Chapter 1 Jet Trent

"We're back from the break. This is Sloan Jensen speaking with caller number 42 from California. Welcome to You've Got to be Kidding Me. What has some insensitive, non-committing, crazy man done this time?"

Sloan Jensen's smooth voice hit the airwaves and Web at the same time. Formerly it was just the Web. She was thrilled that after seven years of podcasting one of the most popular shows on the Internet, the American Broadcasting Group had picked up her show and was syndicating it. Millions tuned in to her show now; with ABG on board it would triple her audience. That would mean more sponsors, and the cushy life she was already leading would only get cushier. Her tagline—"What has some insensitive, non-committing, crazy man done this time?"—had sold thousands of T-shirts, coffee mugs and this year could be purchased on the covers of laptop carrying bags. People around the world loved Sloan's weekly rants saving women from dastardly men.

"You're on, caller number 42."

"I'm calling in because my parents are about to get a divorce after 36 years of marriage."

As soon as Sloan heard a male voice, she played the funeral dirge "Taps." It was part of the show's style. The eerie music slowly faded out. "When my mom gave my dad the papers, he literally had a breakdown. I thought I would be able to handle it if they ever split because marriage is just ... " The man kept talking about his situation. Suddenly awareness dawned upon Sloan that she wasn't ready to handle. She didn't want to believe that she recognized that voice. Her pulse began to kick up. This was the voice that had caused her to leave her hometown of Alpharetta—a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia—caused her to switch her college career from law to psychology and was the sole reason for the show. Her heart was racing now.

"Jet?" Though she didn't say it, floating in the back of her mind were the words "You've got to be kidding me." She never would have expected this to happen. Seven years, a ton of tissues, bottles of aspirin and totally uprooting herself from the home she loved to find sanity on a beach later, he had the insensitive audacity to call her on her live podcast. "Of all the ... "

"Sloan, wait, please don't disconnect. You're the only one who can help me."

"Well, ladies, I'd like to introduce you to the man who's responsible for the show." She was doing her best to remain calm. Yet her heart was thudding. How was it possible that in that moment his deep baritone voice instantly connected her mind to the Jet she loved and not the one she hated? He was the man who made her long for his touch. "You have him to thank for all the sound years of support I've been able to give. We'll take a station break and be right back."

Sloan was exasperated when she clicked back over to Jet Trent. It was amazing that even though he was miles away, his voice had her stomach tied and nauseated. "Oh, my God, Jet, I'm in the middle of a live show."

"I had no other way of contacting you. If I had called you, I know you would have hung up on me."

"Have you heard of Facebook, Twitter or a million other social formats?"

"None that you would answer."

He did have a really good point. She sat leaning on her desk with her face in her hands. "I can't believe that you called me. After all these years I simply can't believe it. What's going on with Nora and Robert?"

"It's bad. Will you help me, Sloan? I listen to your show. I know you work miracles with relationships."

That really stunned Sloan. All but my own, she snarled to herself. She hadn't thought of Jet Trent since she moved to Destin, Florida—or at least tried very hard not to think about him. He listens to my show. This is way too weird. "I've got to go, Jet. I'm sorry to hear about Nora and Robert, but I'm not the one to help you with this."

"Sloan, wait. I know you may hate me, but you love my parents."

"Bye, Jet." Sloan clicked back over to her show. Her head was throbbing.

"Sorry to have to interrupt our session, ladies. It would be rude of me not to tell you all a little of what that was about. Caller number 42 was a guy who broke my heart years ago. I left everything behind because of him and carved out a new life for myself. When I come on this show, I really do know how you feel, because I've felt it."

Her mind was still in a tailspin concerning her encounter with Jet. How was it possible that he had the audacity to call her after all these years? She wanted to think that she was only dreaming, but in reality she knew this was far from a dream. It was a nightmare of epic proportions.

"That's why I'm here. I know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out. Jet, I hope you are still listening—yes, my heart was ripped out. I know the anguish of trying to recover. I got my master's in this field not only because it's my profession. I did it to heal myself. When I look at how successful I've become, as much as I hate to admit it, I have only Jet to thank for it." A call was in the queue.

"Hello, caller number 43 from Minnesota."

"What type of man was Jet—insensitive, non-committing or crazy?"

Sloan's mind skipped and skidded over the years that she'd known him. His image formed clearly in her mind. She could see the chiseled look, his close-cropped thick brown hair, hazel eyes and a face that looked like Zac Efron. For a moment she could even smell the cologne he'd always worn. One look at him always overpowered her senses. Worst of all, there had to be two of him. Jet was an identical twin. He and his brother were identical in every way except the personality and a small physical difference. Unfortunately her heart never got tied up with Justin. She'd wound up with the badass. She took a deep breath and answered the caller. "He's the triple threat—insensitive, non-committing and crazy."

"Are you going to help him?"

"Hell, no," she'd hoped.

***

The show couldn't end quickly enough for Sloan. The hour-long show normally ended on a happy note. Today she had to force the good-vibe ending that her audience really loved. From the moment Jet had called she became preoccupied with her past. She shuffled to the kitchen in her white terry-cloth robe over fluffy pink slippers and headed straight for the brewing hot coffee. Days like this made her glad to have a home-based business. She'd need a shot of something to jar her back to normal.

She poured a cup and then walked back to her bedroom, flipped on the television and allowed her mind to drift. I can't believe that Nora and Robert are getting a divorce. When she was growing up, they were the closest things to an ideal family that she'd ever seen. Real family defined as the couple with the perfect jobs, the perfect house, 2.2 kids (whatever that really meant), and the dog. The twins were 28 years old. Nora and Robert Trent were stalwarts in the community. It was perfect, wasn't it?

Sloan blew into the coffee, cooling it down. The thought of that split was inconceivable. I should have been calling him with that kind of news. Her parents fought all the time, nothing physical. They had arguments over finances constantly while she and her older sister, Renatta, were growing up. Sloan was 26 and Renatta was two years younger. Many days as a child she'd look out her bedroom window and wish she was living with the Trents. Despite the feuding, Dillon and Elise Jensen were still together, just shy of their 30th anniversary.

"I simply cannot believe that Jet called me." It had to be pretty desperate for him to call.

She finished the coffee and set the cup down on her nightstand. "I have nothing to say to Jet."

Sloan began flipping through the channels, looking for something to distract her. She landed on HGTV and took in a few of the house flipping and real estate shows. Those programs helped to settle her down, until she saw the Property Brothers with the twins Jonathan and Drew. Dang it.

Sloan extended her hand across the nightstand until she felt her cell phone. She took a deep breath and then tapped in a phone number that she hadn't used in years, seven years to be exact. Once she'd split up with Jet, she found it too painful to communicate with anyone in the Trent family. She'd broken all ties and moved to Florida. The duplicate baritone voice that answered made her skin prickle. How could they also sound exactly alike?

"Are my eyes deceiving me? Is this Sloan Jensen on my ID?"

"No, Justin, your eyes are not deceiving you. It's me."

"I'm so surprised, I'm going to need to take a seat to catch my breath. It's good hearing from you, Sloan."

In the Trent family, Sloan really was the girl next door. Their families had lived across the street from each other since Sloan was ten and the twins were 12. They lived in Alpharetta. It was an affluent community, clean, well kept and full of lovely brick homes nestled between forests of evergreens. Though the place that she now lived in Florida was beautiful, Sloan missed the tall trees of Georgia, the communities built on rolling hills, and the glorious changes of the seasons. Especially the fall, when the trees looked like they'd been dipped in red, gold and burnt orange paint. Hearing Justin's voice made her long for home. Her parents still lived across the street. The break with Jet had been so bad that she didn't visit home. Her family would fly or drive down to Destin to visit her.

"What's going on with Nora and Robert?"

"News travels fast. What, did your mom call you?"

"No, Jet did."

Sloan heard Justin choke. He wasn't expecting that—no one would. He took a moment to regain his composure. "Jet?"

"Yes, and classic Jet too. He had the audacity to crash my live podcast. Did you hear what I just said, Justin? This was my live podcast, the show that millions of people listen to. He bust in and began airing all the dirty laundry."

Justin laughed, "That sounds like something he'd do."

Jet had a knack for doing disruptive things. Wildness burned in his DNA. Sloan was attracted to it as a child. All the kids would trail off into the woods at night and capture fireflies. Their fluorescent lime flashes beautifully sparkled the night sky. The kids would carry them about in glass jars and watch them float about. Not Jet. He'd peel the lights off the bugs and make a lightsaber. Slashing it about like he was Darth Vader fighting with Luke Skywalker. Jet introduced Sloan to the thrill of driving a four-wheeler through the thick, red mudholes of Georgia, just for the hell of it. Wrestling in that mud years later as teens was the first spark in their relationship.

Jet was always there for Sloan—just let some hormone-induced young man make an off-colored remark to her, Jet would pound him into the dirt. He'd received many school suspensions for doing that. As well as staying in plenty of trouble with Sloan's parents for sneaking her out of the house at night. According to Jet, that was the best time to dip in the creek.

As much trouble as they'd get in, it didn't stop them from doing it. There was nothing like swimming in the refreshing creek water at night when the entire world slept. It was like having a private oasis. He was so different from Justin, who'd rather be on a computer figuring out some kind of code, doing something analytical or going to a sci-fi convention for his favorite movie character.

"So how did you handle the call, Sloan?"

"I took a station break as quickly as I could."

"Well, it's true, and Dad is going insane. I'm sure Jet asked you to come home. Mom might listen to you."

"I can't." Her mind sent out red alerts through her body as she remembered the last time she'd seen Jet. It wasn't a pretty scene. She'd loved him with all her soul, but that particular day it appeared evident that he did not love her back. For a second the pain was back, just as it was on that day.

"I think you should. I can only be here for a short while, and you know Jet is going back to California as soon as the dust settles."

"I don't want to see him, Justin."

Sloan bit her lip thinking about him. Her head became cloudy again, and her mind began releasing thoughts like raindrops. One splashing thought after another until there was a downpour. She'd invested a lot in her relationship with Jet and was still very angry about how it had turned out.

"It's been seven years, Sloan. You both need to grow up and get this resolved. I know you've got to miss home. I've been here only a few weeks, and I'm already thinking about moving back. There is nothing like Georgia, Sloan, and you know it. Come home."

There really was nothing like Georgia. Her mind painted another unique image she'd never find near the white sands of Florida. Her stomach sank as she felt the electricity of herself and Jet on bikes plunging down excessively steep hills at death-defying speeds. Looking back at it, only an insane person would do that. Yet they did it over and over again, no breaks, no helmets and, with Jet, no hands. She missed that and didn't realize how bad until she spoke with Justin. She remembered feeling the force of wind rushing across her face, so strong that she could barely breathe. The way her throat constricted as her heart lodged in it, hoping that a car wouldn't veer into the road. They knew they were tempting fate, but it felt so good.

"There's no place like home." Suddenly even her room smelled like the minty pine trees. "Don't tell him I'm coming."

"All right, Sloan, but you do know that there is no way you're going to avoid being able to see him. Thanks, because we really need your help. Let me know your flight, and I'll pick you up at the airport."

"Okay."

***

Two days later Sloan was looking out the airplane window. The descent into Hartsfield International Airport was splendid. Miles and miles of dense forest came into view. She saw her reflection in the window and quickly patted her curly, black hair into place. When she was growing up, she hated the curly tresses. All her friends had straight hair. At this time in her life she loved it. Those spirals made her look distinctive in any crowd. She picked up her purse, reapplied her glossy, copper-colored lipstick and dusted her cheeks with rouge. "Perfect." The mascara on her long lashes was still in place, and her rich, black eyeliner was flawless. She hadn't seen her family and friends in a long time. Sloan wanted to look good.

As the plane banked, she could see the streaky gray granite of Stone Mountain in the distance. Lush shades of deep green from the trees and grass warmed her heart. Her dark brown eyes had to adjust from all the white sand and turquoise green waters of Florida's Emerald Coast. Georgia was a beautiful sight. Home. Sloan knew at that moment that she'd never again stay away that long, regardless of what happened between herself and Jet Trent. The pilot made a soft landing.

Soon she was pressing through the crowded aisle, making her way off the plane. The airport was busy as ever, but she knew it well. She also knew exactly where Justin told her to meet him. She went to baggage claims, removed her two bags from the carousel, and strapped them together. The wheels on her bag clicked and clanked as she made her trek to the south exit. The door slid open, welcoming her to Georgia. "Ah," she said, feeling welcomed by the lack of humidity and cool breeze.

She scanned the landscape, looking for Justin. She spotted him a few yards away. He was waving her down. She quickly dragged the bag down the pathway; with all the increased security, she knew he wouldn't be allowed to stay there long. Sloan wove between the press and gave a warm smile to the very handsome twin she was approaching. It really did something to her on the inside. She was really happy to see Justin. He looks amazingly good. She'd known that Jet would never let Justin outdo him in looks—perfectly cut thick brown hair, hazel eyes and that movie star face. She'd be in for a double take.

"Justin." There he was, arms open, waiting for a quick embrace. His smile made her forget her next words. The gods had blessed womankind by sending two of them. Sloan received the embrace.

"Look at you, prettier than ever." His eyes did a quick scan. "Love the jeans and those shoes."

"Thanks, Justin. You really look amazing too."

The skinny jeans painted on her body had a worn look. The heels she was wearing were black with crisscross laces that tied above her ankle. She was wearing a matching sleeveless black top. Sloan settled into the hug. Then she noticed that something was not quite right. It was too familiar. She reached her hand up to touch the back of his neck. That was the only way to tell them apart. Jet had a mole and a birthmark on a particular spot. He clasped her arm; that is when she knew this was not Justin. He did not want her to feel it. Her eyes narrowed, "Jet Trent. You despicable ... "

"Whose Infiniti am I driving?"

She glanced over at the black car that perfectly matched the personality of the milder twin. Jet, on the other hand, drove a steel gray Corvette. "Justin's."

"Who gave me the keys?"

"Justin."

"If you blame me, you'll have to blame him. I know that you won't blame him for anything."

Her brown eyes narrowed. This situation should not be happening. Jet really was testing her. Everybody knew that Justin was the saint between them. Now she was recalling what seven years had dulled. Justin and Jet were very close. They supported each other in every way. They'd done switcheroos on her many times in her life, including the senior prom. She'd spent the whole night with Justin, thinking it was Jet. When his mom found out, that's when she told her how to really tell them apart.

Jet ditched the prom for a motocross event with some friends. They took off for a weekend in Alabama. He would have gotten away with it, had not one of her friends, Jennifer Madden, overheard a conversation about the Alabama trip on the night of the prom and told Sloan.

Jet popped the trunk and put her bags inside. Sloan rolled her eyes at him and then marched to the passenger side of the car, closing the door with a big thud. She pressed herself close to the door, giving a blank stare out the window. It would be a long ride from Atlanta to Alpharetta. Justin's words echoed in her mind – you both need to grow up and get this resolved. This ride will be simply unbearable. "I knew I should have rented a car." She clenched her teeth. "I got suckered into this one."

"I'm not that bad."

"No, you're worse."

"So what did you think? You knew I was in town. There was no way you could avoid me."

"I just wanted to see you on my own timeline."

"When would that have been? What, five minutes before your flight back to Florida?"

His hazel eyes bored into hers. That's when she felt it. That spark—that burning ember she could never put out. He looked better than he'd looked seven years ago. He was filled out, toned and muscular. That familiar hug had awakened something in her impacted soul. Those eyes of his lit the flame. She drew in a deep breath from the impact of seeing his brown eyes flecked with gray orbs. Hazel was such a haunting, indescribable color for eyes. She didn't want to stare too long. Sloan knew she'd get lost in them. She turned her head. "We have nothing to say, Jet."

He huffed and then turned on the radio to the rap station that he loved and she hated. She reached her hand to press another station, and he touched her hand to stop her. They both froze, as that touch obviously zapped them. He glanced at her. She slowly moved her hand back. It was safer to let the music play, driving her insane, than to risk one unguarded touch from Jet Trent. After they both sulked for what seemed like eternity, Jet decided to speak up, whether she wanted to hear it or not.

"Justin was right about me picking you up at the airport, you know. We both know you weren't planning to give me the time of day."

Silence.

"And I don't like being the poster child for your show either."

Silence.

"I can't fix what happened, Sloan. Do you plan to hate me forever?"

More silence.

He turned up the radio louder. What did he expect? The two of them had parted on bad terms. She didn't want to see him so soon and would have avoided him if humanly possible. The lightning bolt that jolted through her body when he touched her hand wasn't a good thing. They'd be in the car at least an hour together. Anything would be better than the annoying music. She slid her hand across the radio and turned it off. "I'm here for Nora and Robert. If you want to discuss their situation, then we can talk. I am not here to discuss what happened between us."

"Finally she speaks."

"Tell that brother of yours to stop meddling in our business."

"He just wants what's best for both of us."

"That is something that you should have wanted years ago. I'm over it, Jet. Anyway, you are the poster child for my show because it became my therapy to get over you. I'm doing quite well." She saw him flinch.

At least on the surface Sloan was doing well. She looked, talked and acted smooth and composed on the outside, but even now her heart couldn't keep a steady beat. Looking at his handsome face made her remember the Jet she once loved, not the Jet she left behind. Thanks to Justin, this forced communication was the very thing she didn't want. Now she had no way to avoid him. "What's going on with them?"

"My mom put my dad out of the house and changed all the locks on the doors. He's living in a condo in Alpharetta. He's miserable because he doesn't know how to do anything. He can't cook. Been messing up all his clothes because he doesn't know how to wash them. It's bad. Mom has always taken care of him."

"Why, though? I envied your family growing up. You all had the perfect home."

Jet's mouth dropped open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean, 'the perfect home'? Who has one of those?"

"I thought ... I just thought that ... "

"At least your parents were there, Sloan."

Is he serious? Had he been to her home at all? He couldn't have possibly missed all the arguments. Were blinders on him the entire time he'd visit and find her parents at each other's throat? Yes, her mom took the traditional road and raised herself and Renatta, but it cost them. The postal job her father had was minimally enough to keep them going. Most of the fights were over her wanting to work and her dad wanting her to stay at home and raise her daughters.

Her father won that argument. Mom stayed home. It took Sloan a while to process what Jet said. In the big picture her parents were always there for herself and Renatta. Her father did avoid overtime so that he could be home with his family. Her mother complained about their low finances but she had never missed a school play and was always there when someone wasn't feeling well.

"Everybody shopped at Trent's. Your family's store is one of the few that survived when Wal-Mart came in. How can you blame them for not being there?"

"What about before Wal-Mart came in? We had lots of things, Sloan, but I would've traded my house for yours."

Sloan was in total shock now. Jet Trent couldn't possibly mean what he was saying.

"Want to know why my house was always full of peace and quiet, as you'd always commented?" Sloan braced herself, not sure she wanted to hear this part of the conversation. Jet continued. "It was because somebody was always at the store working. There weren't enough people around to ever have a damn conflict. We all cut our teeth on the cash register—money in, marriage out."

"Jet, stop. You can't mean what you're saying. You're upset at what is happening."

"When did they have time to build a marriage, Sloan?"

This was worse than she had expected. She'd never seen Jet this way. He was emotional. The Jet she knew was not emotional. This situation was really bothering him. Sloan's heart was stirred. Before she knew it, she stretched her hand across the seat, touched his and squeezed it. She got that heady feeling again.

He glanced over at her and then turned back to the road to drive. That one brief look raised her temperature—high. Jet Trent was still able to get a rise out of her that not even her anger could suppress. She was so mad for feeling anything other than contempt for him. Sloan went to move her hand back, but he held it tight.

"Don't," he whispered.

Heat swept across her body. She looked down, feeling him thread his fingers through her hand. That warmth was familiar. It radiated to the tips of her toes. Her fingers slowly locked into his. She couldn't let go. She didn't want to.

"I've been here two weeks and I'm about to lose my mind. I've never seen anything this messed up. Let me hold onto something that reminds me of normal." He squeezed her hand tighter. Her eyes closed, thinking about how much love Jet could render with those hands. The touch made perspiration mist on her forehead.

What's going on? Her head told her to run. She was not prepared for the impact that Jet was having on her. Her heart willingly clutched his hand, glad that Justin Trent was not driving the car. Confusion seeped in.

This conversation was only to have been about Nora and Robert, not bits and pieces of their lives slipping in. But now that they had, she wondered what existence she and Jet really had lived? They say the grass is always greener on the other side. Obviously they'd each been looking at each other's grass their whole lives the wrong way. "What happened, Jet?"

"I'll let my mother tell you that incredible story."

Chapter 2 Georgia On My Mind

They arrived at Sloan's family home about an hour later. Her heart was happy, as she looked at the property. It was good to be back. She lifted her eyes to see the tall pine trees that surrounded the house. Their height seemed to reach the cloudless sky. The sound of crickets and cicadas echoed about, the loud chirps of redbirds washed her in childhood memories. She smiled, closed her eyes and held her head back, allowing the warm rays of the sun that filtered through the dense trees to touch her face.

"What's the matter, Sloan? You look like this is the first time you've seen this place."

"I haven't been home in seven years, Jet. I didn't know how bad I've missed it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It's beautiful."

Jet was hoping that she meant that for every situation.

He looked at the huge red brick ranch-style home and then looked across the street to his family's two-story Tudor home and smiled too. "When you put it that way, it is beautiful. I must admit I had a nostalgic moment myself. What got to me is when I walked through the door and it smelled like Mom, even though she wasn't home. It was just me and knothead Justin. Did you tell your parents that you were coming?"

"No."

They walked down the long driveway. "That's going to be fun. ... " As long as your dad isn't home. Jet was pulling her suitcase in one hand, and he reached out his other hand to her. She hesitated and he slipped his hand into his jeans pocket and glanced at her. They were communicating in a way for him to understand that he'd have to earn the next touch of her hand. It wasn't going to be a knee-jerk reaction like what had happened in the car. He knew Sloan had every reason to be angry with him. As he glanced over at her, he now truly regretted what he had done.

She rang the doorbell. Her mother opened the door, and her smile could have lit the sun.

"Sloan!!! What are you doing here?" She gave her daughter a huge hug. "I'm so glad you're home. You and Justin come in."

"It's not Justin, Mom."

"Oh, Jet, I didn't know you were in town too. Justin came over a few days ago to say hello." Then all of a sudden her mother stopped and froze. It was as if a certain reality dawned on her. It was gravely written all over her face.

Jet chuckled, "It's okay, Mama Elise, we survived the ride from the airport."

"How on earth did that happen? I would have thought one of you would surely have plucked the eyeballs from the other."

"I got suckered into it, Mom. Justin promised to pick me up at the airport and then sent Jet instead."

"Thank God, we didn't have another world war." Then her mother called out. "Dillon, come upstairs. We have company. Your sister is going to be so happy to know that you're here."

"How is Renatta doing?"

"Fine, I suppose. You know your sister. She's been dating a guy for quite a while, and we haven't met him at all. Some kind of long-distance romance."

"Really? What's up with the secret?"

Elise got tight-lipped. She wasn't expecting that response. Sloan was the more agreeable of her daughters. Elise was expecting her to say that she was very happy that Renatta finally found someone and that she had a right to her privacy. Renatta's divorce was a bad one, and for the last four years she'd sworn off men—said they weren't worthy of trust. Elise tried to change the subject, but Sloan pulled her back in place.

"Well, Mom, what did she say?"

Elise's eyes shifted between Sloan and Jet. She lowered her voice and said, "Renatta doesn't want all of Alpharetta in her business, like they were in what happened between you and Jet. She said that she's happier than she's ever been and will not jinx it."

Jet raised his eyebrow. He didn't say anything but did glance over to Sloan who had turned red as a summer rose. Alpharetta wasn't a small country town, but it was a small city with a pipeline that connected many homes in the community to gossip. The Jensen family and the Trent family had places in the middle of the hubbub.

The Trents' family store was very popular, and Mr. Jensen's postal route put him in connection with everybody. Elise was very active in the community when the kids were growing up and had been an active volunteer for civic and church functions for years. It wasn't unusual to find something written up about the Trents or the Jensens in the local newspaper. That was how life worked in Alpharetta. Elise rolled her thumbs together, wishing she'd never brought up Renatta.

Her husband came up from the basement, only to be shocked and happy to see Sloan. He was dismayed to see one of the twins. Dillon greeted Sloan with enthusiasm, extending his arms to embrace her, then rolled his eyes, staring at the one he perceived to be Justin. Certainly Jet would never set his foot on Jensen property. "Hello, Justin. I wasn't expecting to see a Trent."

Elise tapped him on the shoulder. "It's not Justin."

Her father grunted heavily. "Jet?"

All of a sudden everything seemed quite awkward and tension was as thick as red Georgia clay. Her father's mouth dropped open. Dillon's face hardened; he was very upset. Elise patted him on the shoulder, hoping to calm him down. Dillon looked between the two of them, eyes narrowed, waiting for some reasonable explanation as to how Jet could possibly be standing in the same space with anyone from the Jensen family.

"It's okay, Dad. It's been seven years."

Jet had a woeful look on his face. Being with Sloan at this moment was hard. He'd give anything to clean up the mess he'd made. Though he'd sought to be forgiven, she'd shut him out. Seven years might stand between them, but in reality time hadn't lapsed because they'd never brought closure to the matter.

The moment he'd laid eyes on Sloan, there was pain that made him raw and love that made him weak. He didn't know what to expect when he saw her, but the jolt that he experienced was far beyond anything he would have imagined. Now he was in their doorway not only with Sloan but with her angry father.

Dillon and Jet had a good relationship until the breakup. The situation caused him to be loathed. Could Jet blame him? No. Things would have been a lot easier if he weren't there. His mind searched, trying to think of something to say to lift the Titanic that seemed to have entered the room. "Dillon, I am ... "

Dillon cut him off "It was Dillon. Now it's Mr. Jensen."

Elise reached out her hand. She held Jet's hand in one and Dillon's hand in the other. "Come now, our children are home. We will not continue this. The fact that they are here together is a pure miracle. Jet, you will call him Dillon as always. Dillon, you will be grateful that Sloan is standing in our home. Do you realize what a blessing this is?"

Dillon sliced Jet with an icy glare. He mumbled something under his breath, removing his hand from Elise's. "Only for Sloan's sake will I tolerate him being here."

"For Sloan's sake is a good place to start, honey. Goodness, sweetheart, you must be hungry from the flight. Come in the kitchen, and let me fix you and Jet some dinner." Elise ambled off to prepare the food.

Dillon walked over to Jet, snatched Sloan's suitcase dolly from his hand and walked down the hall, carrying it off to her old bedroom. "I told both of you that I never wanted him to step foot in this house again."

"Dad, you be good. I will handle this situation."

Sloan heard him mumbling something before he disappeared down the hall. She turned to Jet. He looked exasperated. She looked at him and shook her head. "You brought this on yourself."

"I can't do this for another seven years. How many times can I say that I'm sorry to this family?" His mind flashed to the last day they'd been together at this very spot. It was a horrible scene that he knew was playing out just as vividly in her mind as it was in his.

Sloan glanced over at him, looking troubled. Justin had placed them on an emotional rollercoaster. They had a long ride ahead of them—one that she was not looking forward to. "'I'm sorry' means that you acknowledge that you were wrong. We've accepted that. 'Sorry' has no power to clean up the damage done."

Those words cut like a blade across his heart. He took in a deep breath and placed his hands over his face. It was a long time before he could speak. "So my words mean nothing." He could feel anger rising, but knew he needed to suppress it. Sloan hadn't done anything. He never denied that he was the cause of the situation. He removed his hands from his face and locked gazes with her. "'Sorry' may not have the power to clean up the damage done, but it can close the door to further damage being done. It does say that I acknowledge my wrong and it won't ever happen again. It does say that, doesn't it, Sloan?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Jet."

He stepped toward her and placed his hand on her cheek, stroking her face. Heat coursed through him. Her face reddened in response to his touch. "Answer me, Sloan." He tipped her face up.

"I should never have allowed Justin to talk me into coming home."

"You don't mean that."

"I don't know what I mean. I'm very upset, very confused and at the same time loved hearing Justin's voice and in an unexplainable way am glad you're here and hate your guts at the same time, Jet."

"I'm sorry, Sloan." He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. It scorched him and he felt her whole body shake on impact. "Tell me that 'I'm sorry' at least closes the door to our past."

"I don't know how in the hell we are going to get through this, but I can't."

She started to back away, but he drew her to him. Sloan struggled to get away, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her firm until she stopped struggling. "My life is falling apart, baby. My parents are on a cliff, I'm in pain because of what I did to you, and I know I may never see you again. I'll be damned if I let go of you until we've made our peace." He felt one hot tear soak through his shirt. It made his knees buckle.

***

It was 8:30 p.m. when Jet and Sloan finished Elise's prize-winning spaghetti and meatballs, Caesar salad and lattice-crust peach pie. They conversed with each other at the table, but it was strained. What was this hurricane going on in Sloan's heart? From the look on his face she knew he was in his own personal storm. God, I miss him. That thought made her ache. How was it that she could do her show, becoming this valiant warrior for women trodden down by the antics of men, and now be stupefied?

Who was this handsome man sitting across from her? She recognized the part of him that would go along with Justin and do a switch. She could identify with the part of him that crashed her show. Sloan could even see the part of him bold enough to come to her home, even though he'd been banned years ago.

The part that was raging in her mind was that Jet needed a hand to hold in the car and the one that declared, "I'll not let you go until we've made our peace, even if I never see you again." That was the sign of a humble man. Jet Trent was not that. He was a prideful flirt and knew how to turn her completely on. What was it that she felt when he hugged her? Did his knees actually bend? She'd never felt that before—almost like she was treasure, worth more than a chest of diamonds and pearls. Sloan's pulse kicked up.

She hoped he hadn't been paying much attention to how long she'd been watching him. As her mind busily connected memories, she felt it when the first piece of iceberg encasing her guarded heart cracked. It was a loud crack that only her mind could hear. It happened when his lips formed the words ...

"When I held you, I felt like I was standing in the creek, the first time I kissed you."

He might as well have pulled out a blowtorch and aimed it at her heart. The iceberg melted, leaving a trail of memories in its wake. The image he conjured made her sweat. The innocence of that kiss could never be forgotten, neither could the blazoning heat of it. She was there now, feeling herself being plundered by his mouth. Her eyes met his, being singed by his fire. That creek held a lot of powerful memories; ones that she dared not explore, feeling as she did tonight.

"Don't do this, Jet."

"I've one shot to make my peace."

"I'm here for your parents."

"We both will be here for them, but I'm going to be here for you, too." He lifted her hand and kissed it. He heard her breath catch deep in her throat and seductively smiled. It was hot enough to paint her face red. Then Jet got up from the table and walked to Sloan's chair and pulled it back, helping her to get up. She was shocked—that was the move of a gentleman.

He'd never pulled out a chair for her in his life. Not to say he wasn't a gentleman. It just wasn't the way they were with each other. I can't believe this.

"Let's go see my mom."

***

Sloan glanced over at the Maya blue Harley leaning on its kickstand. It was a fine vehicle, shiny and new. "Whose motorcycle is this?"

"That's Mom's new mode of transportation."

Sloan swung around. "What? Nora drives a motorcycle?" This was the same Nora Trent who had threatened to boil her sons in oil if they ever mentioned riding on motorcycles again. She was staunchly opposed to motorcycles—too dangerous. When the twins were younger, she agreed with Robert that they could have a four-wheeler but that no children of hers would ever be allowed on motorcycles. Now there was one sitting in her driveway—a big one.

"Your dearest Nora is not only riding on a motorcycle, she's hooked up with a group of women who go riding on the weekends. It's 20 of them called the Daring Divas. All of them are under 30 except my 57-year-old mother. They go hell-blazing all over Atlanta and beyond, every Saturday morning."

Sloan clasped her hand over her mouth.

"She's not at the store anymore either."

"What?"

"Oh, come inside and let your dear Nora tell you all about it."

Sloan actually began to sway. There was just too much going on. A marriage ending after 36 years, Robert Trent at the doors of a breakdown, Renatta secretly dating, Jet stirring up memories and now Nora on a motorcycle and not just any motorcycle—a Harley. Jet placed his hand under her elbow and steadied her. "Come on, she'll be glad to see you. Brace yourself."

***

Justin stood at the washing machine, getting tough with the man who looked like an older version of himself and Jet. With the exception that Robert Trent had gained too much weight and his eyes were light blue. After being with his dad now for almost two weeks, he made a silent vow never to let himself go over a woman like his dad did. He'd gained too much weight for his 5'11" frame. The last time he'd seen his dad, he actually looked well, but nine months of separation from Nora had taken their toll on him.

Robert would binge-eat to stuff his pain away. One of the first things that Justin did when he arrived at his dad's condo was to throw out the junk food, ban him from ordering takeout meals and get some decent food in the fridge. He was currently interviewing housekeepers who would take up the role of maintaining Robert after he was gone.

"Dad, you've got to get this down. We've been working on this since I got here. I'm not going to wash another load of your clothes."

"All right, Justin. You put the colored clothes in the hot water, right?"

"Only if you want to ruin another one of your shirts."

Robert Trent kicked the washing machine hard. He was in a complete tizzy over his current state of existence. "Damn it! This doesn't make sense to me. It would appear that colored clothes need heat to remove traces of visible dirt. It's easier to spot dirt on colored clothes."

"That's not the point, Dad. You use cold water so that the colors won't bleed. The reason why your blue shirt is streaked with red is because you put it in hot water and the colors bled."

Robert reached down, sorting the clothes in a fit. He started mumbling under his breath. Finally he got the clothes sorted and put the colored clothes in cold water. "I shouldn't have to be doing any of this," he snorted. "How is it that you know how to do this anyway?"

"Because Mom taught me to take care of myself. Husbands usually have a lot of perks that they don't realize until their wives are gone. Your problem is that Grandma spoiled you, and Mom continued with your ruination. Dad, the reality is that you have to man up."

"I love her, Justin."

"Believe me, I'm praying that somehow we all will be able to help the two of you reconnect. We brought in backup: Sloan is here."

Robert quickly closed the lid, starting the machine. Had he heard correctly? Sloan Jensen was home after seven years? "No way. You all got her to come home for Nora, when her family has been trying to get her back since she left?"

"Yes."

"Good Lord. How did you do that?"

"She loves you and Mom like she loves her parents. When I talked to her about the divorce, despite everything that went on between herself and Jet, she decided to come."

"That is such wonderful news, I can't wait to see her. I wish things could've worked out. But now, when I look back at the situation, I have myself to blame."

"You didn't have anything to do with what happened between Sloan and Jet."

"Let me tell you something, son: When you spend nine months examining your life, trying to figure out how things went wrong, you see things about yourself that you'd never seen before. Trust me, I am to blame."

***

Sloan was statue-still, standing in the doorway. She heard Nora's peal of laughter when she saw her. She heard Nora say how happy she was to see her, but she couldn't respond. Sloan couldn't even lift a pinky finger. Jet placed his hands on her shoulder. "Take your shoes off." She followed his lead. Then he shuffled her into the living room—or would it be better to say, "living space"? Yes, Jet moved her into the living space. It did smell like Nora's gardenia perfume as he had mentioned earlier ... but ...

Jet leaned into her ear as he helped her to the nearest cushion on the floor. "When I said she's lost her mind, I meant it," he grinned.

Sloan's mouth was hanging open, and she slowly nodded yes. He went to step away to give his mom a hug. She grabbed him, pulling him down to the floor next to her. Now she understood what Jet meant when he said he needed to hold her hand to remind him of something familiar. He smiled when he felt her fingers threading through his.

Sloan gazed around the living space, her senses being overloaded with the orange walls and deep red, burgundy and purple accents. She looked up to a ceiling that was no longer a traditional ceiling. It was covered in beautiful swagged beige linen flecked with gold strands. She touched the thick, jewel-tone Persian rug that filled the floor. Beautiful Moroccan wood and gold pendant lights hung from the ceiling. Sloan was just waiting for the genie to pop out of a golden lantern. There were two benches covered in red and gold leaning against the far wall. Vividly colored cushions were scattered across the floor.

For all intents and purposes Sloan might as well have been in Arabia. Even the kitchen had been transformed with indigo blue and gold mosaic tiles, blue cabinets that had been whitewashed and a solid deep wooden table with benches covered with orange cushions.

The appearance of the living space should have been enough of a shock, but there was more. She was overwhelmed that Nora was wearing a gold-embroidered purple caftan. She looked absolutely stunning, but this was a woman whom she'd known her entire life to wear business attire, working her behind off in a very successful store. Now she was reclining on a set of pillows on a Persian rug, looking like an Arabian princess.

Jet leaned in and whispered, "Dad forgot their 35th wedding anniversary. She booked a flight the next morning, heading to wherever her finger would land, literally, on a spinning globe. Her finger landed on Morocco. She said she had an epiphany while she was there."

"Well, Sloan, what do you think? Like my new digs?"

"It's ... it's ... lovely. It's taken me quite a bit by surprise, though. And the dress ... it ... it fits you." Sloan couldn't help but stare. Nora Trent was already a beautiful woman; the dress and the colors were merely an enhancement. Her long, black hair fell gracefully on her shoulders. She was slightly taller than Robert at 6 feet. Her body was toned and the perfect weight for her height. What she'd always loved about Nora were those eyes; the same ones that she gave to Justin and Jet at their birth—intense and hazel.

"When I visited Morocco, I realized that my life was way too complicated. It's like the word 'stress' didn't exist there. I found the colors so comforting that I had to have them. Let me give you a tour."

Sloan swallowed, wondering if she'd converted one of the rooms for a stable for the camels. Jet nodded, "Okay," and remained on the floor. All the rooms had been transformed. She knew this house very wel,l and there was not a trace of Robert, Justin or Jet left in it.

Whoever she had got to do the design was an expert. It was extremely beautiful, just so odd. However, it was her bedroom that made her skin prickle. Her bed literally floated, attached by long, gold chains to the ceiling. The bathroom had been expanded so that it would be large enough to contain a small pool. It truly looked like a Moroccan spa, including artificial palm trees and mosaic tiles everywhere. Everything must have cost a fortune.

They walked back down the hall to where Jet was sitting. After a few minutes Sloan was able to talk. "Nora, what's this really all about? Please tell me what happened in Morocco." Sloan was still eyeing the place. She really felt like she was in another world.

"I have been married for 36 years, and out of those 36 years my husband couldn't even be trusted to remember our anniversaries. He didn't miss one or two of them. Over the years he missed many and would cover it up with something that he'd hope would placate me. It wasn't just the anniversaries either."

Sloan sat rigidly on the floor. She'd squeezed Jet's hand so tight and didn't realize it until she saw his knuckles turning white. "I'm sorry," she whispered, releasing the pressure. Her eyes and ears focused on Nora, hanging on to every word in shock.

"It was the grind of our lives, up before dawn, out after midnight, minding the store. It was everything. When I got to Morocco, I saw that time is measured differently. There is no rush, no hurry—life is slow and peaceful. Families enjoy spending time together."

Sloan was crumbling into dust as her perfect image of the Trent family was under siege. What Nora was saying was so unbelievable that she couldn't breathe. She found herself tapping her chest several times during Nora's conversation just to make sure that her heart was still beating.

"Don't get me wrong, Sloan; we have a wonderful family. You know that. But we've paid a price for success. When I went to Morocco, I saw that success was all about family, not things. Even though women were in very rigid, traditional roles, I saw respect. I saw women at peace, taking care of their families and not doing double-duty as I have done for 36 years." Nora looked at Sloan and flailed her hands in the air. She looked very agitated. "I raised the kids practically by myself. I ran the business more than he did, and I'm sick of it. Robert can't do anything without me. I told him how I felt, but he didn't listen. He'd buy me something or send me on a trip. But that is not what I wanted. When he missed our 35th anniversary, I was done."

"Oh, Nora." She ran her hands through her hair. There was a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. "And the motorcycle?"

"It makes me feel free. I get out there with those young women and become a totally different person. It's a rush driving down the freeway at 70 miles an hour and becoming one with the wind. That's the one thing that blasts the cobwebs of my life out of my mind."

"Nora, I want you to look me in the face and tell me that you don't love that wonderful man named Robert Trent. If you can honestly tell me that you have no love in your heart for him, I'll be on the next plane back to Florida."

Nora smiled. She leaned over and whispered something in Sloan's ear. Jet watched as Sloan's face went from peachy cream to cranberry. He heard Sloan choke, and he began patting her on the back. "Sloan, are you okay? Mother, what did you say to her?"

Nora leaned back against the pillow with a very smug look on her face. "Never you mind."

Sloan got up abruptly. She rubbed her forehead. "I've got to go, Jet." Then she looked down at Nora, and shook her head in frustration.

"Mother, what did you say? Sloan, say something." He watched Sloan head for the door. "Sloan, wait!"

Nora held Jet's arm and shook her head, "No." "Let her go. She'll be back."

Jet was irritated. He was trying to draw Sloan to his side, not to have his mom upsetting her. He had too much to deal with already. Jet felt the cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He looked down and grimaced at the woman's name on the caller ID. Shit. He slipped the phone back in his pocket ignoring it.

Jaspira 

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