The Summer They Never Forgot

by Kandy Shepherd

  As soon as the doors closed behind them he nudged her up against the wall and captured her wrists above her head with one of his so much bigger hands. The walls were mirrored and everywhere he looked he saw Sandy in that sexy red dress, her hair tousled, her face flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. Beautiful Sandy, who had brought hope back into his life.

  The raising of her arms brought her breasts high out of her strapless dress to tease him. In the confines of the elevator the warm vanilla female scent of her acted like a mainline hit of aphrodisiac. He could make love to her there and then.

  But, as it always had been with Sandy, this was about so much more than sex. This step they were about to take was as much about intimacy and trust and a possible move towards a future beyond the next three days. The responsibility was awesome.

  It was up to him to make it memorable. He’d waited so long for her and he wanted their first time to be slow and thorough, not a heated rush that might leave her behind.

  He trailed kisses down her throat to the swell of her breasts. She gasped and he tightened his grip on her hands. She started to say something but he kissed her silent. Then the elevator reached her floor.

  Still kissing her, he guided Sandy out of the elevator and towards her room. He fished his master keycard out of his pocket, used it, then shouldered the door open. They stumbled into the room and he kicked the door shut behind them.

  * * *

  Sandy had imagined a sensual, take-their-time progression through the bases for her first-time lovemaking with Ben. But she couldn’t wait for all that. It felt as if the entire day had been one long foreplay session. Every sense was clamouring for Ben. Now. Her legs were so shaky she could hardly stand.

  She pulled away from the kiss, reached up and cradled his chin in her hands, thrilled at the passion and want in his eyes that echoed hers. Her breathing was so hard she had to gulp in air so her voice would make sense.

  ‘Ben. Stop.’

  Immediately, gentleman that he was, he made to pull away from her. Urgently she stilled him.

  ‘Not stop. I mean go. Heck, that’s not what I mean. I mean stop delaying. I swear, Ben, I can’t wait any longer.’ She whimpered. Yes, she whimpered—something she’d never thought she’d do for a man. ‘Please.’

  His eyes gleamed at the green light she’d given him. ‘If you knew how difficult it’s been to hold back...’ he groaned.

  ‘Oh, I have a good idea what it’s been like,’ she said, her heart pounding, her spirit exulting. ‘I feel like I’ve been waiting for this—for you—all my life.’

  She kicked off her shiny shoes, not caring where they landed. Ben yanked down the zipper of her dress. She tugged at his tuxedo jacket and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Before she knew it she stood in just the scantiest red lace thong and Ben was in nothing at all—his body strong and powerful and aroused, his eyes ablaze with need for her.

  Beautiful wasn’t a word she’d usually use to describe a man. But all her copywriting skills deserted her as she sought to find another word.

  He was her once-in-a-lifetime love and she knew, no matter what happened tomorrow or the day after or the day after that, that tonight she would be irrevocably changed. As she took a step towards him she froze, overwhelmed—even a little frightened—of what this night might unleash. Then desire for this man took over again. Desire first ignited twelve long years ago. Desire thwarted. Desire reignited. Desire aching to be fulfilled.

  Ben swept her into his arms and walked her towards the bed. Soon she could think of nothing but him and the urgent rhythm of the intimate dance they shared.

  * * *

  Ben didn’t know what time it was when he woke up. There was just enough moonlight filtering through the gaps in the curtains for him to watch Sandy as she slept. He leaned on his elbow and took in her beauty.

  She lay sprawled on her back, her right arm crooked above her head, the sheet tucked around her waist. Her hair was all mussed on the pillow. He was getting used to seeing it short, though he wished it was still long. In repose, her face had lost the tension that haunted her eyes. A smile danced at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t look much older than the girl he’d thought he’d never see again.

  It didn’t seem real that she was here beside him. Magic? Coincidence? Fate? Whatever—being with Sandy made him realise he had been living a stunted half-life that might ultimately have destroyed him.

  How could he let her go in three days’ time?

  But if he asked Sandy to stay he had to be sure it would be to stay for ever.

  With just one finger he traced the line of her cheekbones, her nose, her mouth.

  She stirred, as he’d hoped she would. Her eyelids fluttered open and her gaze focused on him. His heart leapt as recognition dawned in her eyes. She smiled the slow, contented smile of a satisfied woman and stretched languorously.

  ‘Fancy waking up to you in my bed,’ she murmured. She took his hand and kissed first each finger in turn and then his palm with featherlight touches over the scars he hated so much. She placed his hand on her breast and covered it with her own.

  ‘You were so worth waiting twelve years for,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes.’ He couldn’t find any more words. Just kissed her on her forehead, on her nose, finally on her mouth.

  Want for her stirred again. He circled her nipple with his thumb and felt it harden. She moaned that sweet moan of pleasure. She returned his kiss. Softly. Tenderly. Then she turned her body to his.

  Afterwards she lay snuggled into him, her head nestled on his chest, their legs entwined. The sweet vanilla scent of her filled his senses. He held her to him as tightly as he could without hurting her. He didn’t want to let her go.

  Did she feel the same way about what had just happened—a connection that had been so much more than physical?

  Did she know she had ripped down a huge part of the barricade that had protected him against feeling anything for anyone?

  Hoarsely, he whispered her name.

  The tenor of her breathing changed and he realised she was falling back to sleep. Had she heard him?

  ‘Ben...’ she murmured as her voice trailed away.

  * * *

  As Sandy drifted back into sleep, satiated not just with sexual satisfaction but with joy, she realised a profound truth: she’d never got it right with anyone but Ben. Not just the physical—which had been indescribably wonderful—but the whole deal.

  Right back when she was eighteen she’d thought she’d found the man for her—but those close to her, those who had thought they knew what was best for her, had dissuaded her.

  She tightened her grip on his hand and smiled.

  Her heart had got it right the first time.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘SO, IS THE sex with my nephew good?’

  Sandy nearly fell off the chair near Aunt Ida’s hospital bed, too flummoxed even to think about a reply.

  Ida laughed. ‘Not a question you expect a little old lady to ask?’

  ‘Uh...not really,’ Sandy managed to splutter as hot colour flooded her cheeks. She’d come to talk about the Bay Books business, not her private life with Ben.

  Ida shifted her shoulders and resettled herself on the pillows, a flash of pain tightening her face. Sandy ached to help her, but Ben’s great-aunt was fiercely independent.

  ‘You don’t actually have to answer me,’ said Ida. ‘But great sex is so important to a healthy relationship. If you don’t have those fireworks now, forget having a happy future together.’

  Sandy realised she had blushed more times since she’d been back in Dolphin Bay than she had in her entire life.

  ‘I... Uh... We...’ How the heck did Ida know what had happened with Ben last night? How did she know there’d been fireworks aplenty?

  Ida chuckled. ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then. Any fool can see the chemistry between you two. Good. No matter what the world dishes up to you, you’ll always have that wonderful intimacy
to keep your love strong. It was like that for me and Mike.’

  ‘Oh?’ Sandy literally did not know where to look. To talk about sex with someone of her grandmother’s age was a new and unnerving experience.

  ‘I suppose you know about my scandalous past?’

  ‘I heard that you—’

  ‘But I guess you don’t want to hear about that.’

  The expression in Ida’s eyes made it clear that Ida wanted very much to tell her story. And Sandy was curious to hear it. There hadn’t been much talking about relationships in her family’s strait-laced household. No wonder she’d been so naïve at the age of eighteen, when she’d met Ben.

  Sandy settled herself back in her chair. ‘Did you really run away with a sailor, like Ben says?’

  ‘Indeed I did. Mike was sailing up the coast. We clicked instantly. I went back to his boat with him and—’

  Sandy found herself gripping the fabric of her skirt where it bunched over her knees. She wanted to hear the story but she didn’t—she really didn’t—want to hear the intimate details.

  ‘I never left. I quit my job. Threw my hat in with Mike. We got married on an island in Fiji.’

  One part of Sandy thought it romantic, another thought it foolhardy.

  ‘Even though you hardly knew him?’ But how well did she actually know Ben? Enough to risk her heart the way she’d done last night?

  ‘I knew enough that I wanted to spend every waking and sleeping moment with him. I was thirty-five; he was five years older. We didn’t have time to waste.’

  Was that message aimed at her and Ben? The way she felt right now Sandy hated being parted from him even for a minute. But there were issues still unresolved.

  ‘What about...what about children? Did you regret not having kids?’

  ‘Not for a moment. We couldn’t have had the life we had with kids. Mike was enough for me.’

  Could Ben be enough for her? Right now her heart sang with the message that he was all she wanted. But what about in years to come? If things worked out with Ben, could she give up her dreams of a family?

  Ida continued. ‘And I don’t have time to waste now. Once I’m over this injury I want to go back to the places I visited with Mike. It might be my last chance.’

  Sandy put up a hand in protest. ‘Surely not. You—’

  ‘Still have years ahead of me? Who knows? But what I do know is I need to sell Bay Books—and I want you to buy it from me.’

  Again, Sandy was too flabbergasted to reply to the old lady. Just made an incoherent gasp.

  ‘You told me you want to run your own business,’ said Ida. ‘And I’m talking a good price for stock, fittings and goodwill.’

  ‘Yes... But...’

  But why not?

  Candles came a poor second to books. And she already had so many ideas for improving Bay Books. Hadn’t she thought, in the back of her mind, that if there were a chance she might stay in Dolphin Bay she would need to earn her living?

  ‘Why the “but”?’ Ida asked.

  ‘The “but” is Ben,’ said Sandy. ‘We’re not looking beyond these next few days right now. I have to take it slowly with him. I’m interested in your proposition. But I can’t commit to anything until I know if there might be anything more with Ben.’

  Ida’s eyes were warm with understanding. ‘I know what Ben’s been through. I also know he needs to look to the future. I’m hoping it’s with you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sandy, touched by the older lady’s faith in her.

  ‘I’ll keep my offer on the table. But I’ll be selling—if not to you, to someone else.’

  ‘Can we keep this between us?’ Sandy asked. ‘I’d rather not mention it to Ben just yet. I don’t want him to think I’m putting any pressure on him.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ida.

  * * *

  Sandy felt guilty, putting a ‘Back in One Hour’ sign on the door of Bay Books—but meeting Ben for lunch was more important.

  Ida’s words echoed through her head. She didn’t have time to waste.

  She made her way to the boathouse to find the door open and Ben unpacking gourmet sandwiches from the hotel café and loading cold drinks into the refrigerator.

  Again, he was whistling, and she smiled at the carefree sound. He hadn’t realised she was there and she was struck by the domesticity of the moment. Did she want this with Ben? Everyday routine as well as heart-stopping passion? Much, much more than a few days together?

  The answer was in his eyes when he looked up and saw she was there. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  Yes to sharing everything.

  Everything but the rearing of kids.

  He put down the bottle he was holding, she dropped her handbag, and they met in the middle of the room. Ben held her close. She stood in his arms, exulting in the warm strength of him, the thudding of his heart, the way he smelled of the sea.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said.

  ‘Me too,’ was the only reply she could manage.

  Her heart started a series of pirouettes—demanding its message be heard.

  She loved him.

  Emotion, overwhelming and powerful, surged through her. So did gratitude for whatever power had steered her back to him.

  But could wounded, wary Ben love her back in the way she needed?

  He kissed her—a brief, tender kiss of welcome—then pulled away.

  ‘How did it go with Ida at the hospital?’

  When she told him about Ida’s questioning about their love-life he laughed, loud and uproariously.

  ‘The old girl is outrageous,’ he said, with more than a hint of pride. ‘So what did you say to her?’

  ‘I was so embarrassed I didn’t know where to look.’

  He pulled her close again. His voice was deep and husky and suggestive. ‘What would you have told her?’

  She twined her arms around his neck. ‘I think you know last night was the most amazing experience of my life.’ She had trouble keeping her voice steady. ‘Why didn’t I say yes all those years ago? Why, why, why didn’t I fight harder for you?’

  ‘Water under the bridge, remember?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘It mightn’t have been such an amazing experience when I was nineteen.’

  ‘Not true. You were the best kisser. Still are.’

  ‘Always happy to oblige,’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘Last night...the dinner dance...it was fun, wasn’t it?’

  ‘You were a big hit.’

  ‘Was I? I’m still not quite sure how to handle the townfolk. In particular the way they compare me to Jodi.’ And I’m not sure how, if we have a future, I’ll handle being second in your life.

  ‘You’re still worrying about that?’ He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  ‘And I’m quite happy to see it,’ she quipped. ‘We can eat lunch afterwards.’

  He laughed. ‘That’s not what I meant. But we can do that too.’

  He went to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and pulled out the framed photo he had put there yesterday—the yesterday that seemed a hundred years ago. She braced herself, not at all sure she could cope with seeing Jodi and Ben together in happy times. She prayed the baby wouldn’t be in the photo. One day she would have to go there. But not now. Not when this was all too raw and new.

  Ben held the photo so she couldn’t see what it was. ‘It concerned me when you said you were worried about coming second with me. About being in the shadow of the memory of another woman. It’s ironic that Jodi felt the same way about you.’

  Sandy frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  He handed her the photo. Astounded, she looked from it to him and back again. ‘But it’s of me. Of you. Of us.’

  The simple wooden frame held a faded snap of her very young self and Ben with their arms around each other. She—super-slim—was wearing a tiny pink floral-patterned bikini; her hair was wet and tangled with salt an
d fell almost to her waist. She was looking straight at the camera with a confident, happy smile. Ben’s surfer hair was long and sun-streaked and he was wearing blue Hawaiian print board shorts. He wasn’t looking at the camera but rather down at her, with an expression of pride and possession heartrendingly poignant on a teenager.

  She had to clear her throat before she spoke. ‘Where did you get this from?’

  ‘From you. Don’t you remember?’

  Slowly the memory returned to her. ‘Lizzie took this photo. We had to get the film developed at the chemist in those days. I bought the frame from the old general store. And I gave it to you to...to remember me by.’ She’d had a copy, too. Had shoved it in the back of an old photo album that was heaven knew where now.

  ‘Jodi found it at the bottom of a drawer in my room just before we got married. She brought it to me and said we needed to talk.’

  ‘I...I thought you would have thrown it out.’

  ‘She thought so too. She asked me was I still carrying a torch for you.’

  ‘Wh...what did you say?’

  ‘I said I’d cared for you once but was now totally committed to her.’

  Sandy swallowed hard against a kick of that unwarranted jealousy. ‘You...you were getting married. Wouldn’t she know that?’

  ‘We were getting married because she was pregnant with Liam.’

  Sandy let out a gasp of surprise. ‘I...I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t. But she was sensitive about it. Wanted me to reassure her that I wasn’t marrying her just because I “had to”.’

  ‘Poor Jodi.’ Her heart went out to the lovely girl who had cared so much for Ben, and she wished she had more than vague memories of her.

  ‘So, you see, as far as Jodi was concerned you were the “third person”, as you put it, in our marriage.’

  ‘I...I don’t really know what to say. If...if you were married I wouldn’t come anywhere near you.’

  ‘I know that. You know that. And I’m sure Jodi knew that. But no matter how much I reassured her that we would have got married anyway, just maybe not so soon, she had that little nagging doubt that she was my second choice.’

  ‘And yet you...you didn’t throw out the photo.’ She was still holding the frame in her hands, her fingers tightly curled around the edge.