A Man Like Him

by Rachel Brimble

  A barrage of doubt took flight in her stomach and she lifted her fingers to the clip in her hair. Maybe she should just rip her hair loose and change into sweats? She could ring Chris and tell him she wasn’t feeling well.

  “Goddamn it. I like him and I’m doing this. Robert can just do whatever the hell he likes. I’ve moved on.”

  She shook her head and drained the remainder of her wineglass.

  For better or worse, the wine hadn’t done a thing to bolster some much needed confidence to go through with the date and actually enjoy it. Intellectually she had nothing to worry about. She liked Chris—a lot—and, according to DI Garrett, although Robert was yet to be found, it seemed very unlikely he was at the Cove. The police had checked and triple-checked video footage of the ferry route onto the Cove and also the toll bridge via the road entrance. There was no evidence of Robert making his way into Templeton.

  Severe paranoia was setting in and Angela couldn’t find the strength to fight it no matter how hard she tried. Robert had managed to call Chris and her, breaking every condition of his release. He didn’t care. He was mad. Really mad. Which meant he was once again out of control. She screwed her eyes shut. He had money. Could’ve worn a disguise. Come into town under the cover of darkness. Could’ve used a fake ID, bribed a police officer...the possibilities to a wealthy ex-convict with God knew how many criminal contacts were endless.

  DI Garrett was adamant the license plates of each vehicle from the video footage had been checked and verified with its registered owner. That information had done little to make Angela feel better. Cars were continuously coming into the Cove; it would be a waste of manpower to keep someone verifying them for hours on end.

  If Robert was determined to get to her, he would. Finding him first was a bigger problem than the police could imagine.

  When he phoned, Robert’s anger and blame filtered down the line like liquid poison. He blamed her for his incarceration and he’d make her pay accordingly.

  Angela closed her eyes, willing her anguish into submission. She had to stay strong. If they caught him, he’d be “back in prison faster than he could take his next breath,” according to the inspector. Angela refused to think about the alternative, if he found her before they found him.

  Opening her eyes, she pushed to her feet and carried her glass into the kitchen. Rinsing it under the faucet, she stared out the window at her spectacular view. She loved Templeton and all it represented. Robert would not take it away from her.

  The ringing of her doorbell sent her heart flying into her throat. Chris. Quickly placing the glass in the sink, she dried her hands on a towel and pulled back her shoulders.

  Here goes nothing.

  She walked through to the open plan living room and grabbed her clutch from the coffee table. Upon reaching the door, she peeked through the peephole to double-check it was Chris. Her shoulders relaxed and a smile immediately formed.

  She opened the door. “Hi.”

  Chris grinned. “Hi, yourself.”

  They lapsed into silence, the atmosphere humming with mutual appreciation. Angela tried and failed to wipe the smile from her face. He looked breathtaking in a dark suit and white open-necked shirt. His hair dark, glossy and so damn touchable, fell softly over his forehead.

  He pushed it back as his gaze moved from hers to languidly run up and down the length of her body. He blew out a low whistle. “Wow.”

  Heat assaulted her cheeks and she smiled. “Wow to you, too.”

  The silence stretched as sexual tension skittered through Angela, making her want to lunge forward and clamp her mouth to his. He made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when he looked at her the way he was then. She wanted to trap the feeling inside forever.

  He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “Shall we go?”

  She nodded and pulled the door closed behind her before sliding her palm against his. He led her down her pathway toward his car. She released her held breath as the knowledge that one day, maybe sooner than she thought, there was a possibility she’d want to make love to Chris and have him make love to her. Desire rippled unexpectedly across the surface of her skin.

  Sadness that in all likelihood it would never happen inched into her conscience and she stubbornly pushed it away. She wouldn’t let the niggling fear that the flood, their survival and now their united fight against Robert had anything to do with what was happening between them. This was a real, bona fide attraction. She wanted so much to enjoy it.

  When they reached his car, he opened the passenger door and gestured her inside. She slid into the seat, feeling his gaze on her. The door slammed shut and her heart raced with anticipation as he walked around the hood. One minute at a time she’d enjoy this.

  Seconds later he was behind the wheel and the engine purred to life. Their eyes met and he winked. Angela smiled as they pulled away.

  Their drive into Templeton was quiet and she couldn’t help wondering if he was saving the conversation for dinner, as she was. There was so much she wanted to know about him, so much she wanted to ask. Deep down she knew their time was limited and the yearning to squish as much into their shared moments as possible grew more and more urgent.

  She looked out the side window as they sped along the promenade of the Cove’s famous Cowden Beach. The setting sun inched lower in the sky, barely inches above the horizon; it bathed the ocean in a pale pink hue. The crests of the waves rose and broke over the sea’s surface as dogs leaped and splashed, chasing the balls their owners threw...lovers walked hand in hand.

  Her eyes scanned the scene for Robert.

  “Are you okay?”

  Angela turned. They’d stopped at a red light and Chris’s brow was furrowed with concern. She forced a smile. “I’m more than okay.”

  He smiled. “Good.” He reached across and took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “That’s good.”

  The light changed and he kept his hand around hers as she lowered it to her lap. She stared at their intertwined fingers. It felt as though she looked at the scene from the outside in. How was this happening? She was on a date with a wonderful man. A stranger who’d saved her life and tens of others. Her ex-husband was out there somewhere and she was heading out with the first man she’d wanted to get to know in years.

  Angela tilted her chin. Tonight would be normal.

  Chris steered the car into the restaurant parking lot. When she saw the restaurant, pleasure warmed her blood and she smiled. “How did you know?”

  He cut the engine. “Know what?”

  She faced him. “That I’ve always wanted to eat here but never had the courage to come in alone.”

  His smile faltered. “You go to restaurants alone?”

  Self-consciousness brought heat to her face and she turned away. “Of course. Sometimes. A girl gets fed up with TV dinners every now and then, you know.” She turned to face him, pride rising hot behind her rib cage. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I couldn’t stand it. It’s by choice I’ve lived this way.”

  She pulled on the door handle and got out of the car. The Oceanside restaurant was situated high on stilts above the beach. Built entirely from golden-brown wood, spiraling steps led up to a huge veranda spanning its circumference. With large picture windows flanking each of its four sides, diners enjoyed a romantic and perfect view of the ocean from every side. It was a couples’ restaurant, a lovers’ restaurant, and she refused to contemplate Chris’s pity.

  If she thought he pitied her, she’d get back into the car and demand he take her home.

  His hand slid around her waist and she resisted the urge to inhale as his now familiar scent enveloped her. His breath whispered against her ear. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned. His gaze was dark with concern and apology.

  Angela closed her eyes,
shame for snapping at him stripping her defenses. “I’m sorry, too. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. I’m trying to get used to the idea of this, of us, being here together. You might have to put up with a few false starts before I get this right.”

  He leaned closer and pressed his soft lips to her forehead. “Hey, no problem. You’re the first woman, apart from Melinda, that I’ve taken out to dinner for four years, too. We’ll work it out together.”

  She smiled and opened her eyes. He lowered his head farther and his lips met hers. Hand in hand, they kissed in the fading light and the years of anguish and loneliness quivered in Angela’s memory. A different time, a different life...

  The same thought came into her mind again and again. She was so relaxed with him. God help her, so safe. She tightened her fingers around his and he stepped closer, sliding his other hand to the base of her spine and pressing her body against his. A sigh escaped and her whimper brought her hurtling back to reality. She stepped back and put a hand to his chest, opening the distance between them.

  “It’s not safe for us to be out here. We should go inside.”

  “You’re safe.”

  With his hands still firmly around hers, Chris led her toward the restaurant and they climbed the steps.

  Silently berating herself for spoiling such a wonderfully romantic moment, Angela vowed to enjoy the evening and not let Robert slither into her conscience again. He was a snake. A snake who needed to have his head severed from his damn body so she could live again.

  The maître d’ greeted them at the entrance and ushered them inside. Chris gave his name and they were led to their table. Her heart lifted with each step. The restaurant was beautiful.

  Tables set for two or four were dotted around the intimate space. A few feet separated each table, giving enough room that the couples or quartets felt unencumbered by eavesdroppers or were at ease they weren’t infringing on someone else’s privacy. Simple white cloths covered the tables, the seats upholstered in the same satiny material. The crockery was also a simple white, the wineglasses striking in gorgeous ruby-red, the candles tall, tapered and scarlet, resplendent in gold holders. The understated chandeliers were dazzling and beautiful, their crystal teardrops catching and flickering in the semidarkness. Soft soul music came from concealed speakers.

  “I have put you here with a direct view of the horizon, as per your request, Mr. Forrester.” The maître d’ beamed.

  Chris smiled. “Thank you.”

  Angela sat when the maître d’ pulled out her seat. He theatrically flicked out her napkin and draped it slowly across her lap. She met Chris’s gaze and when he arched an eyebrow, feigning jealousy, she bit back a laugh.

  He cleared his throat. “Um...could we have the wine list when you’re ready?”

  The maître d’ dragged his gaze from Angela’s and dipped his head to Chris. “Of course, sir.”

  He walked away and Chris shook his head. “My God, I was wondering whether or not I should give the guy my seat.”

  She laughed as delicious relaxation furled inside her. She’d forgotten how to be this way. “He seems nice.”

  He lifted an eyebrow again. “Nice? The man wanted to ravish you, my dear.”

  Playing along, she raised her own eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

  His eyes lit with desire. “Shall we at least eat first?”

  Feeling uncharacteristically wanton and sexy, Angela reached for his hand. She squeezed. “Thank you.”

  His smile faltered as his gaze wandered over her face. “For what?”

  She gestured around the restaurant. “For this. For everything.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  She shook her head, staring into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “You’ve done more than anyone has managed to do for me in two years. I’m happy, Chris. Relaxed.”

  “Good. So am I.” He grinned.

  Their wine was served and their starter and dinner orders taken. Night fell without Angela realizing it as their conversation covered their childhoods and teenage years. It wasn’t until they reached adulthood that the conversation grew somber.

  She picked up her wineglass. “And then I turned twenty and everything changed.”

  Chris pushed his plate aside. “Masters?”

  She nodded.

  He caught her fingers in his where they lay on the table. “Cat will find him.”

  “I know.” She looked down at their joined hands. “It’s just...”

  “What?”

  She met his eyes. “It’s been two days and they’ve found no trace of him. I’m sure he’s already here. I’m convinced he was already here when he called you.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  She slipped her hand from his to grip the stem of her wineglass. “I know him.” She huffed out a laugh. “I feel him. I know how he thinks. I spent years anticipating his next move, his moods and his wants and needs in a bid to protect myself from his temper snapping.”

  His jaw tightened. “I see.”

  Guilt twisted her stomach. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to spoil tonight. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not.” She glanced around the restaurant. “I’m trying, but I just know he’s in the Cove.” She met his eyes once more. “I’m not being melodramatic. I’m being honest.”

  Anger flashed hot in his gaze. “Then he’s taking one hell of a risk. The police are looking for him in every corner. If he turns up tonight...” He shook his head and drank some wine.

  Silently berating herself for shrouding a potentially great evening in an atmosphere of gloom, Angela reached for her glass. “Forget it. Ignore me. I wanted to be honest with you and now I have.” She smiled and lifted her glass in a toast. “To hell with Robert.”

  It took a moment or two but then his brow smoothed and a smile curved his lips. He clinked his glass to hers. “Hear, hear.”

  His gaze wandered once more toward the restaurant door behind her. She lowered her glass to the table. “So...tell me more about you. Your family.”

  He put down his glass and lifted his shoulders and blew out a breath. “Around the age of twenty-two is about the time my crap started. Dad was killed and everything changed.” He shook his head. “God, now it’s my turn to veer off course.”

  Angela reached across and took his hand. “It must have been awful.”

  “It was.”

  “Keep talking. It’s therapeutic, if nothing else.” She smiled.

  He sighed. “Whatever happened, it shouldn’t have been an excuse for me to up and leave Cat to deal with everything.” He met her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to swim. It’s all I ever did or cared about. The kids at school called me Fish. I loved it.” A wry smile curved his lips. “So, when I got my teaching certificate a week after burying Dad, I took off and left Cat to deal with the aftermath. Mum started drinking while Cat worked her ass off trying to cope the only way she knew how. I just lived my own merry life, thinking a phone call once a month was okay.”

  “And your mum?”

  He drained his glass. “It was bad. Cat had to come down here about eighteen months ago after one of her best friends was murdered. She left me in charge of Mum. Albeit reluctantly.”

  “Her friend was murdered? My God.” Angela’s heart lurched.

  Chris grimaced. “It wasn’t good. She says she’s okay, but sometimes I see fear in her eyes. Fear she’ll not be there for me, for her husband. Something like that doesn’t fade overnight.”

  Angela nodded and tightened her fingers around his. “So, what happened?”

  He smiled. “Cat and I worked on our relationship.” He shook his head. “My sister is one determined woman in every sense of the word. Her husband, Jay? He’s got his hands ful
l every damn day with her, but they fit.”

  Angela smiled as she stared into his eyes. She was beginning to understand that sentiment. She cleared her throat. “So you moved in with your mum? Took care of her?”

  His smile faltered. “We moved in. Melinda and I soon got a tiny taste of what my sister had been coping with for years. It turned me into a different person.” He stared deep into her eyes. “I don’t recognize the man I was before and I’ll never turn my back on someone again. Not ever.”

  The pain in his eyes tugged at her heart. “And...Melinda?”

  He eased his hand from hers. “Had an affair.”

  The atmosphere turned cold. The door slammed as Chris closed down. He clearly found it easier to talk about himself and his mother than Melinda. Angela swallowed. That particular wound was still wide-open. She had to remember that before her feelings for him grew stronger, before his hazel eyes and soft, husky voice seeped any deeper under her skin.

  “More wine?” He lifted the bottle toward her empty glass.

  “Sure.” She forced a smile to match his.

  They clinked glasses and Angela took a sip and turned to glance around the restaurant, her good mood restored and welcome. Her lips twitched with a smile...and then dissolved.

  Her breath caught like barbed wire in her throat.

  Across the restaurant, making his way slowly toward the exit, a man watched her. His hair was a little too thick at the front to be natural, his clothes a little too tight. Angela stared intently at his eyes and an ice-cold chill ran the length of her spine.

  Robert.

  He smiled softly before he disappeared through the door.

  “Oh, my God.” She stared at Chris. “Oh, my God. He’s here.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “ANGELA?” CHRIS LEAPED to his feet as she did.