by Susan Fox
“No,” he said quickly, “that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, anyhow, when I thought about having an abortion, I couldn’t do it. I figured I’d give the baby up for adoption. She’d have had a more secure home. But when I had an ultrasound, she became a she rather than an it and I started to fall in love with her. I couldn’t give her away. I guess that’s selfish.” Her eyes were huge and sad.
He shook his head. “It’s maternal. And maybe someone else would have given her a more secure home, but you give her so much love. The two of you belong together.”
She gave a wobbly smile. “Thanks for that. I only wish I’d done better by her.”
“Seems to me, she’s a healthy, happy, intelligent kid.”
Now her smile brightened. “She is, isn’t she?”
“You said you’ve dated a few guys since she was born? The chef and a couple others?”
“The only serious one was Emile.” She rolled her eyes. “A brilliant, creative chef and a fascinating man. All muscle and sinew. Fiery red hair and a temperament to match. The energy he gave off sucked me in. Of course, how much of that energy and creativity was due to cocaine, I’ll never know.”
“He did cocaine?”
“Restaurant kitchens are strange places. High pressure, close quarters. Drugs aren’t uncommon.” She added quickly, “Not that I ever got into that. It’s stupid. And yeah, it was stupid of me to get involved with a man who did drugs, but unlike my mom he seemed to be handling it.” She shrugged. “Bottom line: whether it was sensible or stupid, I felt powerless. He was like a magnet. When he smiled at me, I couldn’t resist him.”
“What happened?” Aside from the guy apparently having no interest in her daughter, from what she’d said before.
“Turned out I was a seasonal special. He got tired of me, found someone new.” She scowled. “And he got me fired, the bastard. Not that I’d have enjoyed working there and seeing him with next season’s dish, but it was a good restaurant. Good tips.”
He’d listened carefully to everything she said. “You talk about being attracted to these bad boy types. Being flattered, unable to resist them. But were you actually in love?”
“I thought so at the time. Luke, I—” She broke off to smile at their server, who was delivering coffee and a plate with four desserts ranging from fluffy and pink to dense, dark chocolate. “Oh my, those look fabulous, Ellen.”
“Try the pink one first. It has guavaberry rum in it. And work your way to the chocolate, because it’ll kill your taste buds for anything else.”
Luke waited patiently while Miranda tasted and moaned. If she’d been deliberately trying to arouse him, she couldn’t have done a much better job, yet she seemed oblivious to him. He took some tastes of his own, enjoying everything though he’d have been quite content with black cherry ice cream topped with chocolate sauce.
When she finally rested her fork and drank some coffee, he said, “You thought you were in love with those guys?”
She blinked and her dreamy, dessert-satiated expression sharpened. “I’ve always led with my heart. I believe in true love, that it’s out there for everyone. You know I’m right, because you and Candace found it. I keep thinking it’s in front of me, but so far I’ve been proved wrong. Aaron always told me I was crazy, that love wasn’t for people like us, but hah! Look at him and Eden.”
“Yes, I do think almost everyone can find love. And that you will.” Was it possible the two of them might fall in love? Being with him broke her usual pattern. He was nothing like the men she’d fallen for, and clearly she wasn’t madly infatuated with him. “But Miranda, your relationships with those guys seemed so fast and intense.”
She nodded. “Passionate. All-consuming.”
“Uh, okay.” All-consuming sounded scary. “But how can you love someone when you barely know them? Don’t you need to know their values, their beliefs, their strengths and weaknesses, all that kind of stuff?” He wondered if she’d been overly eager to find love because her mother had never made her feel loved and secure.
“I suppose that would be nice. But you feel what you feel. Right?”
“Okay, so you felt attraction and passion. What else?”
“How d’you mean?”
“Did you truly like these men? Did you have conversations like we’re having? Did you respect them? Trust them? Did you enjoy spending time with them doing normal stuff, like washing dishes or going for a walk?”
“There wasn’t a whole lot of normal stuff,” she said slowly. “Or a lot of conversation. Not this kind, anyhow. We talked about, well, their interests mostly. I learned a lot about music, theater, cooking, whatever. There was a guy who wrote graphic novels. Another who created works of art out of the weirdest stuff.” She paused, her eyes narrowed in thought. “As for liking and respect, I guess that was maybe more about their talent and energy than those other things you said. Beliefs and values. And trust? Well, I guess I did trust them, but obviously there was no foundation for it because they betrayed me in the end.”
Bitterly, she added, “Story of my life,” and he figured she was thinking of her mom, too, and maybe her grandparents.
“Did the men really betray you?” he asked gently. “Or was it miscommunication?”
She sighed, looking tired again despite the sugar and caffeine she’d ingested. “Miscommunication? Are you saying it was partly my fault?”
“I’m saying maybe you wanted one thing and they wanted another, and the two of you never really discussed it. Even if you used the word ‘love,’ that can mean different things to different people. These guys sound like men who were used to going from one woman to the next, but you didn’t see that, or you thought it would be different with you. But it wasn’t, and they didn’t really betray you, just did what they always did. If you see what I mean.”
She was frowning, so obviously she didn’t.
He tried to clarify. “It was about them, not about you. They weren’t rejecting you as a person. They weren’t even seeing the real you. They just wanted a fun, sexy, beautiful woman to enjoy for a while, and you fit the bill.”
“Hmm. Maybe.”
Warming to this concept, he went on. “And you didn’t see the real them either. You saw these talented, sexy, exciting guys. They seemed, oh, larger than life, to use that trite expression. They fascinated you.” Just as the Goth girl in high school had fascinated him, but he’d had the sense not to confuse that feeling with love. “And they noticed you, were attracted to you, brought you into their glamorous worlds. You were seduced by all of that. You wanted to find love, and you were ready to see it but you didn’t look below the surface.”
She groaned and dropped her face into her hands again. Speaking from behind her hands, she said, “Am I really that pathetic?”
“No.” He reached across the table and tugged at her hands until she dropped them. He kept one, threading his fingers through her slender, warm ones. “Not at all. Just . . . hopeful.”
“Needy,” she muttered.
“Everyone needs love. That’s being human, not needy.”
She gazed at him, her eyes a soft blue. “You’re sure you’re a vet, not a shrink?”
“Positive.” He squeezed her fingers, which felt so good interwoven with his.
“You seem pretty wise to me. How come you know this stuff and I’m such a dimwit?”
“To tell you the truth, I’d never thought much about all of this.”
“So this is just on-the-fly insight? That’s even more impressive.”
“I want to understand you. I want you to understand you.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Maybe I don’t want you rushing off, falling madly in love with some—” The thought of Julian crossed his mind and he stopped smiling. “Rock musician or something.”
“There aren’t a lot of those in Blue Moon Harbor,” she said dryly. Turning her gaze out the window, she said, “It’s lovely out there, but it’s still so chilly. I wish it was summer. It would be
nice to go for a walk on the docks.”
He shouldn’t be surprised that, after a conversation this intense, she wanted to change the subject. “It would be,” he agreed. “But spring’s in the air and it won’t be long.”
She looked back at him. “My mom did the same thing, you know. Kept falling for the wrong guy, thinking she was in love.” And then she made a quick, dismissive gesture. “No, I don’t want to talk about her tonight.”
Rising, she unhooked her purse from the back of the chair beside her. “I’m going to freshen up, then I’d love to hear some stories about your boys.”
If she wanted to distract him, she couldn’t have picked a better topic. Besides, he didn’t want to come across like he was psychoanalyzing her.
She walked away from him in a slow, easy saunter, shapely butt swaying gently, long legs showcased by the sheer black hose and high-heeled shoes. Sexy as hell. He wanted her. His body was making that clear. His fingers tensed with the desire to curve around that delectable ass and he imagined those slim legs wrapping around his hips as he thrust deep inside her.
Luke clenched his hands together and bit back a groan.
Even if she might be receptive, he didn’t want them to leap into sex the way she’d done with other guys. He wasn’t like those men. He’d never disrespect her. He didn’t, despite his body’s urgings, want a hookup. For him, it had to be a relationship. For him, and for the sake of his sons. And her daughter. So he’d take this slowly and make sure they were both serious about where things might head.
Ellen approached purposefully. “Are you done with the dessert?”
Three of the selections had been finished, but not the chocolate one. “I’m pretty sure Miranda’d kill me if I let you take that.”
“I hear you. A top-up on your coffees?”
“Thanks.”
She complied, then said, “Your date’s on her way back,” and left him.
He turned to watch Miranda approach. There was a natural, attractive rhythm to her walk. So different from the jerky way she’d moved as a teen, her every movement expressing anger and, he knew now, unhappiness. As she sat down, he shoved the platter over to her side of the table. She smiled and dug into the remaining dessert, enjoyment obvious on her face.
He wondered what that lovely face would look like if he teased her nipple between his thumb and index finger. If he stroked between her legs until she writhed. Oh yeah, he wanted her. But he was a patient man.
“Stories about your boys,” she prompted between bites.
Now there was the perfect topic to distract him from craving sex. Always happy to talk about Caleb and Brandon, he launched into a story. Then, encouraged by her obvious interest and the questions she asked, he carried on.
Suddenly, half an hour had passed, and they both needed to get back to their sitters. He paid the bill, adding a sizable tip, and he and Miranda both gave Ellen and Rachelle their compliments on the food and the service.
Outside, it had passed chilly and turned damned cold. Using that as an excuse, Luke put his arm around Miranda’s shoulders. When she snuggled close and tucked her arm around his waist, he wished they could walk for hours. But, aware of her thin coat and their waiting sitters, he escorted her straight to the SUV.
When they were on the road, heater blasting, Michael Bublé crooning in the background, Luke said, “Let’s go dancing next Friday. Forbes’s band will be playing at the community hall.” Should he mention that his mom, her old teacher, would be there? No, she should realize it was likely. Besides, she was bound to meet his relatives at some point, and a casual venue full of islanders would be less pressure than a Sunday dinner. “Have you been there yet?”
“No. Aaron and Eden have invited me, but I hadn’t left Ariana for the evening until now. And I wasn’t in the mood.” She glanced over. “I think I’m in the mood now.”
For dancing, or did her words have a double meaning?
“Then it’s a date.”
He was content to drive without further conversation and it seemed she was, too. She hummed along, in tune, to the songs playing on the radio.
When he pulled up in front of her cabin at SkySong, light glowed from behind a curtained window. He flicked off the headlights and turned off the engine. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s ten feet away.”
“Twenty. And it’s dark out.” He got out and went around to open her door. When she started to clamber out of the high seat, awkward in her heels and short skirt, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her to the ground.
She stood in front of him and he didn’t remove his hands. “I had a good time, Luke. Thank you.”
“I did, too. Thanks, Miranda.” He bent slowly, watching her reaction.
The moon was shining through wisps of cloud, and her face and hair looked pale and almost mysterious. But her smile gave him an unmistakable go-ahead.
He touched his lips to hers, finding them full and soft. She didn’t respond, but didn’t pull away either. He sensed she was waiting to see where he’d take this. So he didn’t settle for a good-night peck, he pressed more firmly, angling his mouth, asking her, daring her, to answer him. Heat surged through him, an almost irresistible drive to thrust into her mouth, to pull her to him and grind against her, but he fought the urge.
She sighed, one of those utterly feminine actions he had missed so much. Moving closer, her arms came up to loop around his neck and pull him toward her as her lips moved under his.
Different lips than he was used to. He was kissing a woman for the first time in four years. He was kissing a woman other than Candace for the first time in his life. But then those thoughts dropped out of his brain and there was nothing but Miranda and this kiss.
The tip of her tongue flicked the seam between his lips and he opened gladly, liking that now she was taking the initiative.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close but not so close that she might feel his erection through the layers of their coats. And for long, sweet minutes they explored each other’s mouths. Though he smelled her lily of the valley scent, her lips didn’t taste delicate and flowery, but like dark, rich chocolate and coffee. Now, this was a dessert that beat black cherry ice cream all to hell.
The sensations, the experience, it was almost too much. He felt like a dried-out seed in parched earth, sucking in drops of life-giving rain that filled his veins until they were ready to burst. It was delicious, but too painful to sustain.
He pulled away, breath rasping. “God, Miranda. That was . . . You’re . . . Wow.”
She looked a little dazed. “Yeah.” But then she recovered and grinned. “That’s one question answered.”
“Dare I ask?”
“You’re hot.” And with that, she turned and sauntered up the dirt-and-gravel path to the cabin door.
Leaving him staring after her with a foolish grin and a hard-on that wasn’t likely to quit anytime soon.
Chapter Eleven
When she’d accepted Luke’s invitation to go dancing, this wasn’t what she’d had in mind—which made Miranda realize that her brain hadn’t completely adjusted to life on Destiny Island.
To her, “dancing” meant a dark club, pounding music, lighting that was almost psychedelic. Anonymity, the crush of writhing, overheated bodies in trendy clothes, the scent of perfume, sweat, and booze.
Not a wooden barn of a community hall, with a steeple on one side indicating it had started life as a church. Not the country-twangy song B-B-Zee was playing, and the twenty or so line dancers out on the floor in cowboy boots, denim, and a couple of long, boho skirts.
Nor had she expected to be sitting at two shoved-together tables with not only her brother, Eden, Di, and Seal, but also Luke’s mom and in-laws. In retrospect, she probably should have. She knew B-B-Zee was a popular island band, that Aaron and Eden loved them, and that Di and Seal were friends of the band members. She knew Luke’s stepdad was one of those band members.
But, silly her, she’d been fussing over what to wear, not over making a good impression on Luke’s family. Or having her big brother scrutinize her every interaction with Luke from across the wooden four-top. Maybe that was a good thing, or she might’ve canceled.
And really, this wasn’t so bad. The islanders had started with “haven’t seen you in a while” chatter and then segued into Aaron and Eden’s wedding, scheduled for the end of April. Miranda had mostly stayed quiet. At this table, there were she and Luke, Aaron and Eden. Eden wore a long skirt and casual top, and Aaron was in jeans and a navy Henley. At the adjoining table, on Miranda’s right was Randall Yuen, Luke’s father-in-law, and beside him his wife, Annie Byrne. Her wealth and success sure didn’t show in her plaid flannel shirt and well-worn jeans. Her unstyled paprika-and-salt hair showed fading tones of the same blazing red as her daughter’s had been, and her eyes behind navy-framed glasses were the same striking light gray as her grandsons’. Black-haired Randall was more put-together than his wife, in khakis and a cream-colored shirt with a First Nation eagle design on the pocket.
Across from the two of them sat Di and Seal, in their usual modified hippie garb, and at the end of that four-top was Luke’s mom. Ms. Russo hadn’t aged much, with her shiny black hair and olive skin, and looked attractive in a cranberry-colored sweater over fancy jeans and tooled boots. All the same, Miranda was quite happy that Luke’s mom was too far away for easy conversation. Not that she figured the conversation would flow all that “easily” anyhow.
The three jean-clad men on stage were all of parental vintage, gray-haired or balding. Luke had pointed out his stepdad, ponytailed like Seal though Forbes’s hair was thinner, the only one wearing a tie-dyed tee as opposed to a casual shirt.
The band, which was actually very good, switched to a slower song, and now couples were on the floor in each other’s arms. Having listened to a lot of Canadian music on the radio, she recognized the old Gordon Lightfoot tune. Forbes was at the mic, singing poignantly about being lonely, away from home, in the early morning rain. Personally, she figured the guy in the song wasn’t all that bad off. At least he had a home to miss. It was more than she and Aaron had ever had as children.
