A Man 0f His Word (Round-The-Clock Brides Book 4)

by Sandra Steffen

  He’d tried to tell himself he’d been too long without a woman, but the truth was he could have taken a fellow guest at the inn up on her offer just last night. He hadn’t, though. There was only one woman he wanted.

  He fought his natural instinct to ease April backward until the wall was at her back, to touch her bare skin. Instead, he held his position in the middle of her kitchen, his feet straddling hers.

  This kiss was enough. It was everything.

  She flicked her tongue over his lower lip, and it set off an explosion and brought a groan from a place deep inside him. Her mouth was wet, her curves woman-soft, her scent intoxicating.

  “I wish I didn’t have to breathe,” she whispered, but she took a ragged breath, her head tipping back.

  “I know,” he rasped against her throat.

  She made a sound, half hum, half groan, and he felt the vibration beneath his lips. She laughed; apparently he’d discovered a ticklish spot. He found her mouth again, and for just a moment he felt her smile against his lips, but it dissolved as the kiss deepened. Her hands came to rest on his upper arms, her body resting more fully against him. His blood thickened and his need deepened.

  It was a kiss of discovery, a kiss of two lonely people finding solace in something beautiful and honest and irresistible. It slowed gradually, lips yielding, seeking, only to yield once again. After they broke the kiss, he raised his head and she lowered hers. He eased backward and she rocked back down from her toes.

  He watched as she smoothed her dress and hair. In a voice far raspier than it had been five minutes ago, he said, “You surprised me with the first kiss. I take full responsibility for the second one. I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry.”

  April stopped straightening her dress and looked at him.

  She was the one who’d asked for that kiss. Why was he apologizing for it?

  “I didn’t come here for this,” he said. “Not to Orchard Hill. Certainly not to 404 Baldwin Street.”

  She had a dozen questions, but she focused on the most important one. “Why did you come here?” she asked.

  He stood mute to the count of five then said, “I came to put something right with Jay.”

  Her heart was still fluttering wildly, and she didn’t know what to do with her hands as she waited for Cole to explain. She settled for clasping them in front of her.

  Getting information out of him was like pulling weeds. Some came out readily but most broke off just below the surface. He wasn’t like other men she knew. Goodness, half the people in her life shared far more information than she wanted or needed.

  Cole was different. He was guarded. But he wasn’t immune to her.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “The fact that you wanted me to kiss you was the finest compliment I’ve had in years. I know how important Jay was to you. If you’re ready to start looking for a new future, fourteen months isn’t too soon, not at all. Good for you. I mean that. You’re too fine a woman, and too damn pretty to be alone forever.”

  April opened her mouth to speak, but Cole gave her no opportunity to interrupt.

  “I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he said. “But I won’t step into Jay’s shoes, or take his place even temporarily. I’ll understand if you’d rather find someone else to renovate your upstairs.”

  April fought down a sudden rising panic. Without letting it show, she said, “I would have thought, as Jay’s best friend, you were a man of your word.”

  He did a double take. Just as quickly, his shoulders went back, his chin rose and his jaw set stubbornly. “I am, and I think you know it.”

  He wasn’t an easy man to intimidate. He wasn’t an easy man, period, but at least neither of them was backing out of the renovation project. She didn’t understand on an intellectual level, but instinctively she knew that building something lasting was important, perhaps imperative to both their futures.

  She saw him to the door. “Our agreement stands,” she said. “You should know I’ve decided I want two bedrooms upstairs instead of one, with a connecting bathroom between them. While the guys were suggesting improvements to make the master suite more luxuriant, we girls were discussing whether it’s wise for me to sleep upstairs and the girls downstairs when they’re teenagers. I’ll need to think about curfews then and a host of other teenage issues, and I think it would be best if I sleep downstairs and they’re upstairs. We can talk more in the morning.”

  He stared at her long enough to make the average person squirm. She held her ground and his gaze unfailingly.

  “All right, April. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  Somehow she didn’t believe he was referring to her new floor plan. She closed the door but left the outside light on until she saw him pull away from the curb out front. Covering her eyes with the palms of her hands, she took a deep breath. It did nothing to calm her galloping heart.

  She made sure the doors were locked then eyed the littered counters and the sink filled with dishes. Leaving them for now, she wandered through her quiet house. She checked on the girls and saw that each was covered with a sheet. Cole must have done that when he told them good-night.

  Before she’d kissed him.

  She’d kissed him. She hardly recognized the woman who did that.

  She reminded herself that it was just a kiss. Technically it had been more than one kiss, but she wasn’t going to argue with herself over minor details.

  There were far more important matters to deal with. She’d been imagining Cole’s kiss since the moment he’d arrived tonight but she’d never intended to actually instigate it. Their second kiss had been even more beautiful, and yet when it ended, something went unfinished.

  Cole hadn’t come here to step into Jay’s shoes. Was that what he truly believed would happen if they had an affair? Her hands flew to her cheeks at the thought.

  No one said anything about an affair.

  But Cole was here. And there was a reason for that.

  And she wished she could relive that second kiss. She remembered when he’d told her he didn’t dream anymore, and yet he’d thought he’d been dreaming yesterday when she’d gone to his room at the inn to leave him a note. She hadn’t dreamed in a very long time, either. She almost wished she would just so she could dream about that kiss.

  She’d always had a quirky side but she’d never been the aggressive type. The guys she’d dated before she met Jay had pursued her. With Jay, the attraction had been mutual and immediate. When she buried him, she thought she would never kiss another man as long as she lived.

  She only had to close her eyes to see her young husband’s handsome face, his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners, a smile on his lips, so much joy just waiting to be let out. Her chest felt hollow as she turned on the lamp on the table beside her bed.

  From there she padded to her bedroom door and touched Jay’s robe. Bringing the soft fabric to her face, she sighed, for his scent was all but gone now. She tried to recreate it in her mind. He was the first dandelion in new grass, that courageous faint ray of sunshine that melted the last tuft of snow. She could describe it perfectly, and yet try as she might, she couldn’t conjure up his actual scent. The knowledge brought a lump to her throat and a physical pang to her heart.

  She slipped his robe on over her dress. Pushing the sleeves up, she drew the lapels together and padded out of her bedroom. Tracing her lips with the tips of three fingers, she looked in on the girls again and quietly drew their door closed.

  If Jay hadn’t died, she never would have kissed another man. She truly believed she never would have wanted to. Hugging his bathrobe to her, she ached with love and useless longing.

  If only she could will him back, but she could no more bring him back than she could recreate his scent. Her heart thudded, and a tear trailed down her cheek.

  She wandered aimlessly through her house, and fi
nally ended up at the top of the stairs. Turning on the light, she tried to imagine this space the way it would look after Cole finished, but she couldn’t see past the bare rafters and dusty plywood floors.

  She turned the lights off and retraced her footsteps to her bedroom where she slipped Jay’s robe off and lovingly hung it on the hook where it had been since he’d left, never to return. She drew in a shuddering breath, and caught a whiff of a brisk clean scent she associated with winter.

  She would always miss Jay, would always love him, but it was Cole’s scent that was on her clothes, Cole’s kiss that was on her lips, the memory of it that was in her bloodstream and on her mind.

  She knew what it meant when a man set his jaw the way Cole had tonight. He had no intention of repeating what had happened between them no matter how much he’d enjoyed it, needed it or wanted it.

  She’d enjoyed it, too, far more in fact than she ever would have believed possible. She’d felt a stirring of desire she’d thought would never resurface; she’d seen a light behind her closed eyes she’d thought had been extinguished forever.

  April didn’t know what she was going to do about it, for he’d made his intentions clear. He wouldn’t be kissing her again. He’d been pretty adamant about that.

  She sighed, for if she were given the chance, she was pretty sure she would try to change his mind about that. Already, she wanted another kiss. Somewhere deep inside her a tiny seed had been planted.

  She could already feel it taking root. From it grew a yearning for something deeper than mere kisses.

  Chapter Six

  It was one of those mild summer afternoons that couldn’t help but put a smile on April’s face. The air in downtown Orchard Hill was balmy, the breeze was gentle and the freshly mown grass on the town square was fragrant and lush.

  She strolled hand-in-hand with Gracie and Violet listening to their happy chatter. Feeling as carefree as the cotton candy clouds in the sky, she didn’t find it startling that she could see her daughters’ eyes through their princess sunglasses, for nothing felt odd today, not the balmy weather, not the exotic flowers in hues she’d never seen blooming amid the usual daisies, petunias and trailing sweet potato vines growing in planters beside every door.

  It didn’t feel strange to see clouds edged in lavender, pink and yellow or that cars glided soundlessly down the street as if on currents of air. Even the melodic voices of a children’s choir on a distant hill seemed fitting somehow, as did her fleeting glimpse of her father rehearsing for his next sermon on glistening marble stairs. She drank in the sight of him, for she hadn’t seen him in ten years.

  People she didn’t recognize were gathered around him, and others formed a circle around the bronze sculpture of Johnny Appleseed someone had mysteriously donated to Orchard Hill some seventy years ago. Near the fountain two women with white hair and silver dresses were reading aloud in lilting voices.

  From somewhere far away came a jarring pounding that threatened to draw her from this peaceful moment. She ignored the racket and continued to stroll along the winding sidewalk where she was surrounded by her happy daughters and melodious music and tranquil light.

  She didn’t question why Cole was with them or why he was wearing his army fatigues, of all things. He smiled at her, and her heart felt as light and full as the helium-filled clouds overhead.

  The knocking sounded again, louder and even more jarring. It drew attention to the subtle oddities all around her. Why were the clouds colored in soft hues and why was her father here and who were those people at the fountain and where was all the normal daily noise?

  All at once the clouds darkened and the exotic flowers shriveled up all around her. Car engines roared like thunder, lights flashed and her father disappeared, as did the children’s choir. Cole broke away and darted into the street and called a name she couldn’t hear for the screeching of brakes and shattering of glass.

  “Noooo!”

  There came an ominous thud, and always, far away, pounding, pounding, pounding.

  April bolted upright in bed.

  Her heart raced so fast it seemed to rise up, strangling the scream in her throat. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. It wasn’t afternoon and she wasn’t on the town square and there were no vibrantly colored flowers or cotton candy clouds. It was morning and she was in her bedroom. Jay’s robe was on the hook behind the door and a novel was open on her nightstand and her sheets were tangled around her legs.

  She’d been dreaming.

  Her heart still racing, she realized it was the first time she’d dreamed since Jay died. She rubbed her eyes, pushed her hair out of her face and tried to extricate her legs from the sheet.

  All these months, she’d thought that if she ever dreamed again it would contain some sweet memory of Jay. Or perhaps her dreams would be silly, like the time she dreamed she was a parakeet, and that time she dreamed her goldfish could talk. Sometimes her dreams were otherworldly like that time she dreamed she could fly. Before her father died she’d dreamed of a huge funeral and once, before she even knew she was pregnant, she’d dreamed she would have twins. She’d had other dreams that seemed to foretell the future, but those two stood out.

  She froze at the ominous implication. The screeching brakes, the honking horns, the shattering glass, the horrendous discordant crunch of a car buckling on impact. And Cole, suddenly gone.

  It had been a dream, nothing more.

  She said it to herself. And then she said it out loud. “It was just a dream, only a dream.” It might have meant something but it hadn’t been prophetic. And that was final.

  The pounding came again. That sound was real. Someone was knocking on her back door.

  She squinted at the clock on her bedside table. Lunging closer, she looked again.

  It couldn’t be. But the clock didn’t lie. It was after eight. Cole was due to arrive any minute. It was probably him knocking on her door. At last she had something resembling a rational thought.

  She freed her feet from the final snag in the sheet and stumbled out of bed. Starting one way and then the other, she got hold of herself and darted out to the kitchen where she could see the silhouette of a man behind the blinds on the door.

  “Just one minute,” she called loudly.

  Dashing back down the hall, she looked in on the girls, who were normally up with the sun. This morning they were still fast asleep. Evidently yesterday’s party had worn them out. She raced to her room where she stripped off her short nightgown and dressed faster than she had in years. In the bathroom, she splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair.

  She was still flustered when she peeked behind the blinds, but at least she was presentable enough to open the door for Cole.

  He took one look at her, and whatever else he’d been about to say was replaced with, “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  “What happened?”

  She still couldn’t speak.

  “Is it the girls?”

  “No,” she finally managed to say. “They’re still asleep.”

  As she backed up a step, and then another, she saw the quick once-over he gave her before cautiously coming inside. She’d dressed without looking in the mirror, and glanced down to make sure everything was zipped and buttoned and covered. The shorts had been the first pair she came to in her drawer. They were white and a little shorter than those she normally wore but not risqué. Her fitted jade top was buttoned correctly, and although she hadn’t taken the time to slip into shoes, everything else was in its rightful place.

  Except her heart. That was still lodged in her throat.

  Cole carried his laptop beneath one arm. Looking around her kitchen, which was immaculate this morning, he said, “Did you get any sleep at all?”

  “A little.”

  “How little?” he
asked.

  “I slept long enough to dream,” she said. Reminding herself to breathe, she said, “It’s the first time I dreamed since Jay died.”

  She read surprise on his face at her admission, and remembered when he’d told her he hadn’t dreamed since Jay died, either. “Was it a nightmare?” he asked.

  “It didn’t start out that way, but it turned into one.”

  Why couldn’t she have relived Cole’s kiss in her dreams? Who was that woman who had been so certain of herself just hours ago? How could she have kissed Cole last night? How could she have opened herself up to such intense feelings? The possibility of such painful loss?

  She backed away; she might have wound up in the living room if the counter hadn’t stopped her backward retreat. “You’re right,” she said, her eyes darting to his. “Last night was a mistake.”

  “It’s okay, April.”

  “It’s not okay. I thought last night was a new beginning. I was wrong. It’s not your—I shouldn’t have—”

  She knew she was rambling but she couldn’t help it. Maybe she was freaking out, but she was scared.

  Logically, she knew she was overreacting. For heaven’s sake, she’d once dreamed she was a parakeet. That hadn’t exactly come true, now, had it? That didn’t change her reaction to her dream last night. She felt the aftereffects even now. She hadn’t recovered from losing Jay. She couldn’t bear to experience that kind of loss again.

  Without saying another word, Cole turned on his heel and walked out the door he’d just entered. Standing there in her still kitchen, April could only stare, her heart thudding, her thoughts forming slowly.

  Evidently he had deemed her crazy and was running for the hills. She couldn’t even blame him.

  Watching as he closed the door behind him, she expected him to continue walking away. She felt a little sad about that, but he turned on the top step and knocked three times in quick succession.