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looked down and
realized she was still in her white bikini, and he was right.
Reversing direction, she headed back to the bungalow, then stopped
by the bed and laid the case on the floor. Unzipping it, she pulled
out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a heart in the middle, her
bra and a pair of red stilettos.
     
    Without worrying about who might be
watching, Jazzie quickly dropped her bikini top and tossed it into
the suitcase. Wrapping her bra around her, she hooked it then
pulled the straps over her shoulders, before stepping into white
lace thong underwear, then she tossed her bottoms in the suitcase
as well.
     
    She heard a groan and looked up to see Beau
in the doorway with his face flushed and his jaw clenched. Leaning
over, she put her feet in the legs of her skinny jeans and shimmied
into them, then sucked in and zipped, before she grabbed the
t-shirt from the bed and pulled it over her head. Once she slid her
feet into the shoes, she grabbed the suitcase again and pushed past
Beau to walk out the door. He grabbed her shoulders and stopped
her, then pressed her against the door frame.
     
    She wiggled against him then told him
angrily, "Get off of me!"
     
    "No, you're gonna stop and talk to me," he
grated then pinned her with his angry green gaze.
     
    "We've done all the talking and anything else we're ever gonna do! Now get the hell off of
me!" she demanded then tried to bring her knee up between them.
     
    "You sure as hell weren't saying that an
hour ago!" he said in a frustrated tone.
     
    "An hour ago I was with a charming man, who
I thought liked me, not an asshole who got what he wanted and then
treated me like crap! Now get off of me!" she said and shoved his
big body as hard as she could.
     
    He finally stepped back, but held her gaze,
and admitted softly, "I do like you, Jazzie...too much, that's the
problem."
     
    "That's your problem," she hissed,
then stomped down the dock and said over her shoulder, "Goodbye,
Beau..."
     
    Beau watched her, until she stepped off the
end of the dock and took off her shoes, then walked across the
beach toward the resort, dragging that huge suitcase through the
sand behind her. When she disappeared into the darkness a few yards
later, he huffed out a frustrated breath and admitted to himself he had been an asshole after they made love.
     
    The intensity of the feelings she stirred up
in him had freaked him out, and he'd taken it out on her. What
they'd shared on that island wasn't just casual sex, to her, or to
him. In the end, she'd paid the price for the woman who'd been his
fiancé hurting him, and the crappy example of love he'd had from
his parents.
     
    Of course, he couldn't blame anyone else,
but himself, for this fiasco. He should have just walked away, when
he found out she hadn't had sex before. He hadn't mastered the art
of walking on water yet though, and she had been too much of a
temptation for him trapped on that island like they were.
     
    He'd be lucky if she ever spoke to him
again...he needed to apologize. He was a screwed up mess, and she
didn't deserve how he'd treated her.
     
    Beau started down the tiki-torch lit dock,
then saw Jess Sparks-Roberts stalking toward him in her
long-legged, loose-limbed way. Her face told him she had a bone to
pick with him, and he groaned then stopped in his tracks to wait.
When she reached him, she pushed his chest with her palms and
demanded, "What the fuck did you do to my friend?"
     
    "It's between me and Jazzie, so please let
me handle it," Beau told her calmly, but firmly. He wasn't going to
answer to Jess like some errant schoolboy. He didn't owe her any
explanations, but he did owe Jazzie some.
     
    "Jazzie is more than my friend, she's my sister , and if our brothers find out what you did to
her, you're gonna be toast!" she yelled at him and put her finger
in his chest, then narrowed her eyes and hissed, "You slept with
her didn't you?"
     
    "That is none of your business," Beau told
her defensively, and