Deliver the Moon (15 page)

“Are you sure about that, Louisa?” His accusatory expression guilted her into looking away.

Grunting under his breath, he strode across the room and grab his briefcase from the couch. “I’m going into the office for a while. You can let yourself out.”

“Evan, I—” Louisa moved toward him, but stopped herself halfway across the room. How had this happened? She never intended to break up with Evan.

Damn Gabriel!

Evan disappeared through the door, and a moment later, the bell announced the elevator’s arrival.

Louisa stood in the middle of the spacious living room clutching her ringed hand against her chest. With a quiet sniffle, she raised her hand to eye level and studied her engagement ring. Its magnificence blurred through her tears and the loss of stability and certainty in her life, things she’d worked so hard these past years to achieve.

Gabe’s words about fate came back to her.

She swore under her breath. That was a bunch of bull. Fate had nothing to do with the mess in her life.

It was all Gabe’s fault.

Chapter Ten

Gabe found Louisa at the back of the ferry, standing at the railing and watching the sights of Seattle slip away. The boat wasn’t too crowded. Most of the morning traffic headed into town, not out of it.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” he said as he joined her.

“I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”

“Where’s Sarah?”

She cocked her head downward toward the car decks. “In the car. What about Arty?”

“Same. He’s not feeling too sociable, I’m afraid.”

A seagull swept past them, almost within reach, then flew low over the wake of the big boat before flying away. “How did you get her to agree to come along?”

She shrugged, and the makings of a grin tugged at her mouth. “I told her I, um, needed to get away.” She cleared her throat, and a blush swept up her neck onto her face. “From you.”

Probably not much of a lie.

The skyline slowly diminished beyond the huge wake. “Where are we going, anyway?” she asked.

“Port Townsend. I remember you’d always wanted to go there.”

Her silence stretched on until it became uncomfortable. “We’ll never get rooms,” she said finally. “Not with this being the Fourth of July weekend.”

“I have a feeling we’ll get lucky.”

He knew he’d need all the luck in the world, because, somehow, in the course of three short days, he had to convince her that they were meant to be together. Forever.

It was a tall order.

“Speaking of getting lucky,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “You won’t be. Getting lucky, I mean. With me.” Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

“You think that’s what I meant by giving me a few days?” And she still agreed to come along? He should be flattered.

“I just don’t want any misunderstandings about this weekend. I don’t want you making any moves on me, Gabriel.”

“Louisa,” he said, drawing out the syllables of her name.

“Promise me.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He let out a loud sigh. “Look, I’d be lying if I said I don’t hope we end up having a romantic weekend together.”

Panic shone in her dark eyes, and her lips tightened into a thin line.

“Okay, I promise to keep my hands to myself. However, should you ever desire to kiss me and/or jump my bones, I can’t promise that I’ll resist.”

She punched him in the arm. “You’re such a jerk.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Probably by me.”

He grinned. “Probably.”

“So what’s the plan once we dock?” she asked. “We should have a rendezvous spot where we can
accidentally
run into each other.”

Gabe pulled a business card from his back pocket. “We’re all staying here.”

“Smith House Bed & Breakfast,” she read. She peered up at him, eyes narrowed. “You already made reservations?” At his nod, she said, “Then what’s all that talk about getting lucky?”

“You said you were worried about getting rooms. I said I had a feeling we’d get lucky.” He flicked the card in her fingers. “And there you go.”

“Have I called you a jerk lately?”

He checked his watch. “It’s been at least 45 seconds.”

“Wait. How many rooms did you get?”

He stared at her a moment before answering. “Three. One for you and Sarah, and one each for Arty and me. So don’t worry. If Sarah and Arty get back together—which, as you say, is the whole point of this trip—you and I will still have our own rooms.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s good.”

“I don’t want to share a room with you anyway.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks burned. “You don’t?” Oh, crap. That sounded really indignant, as if she were disappointed. She cleared her throat. “I mean, good. You shouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to share a room with you,” he repeated, “because I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

She blinked.

He grinned.

Damn him.

The ferry whistle blew, announcing their imminent arrival in Port Townsend.
Thank God.

“I’ll see you at Smith House,” Gabe said. “Act surprised to see us.” She caught his grin as he turned and walked away.

Ooh, she hated when he did things like that. Dropping bombshell comments without giving her a chance to bite back.

I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.

A thrill shot from her head to her toes and everywhere in between. She shook it off.

She forced relaxing breaths of fresh sea air. She took in the beautiful sunlit waters and surrounding land. At least she was seeing a part of the state she’d been wanting to visit for years.

Obviously, she and Gabe had opposite objectives for the weekend. He wanted these three days to convince her they were right for each other. She wanted the three days to convince herself they were
not
.

Because like it or not, some doubts had crept into her mind about Evan, all having to do with Gabe. Three days together would be plenty of time. They’d be at each other’s throats, arguing like it was an art form—just like the last months of their marriage. Gabe would see she was right and would finally drop this ridiculous notion about fate. Then she would go running back to Evan and her career. She wasn’t going to let some wayward fantasies about her ex-husband jeopardize everything she’d worked so hard for these past few years—her bettered relationship with her parents, her relationship with Evan, her emotional stability, and her beloved job.

She may have left her engagement ring in her jewelry box at home, but Evan was still the man for her. It just made the most sense.

It did.

****

Louisa and Sarah finished unpacking their bags at Smith House. Their room was in the main house. She’d inconspicuously learned from the proprietor when checking in that Gabe and Arty were staying in the bungalows off the courtyard.

Sarah sat on the edge of one of the beds. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good company.”

“I just thought it would be nice for both of us to get away.”

Sarah shrugged. She hadn’t put on any makeup, her hair looked like it hadn’t been combed or washed in a couple of days, and she wore baggy gray sweats.

Louisa sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Come on. Let’s get freshened up and go for a walk.”

“I really don’t feel like doing anything, Louisa. Sorry.” She lay back on the bed.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Louisa grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get outside. The fresh air will do us both good. I have a feeling this will be a very enlightening weekend. Just what you need.”

Sarah didn’t look so sure but agreed to go.

Twenty minutes later, they headed down to the courtyard. Gabe and Arty would have to pass through here if they went into town. Louisa had pulled her hair back with a navy and white polka-dotted scarf and had exchanged sandals for white canvas sneakers. And because it was a little cooler on this side of the water, she’d slipped a navy cotton blazer over her T-shirt. Sarah had run her fingers through her short hair and donned faded jeans and a ratty Mariners T-shirt. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

Sarah lagged behind as they entered the quaint courtyard. “Louisa, I’m sorry. I can’t do this. This is all just too romantic.” She waved her hands at the rose-covered trellis, the darling bungalows lined up in a row, the brick pathways. “It reminds me of Arty.”

Louisa grasped Sarah’s arm. “You can’t come all this way just to hang out in the room all day.” The couple would never get back together if they didn’t get together in the first place.

Sarah pulled her arm from Louisa’s grip. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” Then she was gone.

Louisa blew out a long breath. Now what? Gabe and Arty would be along any minute. They couldn’t find her out here alone. It would ruin the surprise.

She glanced around the courtyard. A trellis separated the bungalows from a lush garden. The plentiful flowers brushed against her jeans as she followed the red brick path. An old-fashioned swing hung from a maple tree in the middle of a patch of wildflowers.

She sat on the swing, keeping an eye on the bungalows through the foliage. Arty wouldn’t be able to see her unless he was looking for her, which he wouldn’t be. If she couldn’t catch Gabe’s eye when he came out, she’d have to leave a message at the front desk.

Sighing with frustration, she absorbed the beauty around her, relaxation settling in as her feet set the swing swaying. Smith House didn’t have the water views Louisa might have wished for, but it had enough charm and character to make up for anything it might be lacking.

Scents of lilac and honeysuckle wafted through the warm air. Sarah was right. This was very romantic here. She sighed, dreamily, picturing herself holding his hand, pausing while he picked a daisy and tucked it into her hair—

Evan
was the “he” in question, of course. In her little fantasy, she’d been holding
Evan’s
hand, and
Evan
had tucked a daisy into her hair. She ignored the little voice in the back of her head reminding her that Evan considered daisies a weed.

The swing suddenly moved, having been pushed from behind. She gripped the ropes and turned her head. Gabe stood several feet behind her.

“Where’s Arty?”

Gabe cocked his head toward the bungalows. “Holed up inside. I tried everything to talk him out here, but…” He shrugged. “Where’s Sarah?”

“Same thing. Great plan we had, eh?”

He gave her another push. “Oh, I don’t know. We can have a good time together without them.”

She didn’t need to have a good time with Gabe. No, no, no. She was still mad at him for all his fate talk and for screwing up her well-ordered life. Why did she keep forgetting that?

“Gabriel, stop it. I’m hungry. Let’s go eat. Maybe they’ll be ready to come out of their cocoons when we get back.”

He continued to push her.

She tried to stay mad, but suddenly felt lazy and carefree, experiencing a lightness she hadn’t felt in ages as her insides churned with the thrill of going up and down, back and forth in midair. She arched her neck and let the wind kiss her face as she whooshed through it, with Gabe pushing her higher and higher. Forward through the air, her back arched in delight, then backward again. Whenever she neared the peak of the back swing, his big hands gripped the sides of her hips and urged her up just a few more inches before guiding her again and again into the forward swing—

Dammit! Why did even swinging on a silly swing have to be a sensual experience with him? Why couldn’t she just enjoy the simplicity of the act without turning it into sexual fantasy?

She jumped from the wooden seat on the next forward swing, propelling herself into the garden. She took a few quick steps, hoping to regain her balance, but had to reach out with her hands to keep from falling face-first into a patch of day lilies.

Gabe rushed to her side, helping her up. “For God’s sake, Louisa! Why did you do that?”

Not meeting his eyes, she brushed sawdust and dirt off her jeans. “I didn’t come here to play. I’m hungry. I want to eat.” She reached into her purse for her sunglasses and shoved them onto her face. She hurried out of the garden and onto the quiet street.

Gabe jogged up alongside her. “What happened back there? I thought you were having fun.”

Her chin lifted, and she strode faster down the hill into town. “Like I said, I’m hungry.”

“You’re mad at me.”

She pushed her glasses higher onto her nose. “Why would I be mad? You didn’t do anything.”

“You’re mad because you were actually having fun with me and it scared you.”

She finally slowed her place. “Gabriel, you over-analyze everything. Why would it scare me to have fun with you?”

“Because it would suggest that I’m right, that we’re meant for each other.”

She
harrumphed
under her breath and flicked her ponytail behind her shoulder. “I had fun with my dog, too. Does that mean he and I were meant to be together forever?”

Gabe chuckled. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” he said.

“I don’t anymore. He ran away.”

****

Even though it was early afternoon on a Friday, the streets of Port Townsend were already filling up with mingling tourists arriving for the holiday weekend. The Victorian seaport was nestled in a northern harbor of the Olympic Peninsula. It was the premier city on Puget Sound during the 1800s, but the advent of the steamship took the maritime interests away from Port Townsend and toward the then-tiny communities of Seattle and Tacoma. Only in the recent past had the town begun to thrive again, primarily as a mecca for tourists eager to admire the grandiose architecture of the business district and the spectacular Victorian mansions on the hills overlooking the town and harbor.

The area was also home to a diverse artistic community, attracting artists from every medium with its many galleries, the majestic setting, and inspiring surroundings. It was because of the town’s cultural background that Gabe knew Louisa would love it. During their marriage, they’d often talked about driving over here, but somehow time got away from them, and they never came.