He’d plant the rest of those bulbs for her, but he would do something more, something better. Something that would lift her heart.
He heard Luisa in the kitchen behind him, and a crafty smile spread.
He went inside to enlist an ally.
WHEN BELLA OPENED the door, her curls were sleep tumbled, so familiar and beloved that it was all James could do not to grab her there and then. Bury his face in those curls, wrap his body around hers, sweet-talk her back into bed.
Down, boy. “I woke you. I’m sorry.”
She glanced at the basket in his hand, then back at him. “No sorrys, remember?” Her voice was husky, and it brought back too many memories of waking her with kisses, slipping inside her before she was fully conscious. Or having her do the same, sliding down onto him with a wicked grin.
He closed his eyes to shield his thoughts from her. She was a long way from ready.
“James?”
“Yeah?”
“You all right?”
No. He was busy beating back his body’s reaction to her. “Sure.” Lifted the basket. “Now that I’ve messed up your nap, not that I’m using that S word, of course—” he was relieved to see her smile back “—how about a picnic?”
“Picnic,” she echoed, as if he’d spoken a foreign language.
“Yeah, you know, sandwiches, potato chips—” he held up his other hand “—blanket?” Grapes I eat from your fingers after I’ve stripped you naked and made you scream.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s a little more than just sandwiches. Luisa didn’t approve of all my choices. But I made what you like—peanut butter and sweet pickles.”
“You…made.” Then her nose wrinkled. “Peanut butter and…sweet pickles?”
“Oh.” The wind went out of his sails. “I didn’t think about your tastes changing.” He let his arm drop. “I could fix something else.”
But her eyes had gone soft. “No, please.” And she touched him. Voluntarily. “Don’t alter anything.” Though she looked doubtful.
“I chose ham for me. I’ll share if you don’t like yours.”
“James…” Her lip trembled just a little.
“Hey, now. You don’t have to go. I just thought…” He shrugged. “Luisa said you’ve been working a lot, and you hadn’t spent any time just fooling around, so—” He felt miserably inept.
“You cooked for me.”
He had to resist the urge to shuffle his feet and say aw, shucks. “Cooking might be an overstatement. You’re the whiz in the kitchen.”
She touched his forearm again, so brief and light he might have imagined it, had he not been looking.
He felt it like a brand.
“I’d…like to go. If you don’t mind allowing me a minute to get ready.”
Relief rushed through him until he was light-headed. “You’re worth the wait.”
Color flared on her cheeks. “I’ll be quick.”
“I’ll be here.”
She hesitated, and he realized that he was standing inside the doorway.
He’d rather not, but he stepped back. He’d have to earn the right to watch her perform those female rituals he’d once taken for granted, even been impatient over now and again.
Another bittersweet image assaulted him, Bella in lingerie, chatting about the day’s events while brushing her teeth, as if they’d experienced those moments so often and would in the future that there was no reason to make note of them.
What he wouldn’t give for one of them, just one, however mundane.
The footing was so treacherous here. He had to fight for every inch of ground, and all could be lost in the blink of an eye, it seemed.
But she’d said yes. He’d advanced his flag, however tiny the increment. Viewed from here, his goal might as well be Mount Everest.
Progress it was, however, and he’d be thankful for it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“HERE—” He extended a hand. “This descent could be a little dicey.”
She hesitated, and he glanced back at her, patience vying with frustration over her continued skittishness. Her hesitation was not, however, for the reason he probably imagined. She did not fear him. He’d been kind and gentle, had gone out of his way to be considerate.
She feared herself. The strength of her attraction to him, however ridiculous it was to be nervous around your husband of thirty-six years.
He started to withdraw his hand.
She grabbed it. Held on tight. Met his gaze…and lingered.
James drew her down the slope with exquisite care. Surveyed to be certain no peril waited, before he focused on her.
His gaze dipped to her mouth and back. And again. He said not a word, but the heat in his eyes scorched her.
Something passed between them, so fierce, so vividly alive she wondered why the trees didn’t burst into flame. She chewed on her lower lip, and his disappointment flickered.
He turned and once more led the way, toting the picnic basket and blanket as if they were nothing.
She pressed one palm to her stomach and reminded herself to breathe. She wanted that kiss too much from a man she barely knew, however intimate he was with the details of her past.
This roller coaster was wearing her out, the up and down of hope and fear, the nagging uncertainty about who she was, where she belonged.
She took a step into the future to wrest control back. To find what they could be together. “Have we ever been on a picnic before?” she asked his broad back, admiring the look of him. He kept himself fit, commendably so. He was terribly appealing to her. Did her body remember better than her mind?
“Lots of times,” he said. “I met you in a tree.”
“What?” She stumbled on a rock, began sliding.
He caught her. Held her close. Once more, the pull strengthened, the invisible cord, crackling with energy, tightened.
She resisted the urge to lay her palms on his chest. To dig her fingers into the muscle. To lay her head on his shoulder and…take shelter.
The longing she saw in his expression undid her. Gingerly, she touched his cheek with her fingertips. “I don’t know you, but…”
“Some part of you does.” His voice was gravel. “Let me kiss you, Bella. I’m dying.”
Caution held her fast. But the plea she saw…heard…He was her husband. She leaned closer, but only the merest inch.
“Is that a yes?” Husky still, his voice nonetheless ceded control. “I won’t force you, Bella. Not ever.”
A good man. Her husband.
She made the first move. “Yes.” She laid her lips on his. Braced for the impact of his obvious eagerness.
Instead, he rubbed his mouth over hers softly…so very softly. Tickled her. Made her burn.
She found herself taking the kiss further as he waited so patiently, as if he had all the time in the world. As if this kiss were everything, and he would not rush his fences.
“Mmm,” she hummed deep in her throat.
His arm wrapped around her, but he didn’t drop the picnic basket and blanket. Didn’t throw her to the ground.
However much the tension in his frame told her he wished to do exactly that.
The one arm around her waist tightened, though. Brought her into his body, the length of it, the easy power. She felt his response to her, and that emboldened her to slick her tongue over the seam of his lips, swirl the tip just inside them.
James groaned, and his arm was a steel band.
But still he didn’t rush her, didn’t press.
Her own body was way ahead of her, shouting for her mind to keep up. She fell into the glory of this, the luxury of touch, of surcease for her skin’s hunger for contact. For grounding.
She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, tempted to beg him to take over, while relishing the sheer pleasure of this feeling that, for the first time since she’d awakened, the choice was hers, the power hers to wield.
“James,” she murmured. “Kiss me back.�
��
He dropped the basket and the blanket then. And did as she asked.
She was lost then, adrift on a swell of heat and hope and rapture, of endless possibilities with such life roaring through her veins, burning her up, sending her spiraling into space, then falling, falling until she couldn’t get her footing, couldn’t tell where she was in the dizzy, swirling void.
“No!” she gasped. Pushed away. “I can’t go back. Can’t—” She retreated, searching for her bearings, reeling from the sense that she was descending once more into the darkness.
He was visibly horrified. “What are you saying? You won’t go home? Are you telling me—”
“No—I didn’t mean—” She shut her eyes. Struggled for sanity. “I’m sorry.” Oh, God. What had she done?
“Sorry we kissed?” His face was a mask of confusion. Of shame. “I wasn’t—I wouldn’t hurt you, Bella.” Pain vied with humiliation, and she was sick at heart for what she’d done with a moment so precious.
“It’s me, James, not you. I—panicked.”
“You’re afraid.” His voice was hollow. “Of…me?”
“No.” She shook her head frantically. “Of—I don’t know. For a second, I was so lost, and I couldn’t get my balance. It was too much like that dizziness, that terrible—” She cast her eyes down, fighting tears. “It’s stupid. I screwed everything up, and I’m so sorry.”
“Shh…” His tone was tender as his fingers touched her chin, tilted it up. A wistful smile curved his lips. “It’s sort of flattering, you realize. I’ve read the phrase he kissed her senseless, but I never imagined I’d be able to make that claim.”
“I’m such a mess,” she said, and wanted to wail.
“You’re not.” He brushed at her damp cheeks. “Anyway, you’re my mess.”
She blinked. I love that mess.
“My hair.” She could barely breathe. “It was you who said it was my glory.” Her heart raced. “I said it was a mess, and you argued that it was—”
His smile was huge, his eyes shining. He squeezed them shut for a second, then swooped her up and twirled her around, before stopping to crush her into his embrace. “I was afraid you’d never remember me.” His voice cracked, and she fought back tears. He buried his face in her neck, and she could feel him tremble. She tightened her arms around him awkwardly, desperately guilty about causing him so much pain. Humbled by the depth of it.
Frightened of hurting him more. “James…I still don’t—”
His arms gripped her. “I know,” he murmured into her throat. “I understand.” His voice had gone dull. “There’s a long way yet.”
His head lifted, and he looked at her, all pretenses gone. “I’m doing my best to be patient. I won’t let you down.” It was a promise, earnest and heartfelt. “But you can’t imagine what it means.” His voice dropped. “I thought I’d lost you.” Haunted eyes gazed at her. “I’ve made mistakes, Bella, but I swear I’ve loved you with everything in me. I’ll do whatever is required to get you back.”
How could she remain unmoved in the face of this? Why couldn’t she remember, damn it? “I’m doing my best.”
“I wasn’t saying—” He set her down but kept her close. “Bella, I know you are. I just—I feel so much for you, and I’m used to having my feelings returned.” His gaze bored into hers. “But I’ll wait, I swear it. However long you need, I’ll be here. You’re not alone in this, sweetheart.” He clasped her hands between his strong ones. Brought them to his lips as though sealing a pledge. “For better or for worse, in sickness and in health,” he said. “Whether you recall the marriage vows or not, I do.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve hurt you. I don’t want to.”
“Shh.” He pressed one finger to her lips. “I can handle it.” He studied her. “You’re tired. I’ll take you back.” To his credit, he kept all but a trace of the disappointment out of his tone. He bent and picked up the basket and the blanket.
“No.” She grasped his forearm, this time accepting that the feel of him was reassuring, not frightening.
“You’re exhausted.”
“I can nap. That’s what people do after a picnic, right?”
“Sometimes. But you’re still on the mend.”
“I’m not an invalid.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, do I get my picnic or not?”
Still he hesitated. “Bella, it’s not a good idea to strain your limits.”
Something in her balked at the babying. “You can’t stop me from hiking.”
His eyes widened. “Wanna bet?” Then his smile spread. “I guess some things are hardwired.”
“What do you mean?”
“You never did a damn thing I asked you unless you wanted to.” He chuckled. “I never imagined I’d feel grateful for your stubborn streak.”
“I’m not stubborn.” She sniffed.
His laughter rang out once more. “And your hair’s not curly, either.” He tugged at one lock, and his expression became serious. “You are still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She ducked her head, oddly shy now. She searched for a diversion.
Then she recalled what he’d said earlier. “So what’s this about meeting me in a tree?”
He grasped her hand and headed toward their picnic, not back to Sam’s, and she smiled. “Well, now, that’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. We do.” He squeezed her fingers and led her on.
JAMES WATCHED her take the first bite gingerly, as though it might be laced with arsenic. A glimpse of even, white teeth, then her lips closing over the bread.
Man. He was getting hard just seeing her eat a sandwich. He was so bad off.
She chewed for a second. Then she brightened like the sun. “It’s good,” she marveled. “Really good.”
Happiness flooded him. A new connection made, another brick pulled from the wall that separated them. He laughed from relief and hope, flopped over on his back on the blanket. Above him was blue sky framed by tall firs, and suddenly, all seemed right with the world, however far they had yet to travel.
Maybe that was the trick, to stop and enjoy each precious moment. He’d always forged ahead, clearing a trail to provide safe passage for his family and his company. He’d spent little time in the present, too focused on the future.
“You seem happy,” she said.
“I am.”
“Because I like your sandwich?”
He rolled back to his side, propped on one elbow. “Because I love you so much I can’t breathe sometimes.” Before she could shy away as he could tell she was about to, he backed off. “Certainly not because I admire your taste in sandwiches. That one is beyond weird.”
“Try it.” She held it out to him, the spot where her lips had been.
He yearned to place his own there, seal a connection.
But not bad enough to eat that godforsaken concoction. “Trust me, I have. Several times.” He gave a theatrical shudder. “You’ve brought so much color into my life, Bella, and I’m more grateful than I can say.” He pointed. “But not that grateful.”
She laughed from deep in her belly, and his mouth curved into a wide smile.
“Do the kids like it?”
“Cele used to eat it with grim determination because she wanted to be like her mommy. Cam tried one bite and spit it out. No one on earth likes that hideous creation but you.”
“Did I already eat it when we met?”
“Yes, but if I’d known…I mean, it was obvious you were unique, but—” He shook his head. “That combination is another matter altogether.”
“What do you mean, unique?”
“How long do you have?” When her forehead wrinkled, he smiled to reassure her. “You caught my attention the first second I saw you, and I never looked back. I had to have you. Even though I had a girlfriend at the time.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, well, she
and I would never have made it past high school.” But Beth had been exactly what he’d believed he wanted.
Until Bella.
“How old were we?” Then her eyes popped. “I just realized I don’t know my age. Sam and I guessed somewhere in my fifties.”
“Fifty-seven. Your birthday is August second.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifty-eight.”
“And your birthday?”
“January sixteenth.”
“A Capricorn, and I’m a Leo.” She frowned. “How can I recall that about astrology and not—?”
He longed to understand that himself, but he cared more about erasing the sadness on her face. “Leo and Capricorn…a combustible mix.” He waggled his eyebrows.
A little of her sorrow melted away.
“You said you were seventeen when we met. Where was that?”
“My high school in Parker’s Ridge. You were the new girl.”
“Do I have family? Besides you and the kids, I mean?”
He grimaced. “No. I’m sorry. You had come to live with a cousin of your dad’s, but she passed away four years ago.”
“My parents?”
“I don’t think you ever knew your father. Your mother—”
“What is it?”
“She’s gone now, but she was unstable, from what you told me. She drifted in and out of your life.”
“Where did I spend the time in between?”
“You were bounced around a lot.” He hesitated, not eager to disturb the temporary peace.
“Why?”
“Bella, it’s not important. It was a long time ago.”
“James, please don’t hide my past from me. What aren’t you saying?”
“Nothing bad, I swear.” He hastened to reassure her. “You were simply a little…rebellious.”
“How rebellious?”
He exhaled. “You’d been thrown out of three schools. But it’s perfectly understandable, considering the upheaval you’d experienced. You just needed a steady source of love.”
She studied him. “You became that, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “We grew up together.”
“No. One thing I’ve learned from observing you the past few days is that you’re steady, James. A rock for others.”
The Way Home Page 11
