Delicious Do-Over (17 page)

She’d barely touched her dinner at the quaint water-front restaurant Rick had chosen, but she drank three glasses of wine. Yep, she was tipsy and all the way home Rick teased her about the things he would do to her, and how he would take full advantage of her condition and convince her to stay.

It was all so sweet and sad, and she didn’t know how she was going to get through the night and tomorrow morning without crying. Why she’d thought the wine would help was beyond her, she thought as they parked in the carport.

“You didn’t lock it again,” she said to him when she got to the kitchen door first.

“I usually do.” He came up behind her and steadied her on the second step. “When I’m not distracted.”

“I’m not drunk,” she said.

He smiled. “I know.”

“Just so
you
do.” She pushed open the door. “Anything you do to me, I will remember tomorrow.”

“I hope so.”

She stepped across the threshold and sighed. “I’m gonna miss this kitchen.”

“Is that all you’re going to miss?” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath skimming the side of her neck. He plucked the bow that held up her sundress.

“Hey,” she said, giggling and trying to keep the halter in place.

He took her wrists, held them together with one hand above her head and used his free hand to touch her bared breasts.

“You can’t do that,” she said, laughing and walking backward down the hall toward the bedroom.

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm…” He smiled. “Looks like I am.”

She twisted her hands free and pulled up the top. She almost got away, but he caught her around the waist.

They stopped and suddenly looked at each other, as if it hit them at the same time. The bedroom lamp was on. Rick frowned. “Did you—?”

She shook her head.

He shoved her in back of him and quietly approached the bedroom door. Lindsey followed close behind.

“Sorry, Rick. I thought she’d left.” It was a woman’s voice.

“Godammit, Lani.” Rick pushed a hand through his hair, glanced over his shoulder at Lindsey.

She knew he was trying to block her view, but she stepped to the side to see around him. The woman she’d seen at Sunset Beach slipped out of Rick’s bed. She was naked.

“How did you get in?” Rick was nervous and angry. “You certainly weren’t invited.”

“The door was unlocked,” she said, shrugging slim shoulders, in no apparent hurry to cover her large breasts. She pulled on a pair of brief shorts, no panties. “I thought you were alone. Figured you might want some company.”

Rick turned his back on her and took Lindsey by the shoulders. “Baby, I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know what the hell to say.”

Lindsey swallowed. “It’s okay. She thought I’d left,” she said, her voice sounding too weak.

Lani had pulled on a short snug T-shirt that bared her taut belly, and touted the In Motion logo. She stood at the doorway, waiting for them to let her pass. “I really am sorry,” she said to Lindsey, and then as she squeezed by Rick, she whispered, “Call me.” She tried to touch his face, but he jerked his head away.

Rick stared angrily after her. Lindsey simply stared at him. She had started to shake, and she was suddenly freezing. Vaguely she wondered if her legs would carry her to the couch.

Even in her semishocked state, she knew Rick was upset and angry and had nothing to do with Lani being here. None of that mattered to Lindsey. She was exhausted and cold and she desperately wished she were already on that plane flying home.

“Wait here, okay?” Rick lifted her chin. “Okay? I’ll be right back.”

She stared into his tortured face, startled to see fear in his eyes. She’d seen him annoyed, curious, amused, angry, aroused, but she’d never seen him afraid. He waited until she nodded, and after he walked into the guest room, she stared at his bed. The bed where they’d made love countless times. She’d made it this morning, with all the extra pillows. It was rumpled now. Because of Lani…

Oh, God.
Lindsey pressed a hand to her stomach. She hoped he didn’t think she could sleep in that bed tonight.

Rick was back. He draped a blanket around her shoulders and walked her into the living room. He sat first, then pulled her onto his lap and cradled her to his chest. He kissed her hair. She used to like it when he did that. She shivered uncontrollably. It had to be the wine. He held her tighter.

How could she have been so foolish? She’d overheard the guys on the beach talking trash, she’d seen the women throwing themselves at them. She could only imagine how easy it was for someone like Rick to get whatever he wanted.

For a horrifying second she pictured Lani, then herself before she banished the image from her mind. How could Lindsey have ever thought Rick would be interested in her? Oh, for one week, sure. She was a novelty. But she didn’t belong in this crowd that treated sex so casually. She belonged in New York, doing what she’d promised to do.

“Lindsey?” He sounded broken. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.” He kept stroking her hair.

“It’s okay,” she said in an admirably calm voice. “This isn’t your fault. The week is over, and—” She had to stop or risk dissolving into tears.

“Try to sleep,” he whispered, and kept holding her, while she tried to deny she’d stupidly fallen in love with him.

By the end of the night she’d seemed calm, and eventually had fallen asleep. He knew because he’d been awake the entire night, the desire for violence simmering inside him a new and menacing feeling. If he hadn’t been holding her, he couldn’t have trusted himself not to tear down his house with his bare hands.

He saw the Honolulu International Airport exit, and it took every bit of his willpower not to drive past the damn ramp and take her to the beach where they’d spent their first night. Start the whole damn week over. But a person couldn’t go back and rewrite the past, that’s why they had to stay on course and do it as well as they could the first time. Lindsey had taught him that six years ago.

Departures was crowded. Lots of tired mopey tourists at the curb, unloading luggage from cabs. He hated this new security bullshit that prevented him from seeing her off at the gate. He found a spot, and squeezed the Jeep in between a tour bus and a green SUV.

A skycap approached them, but Rick waved him off as he climbed out of the Jeep. Lindsey called the man back.

“I’m taking your luggage to the counter for you,” Rick said, his jaw clenched.

She shook her head, gave him a sad smile. “We’ll say goodbye here. You’ll have to move the Jeep, anyway.”

“Let them ticket me.”

“No.” She indicated her bags to the skycap, then turned back to Rick. She wore her sunglasses. He wanted to rip them off. “I had the best time. I’m so glad you saw the post on Facebook.”

“Lindsey.” He caught her cold hand. “I wish last night had gone differently.”

She moved a shoulder in a small shrug. “It still would’ve brought us to this moment.” She went up on tiptoes. “Thank you,” she said, and kissed his lips.

He pulled her into his arms, hugged her so tight his shoulder ached like hell. “Call me when you get there, okay?”

She wouldn’t answer.

“I just want to know you’re safe.” He swallowed back a lump of emotion. Lindsey needed to feel safe. She needed a man who could promise her that. Could he? He didn’t know….

“Promise me you won’t go surfing with your bad shoulder,” she whispered, and pulled away from him.

He saw the track of a tear on her cheek below her sunglasses. “Promise.” He barely got the word out.

Abruptly she turned and walked briskly toward the sliding terminal doors with the skycap. He wanted to call after her. But he didn’t trust his voice.

She splurged on a cab to her old apartment. It was bare, her few furnishings having been sold off, donated or shipped to New York. Technically she had five days left on her lease so she didn’t feel like a squatter. She dropped her two bags in the middle of the small living room, then turned up the heat. She’d worn the wrong traveling clothes for her return because she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She still wasn’t, but at least she was alone. She could cry her eyes out, and not worry about sunglasses, or strong arms wrapped around her….

A sob tore from her throat. She kicked off her shoes and crumpled to the floor next to her flight bag and curled into a fetal position. More sleep would help dull the pain. Thinking about him wouldn’t. Nor would beating up on herself. She’d done enough of that on the plane.

The truth was everything had happened exactly as planned. Lindsey had wanted to break from her boring predictable life. She wanted to change, to take risks. Her week in Hawaii was to have been the threshold to her new life. Charge her batteries, make her fearless and ready to tackle Anything Goes. She choked out a snort. Fate was sure having a laugh at her expense. Because she
had
changed. She was different than she was ten days ago. Definitely stronger. More positive about her future, not so frightened over having left her job. She had no choice. Her friends were counting on her and she’d never let them down. Mia and Shelby were like her family; no, they were her family, much more so than her blood relatives. She absolutely belonged in New York with them, just like Rick belonged in Hawaii with his waves and fans.

She flopped onto her back, dragged the flight bag over for a pillow and allowed herself a small smile. Sometimes even the best plan sucked.

What Wally didn’t know was that Rick had called. Twice. And reached her voice mail. He’d left messages, and she replied by text—very brief, very polite texts. She had asked him about his shoulder. That was something. She’d also told him how much she was enjoying settling into a routine in New York and meeting the challenges of the new business.

Routine. Yep, Lindsey liked her routine. He hoped she was happy.

He surprised his family by arriving a day early. Then further shocked them with a new haircut. It wasn’t too short, not like when he was in high school, but a ponytail was out of the question. Everyone was busy with jobs and school until the weekend and he thought about seeing if any of the nearby ski slopes were still open. He found two, then decided he had no interest. He stuck around his parents’ house, and played with his nieces and nephews after they came home from school.

The morning of his birthday he slept in. Or tried to. His sister Jenny walked into his old room, singing “Happy Birthday,” in that tuneless voice of hers.

He muttered a curse, and piled another pillow over his head. Which she yanked off. “Hasn’t the state passed legislation against that mouth of yours yet,” he grumbled, glaring at her through bleary eyes.

“
My
mouth? I hope you’re not using that language around my kids—your nieces and nephews.”

“Once in front of Bret. By mistake. I apologized.”

“I know. He told me. He’s old enough to have heard it before.” Jenny chuckled. “I never thought you’d take turning thirty so hard. I’m shocked.”

“Too bad not shocked speechless.” He burrowed his head under the pillow again.

And again, Jenny snatched it. “It’s not about the big 3-0. Look at you. Every young lady in the neighborhood is all atwitter that you’re home. You’re gorgeous, and you’ve never worried about age.” She paused for a long, drawn-out moment. “Is it a woman?”

He sat up, rubbed his face and sighed. “Screw thirty. I’m grumpy from working too much. I think I’ll go play with the kids.”