The Cliff House

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Oh, she really hoped Gabe didn’t think she had come looking for him.

  In the moonlight, she could see him watching their approach with a smile. “Hello. Beautiful night for a walk, isn’t it?”

  “That moon is stunning,” she answered. The moon was passing right over the bridge that crossed the Sanctuary River where it fed into the sea north of town.

  “I couldn’t resist trying to shoot the reflection on the water. What brings you out?”

  “I needed some air. It’s been a long day.”

  “Pull up a bench and tell me about it,” he said, gesturing next to him to one of the many observation spots thoughtfully placed along this beautiful stretch of coastline.

  She wanted to talk to him. The memory of that kiss had been haunting her for days. She hadn’t slept well since that night and would awaken feeling the emptiness of her bed for the first time in her life.

  The air smelled of sage and sea as she sat on a boulder next to him and pulled the dog into her lap. For several minutes she was content to watch him working, framing the moon and the bridge and shooting the long exposure with a remote.

  “My aunt is having a baby,” she finally said.

  He looked over, distracted from the shot. “That’s terrific. Congratulations. You’re happy for her, aren’t you?”

  Happy? She wasn’t sure she was quite there yet. “Stella is an amazing woman who has sacrificed so much for others. If she wants this child, I want it for her.”

  Was she being a pessimist for the vague unease that had been bothering her since she found out about Stella’s pregnancy?

  “You seem conflicted.”

  She sent him a swift look. How could he be so perceptive? “Not conflicted, exactly. Only worried. She’s forty years old. A great deal could go wrong.”

  “True enough. But think of all the things that could go right.”

  She wanted to be the sort of person who could focus on all the possibilities in a given situation instead of the potential pitfalls.

  “You’re right. You’re exactly right. That’s where I need to put my attention. Stella wants a baby and I want her to be happy.”

  They were quiet for a few moments, the only sound the click of his shutter, the wind in the treetops and the waves pounding the shore far below them.

  “You and your husband didn’t have children. Was that because of his illness?”

  His unexpected question came out of nowhere, nearly knocking her off the boulder. “That is an unbelievably personal question.”

  And intrusive, she wanted to tell him, but she was too busy trying to add salve to the wound his words opened up in her heart.

  “I know. Do you have an unbelievably personal answer you care to share? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  She didn’t. Her first instinct was to snap at him that her marriage was none of his business. Her second was to cry.

  She drew in a breath and finally decided on a carefully worded answer.

  “Children were...never in the cards for us. I knew that going into the marriage.”

  “I’m sorry. It was a rude question. That’s what comes from being raised in the jungle.”

  From what she understood of his upbringing, Gabe had largely raised himself. His father had abdicated all responsibility for his child, much the same way Jewel had done for her and Bea.

  He said nothing more and they sat in silence for long moments while the night seemed to settle around them. Suddenly, contrarily, she wanted to tell him the truth. All of it, things not even Stella or Bea knew. He already knew about Marguerite. He might as well know the rest of her secrets.

  “My marriage was never a...conventional one. More of convenience, I guess you could say. James and I were friends. Dear friends.”

  “There are worse reasons to marry someone.”

  “Yes.” She looked out to the vast darkness of the sea. “I told you James was ill when I married him. Dying. His wife had died three years before we married and he was terribly lonely. Ill and lonely. I couldn’t bear the idea of him living here by himself in his last months.”

  “So you married him.”

  She sighed. “I didn’t want to. I offered to stay without marrying him but James insisted that was the only way.”

  He had been so traditional in some ways. “Frances was the love of his life. He told me once he felt as if his heart had been cremated and scattered in the ocean along with her and he had been a shell ever since.”

  She had wondered what it would be like to have that kind of passion for someone, to give your heart so fully. It had seemed a completely foreign concept to someone as careful and guarded as her.

  “James and I were friends and it was a mutually beneficial partnership. He needed my help and I...I guess I needed to be needed.”

  He shifted from his camera to study her and she was grateful for the darkness so he couldn’t see her blush at all those words probably revealed about her.

  “He didn’t have a good relationship with his family,” she went on quickly. “He had a brother and sister-in-law he loathed, Realtors in Eureka. They were his last living heirs and were desperate to get their hands on Pear Tree Cottage. James wanted to prevent them from buying the house and tearing it down for development. He felt like the best way to prevent that was to leave it to someone he trusted.”

  “You.”

  “Yes. I didn’t want it. I told him he should leave it to his favorite charity but he said houses were meant to be lived in. He was afraid if he left it to any organization, they would only turn around and sell it to developers. The house has a rich history of artists and writers. He wanted someone he cared about to live in it and preserve the legacy of the house and of his career.”

  “You agreed.”

  She remembered the arguments she and James had about it. Gradually, he had worn down her resistance and she had agreed to be the executor of his literary trust as well as his house. All the proceeds from that trust went to those charities he had supported, mostly environmental and social equity groups.

  The house was hers, though. She hated that there were probably some people—his family among them—who thought she was a gold digger who had only married a lonely, dying man for his house and the cachet of being married to a respected author.

  They were so wrong. Their relationship had been so much more than that.

  “He was only supposed to live another six months after we got married, but we were fortunate enough to have two great years together. He finished a book and a collection of short stories in that time and considered them his finest work. If I hadn’t been here, I’m not sure he would have made it even another month. He was...a very dear friend.”

  “You still miss him.”

  “Every day.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said softly. His words were genuine and made tears burn behind her eyes.

  Families came in different shapes and sizes. Hers hadn’t been a conventional marriage but she had come out of it a much better person. She would never regret those years she had cared for James.

  After a few moments more, he began disassembling his camera setup and returning the lens and camera body to his bag.

  “Did you get some nice shots?”

  “Hard to tell. I won’t really know until I get home and look at them on my computer, where I can do some initial editing.”

  “I hope so.” She set Louie down on the ground and rose from her bench. “Thank you for letting me watch you in action. It’s very interesting to see how you frame the image.”

  “You’re welcome. I enjoyed the company.”

  “So did I,” she said softly. It was the truth. She liked Gabe Ellison, entirely too much.

  “Have a good evening,” she said, then turned to walk toward her house. To her surprise, he turned and walked along beside
her, in the opposite direction of Casa Del Mar.

  She paused and gave him a look. “You know Cruz’s house is that way, right?”

  “I do know, thanks. I’m actually quite good at navigating. I guess that comes from living most of your life out of a duffel bag. I’ll walk you home. I want to be sure you make it safely.”

  She gripped Louie’s leash, shocked and a little flustered. Most people assumed she could take care of herself. She could take care of herself. She had that pepper spray, after all, which she had found the very night he showed up in her studio.

  “It’s not necessary, but I would enjoy the company.”

  If he sensed how difficult that admission was for her to make, he didn’t say anything, only walked along beside her as they continued down the road, back to the house that had become her refuge.

  19

  GABE

  What was it about this woman who fascinated him so much?

  Gabe walked along beside Daisy while the moonlight lit up the path, and the night became alive with the sounds of all the creatures who only ventured out after dark.

  She reminded him of those creatures a little. He sensed she was conflicted by her need to stay hidden, safe in her little burrow, even as some part of her yearned to be out exploring the world or soaring through the night.

  He was fiercely attracted to her. He still didn’t quite understand why. She was complex, layered, with a depth he found undeniably intriguing.

  Beyond that, he felt calm when he was with her. It was an odd thing to crave but he felt at peace in her company. He was gradually coming to realize it was something he’d been seeking for a long time.

  “I suppose we should be making some plans for the promotional video or shooting.”

  She sighed. “You can’t let my aunt and my sister guilt you into doing this. It was kind of you to agree but I know it’s not your usual thing.”

  “I want to do it. I’m bored here and need something to occupy my time.”

  “Why did you come here? To Casa Del Mar, I mean. I can’t imagine it’s the most relaxing place to recover from your injuries. Don’t get me wrong, I love Cruz, but he’s not the easiest person to hang out with. I swear, his mind goes a million miles a minute.”

  He actually liked Cruz more than he’d expected. The guy bordered on a narcissist, but Gabe had met many people in the public arena who were the same.

  “I don’t know that he gave me much choice, to be honest. My doctor said I couldn’t be alone right after the surgery and needed to be surrounded by people. He also didn’t want me checking into a hotel, so Cruz insisted on bringing me here.”

  “Don’t you have a home somewhere, with friends or neighbors who could have kept an eye on you?”

  “I’ve spent most of my adult life on the go, traveling around to other countries while I’m filming. I have an apartment in Manhattan Beach, close to LAX, that I pay the lease on for a home base, but I’m hardly ever there. I actually have to keep the address in a memo on my phone because I keep forgetting it. I don’t really know any of my neighbors.”

  Did that make him sound pathetic? Probably. He wasn’t. He had good friends all over the world. Give him a country and he could name a close connection there. Unfortunately, his doctor hadn’t wanted him to fly overseas because of potential complications.

  He could have stayed with someone else in the States—several friends had offered—but with Cruz insisting he come here to Casa Del Mar, Gabe hadn’t had the energy to argue at the time.

  “Do you enjoy all that traveling?”

  He shrugged. “A nomadic life is the only kind I’ve ever known. I’ve never stayed in one place even for a full year.”

  It was another example of how very different they were. Daisy was all about home and family and making a place in her community. None of that had ever meant much to Gabe. His dad taught him the world was his neighborhood and he had taken the lesson to heart.

  “Do you ever wish your life had been a little more...traditional? That you had been given the chance as a child to put down roots somewhere?”

  “Not really. If my life experiences had been different, I wouldn’t have turned into the person I am. And I kind of like that person. I’m a pretty decent sort, believe it or not.”

  “I wish I shared your attitude.”

  He couldn’t see her features well in the moonlight but thought he heard envy in her voice.

  “You don’t think I’m a decent sort?”

  She laughed a little. “I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t.”

  He wasn’t sure, actually. He didn’t know what she thought of him and was a little afraid to ask.

  “I guess I was thinking of myself. I hated being on the go all the time, maybe because we were always only a step or two ahead of CPS or the bank repo people or angry landlords looking for back rent. I hated it. I wanted to, just once, finish a school year in the same place where I started.”

  She had told him her childhood was chaotic but he hadn’t realized the extent of it.

  “I suppose it’s no wonder you paint furniture, then. What is more permanent than a massive dining table?”

  “Right? Especially when it’s decorated with bunnies and chipmunks.”

  He had to smile at her self-deprecating tone. Yeah, he was completely intrigued with Daisy McClure. The things she had confided in him that evening only seemed to intensify his fascination.

  Before he realized it, they reached her charming little house, with its wild garden, unique angles, spectacular views.

  He didn’t want the evening to end. He wanted to stand here with the sweet sea breeze and talk to her for hours.

  “What happened to your mom?”

  She looked surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered how you came to be living here with Stella.”

  “She died when I was ten and Bea was eight.”

  He listened for pain in her voice but heard only a matter-of-fact tone that he sensed hid oceans of emotion.

  “Oh, Daisy. That must have been tough. I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “She overdosed. It was only a matter of time. She lived a crazy life and felt as if she could only truly be creative when she was high. Unfortunately, she was beautiful and fun and found a steady stream of men willing to provide that high. And if she got tired of one, she would move on and find another one.”

  Dragging her daughters along with her. Daisy must have hated that.

  “Stella and Jewel had lost touch by then and Stella didn’t know she’d died. We were kids and didn’t know how to reach her to tell her, so we ended up in foster care for a while, until one day just before she was about to graduate, Stella bumped into Bea’s father by chance, who told her about Jewel. She dropped everything and came to find us.”

  She clearly loved her aunt. He could hear it in her voice. “How long were you in foster care?”

  “A year.” Her voice was clipped. “A year too long. We were separated, in different placements. Bea was with a pretty decent family. I was put in a group home.”

  He knew instinctively it was not a good situation, simply by the sudden remoteness of her voice.

  Sympathy for two lost little girls was heavy in his heart.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That must have been tough, all the way around.”

  She sighed. “Now I know why your documentaries are so insightful and gripping. You get people to tell you things they never had any intention of talking about with anyone.”

  He had always been a good listener, a skill he probably picked up during his own chaotic childhood.

  “Everybody needs a superpower.”

  Her rough laugh seemed to slide beneath his skin, seductive and tantalizing.

  She was most definitely like those nocturnal creatures, hidden from view. He lik
ed the idea that he was the only one to see through her camouflage, that no one else could truly see her.

  He liked her, entirely too much.

  “I very much want to kiss you right now,” he said. The words came out of nowhere, as if they were something he hadn’t realized he had been holding tight inside him.

  She stared at him, eyes wide in the darkness. “Do you?”

  He took a step closer, and to his vast relief, she didn’t back away. “Yes. Would you mind?”

  He expected her to say no but, as usual, she surprised him.

  “I don’t think I would.”

  He had time for only a fierce moment of triumph before he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

  Her mouth was warm and soft and tasted as he remembered, sweet and delicious.

  She wrapped her arms around him, holding on as if he was the only secure thing in her world. It made him tighten his arms in return, wanting to watch over her and make sure she never had another moment of worry or strain.

  He had never felt like this for a woman, this sense that he wanted to stay here with her, in this moment forever. That alone should have sent up alarm bells. Gabe wasn’t the staying kind of man. He couldn’t be. He had worlds to explore, stories to tell.

  None of that mattered right now, when he had this fascinating woman in his arms, who could be prim and proper but kissed him like she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

  “You are a contradiction, Marguerite.”

  It was exactly the wrong thing to say. He knew it as soon as the words were out. She stiffened in his arms, sliding her mouth from his. Her eyes were dazed, aroused, for only a moment. Then he watched all her defenses click back into place like some high-tech suit of armor.

  She slipped away, gripping Louie’s leash, ready to escape. “I’m not Marguerite. I told you, she’s an illusion. I’m Daisy. CPA and businesswoman.”

  “Perhaps you’re both.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can turn me into something I’m not, Gabe. I’m practical, organized, boring to a fault. That’s all.”