by Amy DeLuca
She let out a sigh. “I guess I’m staying here until the storm is over.” Her tone turned businesslike. “Do you have a radio so we can listen for updates or warnings?”
“I think there might be one in the basement storage area. Let me go check.”
Alex started in the direction of the stairs and then stopped. “If you’d like to change into something dry, there are probably some women’s clothes that would fit you upstairs in the second bedroom on the right.”
Cinda raised a brow in a way that made him feel scolded but also made him want to laugh.
“They’re my sister’s,” Alex explained. “She and my brother use this house sometimes when they’re stateside. Jane might have left something you could change into. She’s about your size.”
He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed Cinda’s expression relaxed a fraction. “I guess that would be more comfortable than staying in these all night.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, “Where will you be while I change?”
Now Alex did laugh—just a little. “Downstairs finding the radio. And then in here, rummaging around for something to eat. You didn’t happen to see any five-star prepared meals in the pantry or refrigerator when you were cleaning, did you?”
Cinda shook her head. “All that’s in the fridge is some mustard, a stick of butter, and a jar of minced garlic. I did spot some canned soup in the pantry along with some other non-perishable stuff.”
“It’ll have to do. I’m famished,” Alex said. “You go ahead and get dried off. I’ll make some dinner for us.”
“I can cook my own food,” she practically growled, the hostility returning in full.
He held two hands up in the classic surrender position. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
As Cinda started back up the stairs, he added, “If there’s someone you need to notify about your change in plans, you might want to do it right away. Once the brunt of the storm hits, we’re likely to lose cell service.”
She nodded and marched solemnly upstairs.
Despite Cinda’s obvious bad mood, Alex couldn’t help the surge of hopefulness in his heart.
He had to fight the urge to whistle as he set to work making a dinner he hoped she’d relent and eat with him—pasta with a surprisingly appealing-looking jarred clam sauce. In the freezer he also found some garlic bread sticks which he planned to heat in the oven.
Overhead, he heard the bedroom door close and then the low, indistinct murmur of Cinda talking to someone on the phone.
Again, something that felt very much like jealousy twisted through his chest.
It doesn’t matter, he told himself. Whoever he is, he’s not here. I am.
Alex had something he never thought he’d have—time alone with Cinda. And he was going to make it count.
Thirteen
Fool Me Once
The reception to the mainland was a bit sketchy, but Cinda was relieved to hear AJ’s voice and to hear him sound so cheerful.
She’d been afraid Kristal might tell her he’d freaked out when she showed up at the school instead of his mother this afternoon.
But Kristal said he’d been all smiles and had proudly showed off the jar of slime he’d made. Now he was bubbling with enthusiasm describing it to Cinda.
“It has three worms in it. One of them is purple, one is orange, and one is red. And Miss Angelina says I can play with them but not eat them. We had worms and dirt for our snack today, but the dirt wasn’t really dirt. It was pudding and Oreo crumbs. Can we make that at home sometime? I asked Kristal if we can make it here, but she says we can’t go out and get the in-credients until the storm is over.”
“Ingredients,” she corrected gently. “And if you don’t get to make it with Kristal, then we’ll make worms and dirt for dessert when I get back.”
She took a deep breath before the next part. “Listen, you’re going to stay at Kristal’s place for tonight, okay? Mommy has to stay on Block Island because they closed down the boats a little too early. But I’m fine, and you’re going to be fine, too. Kristal told me she got some awesome movies for you two to watch.”
“I know,” AJ said. “Her house is so big it has a movie theater in it. We’re going to have popcorn too. She said the house is built like a castle. The wind can’t bother a house like this one.”
Cinda sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for her brilliant best friend, who once again had come in clutch.
“That’s true. The houses on her street are like big old dinosaurs. They don’t even notice the rain and wind.”
“We’re going to watch dinosaurs!” AJ said in a tone that indicated he thought she might have magical mind-reading powers. “Kris-thal got us the Good Dinosaur movie.”
“That sounds awesome. Well, I love you, and I’ll see you very soon. Be a good boy and don’t stay up too late watching dinosaurs, okay?”
“Okay Mommy. I love you too. Want to talk to Kris-thal again?”
“Yes please. Night-night little bear.”
Kristal’s voice came back on the phone. “I wasn’t sure he was ready for Jurassic Park, so I went with the animated one. We have a generator, so even if the power goes out, we’re good to go.”
“It’s perfect. You’re a genius and the best friend anyone has ever had. Thank you so much. I’m upping your free year of house cleaning to a lifetime membership, by the way.”
She laughed. “Not necessary. It’s no big deal. You know I love that kid—and animated movies. Hunter isn’t quite as into watching them with me.”
Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “So… how’s it going with the baby daddy?”
Cinda cringed. “Ugh. Don’t call him that. And nothing is going anywhere. We’re stuck here on the island until the storm ends. That’s all.”
“I don’t know… you’ve seen those romantic comedies. The guy and the girl can’t stand each other, but then they get stranded together, and one thing leads to another…”
“This is real life, not the movies. And you know better than anyone where letting one thing lead to another got me. I’m not making that mistake again—with Alex or anyone.”
“Okay. Okay,” Kristal said. “But it is kind of the perfect time to talk about things. Maybe he was just immature back then and not ready for a commitment. You’ve grown up a lot since then. He probably has too.”
“We will not be talking about things. We’re just going to get through the storm and go back to our lives.”
“Really? You think that’s realistic? You’re going to make small talk all day and night for two days?”
“If necessary. Maybe we won’t talk at all. I dusted a whole bookshelf full of books. I might just hole up here in this room and read until the storm passes. But no matter what happens, we will not be having any heart-to-heart chats,” Cinda insisted.
“Okay then. I guess you know best. It’s not like I have any great insights on second-chance romances.” Kristal’s tone oozed with sarcasm. “Be safe.”
“You too. And thanks again.”
Cinda hung up, feeling better. AJ was safe and happy. She would be home with him soon. And what she’d told Kristal was true. She could handle this. She was sure of it.
Yes, the only man she’d ever loved was downstairs at this very moment, looking even more gorgeous than he’d been when they’d first met.
Yes, he’d fathered a child he knew nothing about. And yes, they were trapped together in a house for a day or two.
But after all the hardships Cinda had endured over the past few years, after all the things she’d accomplished on her own, this was nothing.
If she could run a business, raise a child alone, and fix her own leaking toilet, then surely making small talk with her ex for a couple of days would be a cinch.
If she was ever tempted, all she had to do was remember the way she’d felt in those days after her father died when Alex was nowhere to be found and hadn’t bothered with a phone call or even a letter.
No
thing he could say could possibly excuse that.
And she would keep in mind the old adage that went, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
Alex might have been the kind of man who made smart women stupid, but Cinda didn’t intend to be anyone’s fool ever again.
Fourteen
While You Were Sleeping
I’m a fool for this woman, Alex thought to himself as he and Cinda sat together at the kitchen island, eating in silence.
To his surprise, she had deigned to eat the meal he’d prepared. Judging from the speed at which she was inhaling it, she was enjoying it—or maybe she was just really, really hungry.
She was makeup-free, her rain-drenched hair air drying, dressed in a cotton pajama set she’d said was the only clothing she could find in Janey’s room.
It was the furthest thing from sexy—shapeless, covered in silly cartoon sheep—and the only thing Alex could think was that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life.
He’d always loved everything about the way Cinda looked.
From the moment he’d first seen her on the beach, carrying a tray of empty mixed drink glasses and crumpled juice boxes, he’d been captivated by her long, straight hair, her bright blue eyes, the sound of her voice, even the way she walked and the way she threw her head back when she laughed.
Time had made her even more beautiful, the years sculpting her face with a kind hand, though her skin looked as soft and fresh as it had at twenty-four.
He couldn’t stop himself from sneaking peeks at her between bites.
She, on the other hand, would barely look at him. He had a lot of work to do if he was going to warm her up enough to talk about the main event—their non-breakup.
Alex made a few attempts throughout the meal to get conversation started, asking about her family, her friends, what she liked to do in her free time.
That question at least got a smirk out of her. “Free time? What’s that?”
“So you really work all the time? No social life?”
His tone was disbelieving. A woman like her had to be inundated with requests for dates. She was everything men wanted—beautiful, smart, kind.
When she didn’t answer, Alex asked the question he’d been dying to know the answer to since running into her again. “Isn’t there someone special in your life? Someone you spend time with?”
Cinda put her fork down and finally looked directly at him. “We’re not going to talk about this, Alex.”
“Why not? It’s a simple question. Is there a guy in your life?” He shrugged. “A simple yes or no will do.”
After hesitating a moment, she answered. “Yes. There is someone in my life—someone very special. I spend as much time with him as possible. Happy?”
Alex wasn’t happy. Not at all. But he acted like the information didn’t bother him.
“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He should have stopped there, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to know. “Any plans to get married?”
“No Alex, I don’t plan to get married. Ever. How about you? There’s no Mrs. Wessex, I take it?”
“Only my mother,” he quipped, electing to leave out the fact that he’d be officially engaged in a matter of days.
And whoever this “special” guy was, he was obviously missing whatever mysterious quality it was that would win the heart of the unmovable Miss Brown.
Just as she had with Alex, she’d deemed Mr. New Guy unworthy of a long-term commitment. She wasn’t in love with him. That thought gave him a twinge of perverse satisfaction.
Though she hadn’t finished her food, Cinda slid off her stool and removed her plate from the counter.
Alex was afraid that would be it, that she’d retreat to her room upstairs and this lame, superficial conversation would be the last one they’d ever have.
He’d have to go back to his life, marry someone he didn’t love or even know really while still wondering about what had happened to the only girl he had ever loved.
He had to do something.
He spoke to her back as she rinsed her dish and placed it into the dishwasher.
“You know, while I was downstairs getting the radio, I noticed several bottles of wine. Why don’t I go down and grab one? We could open it and see if maybe there’s a good movie on… or watch some Seinfeld reruns to pass the time.”
Cinda had introduced him to the old television show the summer they’d met, and it had quickly become his all-time favorite. He now owned the DVD’s of every season and knew the episodes by heart.
“I don’t drink,” she said flatly, seeming to have no memory of their shared obsession for the show.
Turning around, she came to the opposite side of the island counter and faced him with piercing, accusatory eyes.
“Listen, I realize you’re bored. You’re used to the glamorous life and having women fall at your feet everywhere you go.”
She lifted a hand and gestured around them. “And a windswept house with an ocean view might be the perfect setting for romance—if you were stranded here with someone else. But just so we’re clear, there is not going to be a replay of what happened between us five years ago. My company’s services are not that comprehensive.”
With that she strutted toward the living room, grabbed a book off the shelf, and marched up the stairs.
“Thanks for dinner,” she called down before Alex heard the slamming of her door.
Well, that went splendidly.
Maybe he’d open one of those bottles for himself. He wasn’t a frequent drinker either, but drowning his sorrows sounded rather appealing at the moment.
He got up and rinsed off his own plate. This woman was one tough nut to crack. But the storm was far from over, and it was bound to be a long night. They had time.
Unfortunately, she was up there, and he was down here, a situation Alex had no idea how to remedy.
Flipping on the radio, he turned up the volume, finding there was still reception. The news channel it was tuned to informed listeners the eye of the storm was now one hundred miles south of them off the coast of Long Island.
He went to a window and scanned the yard. It looked apocalyptic. The skies boiled with angry clouds, and the trees were bent practically in half from the strain of the high winds.
It was amazing they hadn’t lost power yet, especially as the house was positioned high on the bluffs where the wind tended to be strongest. Alex went to the thermostat, planning to turn it up a few notches as a preventive measure.
The warmer it was in here, the longer it would take the rooms—especially the upstairs rooms—to get cold in the event of an outage.
But he stopped himself, one hand hovering over the device.
If the power went out and the upstairs got cold, Cinda wouldn’t be likely to stay up there. She’d be forced to come down here and warm herself by the fire.
Which he was about to build.
Smiling, Alex went into the living room and retrieved the box of matches he’d set out on a side table along with a collection of candles. He lit the kindling under a stack of dried wood in the fireplace.
It smoked and sparked to life, the bright orange flames illuminating the hearth as they ate up the wood shavings.
As the logs themselves caught fire, a pleasant smoky, cedar-y fragrance filled the room. Soon it would filter upstairs to the room where Cinda hid. Maybe that alone would lure her down here.
Nah—she was so stubborn it would take the discomfort of the cold to drive her down those stairs.
Maybe he should turn the thermostat down a few notches?
Alex resisted the temptation and turned on the TV instead, surfing until he found a movie that looked interesting. Then he put his feet up on the ottoman and settled back into one of the plush sofas to wait her out.
Sometime later he woke with a start. The room was dark. He must have dozed off while watching the movie.
The television was dark as
well. There was no sound apart from the faint crackling of the fire and the wind outside.
Glancing over toward the kitchen, Alex searched for the electronic time readout on the stove but couldn’t locate it. That confirmed it—the power had gone out.
He got up and added another log to the fire, poking until it flared to new life.
Thankfully there was a stack of wood in a large bin on the porch. They’d need it as the temperature continued to drop. It was already growing cool on the first floor in the areas outside the living room.
Walking to the foot of the stairs, he looked up, listening for any stirring from Cinda’s room.
Nothing. Either she’d slept through the outage or she was still unwilling to come downstairs.
Alex went up to his room, took a pillow and the comforter from his bed and went back down to the sofa, stretching out to continue his vigil. Again, he must have dozed because he woke at the sound of a stair creaking.
Keeping his eyes slitted, he watched Cinda tiptoe into the living room, carrying her own pillow and blanket.
He wasn’t sure what time it was—it was still pitch dark out—but he suddenly felt more awake than he ever had in his life.
His heart pounded, its sound filling his eardrums. He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he speak to her, let her know he was awake?
That might send her running back up the stairs. No, he’d be quiet for now, feign sleep, and let her get settled on the other sofa.
Instead of going to her makeshift bed, Cinda came right to the side of the sofa where Alex was “sleeping” and stood there looking down at him.
Now his pulse went wild, his heart hammering so hard he was afraid she’d actually hear it from where she stood.
Her knees were at his eye level, and the sweet scent of her perfume or body lotion or whatever it was that made her smell so amazing drifted to his nostrils. He inhaled and let it fill him but kept his eyelids firmly shut, nearly dying from curiosity.
What was she doing?
Cinda moved, lowering slowly to her knees beside him. She studied his face, probably searching for signs of wakefulness.
