Katherine Garbera - One Kiss In… Miami

“Out.” He couldn’t take another minute without totally losing his temper. What was it about her that drove him so close to the edge? “I want you to leave. Now.”

“For what it’s worth, Justice, I really am sorry. I never realized you paid such a steep price for something so wonderful.”

“It wasn’t wonderful for me.”

“No,” she whispered. “I guess not. Just like last night wasn’t wonderful, either.”

“It was sex.”

She flinched and he realized he’d hurt her. Really hurt her. She moistened her lips and gave a curt nod. “Of course. Well, thanks for the amazing sex, Justice.”

Without another word, she turned and left the bedroom and his only thought was that she considered their sexual encounter amazing. He wasn’t sure any of his previous partners had ever called it amazing. It shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did. He heard her rummage around in her carryall for endless moments, the contents clashing and chattering in agitation. Then silence. What the hell was she doing? Because he knew damn well she hadn’t left. He could still feel her. And that alone threatened to drive him insane. Finally, finally, finally, the suite door opened and closed behind her.

He released his breath in a long sigh. Okay, she was gone, this time for good. It might have taken fourteen-point-six minutes instead of the nine plus he’d originally calculated, but at least the confrontation was behind him. He headed for the living area and crossed to the phone, intent on alerting the front desk of his early departure. Sitting on the desk he found a book that hadn’t been there before. A children’s storybook. He set Rumi aside and reached for the book, hesitating at the last minute.

The cover exploded with color, teeming with plants and flowers that seemed to overrun the jacket. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the chaotic riot of shape and shade. Then the analytical side of his brain kicked in and he began to separate the various objects, leaf from bud, fruit from flower, until finally he caught the intense gold eyes peering through the jungle foliage, their appearance almost identical to her tattoo.

The eyes were also eerily familiar, maybe because he looked at them every damn day in the mirror.

He touched the cover, tracing the bit of black panther she’d buried within the scene. Unable to help himself, he opened the book. She’d autographed it with her first name and a swift sketch of a flower—a daisy, of course. “To Justice,” she wrote. “I got it wrong. You’re not Cat.”

The words didn’t make any sense to him until he leafed through the pages and discovered that she’d named the panther Cat. Beside the huge jungle cat romped a domesticated kitten named Kit. She was a tabby, one with green eyes and wheat-blond stripes, identical in name and appearance to the kitten he’d given Daisy the day they’d made love. He’d chosen the silly creature because it reminded him of her. He’d even tied a huge floppy green bow around its neck, one that had been half-shredded by the time he’d presented Daisy with the kitten.

Unable to resist, Justice flipped the book to the beginning and read more carefully this time. He quickly realized this was the first in a series of books about the adventures of Kit and Cat, and told the tale of a kitten lost in the jungle who meets a panther cub. The two became best friends. Kit caused nothing but trouble and Justice found himself smiling since it was so similar to the sort of escapades Daisy used to get into. But Cat was always there to rescue her, to protect her from the dangers of the jungle. Even when it meant choosing between her and his pride, Cat faithfully remained by Kit’s side.

He flipped the book closed and his glance fell on Rumi. Somehow, at some point during his argument with Daisy, he’d transformed the sphere. It sat on the desk, its ebony pieces gleaming in the sunlight, the mathematical symbols flowing symmetrically across the metallic petals of the flower he’d created.

A daisy.

Justice’s hands balled into fists and he took a step back, rejecting both creations—book and flower. He wasn’t Cat any more than she was Kit. Even more telling, she’d made a mistake in the book. Didn’t she know? Hadn’t she researched her facts? Panthers didn’t have prides.

Panthers were loners.

Nineteen months, fifteen days, five hours, nineteen minutes and forty-three seconds later …

Daisy jiggled the tiny earbud that never seemed willing to fit properly in her ear. “Are you sure you have the directions right, Jett?” she asked the girl she’d agreed to foster nearly a year earlier.

“Positive,” came the breezy retort.

With an exclamation of disgust, Daisy pulled off the pavement and onto the narrow shoulder. A harsh November wind swept by, causing the small compact rental to shudder from the blast. This time of year never failed to depress her. It was an in-between season that offered neither the crisp and glorious richness of fall, nor the deep, frosty slumber of full winter. Instead, it hovered somewhere in the middle, a twilight that was neither a beginning nor an end, not a becoming nor a final metamorphosis.

She snagged the map from the passenger seat and fought through the various fanlike folds to spread it open across the steering wheel, even though she could picture every road and turn in perfect detail from the last time she’d checked it. Sure enough, her memory hadn’t failed her. None of the various lines and squiggles included the turnoff for the homestead Jett had described.

“Listen up, Jett,” Daisy announced. “I’m lost in the wilds of Colorado. This place isn’t on the map and your stupid GPS is demanding I make a U-turn at my earliest convenience and leave. I’m inclined to do what she suggests.”

“Dora is an idiot,” Jett announced cheerfully.

“I believe I told you that when you insisted I take her.”

“She’s still young. Give her time to mature.”

Daisy choked on a laugh. “ She’s young? That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I’m sixteen and eight months, or I will be tomorrow. Dora is eleven months and three days, the exact same age as Noelle.”

Daisy flinched at Jett’s precision. Even though there was no biological relationship, her comment was so like Justice. When would she get over it? When would those little reminders finally stop bothering her? Never. That’s when.

As impossible as it seemed, she’d fallen in love with Justice when she’d been little more than a child and had been devastated when he’d disappeared without a word of explanation. Without even saying goodbye. She’d mourned for years, searched for him for years, the constant hope dancing in her heart that he’d somehow find his way back to her. So strong was the hope that she refused to form any other attachments until her junior year at college. To her intense disappointment that relationship had never matched what she’d experienced with Justice.

And then a miracle had happened and she’d found him again. Despite the fact that they’d only shared a single night together, this latest parting had been far worse, perhaps

because they’d bonded on an adult level. Or so she’d thought. For those few short hours she’d opened herself completely to him, just as she had as a teenager. Allowed herself to believe that he’d connected as deeply and utterly as she had.

If it hadn’t been for her daughter, she didn’t know how she’d have gotten through the past year and a half. And now that it had become apparent that Noelle shared her father’s brilliance, Daisy had tracked Justice down to the bitter ends of the earth. Though Jett didn’t realize it, the brazen teen reminded her of him, as well, possessing both his keen intellect in addition to his meticulous nature. Of course, she also reminded Daisy of herself at that age—creative, a bit outrageous, brash, and pure trouble waiting to happen.