by Bella Andre
Because she was frightened to death of the depth of her feelings for him. Especially after today.
Andrew grabbed a couple of oversized towels off the porch as they walked out to her dock and climbed into the rowboat. The wooden paddles swooshed through the black water, beneath an equally black sky.
They didn’t speak as he rowed, and she could barely see him in the inky darkness, but it calmed her—pleased her—to know that he was right there with her, sitting only a couple of feet away.
Thirty years ago, he’d been the one man she’d wanted in her lifeboat in an emergency.
For the first time in three decades, she wondered if it were possible that he could be that man again?
After pulling the boat up on shore, he held out his hand and she let him lead her to their “private” beach, the special place they would sneak off to as teenagers when they wanted to be alone. And as he walked beside her, his hand warm over hers, she expected memories to come, one after the other, all the memories she hadn’t wanted to replay.
But instead of retracing their old steps, she realized that they were taking new ones. She would never forget the past, but she could finally see that he hadn’t come back to the lake to revisit the past.
They were here together to build a future.
They spread out the towels over the sand and it was the most natural thing in the world for her to lay her head on Andrew’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry you lost your cabin,” she said and as he pulled her in tighter against him, finally safe in his arms, she let herself crumble.
“I almost lost you today. Up on the roof—” She couldn’t manage to say anything else, not when the sheer thought of Andrew getting caught in the fire made her sick to her stomach.
He shifted them so that her head was cradled beneath his strong forearm and he was looking down at her. His thumb brushed softly across her cheek as he gently wiped away her tears.
“Don’t cry, Izzy. I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“I’ll never be able to apologize enough for what my son did. Before he went to sleep he told me he was wrong about you. That you’re not a bad guy after all. I hope you can find a way to forgive him one day.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it still hasn’t exactly set in that Poplar Cove is gone, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe it’s all for the best.”
“How can it possibly be for the best?”
“Well, for one, it’s a new start for me and Connor. Lord knows we both needed it.”
“Ginger too,” Isabel murmured.
And her too, she silently admitted. She hadn’t realized until Andrew’s return just how stuck she’d been in the past.
“Now Connor and I might get a chance to rebuild the cabin together. Spend a few months working as a team on something that matters to both of us. Maybe Josh could help us, work through some of his guilt with a hammer and saw. Might also be a good way to burn off some of that teenage energy, keep him out of trouble for a while.”
“You’re planning to stay?”
And he would actually consider asking her son to work with him after what he’d done?
“I want to, Izzy. More than anything. But I don’t want to hurt you again, so if you don’t want—”
She put a finger to his lips to stop him. “When my son found us …” Her face grew hot. “Well, when he found us kissing, I behaved badly to you. Just because he couldn’t deal with his mother behaving like a normal adult doesn’t mean I should have tried to act like it didn’t happen.” Her eyes moved to his face, held his gaze. “Because the truth is that I wanted it to happen. I wanted you to kiss me.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I did. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I was torn, because I still wasn’t sure I could ever trust you again. Until today, when I saw you with my son, the way you protected Josh, even though he was the one responsible for your loss.”
“He’s just a kid who made a mistake. A bad one, but a mistake nonetheless.”
“Watching you with him made me see that I can trust you. I do trust you. Your mistake and his mistake weren’t so different, really. Two kids who didn’t know what to do with all of their energy. Their passion. I keep thinking about those things I said to you that first day you came by the diner, when I said a real man would have made the best of his situation.”
“You were right. Completely right.”
“Maybe I was,” she said, “but if I can dish it out, I should be able to take it, shouldn’t I? Because there I was saying you should have figured out a way to make your marriage work, but did I make mine work? No. Not at all. Because all the time I should have been loving my husband, the father of my child, I was still in love with you.”
“You love me?”
“I’ve always loved you, Andrew. I never stopped loving you, not even for a second, not even when I was so angry with you I wanted to come at you with a kitchen knife.”
She heard him chuckle at her honesty, and then he was whispering, “My sweet Izzy, how I love you,” a moment before his mouth came down over hers.
Their kiss was sweet, gentle, and then, without warning, they were both taking, tasting, testing each other with tongues and lips and teeth, a whole summer’s desperation taking away any hesitancy or patience.
And then he was repositioning her, laying her on her back on the towel and as he stripped off her clothes, she looked up at the moon through the trees, the scent of the blueberry bushes filling the air with sweet perfume. Every patch of skin his fingers touched as he slid off her shirt, and then her bra, and then moved to the waistband of her pants, made her gasp with pleasure. He cupped her breasts and she leaned into his wonderfully large hands wanting more, as much as he could give her. His mouth found her next, his tongue moving in long strokes between her legs and she forgot where she was again, could only focus on the man giving her the kind of pleasure she’d never felt anywhere else.
Higher and higher she climbed as he loved her with his mouth, but she wanted him to share it with her, so she reached for his shoulders and dragged him up her body. Her hands shaking, she fumbled with his pants, but then he was kissing her again and she couldn’t figure out how to make her fingers obey her instructions. Andrew took over where she left off and soon his clothes were off and he was propping himself up over her again, naked this time.
Another time she’d stop, breathe, stare, relearn every inch of his body. But for now, all that mattered was taking him inside, opening herself up to him and feeling the long slide of his shaft take her breath away.
He stilled, asked “How am I ever going to get enough of you?” and then he was thrusting, and they were grabbing at each other’s bodies, trying to get closer, moving together in a rhythm that was sweetly familiar, and yet brand new. He was kissing her like he’d been waiting his whole life to find her and she gave herself completely to him in the very moment that they took each other over the edge. His roar of pleasure was swallowed by the trees and then her mouth as she kissed him.
And as they came back to earth, lying sweating and panting on the twisted towel, she put her hands on his face and kissed him again with all the love in her heart.
No more regrets.
No more anger.
After thirty years, love was what remained.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Two weeks later …
Art in the Adirondacks had been a spectacular day for Ginger. Fortunately, she’d stored most of her finished canvases in the Blue Mountain Lake recreation center basement—along with the handful on display on the diner’s walls—so although she’d lost several of her most recent paintings in the fire, she had enough to show.
Connor had helped her hang the sign above her tiny open white tent, “Paintings by Ginger Sinclair,” and each time she looked at it she’d started grinning like an idiot. Every time a stranger stood in front of one of her canvases and told her how much he or she liked it … frankly, it didn’t even matter whe
ther or not they bought one. Being a part of a community of artists was pleasure enough. Better still was the fact that she’d not only almost sold out, she’d also been asked to do several commissions for various homeowners on Blue Mountain Lake as well.
She was thrilled that her dreams of becoming a full-time painter were coming true, but the best part of it was sharing her joy with Connor. Every day he’d gone out and picked wildflowers for her. Vases of wild blooms filled every room of their rental house, petals were strewn across the sheets.
And now, she’d just witnessed the most beautiful wedding out on the island in the middle of the lake. She felt utterly privileged to sit on a towel on the sand and listen to Sam and Dianna’s touching vows.
As soon as Sam and Dianna had been told about the fire, they’d both changed their schedules to fly out to the lake early. With Poplar Cove nothing but a pile of hot coals, the wedding venue had to be changed. Andrew was the one who had suggested the island, and everyone had immediately agreed it was the perfect location.
It hadn’t been easy to get so many people and decorations and food out to the island, and all of them had been praying for the rain to hold out until after the wedding, but in a way scrambling to get everything together had been part of the fun. And Ginger was thrilled to know that she was going to be related to Sam and Dianna in the near future.
Most likely very near, she thought as she put one hand on her stomach. She and Connor couldn’t see any reason to wait, not with a baby on the way.
She felt a familiar heat rush through her and she looked up to find Connor, who was standing beside his brother as best man, smiling at her.
He mouthed, “I love you,” and her stomach did a little flip-flop of joy as he followed the bride and groom down the informal aisle.
She blew him a kiss, then stood up to help Isabel serve lunch.
Flanked by his sons on each side as the photographer took pictures for the wedding album, Isabel had never seen Andrew look happier.
Forgetting she was holding a tray of grilled shrimp hors d’oeuvres as she watched them, she was surprised when a smooth voice asked, “Could I help you with anything?”
Andrew’s ex-wife, Elise, took the tray from Isabel’s suddenly limp hands. “Thank you for doing so much to make this wedding happen. And the food is wonderful.”
“You’re welcome,” Isabel replied, powerfully glad that the ice had finally been broken.
Letting herself finally take a long look at the woman Andrew had been married to for thirty years—Elise was still a beautiful woman, slim with a dark brown bob and keen fashion sense—Isabel smiled and said, “You’ve raised two fine sons. You should be very proud.”
“I am.” They stood together in silence for a few moments, watching the three men. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time,” Elise admitted in a soft voice. “I’ve wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for what happened more than thirty years ago.”
Isabel met the woman’s gaze. “I’m sorry too.”
“But I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t have given up my sons for anything.”
The final piece of the puzzle slid into place inside Isabel. Everything happened for a reason.
“I couldn’t agree more,” she said with a smile. “And if you wouldn’t mind, I would love a hand with the food.”
Elise smiled back and although they’d never be friends, Isabel was glad to know they’d never again be enemies.
Watching his ex-wife approach Isabel was as close as Andrew had ever come to having a heart attack. Through it all, he continued to smile for the photographer, but his heart didn’t start beating again until the two women smiled at each other.
What the hell did they just say to each other? was his first thought, quickly followed by, Just be glad that water seems to be running under the bridge.
He was a lucky bastard, had thought so ever since the moment Isabel kissed him. And these past couple of weeks, with both Connor and Sam together, he’d finally gotten the chance to sail across the lake with his sons in the boat that Connor had helped build. It had been even better than he’d dreamed all those years ago. He hoped to sail Blue Mountain Lake with them—and their children—many more times in the coming years.
After Connor was pulled away by the photographer for a photo with Ginger, Sam said, “You went above and beyond pulling this wedding together, Dad.”
Andrew knew that scrambling to make this wedding happen on the island barely made up for the mistakes he made. But they weren’t talking about the past anymore. They were moving forward, into a much better, much brighter future.
“There was nothing I would have rather been doing.” Dianna, his new daughter-in-law, waved at them from where she was speaking with the officiator and he told his son, “I’m so happy for both you and Connor.”
“So,” Sam said slowly, “apart from staying here to help rebuild the cabin, what are your plans exactly?”
Andrew was done hiding things from his kids. “I’m going to marry Isabel.”
Sam surprised him by laughing out loud. “Hell, we should have just made this a triple wedding.”
That mist that had been coating Andrew’s eyes all day came washing back. “I don’t think I’ve told you yet today, but I love you, son.”
And for the first time since he was a little boy, Sam said, “I love you,” right back.
Connor wrapped his arms around Ginger from behind. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother and father laugh together.”
Leaning her head back into his chest she said, “I know he wasn’t much of a father, but I’m betting he’ll be a great grandfather to our child.”
He pulled her closer, rested his hands on her stomach. “Our children.”
Catching his grandmother’s eye across the stretch of beach, he knew she’d seen her son and grandson connect as well from the joy on her face. Surprised as always by how quickly his grandparents moved, he grinned as his grandmother swept Ginger into a hug.
“We’re so thrilled that we’re going to have another granddaughter-in-law soon.”
When he’d told them about the engagement his grandmother had simply said, “I knew this was going to happen. Weren’t we smart to rent out Poplar Cove?”
He and Ginger had decided to keep her pregnancy to themselves until the second trimester, and he could see how much his fiancée wanted to spill the secret. Somehow, though, he sensed his grandmother already knew about the baby. She’d always had eyes on every part of her head. Clearly, nothing had changed from when he was a kid.
His grandfather cleared his throat and reached into his coat pocket. “We’ve given your brother the deed to the empty lot beside Poplar Cove. And this one,” he held out a piece of paper, “is for you. Your father told us your renovation made the log cabin look like new. Your grandmother and I believe you’ve already made it yours. This simply makes it official.”
The day after the fire, Connor had joined the volunteer crew to clean up the structure. Each of the guys on the crew had come up to Connor at one point or another to tell him they wished they’d been able to save his camp and how sorry they were that it had burned.
He was profoundly glad he’d been there during the cabin’s last hours. And he was greatly looking forward to rebuilding it over the coming months, along with doing some work for several other log cabin owners on the lake. Already, he’d booked as many hours as he was willing to work. He and Ginger had rented a house down at the end of the bay and would stay there until Poplar Cove was standing again.
The photographer pulled his grandparents away a moment later and Ginger said, “I’m so happy for you, Connor. I know how much you loved Poplar Cove. Now it’s yours.”
He turned her in his arms to face him. “Not mine. Ours. First thing Monday morning, we’re going to the courthouse to put your name on this. Together, we’re going to build a new life here.”
Just this morning as he’d run some last-minute errands for the wedding, he’d seen a ring in the sha
pe of a flower, each petal a different, brilliant color in a window on Main Street. He reached into his pocket and held it out.
“A wildflower,” she breathed in wonder.
“When I saw this ring I knew you were meant to wear it, that it had been made for you.” He slipped it on her ring finger then threaded his scarred fingers through her soft ones. “All my life I thought I needed fire to feel alive. But now I know all I need is you, sweetheart. This ring is a promise from me to you that I will love you—and cherish you—forever.”
And before she kissed him to seal the deal, it was the most natural thing in the world for her desperate words from weeks ago on the porch to blossom into something truly beautiful.
“Take me, Connor. I’m yours.”
Never Too Hot is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Bella Andre
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Dell,
an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DELL is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc.,
and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90772-8
www.bantamdell.com
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