First Time in Forever (23 page)

This wasn’t an afternoon with Lizzy as the focus. It wasn’t a swimming lesson where the objective was improving her stroke and confidence in water. This was a date. Just the two of them. Man and woman.

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Don’t tell me—you’ve spent the last two hours thinking of all the reasons you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Maybe it’s a mistake.”

“Maybe.” He stood to one side to let her in. “But most mistakes don’t smell the way you do, so I’m willing to take that chance. I have champagne in the fridge. Hopefully that will numb your panic.”

Was it panic? She wasn’t sure. It felt more like excitement with a heavy dose of nerves. It was the first time she’d been in his home, and it took her breath away. Acres of glass offered spectacular views over the bay, and the setting sun sent slivers of gold across the darkening ocean. The place was designed to make you feel as if you were part of the scenery, not just an observer. You could almost smell the sea and feel the wind in your hair. It should have unsettled her, but didn’t. Maybe it was because she was slowly getting used to the sea, or maybe it was because from up here it felt as if they were suspended above it, safe from the dangerous lash of the waves.

As for the apartment, the decor was exactly as she would have predicted: sophisticated, minimalist and masculine, everything chosen for its clean lines and simplicity. The kitchen area was a gleaming run of polished steel, sleek and practical. The walls that weren’t glass were lined with bookcases, and in one corner a spiral staircase wound its way up to a sleeping shelf.

“What’s up there? Your bedroom?”

“No. An obscenely large TV and my state-of-the-art sound system.”

She laughed. “It’s amazing.” It was also the least child-friendly apartment she’d ever seen. “It has the feel of a loft. This will probably surprise you, but I could sit and look at this view all day.”

“Me, too. Sometimes I’m tempted to do just that. Then I remind myself that if I don’t get off my butt and earn money, I won’t be able to afford to look at the view.” He stood next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers. “When I was in the hospital, I thought about this place all the time. Even as a kid I knew these buildings had potential. I used to lie there, planning what I’d do with it. It took my mind off the pain.”

“You’ve built a successful business.”

“Winters are still lean, but even they are picking up since we started to pull in the winter outdoor crowd. And a few artists have shown interest in renting these apartments for the winter months. North light. I’m lucky to be able to build a life here.” He strolled across to the fridge, removed a bottle and scooped two slender stemmed glasses from one of the cabinets.

“What are we celebrating?”

“The fact that you’ve learned to swim? Your first boat trip? Your first night without a six-year-old sleeping in the room next door? Adult time? The list of possibilities is endless.” Under his gentle persuasion the cork came free with a gentle pop, and he poured the champagne and handed her a glass. “Or maybe we should drink to courage.”

“Courage?”

“Swimming, sailing and sleepover. Knowing how hard all of those things must have been for you, I think it’s an appropriate toast.”

Remembering the vicious scars on his shoulder she decided he wasn’t low on courage himself. “I loved the sailing. And you were so patient with Lizzy.”

“She’s a great kid. Gutsy, funny—she reminds me a little of Rachel at the same age. Were you scared to let her go tonight?”

“Yes. But she wanted to do it so badly, and I trust Lisa.”

“Does she know the truth?”

“About Lizzy’s identity, yes. She had a bad experience with journalists herself, so she was sympathetic.” She wondered if she’d been tactless given his past profession, but he shook his head, reading her mind.

“I’m not about to defend the actions of the guy you told me about.”

“It’s been almost a month. Do you think they could still come?”

“It’s less likely with every day that passes.”

She stared down into her glass, watching the bubbles rise. “It’s weird. This is the first time I’ve been on my own for a month, and instead of feeling free, I miss her.”

“Kids have a habit of sneaking up on you. Before you know it, they’ve hooked you and you can’t get free.” He finished his champagne. “We should leave. They’re holding our table.”

The Galleon restaurant was situated a short walk from the harbor, with views over the ocean and the passing yachts. Despite the island location, or perhaps because of it, they’d managed to secure themselves a reputation as one of the top restaurants in Maine. They operated six months of the year, and during the winter months the owner and chef, Sallyanne Fisher, spent time traveling the world on the hunt for new recipes. As a result the menu was eclectic and interesting.

Sallyanne herself greeted Ryan with a kiss and showed them to a secluded table in the corner of the restaurant with a view over the water.

“Who did she have to disappoint to give you this table?” Emily slid into the chair with the view, noticing that they were partially hidden from their neighbors.

Ryan smiled. “I fixed her boat last summer. She’s been grateful ever since. And on an island this small it’s impossible not to know your neighbors and your competition.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it? The quality of the food here is attracting foodies from everywhere. It’s good for all of us.”

It certainly was good.

They ate sautéed jumbo shrimp with roasted garlic and baby spinach, followed by fresh Maine lobster washed down with a Californian white that was cool and so delicious, Emily drank more than she’d intended to.

They finished off by sharing a blueberry cheesecake. As she took the last mouthful, Emily moaned and closed her eyes. “This is so good. I’m going to tell Lisa to find a way to make this into an ice cream.”

“It’s generous of you to help her.”

“I’m doing it for selfish reasons. After everything that has happened lately, I need to feel competent at something.”

He picked up his glass. “You’re competent at a lot of things.”

“Not swimming or parenting.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your parenting skills. Just your confidence. But you’re pushing yourself out of your comfort zone on a daily basis. And you’re loving it.”

She put down her glass. “How do you know that?”

“It shows on your face.” He glanced at the dress. “It shows in everything.”

“It isn’t just about Lizzy. It’s about me. I never did these things. I never sat on a beach and tried to eat ice cream before it melted over my fingers, I never pushed my fingers into a heap of flour and made my own pizza base, I never made necklaces out of flowers. Lisa showed me how to make the perfect pirate map. You soak paper in tea, dry it out and then burn the edges.”

He smiled. “So ballerina is definitely off her list.”

“Seems that way.” She put her spoon down. “The thing about kids is that they make you pay attention to the small things. Things that as an adult you rush past on your way to something else.”

“That’s exactly what drove me crazy as a teenager. I wanted to rush past it on my way to something else.”

She nodded. “You were at an age when everything was changing radically. You were trying to work out who you were, and suddenly you were expected to be responsible for other people. That’s scary, but also rewarding. Lizzy’s reading is coming on so fast. Agnes has been reading to her, too. She gave us lots of Rachel’s old books.”

He sat back in his chair, studying her across the table. “Still worried you can’t love her?”

“She’s very easy to love.”

“And that scares you.”

“Yes, but lately I’m doing everything that scares me, so I guess this is just one more thing.”

“You’re an impressive person, Emily Donovan. You took on a child you’d never even met and agreed to live a life you didn’t think you wanted. Most people in your position would have put her in foster care.”

“I don’t think so.” She took a deep breath. “I think most people would have done what I did. Spending time with Lizzy makes me wish I’d tried harder to have a relationship with Lana. I blame myself for that.”

“How was that your fault?”

“I keep wondering whether if the accident hadn’t happened, or if I hadn’t reacted so badly to it, maybe things would have been different. Maybe we would have been closer.”

“Or maybe she was never going to be the sort of person who wanted that.”

Emily thought about her half sister and the uncomfortable similarities to her mother. “She was so beautiful, and yet she seemed to need to have that confirmed all the time. Maybe that was my mother’s fault because looks were the only thing she valued.”

Maybe it was because he was such a good listener, but suddenly she was telling him everything, about how she’d been teased in school about her body, how she’d tried to disguise her shape, how she’d mistrusted relationships.

The conversation wasn’t all one-sided. He talked a little about how he’d felt stifled by looking after his younger siblings and about how guilty he’d felt leaving his grandmother to cope when he’d taken up a place at college.

“She wanted that for you.”

“Didn’t stop me feeling guilty.”

“But by then the children were older. And the fact that you wanted to leave doesn’t change the fact that you loved them.”

“Like the fact that wearing black doesn’t disguise the fact you’re the sexiest woman alive.”

The shift in the atmosphere rocked her off balance, and she felt her pulse quicken. “How much of that wine have you drunk? Your brain is malfunctioning.”

“My brain has been malfunctioning since you wore those pajamas.”

She stared at him across the table. He was sensationally attractive, those eyes dark as flint in a face where every line and angle spoke of strength and masculinity. The air was alive with a tension she had only ever experienced around this man.

The sexual energy was palpable, and by the time they returned to his apartment, she was feeling light-headed from a heady mixture of wine and anticipation.

He found his keys, opened the door and flicked a switch that turned on a couple of lamps and sent a warm glow over the spacious room.

“It’s late,” she murmured. “I should probably go home.” Because she was nervous, she walked to the window, and he threw his keys down on a small table near the door and followed her.

“Is that what you want?” He stood behind her, and his hands closed over her arms.

She closed her eyes. “It would be sensible.”

“And do you always do what’s sensible?”

“Always. I like order and predictability. I’m only interested in things I can control.” She kept her eyes forward, staring into the darkness of the bay. Lights from boats sent a warm glow flickering across the water. “With you, I feel out of control. As if I’ve lost my balance.”

“Good.” He moved her hair aside gently, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. “I’m pleased I unbalance you.”

“I’m worried the reality will be a letdown.”

“It won’t be.” He turned her to face him. His gaze was slumberous, and all she saw in his eyes was liquid desire that mirrored hers. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes. I don’t feel any of the right things when I’m in bed with a man. It’s as if something inside me isn’t switched on.”

His smile was slow and sure. “Maybe it’s a question of knowing where to find the switch. Why don’t you leave that part to me?”

“I think there might be something wrong with me.”

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. I have surveillance footage that proves it.”

She thought about that night in the pool and leaned her forehead against his chest. “I thought you said it would be wiped.”

“After sixty days.” His fingers gently massaged her hair. “So for the next few weeks I have visual evidence that you’re not who you think you are. Or we could try a different way to prove the same thing.”

Her heart was pounding so fast she felt sure he must be able to feel it. “Are you always so sure about everything?”

“Not everything.” He lowered his head so that his mouth was a breath away from hers. “But this I’m sure about.” His hand slid to the nape of her neck, and he held her head while he kissed her slowly, taking his time as he explored her mouth, her jaw, the hollow of her neck until the urgency inside her was a primal, desperate beat.

She wrapped her arms around him, felt him haul her close so that she was anchored against hardness and strength. And still he kissed her, his mouth exploring hers with leisurely skill until all she could hear was the soft thrumming of her own pulse in her ears and his murmured words of encouragement. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have sunk to the floor in a pool of molten desire. She was dizzy with it. Disoriented. All she knew was that of all the things that had happened over the past month, this felt the most right. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth responding to the erotic rhythm of his kiss.

She slid her hands down his back and tugged at his shirt.

She pressed against him, feeling the rigid thickness through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Steady.” He whispered the words against her mouth. “We have all night.”

She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t going to last five minutes, let alone all night, but at that moment his hand slid from her hip to her rib cage, and she felt his fingers brush the underside of her breast. It was such a relief that she moaned, but then he drew his hand away and smoothed her back instead, leaving her body vibrating with frustration.

“Ryan—” She’d never felt this desperate for anything in her life before, but even her pleading didn’t persuade him to alter his pace.

He continued to kiss her, long and deep, until she was trembling and shivering, until thick syrupy pleasure spread through her body. She was wondering what would happen when he finally touched her, when he slid the zipper on her dress and she felt his fingers slowly trace the length of her spine. His hands moved to her shoulders, and the dress slithered onto the wooden floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her standing in her underwear.