What Lies Beneath

by Andrea Laurence

That Saturday was an unseasonably warm fall day. By this time in November, people were usually heavily bundled or shoveling out of the first snow, but it was in the high sixties. Will had started off that morning working in his office as usual, but seeing Cynthia wander aimlessly through the apartment tugged at him with guilt.

  He’d made a habit of focusing on work to avoid dealing with her before the accident, but he didn’t need to work this much. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to. He wanted to spend more time with Cynthia. Which is why he deliberately stayed in his office this long—the pull she had on him was too strong. But he couldn’t stay in there forever.

  Shutting his laptop down, he came out of the office and found her reading on the couch. She had a paperback romance in her hands. It hadn’t come from any of the bookshelves in the house. “What are you reading?”

  “A book I bought on the corner yesterday. I’m really enjoying it.”

  Will nodded, trying not to let his surprise show, because it just worried Cynthia when she realized she was doing something out of character. Honestly, the less she realized was different, the better. This Cynthia was all wrong, but all right by him.

  “I noticed you had the fireplace going the other day, but it’s fairly warm out today. Would you be interested in getting out of the apartment? Maybe take a walk around the park?”

  The grin that met his question made him feel even guiltier for waiting this long. Her face lit up like a child in front of an ice cream sundae. She put her book down, carefully marking the page. “Should I change?”

  Will hadn’t really noticed what she had on before that. If he had, he might’ve had another surprise to hide from her. She wore a pair of tight, dark denim jeans, gray ankle boots and a soft gray sweater that went down past her hips. She’d put a hot-pink belt over it and some chunky pink bracelets to match on her good arm.

  “Wow, pink,” he commented.

  She smiled and ran her hand over the belt. “I’ve decided pink is my favorite color. Do you like it?”

  He knew the only reason Cynthia had that belt was for a retro eighties-style charity fundraiser they’d attended last year. She appeared quite taken with the splash of color now. Cynthia seemed to get a lot of enjoyment from putting an outfit together. It was a fun look for her. Her hair was down and slightly curly. Her face was fresh and free of makeup. She really looked lovely.

  For a walk in the park, her outfit suited just as well as his khakis and polo shirt. “You look fine. Will you be okay to walk in those boots?”

  She stood, feeling around in them for a moment. “I think so. They’re pretty comfortable, and I think my daily strolls are paying off.”

  Will grabbed a light windbreaker from the closet and ushered Cynthia out ahead of him. They took the elevator to the ground floor of their building, waving to the doorman as he greeted them by name and held the large golden door open for them.

  It didn’t take them long to reach Central Park. They walked silently down the sidewalk, crossing over into the forest of reds, oranges and golds that autumn had ushered in. It had always been his favorite time of year. Fall in Manhattan was the best. The cooler temperatures, the changing leaves, the Thanksgiving parade…it just gave him a sense of inner peace no other time of year provided, like the world was slowing down in preparation for winter.

  “I love the fall,” Cynthia said, happily stomping on crisp leaves under her boots. “I think it might be my favorite time of year. Of course, I don’t remember much about the other three seasons, so I’m withholding judgment for now.”

  Will smiled, reaching to his hip for the phone that had chirped several times since they left the apartment. He thumbed through the messages but didn’t get very far before he felt Cynthia’s insistent tug on his arm. He looked up to see her pointing at one of the city’s million hot-dog carts.

  “Let’s find out if I like hot dogs.”

  Will slipped the phone back into its holster and followed her over to the cart. Something as simple as a hot-dog vendor had filled her with excitement. It was so contagious that he was eager to have one, too, and he hadn’t bothered to in years.

  They stopped at the cart and ordered two hot dogs and sodas—his piled on with sauerkraut and mustard, hers with ketchup, mustard and sweet relish. They found a bench and sat down with their lunch.

  He’d polished off about half of his when he looked over and noticed Cynthia’s hot dog was completely gone. She dabbed the corner of her mouth to remove some rogue mustard, still chewing the last bite. Apparently she did like hot dogs. “Would you like another one?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head and sipping her soda. “That was just enough. There are a million things out there for me to try. I’ll gain ten pounds if I overdo it. It’s just one of many things I have to figure out.”

  Will watched her expression grow somber. She sipped her drink thoughtfully and watched a leaf blow by. He popped the last of his hot dog into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he spoke again. “What are you thinking about?”

  Cynthia sighed and sat back against the bench. “I’m thinking of what a mess I’m in. In a few weeks’ time, you could be gone. I don’t think I can go back to my old job if my memory doesn’t return. I have no real skills I remember. I didn’t even know if I liked hot dogs until a few minutes ago. What am I supposed to do?”

  He’d considered this subject as he’d watched her lie in that hospital bed for weeks. She was fortunate that her income wasn’t important. Anyone else might be crippled by it. “Well, you may not know it, but you do have a healthy trust fund and stock portfolio. You could live comfortably on that for quite some time.”

  “I’ll go stir crazy in that apartment doing nothing. Especially if I’m there alone.”

  Will noted the way she looked at him when she said the last part. She didn’t want him to leave. And sitting here with her in this moment, he didn’t want to leave either. She needed to feel secure in her situation. At least then he would know she wanted him to stay for the right reasons. “I’ve also spoken to your boss, Ed. He understands the circumstances, and if and when you’re ready to come back, okay. But if not…you could always try working for your dad.”

  “And do what? I don’t understand any of that technical stuff. I don’t want to get paid to sit at a desk at Dempsey Corp. playing solitaire just because I’m the boss’s daughter.”

  He had to admire that. Working for her father or sitting around the house would’ve been the easy thing to do, but she wanted more. “You have the luxury of trying something new. You’ve got a world of opportunities ahead of you. What would you like to do? Anything interest you?”

  She thought for a moment before she answered. “Clothes. Clothes are all that has really caught my attention. Not just buying and wearing them, but putting pieces together. Admiring the lines of a blazer or the texture of a fabric. I’m not quite sure what to do with it, though.”

  Will had noticed the last few weeks in the hospital how she had mentioned people’s clothing, complimenting them, asking about fabrics and where they bought one piece or another. It seemed to be a natural interest for her. “Would you like to try designing clothes? Or maybe be a stylist for fashion shoots or something?”

  Cynthia turned to him, her green eyes wide. “Is designing clothes really an option? I watched a lot of reruns of some fashion reality show in the hospital, and it looked interesting. I may not be any good at it, though.”

  “Doesn’t mean it would hurt to try. We’ll get you some sketch paper and colored pencils. See what you come up with. You don’t have to be the next Versace, but you can play around and have some fun with it.”

  She broke into a wide smile and flung her arms around his neck. He was taken aback by her enthusiastic embrace, but he didn’t pull away. He wanted to encourage this new side of her, even if he wouldn’t be around to see it come to fruition.

  Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She buried her face in his nec
k and he breathed in the scent of her—a mix of a floral shampoo, a touch of perfume and the warmth of her skin. He recognized her favorite fragrance, yet it was different somehow. Something underlying it all was new and extremely appealing. His body noted the difference and responded to it despite his brain’s reluctance. His pulse quickened and his groin stirred in an instant.

  He had tried to wish away his attraction to her, and yet Alex’s words taunted him. This could be their second chance. He’d offered them both a clean slate, and the only thing keeping him from taking this opportunity was his own stubborn sense of self-preservation. Yes, the woman he proposed to had abused everything he gave her. But this was an entirely different woman despite their resemblance. No matter how hard he fought it, she intrigued and aroused him like no woman had before.

  What would it hurt to see where this could go, even if only to soothe his own curiosity? He could certainly keep his heart out of the situation to avoid disaster. If things went awry or she regained her memory, he could easily walk away, no harm done. And if he could keep their relationship going long enough to satisfy George Dempsey, it would boost his business. It seemed like a win-win situation if he could let himself give in to it.

  Cynthia pulled away slightly, stopping to look up at him. She was clearly excited by her new design adventure, but her expression shifted as she gazed into his eyes. Something changed in that moment, and he could feel the difference, too. The attraction she felt for him was just as strong. He could tell by the way her breath caught, her lips parting slightly and tempting him closer.

  She wanted him to kiss her. And he wanted to. He wanted to know how she would touch him. What sounds she would make. How she would feel in his arms. Letting his body and his curiosity win over, he leaned in and captured her lips with his own. There was an immediate connection when he touched her. This wasn’t just a test. It was a real kiss, unlike what they’d shared before. A thrill raced through his body, a tingling in the base of his spine urging him to pull her closer. The need built quickly inside, pushing him to take more from her.

  Cynthia leaned into him and placed one hand gently on his cheek. His tongue brushed hers, the taste and feel of her new and unexpected, like silk and honey. The hand resting on her hip slid upwards, caressing her side and tugging her to him. She whimpered quietly against his mouth, a soft, feminine sound that roused a primal reaction in him. He’d never been this turned on by a kiss in his life.

  Everything about her, from the gentle caress of her hands to the flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek, started his blood boiling. There was an innocence, a sweetness. She had no agenda, no motives for offering herself to him. She just gave in to her desires and urged him to do the same. It took everything he had not to scoop her off the bench, carry her back to the apartment and claim her as his own.

  Unfortunately, by the time he carried her four blocks to their apartment, he would realize it was a mistake. Pulling away, he stayed close, their breath warm on each other’s skin. They sat still for a moment, his mind whirling with the implications of what he’d just done. He needed to keep his brain in charge instead of his crotch, or he’d make a mess of everything.

  The loud melody of his phone broke the trance. The gap between them widened, Cynthia self-consciously straightening her clothes while he checked the caller ID. Apologizing, he took the call, ending the conversation as quickly as he could. “Let’s go get you those art supplies,” he suggested, when no other words seemed appropriate.

  They gathered up their hot dog wrappers and soda cans, tossing them into a nearby garbage receptacle, and headed back out of the park and toward the nearest craft store.

  This time, as they traveled, he felt Cynthia’s fingers tentatively seek out his own. He couldn’t remember holding hands with a girl since high school, and it was charming and unexpected. Hesitating for only a moment, he captured her small hand and they walked together out of the park.

  With every step, he felt himself being pulled further in by the fascinating woman he refused to love.

  Four

  “I’m so glad you called me, Cynthia. I was wondering how you were adjusting to real life.”

  Cynthia smiled across the table at her former nurse, Gwen. She was glad to have someone to talk to. Anita the housekeeper seemed concerned every time she tried to strike up a conversation, and when she spoke to her family, they’d start on her again about coming to stay with them. Even her sister, Emma, had dropped hints, probably at their mother’s urging. She enjoyed the time she’d spent with Pauline—they’d even had brunch on Sunday—but there were expectations there that she didn’t know how to fill. Gwen was the only person Cynthia knew from after the accident, and she appreciated having someone around who didn’t look at her as if she were possessed.

  “It’s been interesting. Fortunately, I’ve managed to avoid a lot of people. I guess since I was in such bad shape, they want to wait as long as possible to see me. I don’t think it will last much longer. My mother is planning a big, fancy party to celebrate my recovery. I tried to block most of it out yesterday when she mentioned mailing invitations and hiring an orchestra to play. It sounds over the top and absolutely miserable.”

  Gwen smiled and squirted some ketchup on her cheeseburger. “The people in your life care about you, as weird as all of this is for everyone involved. The sooner the new you gets out there, the sooner everyone will adjust. Are you planning on returning to work?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Sometimes getting back in an old routine can help.”

  “Maybe, but I think it’s an impossibility. I mean, if I were a doctor, would you want me to jump back in the saddle and operate on you, hoping my years of medical training would magically come back to me?”

  Gwen wrinkled her nose. “I guess not.”

  “I was in advertising, which I know isn’t like brain surgery, but I remember nothing about it. I don’t really have an interest in it either.”

  “So what are you going to do? Become one of those society wives that organize fundraisers?”

  “Uh, no,” she groaned. “Right now I’m just trying something out.”

  “Do tell,” Gwen urged, taking a large bite.

  Cynthia thought about the pages and pages of clothing designs she’d sketched over the weekend. At first, it had been a wreck. At least twenty sheets of paper had been crumpled into balls and tossed in the trash bin. But then they started getting better. She let go of her inhibitions and the ideas started flowing. The color combinations she put together worked even when she worried they wouldn’t. The pieces coordinated beautifully. She was itching to see some of them leap off the page and onto a hanger. But that was a whole other hurdle to climb over. She might be a good artist and a horrible seamstress.

  “I’m trying my hand at designing clothes. Just sketches right now, but I did what you told me and I’m following my instincts. Trying to do what my heart tells me feels right.”

  “Fashion design? Wow. Are you enjoying it?”

  She couldn’t hide her smile. “I am. I just sketch and sketch and when Will comes looking for me, I’m shocked to find I spent hours working on it.”

  “Sounds like you may be on to something.”

  “I think so. I mean, right now it’s just sketches, but I’m thinking about getting a sewing machine and trying to actually make some of it.”

  “You should open a boutique and show at Fashion Week,” Gwen encouraged.

  Cynthia had to laugh at her friend’s enthusiasm. “You are way ahead of me on this. First thing I have to do is figure out how to thread a bobbin. Then, if what I make doesn’t suck, I’ll go from there. I’m a long way from Bryant Park.”

  “But it’s progress in the right direction. You’re building your new life. I think that’s great.”

  That made her feel good. She had Will’s support, but a part of her wondered if he felt obligated to be her cheerleader. Her mother had feigned interest at brunch, but Cynthia could tell she’d bee
n hoping her daughter would settle for being a society housewife like she was or at least go work for the family company. Knowing Gwen supported the choice made all the difference. “It is. I just wish everything else was working out, as well.”

  “Like what?” Gwen asked with a concerned frown.

  “Like Will and me.” Cynthia sighed, the weight of her situation heavy on her shoulders. He was sending conflicting signals. One minute he’s discussing how she can support herself after he moves out and the next they’re kissing on a park bench and holding hands. But even then, there was a part of him holding back. He was determined to keep one foot firmly out the door for a quick escape. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t know where I stand with him. With us. He seems distant sometimes.”

  Cynthia knew she couldn’t tell anyone, not even Gwen, that they’d called off the engagement. Or about Nigel. He’d started calling again after Will left in the mornings. She’d considered telling Will, but it just seemed like dragging up the past after they had agreed to set it aside. Eventually he would stop calling. He had to.

  “Maybe he’s just not sure how to deal with the changes. You guys have been together a long time. It’s like being with a new person. Whether the changes are good or bad, it’s still an adjustment.”

  She looked down at her half-eaten burger and fries, which she was pleased to discover she adored, and nodded. Gwen was right. This had to be just as hard on Will as it was on her. Even as they kissed in the park, she could sense an internal battle raging inside him. The part that wanted her and the part that held back for whatever reason had fought hard. She wasn’t certain which side won. They’d held hands in the park on the way home, but he holed up in his office after that.

  “Has anything happened between the two of you since you went home?”

  “Just a kiss,” she said, the memory of it flushing her cheeks like a schoolgirl. Given her amnesia, it was like having her first kiss all over again.

  “A kiss is something. If he didn’t like you, I doubt he’d bother kissing you.”