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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.
