Secrets on Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  “Great,” I said and then noticed after a few moments that he’d become quiet. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, but that sure looked like a sheepish expression on his face.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Well . . . I’ve done something and I just hope you won’t be upset with me.”

  I could only stare at his handsome face, which now showed concern, and I wondered if all that good feeling from earlier might be about to evaporate before my eyes.

  “I hope you won’t think I’m presumptuous.” He ran a hand through his thick gray hair, and I knew this gesture indicated nervousness or anger on his part. “But . . . ah . . . last week I got to thinking.”

  Oh. My. God. Does he not want to see me anymore once we return home? I still remained silent, unable to say anything.

  “It just seemed kind of silly . . . you know . . . for me to fly back on Sunday. Alone. And for you . . . to fly back on Monday. Alone.”

  Okay, he definitely had me confused. What on earth was this man talking about? I raised my eyebrows, let out a deep breath, and said, “What?”

  This brought forth a grin and a chuckle from Worth. “What I’m trying to say is . . . I called the airline, canceled my flight for Sunday, rebooked my flight for Monday, with you, and I hope you won’t be upset.”

  Upset? This man had gone out of his way to reschedule his flight just to be with me? To spend an extra day with me? Not to mention the cost that must have been involved. It took a second before I realized that my lips were parted but no words were coming out, probably making me look like an idiot.

  I let out a burst of laughter as I shook my head. “Gosh, no. Why would I be upset with you? I’m flattered that you’d go to so much trouble to accomplish this. Of course I don’t mind. I think it’s great.” And I did.

  “Oh, good. And by the way . . . I also told them that Toulouse will be traveling with us, so that’s all cleared and taken care of.”

  “Thank you so much. I had planned to do that tomorrow.”

  “Oh. One more thing.”

  I waited a second and heard him say, “You don’t have your seat in economy anymore. I booked both of us for first class.”

  This man was amazing.

  Three hours flew by with us sitting in the garden, sipping coffee and talking. The air was turning much cooler, and I wrapped my arms around myself, which caused Worth to glance at his watch.

  “Hey,” he said. “How about we go for a walk and find a place for wine and then an early dinner?”

  I jumped up, headed into the kitchen, popped the cassoulet into the oven, and turned around to shoot a smile at Worth.

  “I have a surprise for you,” I explained. “Madame Leroux gave me her recipe for cassoulet, and I’ve made one for our dinner. It’ll be ready about six.”

  This earned me another tight embrace. “Are you serious? What a great idea. Okay, then we’ll go out, have some wine, get a baguette, and then come back here.”

  After we were seated at the café and the waiter had brought our wine, Worth surprised me by saying, “I wanted to tell you, Marin. I’m proud of you.”

  “Me? For what?”

  “For allowing yourself to be open about Fiona and not holding a grudge against her.”

  I looked across the street to another sidewalk café filled with people. “It wasn’t easy,” I mumbled.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t. And a lot of women would not have been able to make the decision that you did.”

  I hadn’t wanted to tell Worth about my call to Fiona on the phone, so I had just shared the story with him over coffee in the garden. Apparently, he had given it some thought.

  “Well,” I said. “I’ve learned a lot these past few months, and I’ve come to see that it isn’t always easy to do the right thing, and sometimes we’re not even sure what the right thing might be. But I finally understood, deep inside, that none of this was about Andrew anymore—he was gone. It wasn’t even about Bianca. It’s only ever been about Fiona—and I think Andrew proved that by what he did for her, financially, to make certain that despite a mistake on his part, his daughter shouldn’t be deprived. And it’s not up to me to deprive her of her brothers. Jason and John will have to make that decision.”

  Worth reached for my hand and bent his head to kiss me. Not a gentle, peck-on-the-lips or cheek kiss. No. A deep and very passionate kiss. But this was Paris, and this show of affection was quite commonplace after all.

  35

  By the time I woke on Thursday morning, sharing the apartment with Worth had come to feel quite comfortable and familiar. I glanced up at the ceiling and recalled the previous evening when Worth had returned from dinner at his daughter’s home. He said the visit had gone well, they’d enjoyed a nice dinner and exchanged Christmas gifts, and it was obvious that spending time with his grandchildren meant a lot to him. He had then surprised me by saying that Caroline had extended an invitation for us to join them on Saturday afternoon for coffee. I had wondered if Worth would even mention me to his daughter. I now knew that he had, but I also wondered whose idea it had been that we should meet.

  I glanced at my watch and saw it was going on seven. After slipping on my robe, I headed to the bathroom and then out to the kitchen, where the strong aroma of coffee greeted me.

  “Good morning,” Worth said, coming to place a kiss on my lips.

  “Good morning,” I repeated and couldn’t help but notice how sexy he looked with his hair a bit tousled, the hint of a five-o’clock shadow on his face, and jeans and a sweatshirt his outfit.

  “Coffee?” he asked, going to pour me a mug from the French press.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip and heading to the sofa, where he joined me.

  “I’m glad the dinner last night went well,” I told him.

  He nodded. “Yeah, Caroline seemed to be in a fairly good mood. I know she’s looking forward to their upcoming ski trip.”

  He let out a deep sigh, causing me to turn my head toward him.

  “You know, Marin, there’s been something that I wanted to tell you. About Claire. About our relationship and marriage.”

  When I remained silent, he went on.

  “I’d explained that we met in college. Claire still had her senior year to finish up after I graduated. The new semester had only begun when she informed me that she was pregnant.”

  So Claire had been pregnant with Caroline when they married. Not something that unusual, and I wondered why he felt the need to share this with me.

  “I hated to see her drop out of college without getting her degree, but she insisted that we get married immediately. To be honest, although I certainly had feelings for her, those feelings weren’t quite as strong as maybe they should have been to get married.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of coffee. “What I’m trying to say is, had she not told me she was pregnant, I’m not sure our relationship would have continued much longer. I was beginning to see that Claire and I didn’t have all that much in common. She was much more interested in status and an upscale lifestyle than I was. But . . .”

  “But you did what you felt was the right thing and married her.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. We had the very posh wedding that she insisted on. Claire came from money, and she was used to getting her way and reveling in the fact that she was always the envy of her friends. That meant a lot to her. Having the best.”

  Not an uncommon trait in some women, I thought. “But then Caroline was born and I’m sure your daughter made the marriage more solid.”

  “That’s just it,” Worth said. “Claire wasn’t pregnant with Caroline when I married her. Caroline was her second pregnancy. She had a miscarriage a few weeks after we returned from our honeymoon. Well, at least she said it was a miscarriage.”

  I shifted on the sofa to better see his face. “Are you saying she could have had an abortion?”

  “Oh, no. No, I’m not saying that. But later I began to wonder if Claire had e
ven been pregnant at all. I came home from work one afternoon and she calmly told me that she’d lost the baby. When I tried to take her to the hospital, she refused. She said she’d called the doctor and his instructions were to rest for a few days. That was it. I remember being quite surprised about her lack of grief and later wondered if my own sadness at the loss wasn’t even necessary.”

  I reached for his hand and entwined mine inside. “Hmm,” I said. “Well, she wouldn’t be the first woman to try and hook a man with a false pregnancy, but then she did get pregnant with Caroline.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but she certainly didn’t seem pleased when she discovered she was pregnant. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she was a good mother, but I just don’t think it was something she truly enjoyed, and of course, there were no more children.”

  “Makes me wonder if we ever truly know somebody,” I said and thought of Andrew and how much I didn’t know when we met and married.

  “That’s just it. Sometimes we don’t really know somebody when we take those marriage vows, and over the years when we discover that we’re not happy, we realize that we have two choices. We either stay and carry on, which many couples do. Or we decide being apart would give us more happiness than being together. Once Caroline was grown and on her own, I made the decision that separating was the best thing for both of us. Claire definitely was not happy, and we were living a charade in that huge house together.”

  “Oh,” I said with surprise. “I didn’t realize you were separated. I thought your marriage ended because she died.”

  “That is how it ultimately ended. I had contacted my attorney, had everything arranged financially for a legal separation . . . and that was when Claire sprung it on me that she’d just been diagnosed with breast cancer. I’m ashamed to say that at first I had my doubts and wondered if this was simply another tactic to hold on to me, but no, she hadn’t been lying. But she did beg me to stay with her. She said she couldn’t get through any of it alone. And she was right; she couldn’t. Claire always depended on others. So I stayed.”

  I may not have known a lot about Andrew when I married him or even during our years together, but I knew for certain in that moment that there are extraordinary people we do know. People we instinctively understand. People we are in sync with and are connected to in ways that defy explanation. And I also knew that Worthington Slater was such a person to me, which also caused me to grasp the fact that although it wasn’t planned, I had fallen in love with this man.

  I shifted on the sofa, snuggling against his chest, and felt his arm go around me. “And so,” I said, “you stayed . . . and you did the right thing.”

  We had spent the morning shopping for Toulouse, purchasing his travel case, a few toys, food, and anything else that Worth felt my new kitten might require.

  He had suggested dinner at La Rotonde that evening. I loved Montparnasse and decided it was probably my favorite area of Paris. After dinner inside the restaurant we made our way to a table outside to enjoy coffee and cognac. Sitting there with Worth, once again I felt the ghosts of Hemingway and F. Scott surround me and I marveled at the fact that although it was such a cliché, I had managed to acknowledge the reality that here I was in Paris . . . and in love.

  We took the Métro back to the apartment and Worth suggested a glass of wine. I kicked off my heels and settled myself on the sofa.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said, passing me my glass. “Here’s to us . . . and all our tomorrows.”

  “What beautiful words. I like the sound of that.” I took a sip and then smiled. “Another surprise?”

  He got up and headed to the television, slipped a DVD into the player, returned beside me, and gave me the DVD box, causing me to laugh.

  “Oh, my God! You are such a romantic! Casablanca?”

  Worth smiled. “It’s our favorite movie, right? I thought it might be appropriate to watch it here together.”

  I moved into his arms for his kiss. There was no denying any longer that what I’d been feeling with Worth was pure desire, an emotion I hadn’t felt in years and one that I thought might have entirely disappeared. But I now knew that it had simply been smoldering . . . waiting for Worth to reignite it.

  I felt his tongue slip inside my mouth as our kiss deepened, and his hands moved down my back before gliding up to circle my breasts. I heard a moan escape me when his fingers trailed along my thigh to the inside of my leg. When he moved my panties aside and continued touching me, it was Worth’s groan I heard, and it was a sound that turned me on even more.

  Breathless with kissing, I allowed my own hand to touch his hardness and heard him gasp as he guided me down on the sofa to remove my clothes. Bracing himself above me, he looked into my eyes before his gaze slowly descended my body. I let out a deep breath, and when I saw a smile of approval cross his face, I felt every inch a woman, which heightened my desire.

  Removing his own clothes, he positioned himself on top of me, snuggled his face in my neck, and whispered, “I love you, Marin. I’ve loved you from the first time I laid eyes on you at that fundraiser.”

  I felt his kisses on my neck and whispered back, “I love you too, Worth. I do love you.”

  His mouth found my breast before he said, with huskiness filling his voice, “God, I want you, Marin. I want you so bad.”

  I nodded and knew my desire was reaching the ultimate as I said, “I want you too. Make love to me.”

  Worth stood up, reached for my hand, and led me to the bedroom as Rick and Ilsa were falling in love. Rick’s classic statement, “We’ll always have Paris,” would be etched into my soul.

  36

  I opened my eyes Saturday morning and felt Worth curled up beside me. Since making love for the first time, he had shared my bed the past two nights. Not only did I like him next to me; I liked how spontaneous he was as a lover. I had been surprised that first night to be awakened at about three in the morning to feel his hands once again stirring my desire. I had also been surprised to discover how much pleasuring me meant to him. Although the first time had been frenetic and even a bit wild with the wanting of each other, the next time had been slow, seductive, each of us enjoying the feelings that we created in each other and captivated with the intimacy of our lovemaking.

  I moved slightly to better see Worth’s face as he slept, and my heart turned over. I deeply loved this man. Yes, I had probably been attracted to him the first time he walked into the yarn shop, and yes, I had thought him quite handsome, but that chemistry that so many couples might initially experience doesn’t always go on to become something more meaningful and solid. Sometimes it’s simply lust and a physical attraction, but with Worth it was so much more than that. As I came to know him better, I came to love him for the man he was, and I was very grateful that he had come into my life. I reached up a finger to trace his jawline and saw his eyelids flutter, then open, a smile covering his face.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, placing an arm over me to pull me close.

  I snuggled into him and smiled. Was there a better way to start a day? “Good morning to you,” I said. “I love you.”

  “I love you more,” I heard him say before his hands once again caused my body to respond so easily to his touch.

  “Are you sure?” I asked for the second time as I glanced in the mirror. I had decided to wear my ankle-length black skirt, gray cashmere sweater, and black fashion boots to meet Worth’s family.

  He laughed and came up behind me, nuzzling his face in the back of my neck. “You look gorgeous. Perfect. Don’t be so nervous. We’re only going for coffee.”

  “Right,” I said. And your daughter will be scrutinizing me, is what I thought but didn’t say. “Oh! Shouldn’t we bring something? Like flowers or . . .”

  Worth laughed again. “Not to worry. I picked up a box of chocolates that Caroline loves when you were at the yarn shop yesterday.”

  I nodded. “Right. Okay. I’m all set,” I said, reaching for my coat and handbag
.

  Caroline and Roland’s apartment was located in the eighth arrondissement, not far from boulevard Haussmann and near Parc Monceau, a very upscale and pricey area. A very Caroline area.

  We were buzzed in via the intercom and took the elevator to the seventh floor. As soon as the doors opened, Worth was enveloped in hugs by a boy and girl I knew must be Yvette and Christophe.

  “Grandpère, we’re so happy to see you,” the boy said as the girl hung on to Worth’s arm. “And this is your friend?”

  “Yes, I’d like you to meet Marin, and this is Christophe and his sister, Yvette.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” I said.

  Christophe threw me a huge smile, which I found resembled Worth’s. “We’re happy to meet you too,” he said.

  “I couldn’t wait to meet Grandpère’s girlfriend. You are his girlfriend, aren’t you?” Yvette inquired as we followed her brother down the hall.

  Worth and I both laughed as he said, “Indeed she is.”

  I saw a tall, slim blonde waiting outside a door farther down the hall. When we got to where she was standing, she leaned toward Worth, kissed both his cheeks, and said, “It’s good to see you again, Papa.”

  Stepping into the apartment, he said, “Caroline, I’d like you to meet my friend Marin Kane, and Marin, this is my daughter.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, noticing that not a trace of a smile had crossed her lips.

  “Yes, likewise. Come on in. Michelle,” she called.

  A woman who was probably in her early fifties appeared in the large foyer, wearing a black dress, stockings, and shoes. A maid? Caroline had a maid?

  “Take their coats, please,” Caroline instructed.

  “Bonjour, bonjour.”

  I looked up to see a man of medium height come toward us. Hugging Worth, he then placed a kiss on each of my cheeks.

  “I am Roland, Caroline’s husband. Welcome to our home,” he said with sincerity, which was certainly more than I could say for his wife.