Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  “Hello,” Carly said.

  Open-mouthed, he stared.

  “Since you didn’t want to stay in Haven Bay, I thought I’d come here,” she said. “Live in the city. Not with you of course, unless you want me to, but nearby so we can see each other, maybe go out for a drink or a meal, without fighting. I could come and watch you race.” Her voice trembled.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve left Haven Bay too.”

  He stepped back from the door so she could walk in, staring at her in shock. Carly would never leave Haven Bay, she loved the place too much, everything she had was there. She wouldn’t give all that up to live here with him.

  “Why have you left?” he said.

  “Because I want to be with you and since you’re not coming back, this was the only thing I could do.”

  Daniel swallowed, looking at her standing in his lounge, her bright hair the most colourful thing in the room. She would really give up her home, flat and Liam, her only family, to come and live with him in a city she didn’t like?

  “Carly,” he said.

  “No, let me speak. I love you Daniel, I really do and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realise that. It’s not an impulsive thing because of losing Mick.” Her voice shook. “You’re my best friend, you always were and I can’t be without you. I understand if you don’t want me, but I needed you to know how I felt, so I don’t spend the rest of my life regretting that I never spoke out. I was wrong to hold the accident against you for so long, I should have accepted it better. I felt like such a failure though, a burden. But you do love me, or at least, you did, I know you risked your life to save Liam because you knew how devastated I would have been if he’d died.”

  He closed his eyes, it was impossible to stand in front of her and not touch her. Stepping forward, he put his arms around her, holding her close against him. Then he kissed her cold mouth, her cheeks and neck — she belonged to him, as he did to her, and it was a shame they had wasted two years in finding that out.

  Drawing back from her, he smiled down. “You don’t seriously want to leave the Bay and live here?”

  “I would, if you wanted me to, so you could get to training.” Her voice was steady and her eyes never flinched.

  He smiled, leaning down to kiss her lips again. “I think I could manage to drive in everyday, if I get back on the team, that is.”

  “I’ve rung Shane, told him that I’ve been sailing again and that I’ll try out in a few months’ time for the Paralympics.”

  He drew back. “You shouldn’t do that for me, Shane only said we had to get you sailing again, not competing.”

  “I’m not doing it for you, it’s for me. I want to feel the wind in my hair and hear water bubbling under the stern. I want to handle a boat again, to be free like I was, I can’t walk on land very well, but in a boat, I can race.”

  Clutching her tight again, he pressed his lips against hers and slid his hand underneath her coat, unbuttoning it and dropping it to the floor. She wouldn’t be needing it for a while, because she wouldn’t be returning home tonight, for now he needed her close against him, to kiss her and taste her, to reassure himself that she had finally returned to him, and that this time, she was staying.

  EPILOGUE

  Carly leant against the warm rail, hot sun burning down on her arms. Glancing at the long, bare legs of the girl next to her, she looked away and smiled. You couldn’t have everything. A klaxon sounded on the jetty beneath and she craned her head to watch the ten white sails shooting off across the bay, water rippling. The tourists standing beside her cheered and raising her hands, she clapped, making her palms sting. The Summer Gala was always popular, but people still talked about planning another winter one.

  The smooth, green-blue waves lapped up the yellow beach, which lay dotted with bright red umbrellas and stripy beach towels. The summer visitors loved the sailing gala, wading out into the water to wave at the dinghies speeding past. On the beach, a lifeguard watched them from her chair, whistle around her neck.

  After Mick’s death, the harbour had emptied of boats, whether out of respect or fear, Carly didn’t know, but the first time she saw a sail in the bay, she smiled in relief and joy. The waters were dangerous, but they were also part of Haven Bay and the townsfolk here had fished, sailed and paddled in them since they first settled in the small flat plain above the beach. She didn’t want people to be scared, just to be aware of the power of the ocean.

  Shielding her eyes, she peered toward the black cliffs, in front of them bobbed a bright orange lifeboat, the crew standing on the deck, watching the boats. She promised Mick a new craft and with his help, she’d got one. After his death, donations had poured into the fund, far more than they had needed. Now Padstow too had a modern lifeboat and Duncan had been driven away: she’d watched him pack his suitcases into his car with a smile. Later it came out that he wanted the land the lifeboat station stood on, had planned to turn it into a beach café — for the chance to sell tea and coffees to tourists, he’d been willing to let people drown. There was no place for someone like him in Haven Bay.

  Staring at the tiny figures on the lifeboat, she waved; it was unlikely Liam would see her, but she wanted to acknowledge him. It was funny how in places like this, the loss of a lifeboat man didn’t put others off, in fact they’d had dozens of new volunteers to replace Mick. Her brother had joined after his last fishing trip, admitting it to her with a fearful expression, but she’d hugged him and said how delighted she was. It was almost true.

  Of course, she was afraid when the waves rose high in the air and trees bent double in a gale, but she never showed it. Liam loved the sea and there was no reason to stay away from it; accidents happened and when they did, you could only learn to live with the consequences, or destroy yourself.

  “Carly!”

  She smiled and turned away from the rail, looking at the crowds of people in the harbour. Waving, Daniel stood beside Ali who pushed a pram, her skin glowing under the sun. She’d asked Carly to be godmother to her daughter, which she tactfully turned down — she wasn’t godmother material — but she often looked after baby Shelly during quiet times in the shop to give Ali a break.

  Soon, she might have a child of her own, she and Daniel had discussed it. After their wedding, she was going to try for the Paralympics, and after that, they would try for a baby. In the meantime, they shared her flat and he got up early to drive in for training.

  Taking her cane, she strode across the grass toward them.

  “Hello,” Daniel said, wrapping his arms around her. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

  “Watching the sailing, I see you did decide to leave off entering this time?”

  “I thought I’d give someone else a chance.” He laughed when she playfully slapped him and leaned down to kiss her. Reaching up, she slid her arms around him, drawing him close, breathing in his scent. How could she have ever imagined she could be happy without him? He’d been so much support as she mourned Mick. Ali had been right, if Carly wanted a man who never made a mistake, then she’d better carry on looking, but if she wanted one who would hold her tight and never let her go, then she could only have Daniel Edwards.

  About the Author

  Lucy Oliver lives in England with her family and writes both historical and contemporary fiction. Originally a short story writer, Winter Storms is her first published full-length novel.

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  Unmasking Love by Peggy Bird

  Old Christmas

  Kathryn Brocato

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com


  Copyright © 2012 by Kathryn E. King

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-5164-2

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5164-2

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-5144-8

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5144-4

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com; Bigstockphoto.com/stefanolunardi

  This Book Is Dedicated To

  My Husband,

  Charles S. Brocato

  “The Man From Beaumont”

  Whose Prize-Winning Recipe for

  “Deep Dark Secret Cheesecake”

  Is Included At the End of the Book

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Deep Dark Secret Cheesecake Recipe

  About The Author

  More From This Author

  Chapter 1

  Casey Gray stood on the doorstep until she’d gotten her emotions under control. When the door opened, she glanced around the Johnsons’ big living room, viewing the cacophony of chatter, Christmas music, cheerful lights, and people inside as if through a dark portal.

  Outside, the cool, humid darkness of a Southeast Texas winter night beckoned with a promise of starlight and solitude — and the postponement of a potentially humiliating confrontation.

  “Come on in, Casey. I’m so glad I ran into you today.” Merrick Johnson, a former classmate, pulled her inside. “Look who’s back in town, folks. Our famous local chef, Casey Gray.”

  Merrick’s azure-blue eyes and overdone friendliness hadn’t changed a bit, Casey observed, but her red-blond hair had been lightened to a silvery color, her makeup imitated a natural tan, and the slinky, black pajama-like outfit she wore enhanced both.

  An image of another pair of blue eyes the color of a cloudless winter sky, framed by thick, black brows and long, straight lashes filled Casey’s mind. The eyes smiled into hers, loving and eager. She made herself call up an image of those eyes as she had last seen them — narrowed, contemptuous, and angry.

  Casey smiled and nodded toward the few curious faces that turned her way. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said to Merrick.

  “Are you kidding? And turn down the chance to have a genuine French-trained chef cook for the crowd? I’d have to be crazy. The kitchen’s all yours.”

  Casey smiled. She was well aware that Merrick had invited her tonight for a purpose, so she’d made her plans in advance. She had once spent many happy hours cooking in the Johnson kitchen, and had used that fact to hint that Merrick’s guests might enjoy a special, freshly baked treat. Merrick had leaped on the suggestion.

  An enormous Christmas tree dominated one corner of the living room, designer-decorated with wooden country-style ornaments and red bows. Piles of gifts wrapped in green, red, and silver lay stacked beneath it.

  Casey pretended to admire the tree while using the toe of her shoe to open any cards she could reach for the one name she was interested in. When she found it, her heart contracted with an emotion that might have been pain or joy, or both.

  “I had no idea you were in town. Why didn’t you call me?” Bonnie Brite, a short brunette who had long been Casey’s best friend, rushed over to fling both arms around her.

  “When I got in, I went straight to the hospital and ran into Merrick.” Casey tossed back her shoulder-length chestnut hair and smiled. “She said you’d be here tonight.”

  “How is your grandmother? As soon as I heard she was sick, I hoped you’d come home.” Bonnie stepped back and stared at her.

  “She’s better, I think. I’m waiting to see Dr. Johnson in the morning.”

  “God, don’t you look fantastic,” Bonnie said. “Love that crinkly hairdo on you. And look at the little wool business suit. It’s too hot, even in winter.” Bonnie grabbed Casey’s arm. “Let’s go in the kitchen where it’s quieter. I’m dying to hear all about your job in New York.”

  Casey, who wanted to forget about her job in New York, said quickly, “I’m dying to hear all about the beauty shop. Believe me, it’s a lot more interesting.”

  “Hah. You know what it’s like around here. The biggest event of the year is the Rice Festival, and I didn’t even go this year. But I’ll tell you who did. Old Kalin McBryde was there, checking out the Rice Cooking Contest. If you want to know what I think — ”

  “I don’t.” Casey softened the words with a smile.

  “ — he’s still crazy about you,” Bonnie finished, unabashed.

  Casey followed Bonnie past several people she didn’t know despite having grown up in the small Southeast Texas town of Winnie.

  Strange, how she’d heard of Kalin McBryde all her life, thanks to Merrick’s bragging, but had never met him until he spotted her struggling to get her Rice Cooking Contest entries inside the Community Building her junior year in high school.

  “I don’t see anyone here I know,” Casey observed.

  “Is that so surprising? No one can kill a party, even her own, faster than Merrick. Do you know what they say about her at law school?”

  Casey could imagine it. “No.”

  “They claim she’ll single-handedly close down the Texas Bar Association with all her talk about her future greatness. You know. She’s going to be a great lawyer like her uncle, Walter McBryde, the great criminal attorney. She leaves Kalin out of her spiel now, for which I’m sure he’s grateful.”

  “Merrick’s okay,” Casey said, grinning.

  Casey banished memories of Kalin chasing her through this very room and catching her in the kitchen. “Dr. and Mrs. Johnson must have left the house to Merrick for the weekend. Look at that.” She pointed to the trays bearing an assortment of cheeses, chips, pickles, nuts, and sandwiches laid out on the dining room table. She added in tones of loathing, “Party trays. Sheer laziness on Merrick’s part. She ought to be ashamed.”

  “Spoken like a true professional. Can you really run a big restaurant by yourself, cooking and all?”

  “You bet. The first thing I’d do in here is pitch out all that garbage.” Casey led the way into the modern white kitchen. “Look at this wonderful equipment. Mrs. Johnson is a great cook, and Merrick never learned a thing from her.”

  “Merrick believes her brain is too good for anything domestic.” Bonnie dissolved into laughter. “And you’re right. Those trays are still full.”

  Casey opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Look at that. Full of milk and eggs. The possibilities are endless.”

  “I can’t believe you.” Bonnie’s short, black curls quivered with mock outrage. “The living room is full of sexy young law students, and you’d rather be back here in the kitchen making something for everyone to eat. You haven’t changed a bit.” Her glare morphed into a grin. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “The only person I really hoped to see tonight was you. Stick around. I’m about to bless this gathering with something far more interesting than that excuse for party food in the dining room.” Casey straightened and smiled at her friend.

  Merrick entered with a good-looking, red-headed man. “Look who’s back, Clay. Casey Gray. Say, Casey, you never graduated from college, did you? What a shame. Dad always said you had a good mind.”

  Casey said, with enormous calm, “I graduated from Internationa
l Culinary College in Baltimore, which was exactly what I had planned to do all my life.”

  “It’s a shame so many people think you’re ignorant unless you’ve been to college,” Merrick observed.

  Bonnie, who had become a licensed cosmetologist rather than a bachelor of arts or sciences, pressed her lips together and cast her gaze to the ceiling. The red-headed man glanced from Merrick to Casey with mild curiosity.

  Merrick added, “I wouldn’t have missed the college experience for anything.”

  “I’ve decided you’re right, Merrick. I think I’ll sign up for law school tomorrow,” Casey said, straight-faced.

  Merrick’s azure eyes, so like those of her cousin Kalin, went impossibly wide. “You want to go to law school? Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?”

  Casey looked at her hopefully. “I’m counting on you to set me straight. I figured that if I apply this week … ”

  Merrick, looking horrified, proceeded to set her straight, detailing a process that required about five years, upright ancestors all the way back to the American Revolution, and a mind like Einstein’s. Casey pretended great interest.

  “Anyway, if you still want to go to law school,” Merrick finished, “I’ll be happy to show you what courses to take in college to prepare yourself.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Merrick. It sounds like a lot of work, but I’m sure it’ll be worthwhile.”

  “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Merrick said, in all earnest. She glanced at the large yellow kitchen clock. “Are you sure you have time to bake something?”

  “After culinary school I spent six months in Paris training under some of the top chefs. I’m fast. It’ll only take an hour.”

  “Have at it,” Merrick invited. “Mom always said you were wonderful in the kitchen.”

  Casey wasted no time in shedding her jacket and rolling up the sleeves of her creamy silk blouse. She tied on one of the voluminous aprons hanging on a hook beside the door and ignored Merrick and her male friend.