too far away.

  Then there was a flash and another sickening pang in my stomach...and suddenly, I found myself in another part of the desert.

  I was still in Afghanistan, but in Farah. I was in the back of a Humvee, holding Steve's bloody head in my lap and yelling at the top of my lungs while weeping from the pain shooting through my ripped-apart arm.

  Don't die, bro. Don't die on me, you motherfucker...

  My whole body tensed as I held my breath, waiting—for the next explosion, chaos, death?

  Silence. Blackness. Empty space.

  All of which were more terrifying than bombs and blood.

  Then, a symphony of crickets. The familiar feeling of humidity coating my skin. The sweet smell of night jasmine.

  My eyes snapped open. For a moment, I was confused, on edge, listening, waiting for something awful to happen.

  I wasn't in Afghanistan anymore. I wasn't next to the compound attacked by insurgents, or in the Humvee two years later when Steve and I were hit by an IED. I almost lost my arm. And obviously did lose my mind.

  Because tonight I was on a bench in the New Orleans City Park. It was dark, but moonlight danced across the nearby slow-moving stream, shining against the stones of an arched bridge.

  The air felt soupy and moist, not dry and thin.

  Shaking, sweating, scared now about something else, I struggled to sit up.

  It's happened. The night terrors. I fucking blacked out again.

  I'd taken the sleeping pill, and these were the consequences. I hated taking the damn things. This wasn't the first time the pills had put me in a fugue state and led me to wander out of bed.

 
; Wasn't the first time I'd experienced this out-of-control uncertainty about where I was and what I'd done.

  I gulped in several breaths, then heard sirens in the distance, wails similar to the ones I'd heard when stationed in Afghanistan. But these were ordinary American fire trucks. A lot of them, it seemed, whizzing past on City Park Drive.

  After a hard swallow, my hand went to my beard. I hadn't shaved or cut my hair since my honorable discharge, mostly because it annoyed Dad. The several months' growth made me look like a hipster, but I didn't give a rat's ass. The dark, scruffy look matched my mood most days.

  What was this in my beard? Something chalky. I looked down at my hand and rubbed my fingers together. Because it was dark, I couldn't see much, but it felt like ash. Had I bought a pack of cigarettes, or...?

  I touched my beard again, then sniffed my fingers. All I could smell was moon dust. That happened a lot. Part of the PTSD, my therapist said. My brain wires were crossed.

  Where have I been?

  Pricks of perspiration tickled my arms. They were damp, as if I'd run a marathon. Actually, my whole body was moist, rivers of sweat pooling between the ridges of my stomach muscles and down the waistband of my cargo shorts.

  My teeth chattered even though it wasn't cold, and I ran my fingers up my right forearm, over the scars. Without looking, I knew exactly where the tattoo of a mermaid was on my bicep. I traced her, something I did when anxious.