Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

Belinda Leah Ralphshad a nervous stomach and sweaty palms, but there was also an undeniable electricity and thrill in the air.

She and Air Force Pilot Paul Braven soared across the ocean in Mercedes Belle's jet. They were headed to an undetermined location for a week on a reality television show to win a million dollars for Gardening Goodness, the charity she'd created during college. Her life's work and passion.

She tugged the gold chain out from under her T-shirt and gently held the intricate twisted band hanging from it. She touched one of the bees on the ring with the tip of her finger. The promise ring her lost love Jagger Lemuel had given her had only been on her left ring finger for a week. She'd left the beautiful ring behind when she went to Ghana for her service mission the summer after they graduated high school. She hadn't wanted to damage or lose it.

She'd grown close to her friend Mike Causey on the three-month-long trip. Her parents adored everything about Mike—his faith, his future plans, his strong and devoted family, his patient and steady nature. On the flip side, they feared or loathed everything about Jagger—his lack of faith, his dangerous future that would take Bee far away from them, his lack of family support, his passionate and fiery nature.

They'd begged her to give Mike a chance. As an impressionable eighteen-year-old, devoted to her loving parents, she'd tried. She really had. She'd focused on Mike that summer as they served in Africa together. She and Jagger rarely had the opportunity to even get a FaceTime call in with his strict schedule, her busy schedule, and the time difference. When she and Mike returned to America, she'd been confused and hopeful yet fearful about seeing Jagger again. Would he be upset and feel she'd cheated on him because she'd spent so much time with Mike, or would his love and desire for her overcome everything else like it always had?

Yes. Of course her Jag would come for her and true love would conquer all.

Against her instincts, she'd listened to her parents and half-heartedly prayed to know which man was the right one for her. Heaven would be on her and Jagger's side. She had been sure of it.

One afternoon, she'd gone home for the weekend and Mike had come with her. They went on a long horseback ride. She let him kiss her in the barn after their ride. She'd even tried to kiss him back, grateful when he picked her up in his arms and she could bury her head in his neck, laugh to hide her discomfort, and not look at him or kiss him again. It had all felt so wrong.

That was the day she'd determined Mike wasn't right for her. Heaven had backed her up and confirmed Jagger was her one true love. Mike's kiss had done nothing for her, where Jagger's kisses turned her world upside down, lit up her body and soul with joy, and left her longing for more.

She was ready to tell her parents she had chosen Jagger and tell Mike she was sorry but they weren't a good match. That was the day Jagger blocked her number and stopped responding to her emails. She never saw him again.

Apparently, her inspiration had been all wrong and Jagger dumping her was her answer from heaven.

Belinda had mourned him throughout her college years, not sure that she'd ever get over Jagger. Mike never gave up on her. He was a good man just as her parents constantly reminded her. Mike was ‘handsome, smart, kind, even-tempered, devoted to her,' they'd say over and over again.

‘Boring and uninspiring,' she'd counter. They always smiled patiently at that. Jagger was the only one who had understood she was allergic to boring.

She and Mike stayed close as friends, even after they graduated the university. When she finally realized that Jagger would never come for her, she agreed to marry Mike.

They'd given their marriage an honest effort, but years of infertility and her spending most of her time in Africa had taken their toll. Mike was a good guy and deserved a woman who could love him. After eight long years of being married to the wrong man for her, Belinda finally gave up on living the lie and asked him for a divorce. He didn't fight her, and they split ‘amicably.' Last she heard, he was happily married to a widow with four small boys and living in Williamsburg. Good for him. He'd be a fabulous dad, and he deserved to be happy.

"Kauai," Paul said, interrupting her thoughts and pointing out the window at a lush, green island with jagged mountain peaks covered with verdant beauty.

"Oh my!" She stared in awe. Belinda loved gardening, making things grow, and often had to work hard to produce crops in infertile and dry soil. Everything here looked to be growing with only help from heaven above. "Did you know we were coming here?"

He shook his head. "I didn't know for certain, but I guessed one of the Hawaiian Islands by the route we took."

"I'd guess you have a good sense of direction to be a pilot."

"It helps." He smiled and shrugged. He was exceptionally good-looking, but she'd learned her lesson. She could never give her heart to anyone but Jagger, and Jagger was dead to her. She hadn't even attempted dating, despite her parents pushing her in that direction. She spent all her free time raising money to fight hunger in third world countries and visiting the poorest African countries—Madagascar, Mozambique, and Malawi. The adults were grateful, and the children loved her. She adored children. It only mildly stung when she remembered she'd never have a baby of her own.

She stings like a bee, but her honey is so sweet.Jagger's voice was suddenly in her head.

Why had she let herself think of him and that line?

Pushing it away, she admitted to Paul, "I couldn't find my way out of a wet paper bag."

He chuckled. "I love your accent."

"Oh, thank you." She went home to Oneida to be with her parents often, not even bothering with an apartment or home of her own. Most of her time was spent on her humanitarian trips. She didn't realize she had a Southern accent any longer. All the people she visited in Africa thought she talked funny, like any American.

The plane swooped over the jagged and green-covered mountain peaks. Some of the mountains were so tall that white clouds swirled around them. Paul pointed out a waterfall. Even from afar, Belinda didn't know if she'd ever viewed scenery so beautiful. They crossed over the ocean for a moment, then banked and landed.

"Smooth landing," she said.

"I could do better," Paul teased.

She laughed with him. The plane taxied around to what Paul explained was the private sector, a much quieter part of the already-quiet airport. It was deserted except for them and the three men she could see waiting for them. Two with dark hair, one blond. She zeroed in on the thicker, dark-haired man. A superhero-type of guy, larger than life, with bulging muscles and the confident bearing that shouted he would protect his lady and save the world. This was a man who could distract even her from her longings for a young love that would never come for her.

Even as she thought that, she caught a better glimpse of his face—the strong jawline, the regal nose, the dark brows and eyes, the shadow of a beard on his jaw.

Her own jaw came unhinged. "No way!" she cried out.

"Belinda?" Paul questioned.

"Oh no. Oh no. It can't be him. It just can't be him." Distraught wasn't strong enough to explain her current state of mind.

Belinda ducked down in the seat. How could she get away from here? Fourteen years of wishing Jagger would come for her, and now she was going to randomly run into him? It was all wrong and maybe not random at all. He must be part of the show.

She glanced out the window again. He was turned slightly away from her. She couldn't see his face, but she could gawk at his beautiful shape. He'd matured in all the right ways, filling out his large frame to absolute perfection. What she wouldn't give to run her hands over his broad shoulders, savor the muscle under that firm skin, engage in the fiery, passionate kisses she'd never been able to get enough of.

Oh no! She'd barely glimpsed Jagger and already she was fantasizing about kisses she'd longed for these past fourteen years. She couldn't let her guard down, no matter how she yearned for him. What was she going to do? What if she had to spend a week around him? Maybe he was only part of the greeting committee. She could stay strong for the info dump about the reality show, then she'd never see him again. It couldn't possibly hurt as bad as it had when she was eighteen. She hoped.

She did pray. Fervently.

"Please, Lord, let a jet airplane drop from the sky and land on Jagger Lemuel's handsome head." She couldn't in good conscience end such a prayer in the Savior's name, so she simply said, "Amen."

"Belinda?" Paul touched her arm.

She looked at him and gnawed at her lower lip.

"Are you okay?"

"No. Definitely not okay."

"What can I do to help?"

Such a nice guy.

Jagger had been fabulous to her, treated her like a princess, but he wasn't some ‘nice guy.' He was crazy fun, scorching excitement, tougher than nails, full of pride, and attractive as sin.

Sin …

Belinda hung her head. She wanted to commit the sin of anger, contention, dismemberment, murder …

No, not murder. She would stop at dismemberment. Most likely.

"Can you give me a moment to compose myself?" She forced a smile. "You get yourself off the plane and greet everybody. I'll be right behind you."

"I hate to leave you."

"Please. My …" What did she call Jagger? "… former love is out there, and I haven't seen him in fourteen years. I need a moment of quiet prayer and reflection to be able to face him without having a come apart."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I understand." He straightened out of the seat.

"Thank you. Be right behind you."

Paul nodded and walked to the door and then out of it. She cowered in her seat, wondering what to do, how to deal with this.

"Please help," she begged heaven above. Her faith meant everything to her. She had given untold hours, her entire life truly, to fighting hunger, loving children, and hoping to be an example of the Savior's love and a beacon of His light. She was naturally feisty and had to fight her inclination to ‘run off at the mouth,' as her mom would say.

Right now, it wasn't just her mouth that wanted to fight. She wanted to slug Jagger in the gut for dumping her with no explanation and breaking her heart in two. Then maybe she'd kiss him good and long, just to see if it was as incredible as she remembered or if she was delusional in her memories of him. Then she'd hit him again. Then she'd hopefully be able to walk away with her head held high.

What if she and Paul had to interact with him all week? No. Oh, no.

"Please help," she begged again. Her thoughts weren't very saint-like, and she had no idea how to respond to Jagger being put in her path again. "‘I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me,'" she murmured.

Yes, that was the ticket. The Savior would help her, lift her when she was weak, as He had done hundreds of times.

She stood on trembling legs, hid the ring that handsome heartbreaker outside the jet had given her under her T-shirt, and started toward the plane entrance. "‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.' Oh, come on." She laughed unsteadily. "That is a bit dramatic."

At least it had put a smile on her face. She made it to the plane door. Paul was right there with his hand extended. She took it, smiled at him, and descended the steps. Her gaze zeroed right in on her Jagger.

"Bee," she heard him groan.

Her heart hammered out of control. She wanted him to storm across the space, pick her up, and hold her tight before he decimated her resistance with his kiss. She gave him her fiercest glower to hide her longing and desire. Protecting her heart was the only option. How could the good Lord do this to her?

Jagger looked almost surprised at her anger. He murmured something to the tall, handsome blond man—Mercedes Belle's boyfriend, she believed. Another good-looking dark-haired man stood on the other side. The other men were tough and handsome, but nobody was in the same league as Jagger.

"Please." The blond's loud whisper carried across the asphalt. "You promised you wouldn't quit. Remember, it was Mercedes's dying wish of you."

Mercedes's dying wish? What on earth was happening? Mercedes Belle was dying? It was impossible not to know the generous lady was sickly, but dying? Belinda would've screamed out her anguish and dropped to her knees to plead for a miracle if she wasn't so distraught about her own drama.

Jagger. Right there. And instead of running to hold and kiss her, begging her forgiveness for fourteen years of painful betrayal, he was arguing with his friend.

"Wait a minute. She knew?" Jagger hurled at the blond. "Mercedes and Julie schemed this up, Julie did her deep-dive research, and she found …" He paused. "Found Belinda Ralphs."

He spit out her name like vinegar on his tongue. He never called her ‘Belinda.' She was his Bee. The nerve.

"… And brought her on this show." Jagger turned to the dark-haired man. "Did you tell her?"

The dark-haired guy shook his head.

Belinda was clinging to Paul's hand far too tightly. She released it and shook out her fingers.

"Are you all right?" Paul asked, leaning in close.

"I don't know if I can do this," she admitted. "Do we have to be with those men all week?"

"I don't have any information," he admitted, "but I think it's just the two of us."

The two of us. If only she could be the two of us. With Jagger.

She glanced back at him.

Their gazes caught, and held. His deep-brown eyes softened with the love and yearning Jagger only revealed to her. Life had meaning again. She and Jagger would laugh, tease, and love each other. The last fourteen years had been nothing more than a horrible dream. Everything that had ever been between them was reinstated.

For a brief moment it was all there— the love, the memories, the plans and dreams.

Then he suddenly glared at her. Glared. How dare he? The gall. The absolute gall of this man who had claimed to be wholly devoted to her.

He dismissively turned from her and folded his arms across his chest. For no reason. Just like he'd turned his back on her fourteen years ago.

"Jag, I'm sorry." The blond said. "I wanted to warn you, but Mercedes begged me and Julie begged me, and how could I tell either of them no?"

Jagger nodded to the man.

"Mercedes said to beg for her," the blond continued, "‘Please, please, please, if you love Grayson or I at all, do this show for us.'"

Fire grew inside Belinda, making her feel uncontrollably peeved. So Mercedes Belle was begging Jagger to do this show with Belinda for her and Grayson, whoever that was. Mercedes had somehow known about their past and wanted an explosive television show?

"Lord give me strength," she muttered, and then she stormed toward the three men. She was praying all amiss today. The good Lord probably didn't want to strengthen her so she could inflict injury on someone, even someone as deserving as Jagger. Praying to have strength to pummel the jerk who'd broken her heart wasn't right. Jagger looked too tough for her to wallop anyway, but she had to do something to him, or she'd never be able to live with herself.

Paul shadowed her as she stormed toward Jagger. She appreciated her new friend's support.

Jagger pivoted, spread his stance, and waited for her. His eyebrows lifted and his dark eyes filled with that yearning and spark that had always yanked her to him. Jagger was the only one who could match her passion for life and love.

She loved him and she loathed him. He made her out of control and happier than anyone had a right to be.

An unexpected strike was her only hope. The moment she was within reach, she slugged him in the gut, and a solid wall of metal jarred her arm all the way to her shoulder.

"Ow!" she screamed, holding her hand. What kind of ab workout was he doing these days?

"Bee." He hadn't even flinched at her best punch. Now he shook his head and used the nickname he always called her. "What are you doing? Ah, Bee."

For a moment he paused, and she both feared and hoped he'd say, ‘She stings like a bee, but her honey is so sweet.'

She'd show him sting and honey. Sweet, sweet, honey kisses. Her mouth tingled just thinking about it. Fourteen long years without Jagger kissing her. It was too long. She eased in a few inches.

"Are you all right?" he asked, holding out his hand as if she should place hers in it so he could check her injury, and at the same time, looking her over as if she were unhinged.

Argh! No honey kisses? All right. His loss. Sting like a bee, then.

"Am I all right?" She tossed her long hair and tried to kill him with her eyes. "Heck to the no, I'm not all right! What are you doing here? How dare you be here? Why did you ditch me? How can you live with yourself after breaking my heart in two? Fourteen years … fourteen years without you, you thoughtless jerk. Argh!"

Frustration boiled over as Jagger simply stared at her like she'd lost her mind. She whirled away from him. "Who is in charge? I can't be on this show with him."

Now all four men, and probably the cameraman as well, were staring at her like she was a fragile, irrational, hot mess.

She was! And it was all Jagger's fault.

"Don't look at me like that," she warned, pointing at Jagger, but not letting herself stare at him for too long. "This is all on him. Why is he even here? What is even happening right now? Please somebody in heaven give me strength."

"Ma'am." The tall blond took her elbow and directed her away from Jagger, Paul, and the other guy. "My name is Shawn Holister. I'm here on behalf of Mercedes Belle."

She glanced back at Jagger. He looked … miserable and beautiful. She'd spent far too much time stewing about him, loving him, missing him. Fourteen hard years. Eight of those years she'd been married to Mike. Those years had been harder than the others. Poor Mike. She'd tried to love him, but she'd been bored out of her mind. No joy or sparks like her Jagger.

"Ugh!" she screamed, earning another raised eyebrow from Jagger. "Don't," she snarled at him, pointing a shaking finger. "I'll punch you again. You know I will."

He had the nerve to smile at that and tilt his head slightly, pointing to his firm jawline. "Right here next time, Bee."

"Don't call me Bee," she yelled. "It's Belinda Leah to you!"

Jagger smiled bigger. It wasn't the warm, loving smile he used to reserve only for her. This was a mocking smile; he knew he was messing with her mind and thought she deserved it.

The absolute gall of the man. He was stirring her up, making her look like a nitwit, and smiling about it. She was living in a nightmare—losing her cool, hitting Jagger, yelling at him. Everybody thought she'd calmed and mellowed with age. She still had a lot of fun with the children, but that was pretty much the only time she smiled or felt much emotion anymore.

She wasn't smiling right now, but emotions were high. From the moment she had seen Jagger, she'd wanted to fight and scream and kiss him. She'd give him loads of sweet honey and then sting him when he least expected it.

Gritting her teeth, she whirled back to Shawn. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holister. I apologize for my outburst. Please reassure me that Jagger Lemuel is not a part of this show."

Shawn looked her over. Carefully. As if assessing how to deal with a ticking time bomb. Oh, if only he knew. She was holding most of her fire close to her chest.

Then he tilted his head and said, "Can we talk privately?"

"Certainly. As long as that talk gets me far away from that lily-livered snake." Jagger didn't lack courage with anything, except apparently facing her. He'd ditched her with non-communication. She'd even gone to where he was completing his A school in Little Creek, Virginia, but had gotten no further than the front gate.

Shawn gave her a long-suffering smile. They walked together, away from the men and the camera, and up into the airplane. He gestured to the side-by-side recliners. "Would you like a drink, ma'am?"

"No, thank you." She sat primly and faced him. "Just so you know, I am not an out-of-control ragamuffin. Jagger brings out the worst in me." And the very best. The happiest. The sheer pleasure. The laughter. The adventure. Jagger had given her life vibrant color, joy, and light she'd never experienced before or since.

She would've eventually convinced her parents he was the right one for her, only she'd never gotten that chance. Jagger had taken that choice away from her.

"I …" Shawn shook his head and rubbed at his jaw. "Ma'am. I shouldn't even be here. The woman I've sworn to protect and love is in the hospital and I'm a mess."

Her eyes widened at his admission. "Mercedes Belle?"

He only nodded and glanced back out the plane door. Jagger stood next to the dark-haired guy. Paul was talking to the two of them. Jagger seemed to sense her gaze and zeroed in on her. She looked away quickly, putting a hand to her racing heart.

"I understand you have history with Jag," Shawn said.

"History? That's the short of it. That man broke me in two. I can't …" She gulped and took a long breath.

"Do you still care for him?" Shawn asked quietly.

"No!" she yelled so loud all three men turned and looked into the plane. "No," she gritted out. "That ship has sunk. But back to you. I'm terribly sorry to hear Mercedes is ailing."

"Me too." He met her gaze. His eyes were a cool, piercing blue. Unnerving. "Please, Belinda. All Mercedes wants is to have her charity shows go well. She and Julie have schemed and worked untold hours, and this is Mercedes's ‘swan song.' Can you please bury …" He cleared his throat. "Hide your feelings for Jagger, get through the next six days, and hopefully win the million dollars for your charity?"

"Will I have to be around him?" She bit at her lip.

"That depends on how good you and Lieutenant Braven are. I'll explain it all in a moment, but he and Hays will be chasing you two, so you'll mostly be running away from him."

"That's new. I've been wishing for the past fourteen years that I could find him." She clamped her mouth tight. From the interested look in Shawn's eyes, she should not have admitted that. "So I ignore Jagger, run away from him, and don't quit on you for all the children I can help and the sweetheart, sickly Mercedes Belle?"

Shawn nodded tightly. "Please."

Belinda glanced back out at Jagger. His back was turned to her. Even through his T-shirt she could see his broad build, the muscles bulging as he had his arms folded tightly across his chest. He'd grown into himself beautifully in the past fourteen years.

He'd have to chase her this week. Maybe he'd feel a little of how she'd felt wanting to chase after him but never being able to find him. She wanted to win the money for the children. She wanted to help Mercedes and Shawn. And she wanted Jagger to hurt like she'd hurt. He was so competitive; it would kill him if he couldn't catch her.

"This is going to be nigh impossible," she admitted, drawing a breath, "but I will do it."

Shawn's eyes flashed with relief.

"I will stay on the show, and I will be delightful and happy. I will avoid coming unhinged and yelling at Jagger. If you can tell him to …"

What? What did she want Shawn to tell him to do?

She wanted answers. Why had he blocked her number? Why had he stopped responding to emails? Why had he never come to visit her?

But did she really want answers? What would answers do besides break her already shattered heart? She wasn't enough for him. He'd stopped loving her because they'd grown distant that summer. He'd realized her parents would make things tough for them and she wasn't worth the hassle to have to deal with them. He'd wanted to commit himself a hundred percent to his Navy career. Who knew? All she had were theories.

"Please inform Jagger to pretend we don't know each other for the cameras, and I will do the same. The heartbreak I have experienced is in the past. Let's keep it there." She was a liar. She hadn't buried anything but her marriage to Mike. "The children I will help and your sweet Mercedes are my focus right now. Also." She gave a nervous laugh. "Let's please cut my initial reaction to seeing Jagger and strike that from the final production. Does that work for you?"

There. She was calm, collected, a real southern lady. She folded her hands primly in her lap, straightened her spine, tilted her chin, and crossed her legs at the ankle to reinforce the picture.

Shawn gave her an appraising glance, and then he nodded. "That's very kind of you to put it all behind you and focus on the show and helping the children and Mercedes. We will cut the footage you requested. Thank you."

"Yes, sir. And you'll tell Jagger?"

"You both pretend you don't know each other in front of the cameras?"

"Yes."

"What about if you find a spot where the cameras aren't rolling?" He gave her a calculated look she didn't like. What was he to Jagger? A friend? A military buddy? Did he want her to forgive and love his maybe-friend? She had no idea.

"Let's pray we don't find that spot." She tilted her chin up to him. "If Jagger has the misfortune of meeting me alone and without cameras, the outburst I had a few moments ago will be mild. I will sting him like a bee." She shouldn't have added that last line in. If he relayed that to Jagger, would Jagger come after her for the sting and the sweet honey or stay far away? She didn't want to find out.

Shawn smiled and shook his head, rubbing at his jaw. "You seem like the perfect woman for Jag."

Her eyes widened and all her breath rushed out. "Please don't," she managed, feeling like he'd slugged her.

"Forgive me."

"And please don't say anything to him about the ‘sting like a bee' comment."

He held her gaze, and something in his eyes scared her. "I'll tell him not to get you alone," he said. "Thank you."

She nodded, and they both stood.

You are the perfect woman for Jag. Those words rang in her head. Fourteen years ago, they'd been perfect together. There was too much accumulated pain now. She really did want answers, but she didn't know how she'd react to them. Especially if Jag had simply stopped loving or needing her.

Pretending they didn't know each other? That would be for the best.

As she went back to the doorway and descended the steps of the plane, she didn't let herself look at him. She feared Shawn would tell Jagger about the sting like a bee quip. That would come across like her begging for a kiss. Her gut churned as she second-guessed everything she'd said.

How was she going to get through a week of being around Jagger? She and Paul had better run fast in whatever game of cat and mouse these people had set up. She had to stay far away from Jagger. She didn't want to know how she'd react if they got too close again. Just looking at him made her want to have an epic fight, and then kiss and make up.

Neither could happen.