by Amy DeLuca
“I woke a few times, but I managed to get through the night.”
What Cinda didn’t say was that each time she’d awakened, she’d immediately checked the sofa opposite hers, searching for the reassuring shape of Alex’s large body stretched out nearby.
And it had given her comfort to see him there. Which made no sense at all.
“Have you heard any weather updates today?”
Alex returned and sat on the floor beside her sofa, taking her cup and stirring sugar into it before returning it.
“I have. I monitored the reports throughout the night in case I needed to snatch you up and carry you to the basement.” He gave her a playful smirk. “They’ve downgraded the system to a tropical storm, though it’s a nasty one. It’s strong, but I don’t think we need to fear blowing away. Power’s still out obviously.”
“So… no ferry service today?”
He chuckled at her hopeful tone. “No ferry service. No flying either. Too risky. They’re saying the worst of it will pass by tonight. We should be able to get you home by noon tomorrow. As for today… I’m afraid you’re stuck here with me.”
I’m afraid, too. What were they going to do all day, just the two of them alone in the big old house?
Cinda quashed an uprising of butterfly wings in her belly, faking nonchalance with a shrug. “Well, what can you do?”
Alex rose and looked down at her. “I, for one, intend to take a long, hot shower. That sofa was not exactly a great mattress.”
“Is there hot water?”
“We’ve got a gas-powered hot water heater here. Besides, hot water will last in the tank for several days in an outage.”
Cinda gave her sprained ankle a morose look. “Sounds good. I’m jealous.”
“I’ll be happy to pick you up and bring you along. We could share the shower, conserve that hot water—just in case,” he joked with the same wicked grin that had turned her inside out as a young twenty-something.
“You wish,” she quipped back.
Alex stopped and pinned her with that arresting dark gaze of his. “Indeed, I do.”
Memories of past intimacies flooded Cinda’s brain, making her squirm. She grabbed a decorative pillow from the floor next to the sofa and tossed it at his head.
“Go. And take your flirty Euro sense of humor with you. It needs to be washed out with soap.”
He ducked and laughed, heading for the stairs. “Need anything before I go? An escort to the loo perhaps?”
“I’m fine for now. Just go.”
Alex had reached the top of the staircase before her cheeks finally cooled. He’d always known exactly how to fluster her—he was even better at it now.
While a shared shower was out of the question, Cinda was desperate to bathe. Especially after Alex returned twenty minutes later, looking—and smelling—clean and fresh.
But she couldn’t stand in the shower. Even a bath was impossible. How would she get into the tub herself with her bum ankle? There was no way.
There was also no way she’d allow Alex to lift her naked body and lower her into the water.
Ugh. She hated feeling sweaty and dirty while he looked and smelled so utterly amazing. It wasn’t fair.
As if reading her mind, Alex asked, “Want me to draw a bath for you in the guest bathroom? It looks like Janey left some bubble bath in there.”
Cinda pouted. “I can’t. My ankle.”
“It’s fine to get it wet—oh…” A look of understanding crossed his face.
He pondered it a moment. “What if I were to carry you in there, set you down on the bathmat and leave while you undress? There are plenty of clean towels. You could wrap yourself in one, then I could come in and put you in the water. When you’re done, just wrap it around yourself again and call for me. I’ll lift you out and set you down again so you can dry off and dress.”
“I guess that could work.” Cinda’s hopes began to rise but then sank again. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you seeing me with just a towel on though.”
Or holding me with just a towel on.
Alex laughed. “Cinda—it’s not like we’re strangers. I saw you every day of the summer in just a swimsuit.” His brow went up. “And on a couple of occasions in even less.”
She held up her hand to stop him. “Okay, okay fine. You’re right.”
“Good.” He knelt to scoop her up. “Put your arms around my neck then.”
Cinda obeyed, and Alex swept her up in his arms, carrying her toward the bathroom.
“I’ve gained a little weight since you last saw me,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. “Having a baby will do that to you.”
“Please. You look fantastic. Even better than before.”
Embarrassed, Cinda pushed her heated cheek against Alex’s shoulder. “Liar.”
“I’m completely serious. You looked like a girl back then. Now you’re a gorgeous woman in her prime. I’d go on but as your cheeks are already red as apples, I’ll leave it at that.”
“Thank you.”
Alex stoppered the bathtub and started the water to fill it before leaving to give Cinda privacy. After using the toilet, she sat on the floor, undressed awkwardly, then wrapped a bath sheet around herself.
“Okay, you can come in now.”
Alex must have been waiting just outside the door because he immediately entered.
His lips quirked to the side in a grin he tried, but failed, to hide.
“You look a bit like a stranded mermaid down there.”
She pointed a warning finger in his direction. “Don’t laugh at me. I feel silly enough already.”
“I’ve always wanted to rescue a mermaid.” He bent over and scooped her up. “It is a job for a prince after all.”
“You’ve got the wrong story, Prince Charming. And the wrong girl.”
“We’ll see about that. Let’s get you in the water and find out if you grow fins.”
Alex lifted her easily then lowered her towel-clad body gently into the hot bathwater, soaking his arms to the elbows.
He stood and looked down at her a moment. “You okay? Feel all right? Not dizzy or anything?” Glancing over at the doorway, he furrowed his brow. “Maybe I should sit just outside there with the door open in case you need me.”
Cinda lifted a wet hand and moved it in a dismissive gesture, flicking water droplets onto the floor surrounding the tub.
“No. I’m fine. I’ll be in here a while.”
And there’s no way I can relax and enjoy this with you sitting there listening to every splash and movement.
“Why don’t you go read a book or something? You’ve spent far too much time taking care of me.”
“Not enough time in my view.” Alex walked quickly to the door and turned back to face her. “Call me when you’re ready to get out.” Pulling the door closed, he left.
Not enough time? What had he meant by that? Was he trying to say he wanted to take care of her? Well, she didn’t need anyone to take care of her—not usually anyway. These were extreme circumstances.
And you could do a whole heck of a lot worse than having Alexander Wessex as your nurse and lady’s maid.
Cinda laughed lightly and sank deeper into the steamy bath, enjoying the feel of the warm heat on her skin and muscles, relaxing fully now that Alex had left the room.
When the water had begun to turn tepid and her fingers had pruned, she wrapped the soaked and heavy towel around her body again, tucking in the top edge tightly under one arm and pulling the lower edge down to cover her thighs.
She’d actually have to hold that in place because the water kept floating it up. With her good foot she kicked the lever to release the drain mechanism then called for Alex.
He opened the door so quickly she suspected he may have been waiting outside it after all.
“Have a nice bath?” he asked as he approached the tub.
Cinda didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t. Alex was shirtless.
His feet were bare, and he wore only a pair of black running shorts.
As he’d mentioned earlier, they’d seen each other in bathing suits nearly every day of that long-ago summer. But it had been long ago. She’d been in the company of very few shirtless men since then, and none of them had looked like this.
Even Alex hadn’t looked like this back then.
He’d always had an attractive physique, tall and broad-shouldered with great muscle tone. But he’d been thinner then, lanky as young men often are.
Now, at age thirty, he was a male in his full prime. His arms and chest were filled out with firm muscle, as were his legs.
His stomach was… oh good gracious she was staring. She needed to look away from all that tanned skin and segmented muscle, or she wasn’t going to be able to handle it when he—
Too late.
Alex lifted her and held her dripping wet body against him, and now her warm skin was pressed against his, and that amazing scent she’d detected earlier was right there, and, and…
Mind on the game. Off the hot man. On. The. Game.
Say something. Make conversation.
“Were you… exercising?”
He barked a short laugh. “No. Why do you ask?”
“You… took off your clothes.”
He grinned widely. “This is my mermaid-retrieval uniform.”
When she gave him a dazed look, he explained in a tone of voice one would use with a small child. “I don’t have that many changes of clothes here, and we can’t exactly hang things outside to dry. I knew I was bound to get soaked while fishing you out of the tub.”
Cinda craned her neck to see water running down Alex’s long legs and pooling on the bathroom floor around his feet.
“Oh. Right. Sorry about that.”
“No worries. I just wanted to be prepared.”
He set her on the bathroom rug and gestured toward the shorts. “These will dry off pretty quickly in front of the fire. When you’re dressed, I’ll take you there too, so your hair can dry and you don’t catch a chill.”
He held up a finger. “Which reminds me…”
Alex left the bathroom and came back a moment later with a large man’s bathrobe. “I couldn’t find anything left in Janey’s room, but I did find this hanging in the master closet. It seemed like a better option than the pajamas you had on or your clothes from yesterday. The house is a bit chilly.”
She took it from him gratefully. “Yes. Thank you. It’s perfect.”
Anything to get you and your sexy, shirtless self out of my line of sight as soon as possible.
Once she had the robe on, she wasn’t so sure. It was long and covered everything decently, especially as she had the belt cinched around her waist as securely as possible. But she’d have to be careful with the split in the front.
In any case, she was eager to get in front of that roaring fire Alex had mentioned.
She called him, and he carried her into the living room, depositing her on the rug in front of the fireplace. True to his word, he’d built the fire up until it blazed strongly and threw all the toasty heat she could have hoped for.
Cinda stretched out her toes toward the hearth and gazed into it as she brushed her wet hair, hoping the brushing would help it dry faster.
“You look the way you did when you used to come in from the beach.”
Chill bumps spread over Cinda’s skin—more an effect, she suspected, of Alex’s smooth, cultured voice behind her than the pleasant heat surrounding her.
She glanced back over one shoulder at him. “Waterlogged and frizzy-headed?”
He gave her a slow, appreciative smile. “No. Fresh-faced and natural.” He let a beat pass. “And breathtakingly beautiful.”
“Alex,” she pleaded. “Don’t.”
She couldn’t stand the way his words made her heart thump. His sweet, nostalgic tone and heated gazes were even worse.
“Don’t what? Tell you you’re beautiful? Okay, fine. What shall we talk about then?”
He came and sat on the edge of the wide stone hearth, far too close for comfort. “We’ve got all day. Why don’t you fill me in on the past five years of your life? I’d love to hear it. Every last detail.”
The thumping shifted into a frantic scattering of beats. That would be even worse. Her mind scrambled, searching for an escape.
“Do you have any games here?”
“Games?” Alex’s momentary puzzlement melted into a knowing grin. “How about truth or dare?”
“No,” she yelped. “I mean, I was thinking more along the lines of Scrabble or Monopoly.” Yes, that would be a good one—it took forever to play. “Or maybe cards or dice?”
His playful expression dissipated, replaced by a hard scrutiny. He could tell she was trying to avoid real conversation.
“A game would really take my mind off my ankle.”
Properly guilt-tripped now, Alex rose from his spot on the hearth and began checking the cabinet beneath the large television and the ones on either side.
“I know I didn’t leave any here,” he said. “But maybe Cam or Janey did.”
After a thorough search during which he found no games—not even a single die—he turned to her and gave her the upturned empty hands gesture. “I’m afraid there’s nothing.”
“What about the kitchen cabinets?” she suggested, growing desperate.
Alex dutifully trodded to the kitchen and performed a search of the cabinets there as well.
After a minute, he said, “I found something.”
Cinda turned her head to see him holding up a dark glass bottle.
“For spin the bottle?” he teased.
Instantly, her heart kicked into high gear. Images swarmed her mind, kisses she and Alex had shared in the past. They collided with fresher images of the look in Alex’s eyes last night as he’d moved closer and closer to her on the sofa, the way he’d leaned in with his gaze trained on her lips.
“No thank you,” she said in a prim tone manufactured to cover her breathlessness. “I wish we could at least listen to music. We need to save the radio battery for checking weather updates though.”
Alex strode back into the living room. “I have an idea.”
Going to the clear Lucite bench in front of the fantastic transparent baby grand, he sat, placed his fingers on the keys, and gave her a significant glance.
“The lady wants music… she shall have it.”
And then he started playing. If Cinda hadn’t been on the floor already she might have swooned and ended up there, hearing Alex play.
His fingers moved over the keys like flowing water, or perhaps a magic wand casting a spell. The sounds he drew from the piano were stunningly beautiful, barely resembling the comparatively clunky notes her own hand-me-down instrument produced.
She’d bought it dirt cheap at an estate sale so AJ could learn to play. Her four-year-old had taken to it immediately, surpassing her own meager skills within weeks of beginning lessons.
Tears filled Cinda’s eyes as she continued to listen to Alex’s skillful, emotional playing, and her heart ache increased with each chord progression.
When he finished the song he looked up, meeting her eyes. His were tight, almost as if he was worried about her opinion.
“It was beautiful,” she told him honestly. “Absolutely exquisite. What was the song?”
Alex’s shoulders lifted and fell in a slight shrug. His tone was dismissive. “Just something I wrote.”
Cinda nodded, not surprised. “I didn’t know you played piano. I remember you playing guitar, of course.”
How could she forget? He’d been smiling at her and making flirty remarks for days, asking her out repeatedly. She’d been tempted but followed the rules—fraternizing with the beach club members was strongly discouraged. Cinda had declined his offers, remaining polite and professional.
Until one night after dusk when some of the club’s younger members had gathered around a bonfire in the sand.
Alex had brought out a guitar. She’d been a goner.
Having finished her work for the day she’d sat in the shadows outside the light of the fire, watching and listening as he entertained the group with a selection of James Taylor and Beatles songs, each one more beautiful than the last.
She thought he hadn’t even realized she was there, but when he took a break, Alex walked directly to her, sank into the sand beside her, and gave her a dazzling grin.
“Any requests?” he’d asked.
How am I supposed to keep resisting this guy?
That was the impossible question. Then and now.
“I didn’t play piano back then,” Alex said, bringing her out of her reverie. “I remember you said you did. I decided to learn.”
“Yes, well, I never played like you do, even after years of lessons.”
“Are you giving AJ lessons?”
She laughed. “More like he’s teaching me. He’s amazing. It’s almost as if he was born to play.”
Alex smiled. “Maybe he was. Some people just have an innate gift for music. My mum says I was always drawn to it, from the earliest age. Like her.”
Cinda’s heart froze. This conversation was headed in a dangerous direction. They should not be discussing hereditary musical talent or any other sort of genetic gifts.
She forced a smile. “Play something else?”
He resumed playing, and this time she recognized the tune instantly. It was “The Long and Winding Road” by the Beatles. Her favorite.
Had he remembered that or was it coincidental?
Either way, the ballad about fated lovers who always found their way back to one another (at least the way she’d always interpreted it) turned on the waterworks.
As Alex finished playing, he looked up and saw her tears. “Do you remember me playing this for you?”
She nodded and swiped beneath her eyes. “I remember.”
“Shall I play another?”
“I’m not sure I can take another.” She sniffled as she laughed. “Would you mind getting me a tissue?”
He was on his feet and heading to fulfill her request as soon as it left her lips. “Of course. I’ll be right back. Need anything else?”
