Twice In A Lifetime

  TWICE IN A LIFETIME

  By

  JENNIFER JAKES

  Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Jakes

  All Rights Reserved.

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  Chapter One

  Divorce papers were the worst freakin’ birthday present ever. Ever.

  Isabella opened the thick envelope, swallowing down the raw lump of regret tightening her throat. Was it too early in the day to curl up into a ball and cry? Probably. The producer wouldn’t appreciate any delays on the final day of shooting.

  She brushed the smooth gold of her wedding band and scanned the page. Irreconcilable Differences. What a stupid way to describe everything she and Ian had been through. What a stupid way to end six years of marriage.

  The gripping ache in her heart smothered, choked the air from her lungs. God, she missed him. Missed his wicked chuckle, his dimpled smile. Missed the way he whispered to her in bed each night, face to face in the dark, a private cocoon beneath the blanket, a private world full of soft caresses and long, slow kisses. A world that disappeared.

  Her vision blurred as fat tears dripped onto the paper.

  “You’re going to ruin the perfect makeup I applied.” Celeste’s heavy Haitian accent filled the small dressing trailer as she swished to the table. She grabbed a sponge and foundation, then her dark gaze fell onto the petition. A deep frown pinched her brow. “Great and powerful Bondye, what have you done, child?”

  Izzy raised her chin. “What had to be done. Ian’s the one who walked out. I just took the next step.” The next heart-wrenching step. She blinked back more tears as pain sliced through her like an acid-tinged blade.

  Celeste clucked her tongue, the wrinkles on her face drawing into a deep frown. “He left to clear his head, to gain perspective of his sister’s death.” She swiped a fresh coat of makeup over the tear tracks. “He never meant to hurt you. And I know he planned to come home.”

  “Stop defending him. You’re my godmother. Whose side are you on anyway?”

  “Neither. Both.” Celeste shook her head, dred locks swinging. “I’m just sayin’ he didn’t leave you. Not like you think. Not like your father.”

  Bitter memories pricked Izzy’s heart. “They both left me, so what’s the difference?” None. Eight or twenty-eight, the empty feeling of not-good-enough hurt like hell.

  “The difference is you and Ian had something special. Magickal.”

  Izzy snorted. “Love isn’t magical.” It was painful, heartbreaking. Conditional. “Besides, you look for magic in everything.” She crammed the papers into her bag.

  “Child, love is the strongest Magick of all.” Celeste fingered the Erzulie Vever emblem hanging from her neck. “And you look for a way out of relationships so you won’t be hurt. Just like your mother, Great Bondye bless her. Someday you’re going to have to stop running.”

  “I’m not running. I’m standing up for myself.” She took Celeste’s hand. “I can’t stop working and sit at home just so nothing will happen to me. It’s not fair of Ian to demand that.”

  “No, but—”

  “Stop! I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can’t.” She had to concentrate on the stunt, walk through it one more time in her mind. Be professional. Like Ian taught her.

  What would he do right now? He would count each step, each move, each blast, make sure everything was timed to the second. And he would be calm. Then he’d press one kiss on her forehead, one on the tip of her nose, one on her lips and whisper ‘come back to me’.

  That’s what he used to do. Before Alicia’s accident turned him into a stranger. Before her death turned his professionalism to paranoia. Made him hover and worry. Check, double-check. Question and second-guess everything. Even Izzy’s ability as a stuntwoman.

  Christ. How had their relationship reached this point? Her throat tightened. There was a time they finished each other’s sentences, knew how the other felt— even when they were apart. When had she stopped feeling him? Stopped knowing him?

  She shuddered, fighting the misery threatening to drown her.

  Celeste wrapped her in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me what you want for your birthday. What will make you happy?” A large smile covered her face. “I know. I’ll cast a happiness spell.”

  Izzy choked out a half-laugh and sniffled. “Thanks, but unless you’ve got a reverse-the-past spell in your book, I’ll just settle for dinner and drinks.”

  “The past?”

  “I want my old Ian back, our old life back. That would make me happy.”

  Celeste’s eyes sparkled. “Yes. Why didn’t I think of this before?” She spun on her heel and dug through her bag. “I need candles, my gris-gris, some of your hair— I can get that from the brush…” Her words were lost as she scurried back and forth collecting what she needed.

  Happiness spell. Sure, whatever. Bring it on.

  A knock rattled the door. “They’re ready for you on set, Izzy.”

  “Be right there.” She sucked in a deep breath, then walked to the full length mirror and checked her costume.

  Smoothing the skirt of her voluminous dress, she patted the powdered wig that covered her short, platinum blond hair. Did she look like an English Lady? Close enough to be manhandled by a pirate, then thrown overboard by an explosion.

  She turned to Celeste. “I’ll see you tonight then. Dinner and drinks.”

  Her dark head popped up, her expression as if she’d forgotten Izzy’s presence. “Maybe you will see me. Maybe not. If this spell works…then not.” Celeste winked.

  “Right. I’ll see you tonight.” She opened the door.

  “Wait!” Celeste ran across the room. “Remember, second chances are rare. If you get one, don’t run. Fight for what you want.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “All right.”

  “No. Promise me you won’t take the easy way out.” Celeste squeezed her hand.

  “Okay. I promise. Now I’ve got to go.”

  Stepping from the trailer, Izzy swallowed the knot in her throat and walked to the set. The dock was a hive of activity as people hurried to finish last minute details. Fire trucks and ambulances set ready, along with a couple of police cars for crowd control. The weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky as she climbed aboard the mock ship.

  She could handle this. The pyro-tech checked everything this morning. Still, doubts niggled the back of her mind. Ian had been so sure that Daniel Roberts was an unsafe director and Izzy would end up like Alicia. Dead. But after three months of filming, a broken fingernail was the extent of her injuries.

  The small ship pitched in the water, the creaking wood a now familiar, comforting sound. Built to scale, the bow of the pirate vessel was rigged to blow apart just as Izzy made her escape from the evil captain and ran toward the foremast. When she reached the rail, the ship would explode, the blast throwing her into the ocean.

  She paced to the stern in an attempt to calm her nerves. Blocking out the surrounding noise, she tried to ignore the sweat trickling down her back and how the wig made her head itch. Instead she concentrated on the water and the gulls that lazily circled the pier.

  Her gaze followed the row of buildings and wandered up into the hills where

  houses perched, taunting nature to knock them off. She and Ian used to dream of buying a home up there
, a place where they could curl up in a chaise and watch the sun set, sip wine and make love under the stars…

  With a sigh she turned— then spun back. A tall man across the dock caught her eye. A tall, sexy-as-sin man. Thick, black hair brushed wide shoulders. Tight, well-worn jeans molded long legs.

  Ian.

  God, he was here. The blood heated her veins as her heart beat triple-time. Why had he come? To talk? To wish her happy birthday? To ask her to rip-up the papers? Frustration tightened her shoulders. Why now when she had to start filming? Why hadn’t he come to her trailer earlier?

  Tearing her gaze from his muscled body, she gulped several deep breaths. Damn it. The sight of him still made her panties damp, made her knees weak. Made her want to wrap herself in his arms, let his heat soak through her soul… Just like the first time she’d seen him.

  “Izzy!” He stalked toward her, each heavy step twisting her nerves a little tighter. “Come on. You’re leaving.” He clasped her hand.

  “What? No.” She tried to pull free. “We’ve talked about this.”

  His grip tightened. “And I told you—”

  “Sir, you’re not supposed to be past that line.” A policeman pointed to the dock. “You’ll have to leave. Now.”

  “Ian…” What could she say?

  “Fine.” He dropped her hand. Blue eyes burned with anger. “Have it your way. For now.” The haunting words echoed in her ears as he stomped away.

  “You all right?” The costume standby hurried over to adjust the ruffled lace sleeves on the long gown.

  “Yeah.” Izzy nodded. “Just…” She glanced at the dock, just one more look, one more memory. He was gone.

  “Izzy?”

  “Ummm. Yeah. I’m good.” She took her mark and refused to look back. Now was not the time to try to figure him out. If she didn’t concentrate, she'd get herself killed.

  “Party tonight after the shoot,” the captain said as he stepped behind her and

  wound his arm around her neck. “You coming?”

  “No. I've got plans.” She didn't, but after seeing Ian she needed to go home, have a good cry and get blind drunk. Maybe then she'd have the guts to sign the papers. Or call him.

  “Quiet on the set!” Daniel's voice echoed through the bullhorn. “Let's do this, people.”

  Izzy closed her eyes and focused on her job. Easy. Nothing she hadn't done before, yet her insides quivered in apprehension. The captain must have felt her tremble because he raised an eyebrow in question.

  There was no time to answer.

  “Action!”

  Adrenaline surged through her veins as she pulled away from her captor and sprinted toward the rail. In five seconds the first charge would blow. She was almost there. Four… three… she counted down the time in her head.

  Bbbwwwrroooosshh! The explosion roared in her ears.

  Dear God, it was too soon.

  A wave of heat chased behind her, hot on her exposed skin. She was still a foot away from the mark.

  She lengthened her stride, tried to reach the edge in time. If she didn't the next blast would—

  The sudden force propelled her through the wooden rail instead of safely up and over. A scream tore from her as she splashed into the water. Debris rained around her.

  Broken boards and chunks of wood peppered against her body as the heavy dress pulled her under.

  One hard kick brought her to the surface. Acrid smoke choked her lungs, burned her eyes. She couldn't see the ship, couldn't see anything.

  Ian's face flashed in her mind. If he saw the explosion, he’d be in a panic. She struggled to turn toward the dock. Christ, she couldn’t see the shore. Couldn’t see anything.

  A wave pulled her under again.

  Sea water rushed into her mouth.

  Everything went black.

  ***

  Izzy choked, swearing like a true sailor as two sets of hands grabbed her and pulled her into a tiny boat. Not dead, not drowned.

  She cracked open one eye and wiped salt water from her face.

  “Thanks, guys.” She coughed and fell in a soggy heap onto the shallow bottom.

  When had Daniel started sending the pick-up crew in costume? And why in a historical row boat?

  “Lucky yer still alive.” The crewman strained against the oars.

  “Yeah.” Izzy watched black smoke billow into the sky. Something had gone way wrong. Maybe Ian had been right. Maybe Daniel was dangerous. Maybe just as dangerous at work as he was behind the wheel of a car. The damn fool nearly killed her.

  Suddenly a large noose dropped over her shoulders and tightened under her breasts.

  “Hey,” she yelled. The men grinned as she was hoisted high into the air, and her wet dress rained sea water on them. The breath whooshed from her in a strangled scream. “Damn you! Not so tig—” She plopped onto a rough wood deck, her anger lost in the tangled skirt.

  The drenched wig hung crookedly in her face. She brushed at the wet strands.

  Where the hell was she? Not on the dock, but another ship. In fact, it looked like a replica of the one that had just been destroyed.

  Wind snapped the sails, and men scurried around as they re-coiled ropes and pried open wooden crates. No one appeared injured. No one looked familiar. She searched their faces. Where was everyone she worked with?

  Two men stepped down from the quarter deck. Izzy's gaze stopped on the tallest man, the one giving orders.

  Ian. Dressed as a pirate.

  Air froze in her lungs, and her heart stuttered to a stop. Dear God, what was he doing interfering with the shoot? He’d been told to leave. Now he’d get into trouble. Ruin his name in the business. Daniel wouldn’t let this go.

  She yanked the rope from around her body and winced at the pain that sliced her bruised ribs. Climbing to her feet, she marched toward the stairs.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” she gritted. He needed to get out of here before Daniel saw him.

  Ian turned, dark brows arched in question. Then his blue eyes narrowed, a mocking smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

  Her breath caught. Damn, why did he have to look so good? Captain Jack Sparrow had nothing on Ian. He was something to see… But…How had he gotten into costume so fast? She had just seen him in jeans on the dock. Is this where he had gone? Had he planned this entire thing?

  “Excuse me. Have we met, Miss… ?”

  Oh, oh! Anger surged through her. “Don’t even pull that shit.” She pushed the wig out of her eyes again. “What are you doing here? You're going to get arrested.” She poked his chest with her finger. “You're going to get me fired.”

  He stared down at her, the same intimidating, bad-boy look as the first time they’d met. Except this time, she wasn’t intimidated.

  “Girl, it looks as if you've already been fired. From the cannon.” The men around them laughed.

  “Funny.” She glared at him. Her lungs burned, and her head hurt like hell. The whole damn ship pitched, though the ocean was calm. More than she could say for her stomach. She really needed to sit before she fell.

  No, what she really needed was for Ian to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But that wouldn’t happen. She had been wrong. And he would never let her forget it.

  “Look, Ian—”

  “How do you know my name?” The crooked smile slid from his lips, and his gaze narrowed with suspicion.

  Really? Was he honestly going to be this petty? Izzy glared at him. Bad enough the stunt had gone to hell, now her husband pretended he didn’t know her. Well, enough was enough.

  “I should know your name, wise-ass. I'm your wife.”

  Chapter Two

  Ian eyed the beautiful girl in front of him as, one by one, his men started to guffaw. Either she was injured or addle-minded. Perhaps both. Not to mention she had the mouth of a tavern wench. Wise-ass indeed.

  He gave her an indulgent smile. “I think not, Miss. I'm quite sure I would remember gettin
g married.” Most especially to her. God knew his life was chaotic enough without a wife.

  She frowned, then paled and grimaced as if in pain. “Whatever. Be that way.” Hurt filled her voice and her eyes. “Where did you get this ship?” She held up her hand before he could speak. “Never mind. Just take me to the dock.”

  Sassy and crazy. Land? He hadn’t seen land for a week.

  “What dock?” Ian asked. “We're in the middle of the Caribbean.” He swept his hands toward the horizon. “The only thing around us is what remains of your ship.”

  She turned in a slow circle, and her dark eyes grew wide, glazed. “Where is everything?”

  Her soft voice shook, all her earlier bravado gone. The confused, wary look made his gut clench. Damn the devil, he had no time for this, and he sure as hell did not need another helpless woman to care for. He couldn’t even manage to keep Alicia from being carried off by pirates.

  “This can’t be right.” She turned again. “We’re shooting off California.”

  “Shooting? Who was shooting? Was the California your ship?” Ian turned to his man. “Did anyone see another ship in the area?”

  “No, Sir. Nothing.”

  Ian touched her sleeve to draw her attention. “Miss, I don’t know what—” Red oozed from beneath her sodden wig. “You’re bleeding.” He pulled the drenched curls from her head and let them drop to the deck with a splat. “I suggest you lie down. You may use my quarters.”

  “I can’t! I have to check with the rest of the crew to make sure they’re all right and try to figure out why the stunt went to hell and—” Her eyes rolled upward, unfocused. “And I’ve to…to…” She lolled forward.

  “Easy now.” Ian took her arm, then turned to his second in command. “Was she the only survivor from the wreckage?”

  “Aye.”

  Ian nodded. That explained a lot. Some hardened seamen could not take losing an entire crew. No woman could. Most likely she just lost her family or friends.

  “Shall I see to her, Sir?” The lieutenant seemed just a little too eager to help, just a little too interested in her cleavage.