Jennifer Rardin [Jaz Parks series book 2] Another One Bites The Dust

 I plopped down, watching like a starstruck fan as the lovers strode across the sand in front of me. It was the laughter that did it, transforming me from watcher into participant. Suddenly I was part of the couple, reliving a moment I hadn’t dared to remember until now.

 Matt and I had taken our first real vacation together, a trip to Hawaii, to celebrate his twenty-ninth birthday. The night after we landed on the island we’d walked the beach, arm in arm, the boom of the surf echoing the music from a distant luau. Lights from hotels, bars, and all-night parties gave the evening an effervescent sort of glow. We passed other couples, whole families even, but it was as if we moved within our own love-lit world. If a giant marlin had swept out of the ocean and offered us three wishes I wouldn’t have been surprised. It was that kind of evening. Magical.

 We’d walked the length of a pier lit by tiki torches. At the very end, a table dressed in china and crystal awaited us. We ate like royalty under the shelter of a thatch-roofed gazebo. And after dessert we danced to the music of a four-man reggae band called the B-tones.

 “This is amazing,” I breathed as Matt held me close, moving me to the sultry rhythms of a song whose name I never learned.

 He pulled back far enough to look into my eyes. “You’reamazing.” He smiled, his teeth extra white against the natural deep tan of his skin. “But not so observant.”

 “No?”

 He shook his head, pulled his hand out of my clasp, took a ring off his pinky, and held it in front of my face. “I really thought at some point you’d ask me why I was wearing a girl’s engagement ring.”

 “Have you had that on all night?”

 He grinned. “Only since dessert.”

 Then I realized what he’d just said. “Are you—are we—”

 “Say yes, Jaz.”

 I’d screamed, and jumped up and down, and jumped on him, and made him jump up and down with me, which turned out to be pretty funny. At which point he put the ring on my finger. It was a full-carat pear-shaped emerald. “For my green-eyed vixen,” Matt had said before he kissed me breathless.

 I still had that ring. Carried it with me everywhere, in fact. I slipped my hand into the left pocket of my jeans. My seamstress had sewn a silver key ring into these, and indeed, every pair of pants I owned. A similar key ring attached the band of my emerald to the one in my pocket so I never had to go anywhere without it.

 “Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your stay.” I blinked.What . . . happened? Where am I?

 Across a wide, shiny counter stood a smiling young clerk wearing a blue blazer and a name tag that said,THE FOUR SEASONS AND JUNIE TAYLOR WELCOME YOU. In my hand I held a receipt for room 219 and the key card.

 CHAPTERFOUR

 Holy crap, I’ve had another blackout!But as soon as the suspicion hit me I knew otherwise. I hadn’t experienced the usual warning signs, and I’d never before left my mind in a daydream while the rest of me got busy. This was something new. Something scary. Because after the knock-down drag-out with the Tor-al-Degan, I thought I’d kicked those nutty little habits that made me seem, well, nuts. Okay, the card shuffling kept up without much of a break. And sometimes words still ran loops around my brain until I forced them back on the road. But those moments were rarer now. And the blackouts really had stopped, along with the dread that someone I knew would find reason to recommend an asylum and a heavy dose of Zoloft.

 Familiar laughter caught my attention. The couple from the beach. They were here, just entering an elevator. Without conscious thought I’d followed them to their hotel and booked a room. I checked the receipt. At least I’d used my personal credit card. If I’d had to explain this to Pete, well, maybe I could’ve come up with something. But I probably would’ve just resigned.

 I shoved the stuff the clerk had handed me into my back pocket and strode outside. I needed to do something concrete. Something to bring me back to myself. So I phoned my sister.

 “Evie?”

 “Oh, Jaz, I’m so glad you called.”

 “You sound tired.”

 “I am. E.J. has hardly stopped crying all day. This doesn’t seem right, does it?”

 Hell no! But then I’m the least qualified to say.“Did you call the pediatrician?”

 “No. I know he’ll just say it’s that colic.” Her voice started to shake. “I just feel like such a terrible mother that I can’t make her stop crying!”

 Now here was something I could deal with. “Evie, you are an awesome mother. This I can tell you from experience. I’ve seen you in action. Plus, I have had a crappy mother. So I know what I’m saying here. You rock. It’s tough on you guys having a baby who cries all the time. The lack of sleep alone is probably making you a little crazy. I’m still kinda grouchy and I’ve only been gone, what, a couple of days? But listen, you will figure this out, okay?”

 Big pause. “O-kay.”

 “Did I say something wrong?”

 “It’s just . . . usually you tell me what to do. Then I do it, and things get better.”

 “That was before you started playing out of my league,” I said, smiling when I heard her soft laughter. “Just . . . trust yourself, okay? You and Tim know E.J. better than anybody, including the pediatrician. And get some sleep, would you? You’re going to have bags under your eyes that you’ll be able to store your winter clothes in.”

 “Okay. How are things going with you?”

 Well, let’s see. I think my vampire boss should pose for his own calendar and I’m having a crazy- daisy relapse. Otherwise—“I’m doing okay. Call me when you can, okay?”