"How about if I'm just Stephie's aunt, and I pitch in wherever I can?"
She seemed determined not to let his pride—or anything else he was feeling—get in the way of assistance he obviously needed. Finally he gave in. "You win. I'll even let you vacuum, if that's what you want to do."
She laughed, and the sound of it brought light into a place in his heart that had been dark for too long.
He motioned to the stairs in a cavalier gesture. "Ladies first."
With a smile, she preceded him downstairs.
They worked in the family room first, gathering up toys and cleaning off sticky surfaces. As April picked up two coffee mugs, she said, "I think I'll wait until tomorrow to vacuum. Then you won't feel guilty about it."
He looked up at her, and when he saw she was teasing, he gave her a wry grin. "Don't you know a man's house is his castle and he wants to think he can run it with one hand tied behind his back?"
She shook her head. "Maybe we'll have to try that while I'm here. I'd love to see you cook with one hand tied behind your back."
This time he laughed. "I gave up on trying to be Top Chef."
A few minutes later they went into the kitchen and started on it. As they cleared the table, April's stomach grumbled.
"Did you eat supper?" Gabe asked.
"Nope. Airlines don't serve meals anymore unless you fly in first class. I didn't."
"I don't have much in main courses, but there are cookies in the cupboard." He liked them as much as Stephie.
"I'll wait until we're finished here."
Gabe unplugged the laptop and took it to his office. On his return to the kitchen, he helped April clean off the counter. They both reached for the box of cereal at the same time, and somehow their hands got tangled. He found his fingers covering hers and lingering much too long. When he looked into her dark brown eyes, he saw emotion there. But it almost looked like...fear? Why would she possibly fear him?
Pulling her hand out from under his, she avoided his gaze and busied herself.
"April."
She faced him.
Suddenly the distance that had grown between them over the years seemed uncomfortable and unnecessary. "Maybe we can be friends again," he suggested. "We were once." They had been more than friends and on the verge of something tremendously important.
His heart beat at least three times until she responded, "I'd like that."
But she moved away from him, rinsed the dishes in the sink and quickly loaded the last pot into the dishwasher. Before they could even begin the process of becoming friends now, she said, "I think I'll skip the cookies and go on upstairs."
His kitchen was once more clean and organized, and there was no reason why she shouldn't. And no reason why he shouldn't let her. "I'll see you in the morning, then."
Nodding, she said softly, "Good night, Gabe."
As he watched her leave the kitchen, he realized becoming friends again wouldn't be as easy as saying the words...or as easy as it had been the first time.
After he turned off the light in the kitchen, he went to the foyer and heard no movement from upstairs. Feeling drawn to the hall closet, he pulled out the stack of photo albums, including his wedding album on the bottom. He hadn't looked at that one in years. An envelope under the wedding album fell to the floor. When he picked it up, he assumed it was filled with pictures he'd forgotten to insert in one of the albums.
Crossing to the living room, he laid the albums on the coffee table, sat on the sofa and began with the wedding photos. As he studied each picture, he remembered the day and the sense of satisfaction that he and his new wife were building a foundation for the future. April was in those pictures as Vanessa's maid of honor.
The two sisters were vastly different. Vanessa's beauty was model-perfect, her blond hair always professionally styled, her nails freshly manicured. However, not long after they'd married, he'd realized she was spoiled. She liked to be the center of attention and when she wasn't, she'd pout. April, on the other hand, possessed a quiet beauty, her light brown hair soft and natural around her face, a touch of lipstick her only make-up. She didn't crave attention and she didn't seek it.
He paged through a second and third album—Stephie's christening, her first birthday, play times in the park. And he noticed there were fewer and fewer pictures of him and Vanessa together.
Finally, picking up the envelope, he opened it and found three snapshots. Apparently they'd been taken at a Christmas party. He recognized Vanessa's co-workers from the advertising firm where she'd worked in nearby Richmond. The first two snapshots were generic, employees milling around the punch bowl. The third...was a picture of Vanessa in a sequined red dress, dancing with Larry Powell.
Gabe checked the printed date on the back of the photo. They'd been married a year then. He'd been busy enlarging his company, opening a second store in Richmond, then a third in Leesburg. A problem had developed with renovations on the building there, and he'd missed the Christmas party.
Vanessa's and Larry's faces brought his gaze to the photos again. They were dancing...close...looking at each other... Once more Gabe examined the other two photos. Larry and Vanessa were in both of them.
They'd worked together, his common sense told him.
They'd died together, a new suspicious voice added.
That icy night, Larry had picked up Vanessa to take her to a meeting with their client. Gabe remembered the phone call, the hours at the hospital, the few times Vanessa had regained consciousness to speak to April and to beg him to always take care of Stephie. But Vanessa hadn't survived, and neither had Larry Powell.
Inserting the pictures back into the envelope, he shoved them into the top photo album. On the surface, his marriage to Vanessa had seemed ideal—a successful couple doting on the child they both loved. But it had been much less than ideal.
The clock on the living room mantel struck midnight. Carrying the photo albums to the closet, he shoved them back on the shelf where they belonged.
****
When April awoke, the room was pitch-black. Though the digital clock by her bedside read four a.m., she was completely alert. Just what she needed—middle of the night insomnia. But even as she thought it, she knew the problem wasn't insomnia. It was her reaction to Gabe. When his fingers had covered hers tonight, she'd felt her body quiver. It was too painful to long for his touch, yet to know she couldn't have it. She'd left, and he'd fallen in love with and married her sister. Anyone could see why. Vanessa was the beautiful one, the vivacious one, the ambitious career woman, the wife and mother who'd handled all the roles perfectly. Gabe didn't know his wife had been unfaithful. He didn't know Stephie was Larry Powell's child.
Gabe's relationship with Stephie was so precious. How could she ever tell him the truth?
Pushing back the sheet, she slid out of bed and opened her bedroom door.
April headed for the bathroom to get a drink. But even with the small night light burning above the sink, she missed Stephie's step stool and tripped over it, making a clatter. The master suite had its own bathroom and Gabe had outfitted this one for Stephie.
April switched on the bathroom light and was rubbing her foot when she heard Gabe's bedroom door open. She thought about scurrying back to her bedroom for her robe, but it was too late for that.
When he appeared at the bathroom door, she murmured, "I'm sorry I woke you..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze settled on his bare chest. Curly brown hair sprung up the center whirling around his nipples and lower down to his navel—
"Need anything?" he asked, his eyes touring her shimmery pink nightgown.
She felt extremely self-conscious. When she'd stayed overnight before, she'd never forgotten to put on her robe. And she'd never bumped into him in the middle of the night. As he gazed at her, she felt her nipples harden.
Flustered, she brushed her hair away from her cheek. "No. I just wanted a drink of water. But I should have turned on the light. I forgot about the stepstool."
"Trouble sleeping?"
She shrugged, wishing her mother had never sold their house in Cedar Corners to move to Florida, wishing Gabe would go back to his room instead of showing concern. "Maybe if I read a little, I'll be able to fall back to sleep."
He moved Stephie's stool to the place where it belonged next to the sink. "Would music help? You can use my iPod."
Grabbing onto anything that would get them out of the confined space of the bathroom, she said, "That would be great."
He motioned for her to follow him.
As April stepped into his bedroom, she realized again how briefly they were both dressed. His navy sleeping shorts didn't leave much to her imagination.
The king-sized bed with its rumpled sheets took up half of the room. The double cherry-wood dresser and chest, along with two-bedroom chairs and an oval cherry table forming a sitting area, took up the rest. She followed him to the chest of drawers.
Opening the top drawer, he took out the iPod—this one different from the one on the dock downstairs. "I don't know if there's anything here you might like." He switched it on and tapped on the music menu.
When she stepped up beside him, she could almost feel the heat of his skin. She'd heard his shower running before she'd fallen asleep. Now she could smell soap and male, and as she glanced over at him, the matt of hair and the expanse of his chest made her long to touch it.
Focusing her attention on the music playlists, she said, "These are great! I forgot you like Coldplay as well as Blake Shelton and..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced up at him. His gaze caught hers and held it, and she felt her breaths become shallow and faster.
She could feel the electricity between them as surely as if tiny sparks were stinging her. Could it be her imagination? Could she really see desire in his eyes?
Gabe took a step away. His voice was gruff as he said, "I like a little bit of everything. Except jazz."
April's hand trembled as she gathered the ear buds along with the iPod. Then she crossed to the door and paused. "I'm going downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. Sometimes that helps me unwind. I'm sorry I've kept you up."
As she started down the hall, Gabe called, "April?"
She stopped and turned.
"You might want to wear a robe downstairs. Some of the windows don't have shades."
Her color heightened as she murmured, "I'll keep that in mind." Instead of continuing down the hall, she ducked into her bedroom.
Closing his own door, Gabe swore.
He hadn't meant to embarrass her. But if she was going to stay, she couldn't go roaming around like that...
He closed his eyes for a moment seeing her creamy arms, the few freckles along her neckline, her soft fluffy hair caressing her nape. He grew hard with desire.
Opening his eyes, warring with needs that he thought had long died, he swore again.
****
Chapter Two
Dressed for work in a white shirt and striped tie, Gabe entered the kitchen early Friday morning before Stephie was up, the smell of coffee and bacon welcoming him. "You didn't have to make me breakfast," he said as he crossed to the carefully set table. April was supposed to be on vacation!
"I have to eat, too, don't I?" she asked with a smile.
"And you cook yourself a breakfast like this every morning?"
Her cheeks flushed. "No, but this wasn't a chore, Gabe. I like to cook when I have the time."
They needed to set some ground rules or he'd feel as if he was taking advantage of her kindness. His gaze passed over her snug, worn jeans that fit her slender figure as well as the red-and-white striped, long-sleeved knit shirt that molded to her breasts.
He remembered kissing her years ago, touching her last night and her response to both—she'd pulled away. His gaze settled on her lips, perfectly pink without lipstick. "You're on vacation and you could be having fun somewhere."
"How do you know I won't have fun here?" An impish twinkle danced in her eyes and it was hard for him not to respond to it...or to the sweet garden scent of her standing so close.
"April, whether you have fun or not isn't the issue. What if I pay you?"
She brought a plate with strips of bacon and scrambled eggs to the table and set it at his place. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I don't want to owe you."
The silence between them seemed to stretch interminably until finally she said, "You won't owe me if you look at my staying here as a gift."
The kitchen was alive with more than her offer. There was a pulsing awareness that wouldn't quit. The tenderness in her expression, the curve of her cheek, the inviting softness of her skin drew his hand to her face. His thumb traced the line of her chin.
"It's a special gift, April, and I'll accept it under one condition."
"What?" she murmured.
"That you take time for yourself. That you spend evenings however you want. I know you still have friends in Cedar Corners. I don't want you to feel tied to us." He dropped his hand before he slipped it under her hair to finger it.
"It's a deal," she replied softly.
Why did he suddenly want to hold her more than he wanted to breathe? Calling on the self discipline he'd honed for years, he gestured to her plate still on the counter. "Good. Now we'd better eat before all this good food you prepared gets cold."
When she moved away from him, he was sorry. But he could be even sorrier if he acted on an impulse for old times' sake.
As he sat at the table, he tried to push his awareness of her aside. "I've enrolled Stephie in preschool. I thought it would be good for her to interact with other children her age."
An only child himself, his mother had died when he was ten. It had been he and his dad until Carl Chronister had suffered a fatal heart attack when Gabe was in college. He'd intended to become stable financially, then find a woman to love who wanted a large family as much as he did. But after Stephie was born, Vanessa hadn't been interested in having more children. In fact, for the last year of their marriage, they'd slept apart more than together.
"Do I need to take her to school today?" April asked. "I don't have a car seat in my rental."
"She goes on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. But if you need to drive anywhere, take Vanessa's car. It has a car seat. I always use the SUV, and I've thought about selling her sedan. But I just haven't gotten around to it. We can turn in your rental tomorrow."
April was quiet for a moment. "All right. It does seem silly to keep the rental while I'm here."
Motioning to the kitchen window, he added, "Remote is on the sill. Insurance card is in the glove compartment."
As Gabe dug into his eggs, keeping his eyes off of April, the lull in their conversation grew uncomfortably long. To fill the gap, he asked, "Do you think Winnifred's happy in Florida?"
"I don't know. Every time we talk, she tells me about all her activities. She wouldn't admit it, but she was lonely in that big house here after Vanessa and I moved out."
"She was fortunate it sold so quickly." There was something he'd wondered about for years. "What was your father like? I know he and Winnifred divorced when you and Vanessa were teenagers, but whenever I asked her about him, she just said she never knew him very well...that after the divorce, he didn't try to stay in touch."
April took a few moments before answering, and Gabe wondered why. But then she said, "That about sums it up. His work took him away a lot, and we hardly ever saw him."
"He was an expert at international law, wasn't he?"
April nodded. "Whenever he came home from a trip, he'd bring a stack of postcards to show us the places he'd been. I guess he thought that would make up for him not telling us about them."
She didn't sound bitter, just disappointed. He sensed there was a lot she wasn't saying.
As he reached for another strip of bacon, so did April. This morning their fingers didn't touch, but their gazes held for a few seconds.
Then April looked away, set the bacon on her plate a
nd picked up her glass of orange juice.
They might both want to be friends again, but something was standing in their way. Maybe if April stayed long enough, he'd find out what it was.
****
April could still feel the trail of heat from Gabe's thumb on her face after he left for his office. She had to get a grip on her emotions. Every time he got that close she wanted more. She'd run from him years ago because of intangible fears. She'd come here determined to face those fears as well as her feelings for Gabe. Yet it was so complicated now. Could Gabe ever forgive her for leaving five years ago? Could he forgive her for keeping Vanessa's secret?
If she held back the truth, Gabe and Stephie's relationship would be safe.
Built on a lie? her conscience asked.
She didn't have the answer. She'd loved her sister. Before she died, Vanessa had explained how she'd been racked with guilt since she'd discovered she was pregnant, how she'd cut off her affair with Larry before Stephie was born...but that they hadn't been able to stay away from each other. However, before she died, her main concern had been Stephie, and Gabe's feelings for their baby. That's why April had promised she wouldn't tell Gabe the truth...not ever.
But now whenever she looked into Gabe's eyes, she felt compelled to tell him the truth. Then she thought of her niece and held back. At the hospital the night of the accident, April had learned Larry Powell had no living relatives. If Gabe's feelings towards Stephie changed, the little girl would have no one else to give her the unconditional love a child deserved.
April had to be sure she was making the right decision no matter what the cost was to herself.
Once her niece awakened, the morning passed quickly. But after Stephie finished her milk at lunch and put down her cup she asked, "Go see Daddy?"
"Daddy's working."
"But I wanna see him."
Though she had never read child psychology books, April would bet that if a child's world was disrupted, she'd want to hold onto something or someone stable. April was sure Stephie missed her mother's presence, and now Evelyn's.
"I don't think your dad would mind a visit from us. Why don't we stop at the bakery and take him something for a snack? You can pick out a dessert for supper."
April's Promise (Forever Love Series) Page 2
