Wild Honey (27 page)

T
RAVIS TOOTED
the horn, and Randi waved to Matt as Travis backed the Alpha out of her driveway. There was no mistaking the grin on Matt’s face, Randi thought, as he stood on the stoop and waved back. She wondered which was more responsible for it, his delight that she was back in Travis’s company, or the company Matt himself was keeping tonight.

Sandwiched between Mrs. Casey, his favorite sitter, and pretty Sarah McLean, Matt looked like the cat who’d stolen the cream. He and Travis’s sister had gotten on like a house on fire at the reception. When Matt learned he’d be home with the sitter this evening, he’d asked if he could invite Sarah. It seemed his “good buddy,” as he called her, just loved a certain magenta dinosaur, and he wanted to show her a “Barney” episode Randi had taped for him. After checking by phone with Mrs. Casey, Randi had been persuaded to agree to the invitation; Sarah had been delighted to accept.

“Your sister’s awfully good with children,” she said as Travis fiddled with the car radio. As if by unspoken mutual consent, this sort of safe neutral comment had characterized their conversation since they’d accepted Jill’s gift. But deep inside, where her emotions stood teetering on a precipice, Randi felt a keen-edged tension; she was as nervous and uncertain as she was hopeful. But she beat it back. Time enough for the heavy stuff when they reached their destination.

“It’s hard to believe,” she went on, thankful her voice
held none of this anxiety, “how Matt’s taken to her. It’s as if they’ve known each other for years.”

She had to admit she’d taken to Sarah herself, though perhaps that shouldn’t surprise her; bright, pert and energetic, the youngest McLean reminded her of Travis in everything but looks. Reminded her of Matt, too.

“Oh, Sarah’s crazy ‘bout kids.” Travis adjusted the radio’s volume, and soft classical music sifted into the car. “Matter of fact, all of us McLean brats are. Sarah’s done loads of baby-sittin’, ‘n’ I spent five terrific summers as a camp counselor in a program for inner-city kids. Meantime, brother Troy’s been runnin’ tennis clinics for sprouts at the Y far back as I can remember.” He shrugged. “None of it payed much, but we sure loved the work.”

“You mean you all worked at these things for
pay?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. The clan may be well-heeled, but that cut no ice with my mother where her kids were concerned. She firmly believed in teachin’ us the value of a dollar. But more importantly, of work itself. We never received an allowance, but there were always opportunities to earn a buck, even when we were little guys.”

He chuckled. “Once, when I was Matt’s age, I was paid a penny for every weed I pulled from the garden. ‘Course, I had to learn to distinguish ‘em from Mother’s prize dahlias, as I recall. Mr. Tibbs was real fussy ‘bout that.”

“Mr. Tibbs?”

“Uh, the gardener?”

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

He darted a glance at her. “Is there a problem there, Randi? I mean, with my family’s, uh, life-style?” That was all he needed, he thought with an inner groan. Her being uncomfortable with his background, on top of all the other uneasiness he caused her. Lord, wasn’t it time for some of the breaks to go his way?

“Um, not a problem exactly,” she hedged, “but I do recall being a bit…overwhelmed when I first saw your yacht.”

He cut her another glance. “Okay, maybe I’m bein’ a mite dense here but, Randi, if you’re uncomfortable with it, why’d you select the
Sarah Anne
for this, uh, talk tonight?”

He’d been mystified when he asked where she wanted to go to indulge in Jill’s insightful offer and she’d chosen the yacht; it had to hold unpleasant associations for her. Still, bent on accommodating her, he’d agreed without comment; as he’d already told her, she was in the driver’s seat. He was done controlling in the name of love.

“Randi?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.

But Randi suddenly couldn’t speak; in truth, she found it hard to breathe. A surge of emotion tumbled over the precipice and gripped her without mercy. His question had strayed beyond neutral territory, but it wasn’t what held her frozen; no, this was something she couldn’t anticipate, something beyond her control. And therefore devastating.

The
Liebestraum
playing on the radio, soared sweetly. Without warning, the lilting chords wrapped themselves around her, returning her to that summer night at sea, when a dream might have come true, but didn’t. Her pulse leapt as time melted away, and memory conjured magic, the magic that had claimed her mind and body when she’d heard the piece last.

And suddenly, with all that aching sweetness in her ears, calling up memory and stealing into the heart of her—oh, yes, the heart!—suddenly she knew. She loved this man who sat beside her, unaware. Travis. She
loved
him.

Stunned, she closed her eyes, familiarizing herself with this certainty borne on the wings of a song. With the truth that had been chasing her through all the endless days and nights without him. She loved him!

“Randi?” Travis’s voice was soft yet taut with concern. He remembered the
Liebestraum
all too well. Remembered every sweet response of the woman in his arms that night. Remembered, too, the bitter disappointment that followed. “Darlin’, are you all right?”

Randi gave herself a shake and groped for a response as emotion thundered through her. God, she couldn’t give in to it now! Perhaps later, when she could think clearly. It was all too new, too raw.

“Why the
Sarah Anne?”
she said at last. There. Her voice even sounded normal. Now, how to explain.

She’d chosen that setting for a reason. Despite the magic summoned by the
Liebestraum,
the yacht itself represented all that had gone wrong that night. All that had crippled the dream that hadn’t come true. Couldn’t come true, not when nightmares barred the way.

But she’d come a long way since then; thanks to the counseling, she was a lot stronger. She wanted, needed, to face the scene of the disaster that had turned her life inside out and killed a dream she hadn’t even known she held in her heart. She loved this man. That, in itself, made facing it necessary, but it was more than that. She was done being a coward.

“I’ve heard,” she replied, glancing at him as the last strains of the
Liebestraum
faded and died, “that when you fall off a horse—” she took a steadying breath and released it “—you should climb right back on and ride.”

She saw him swallow, as if to digest this, his tanned throat working above the collar of the shirt he’d opened and stripped of its tie. For a long time he didn’t respond, didn’t look at her, just kept his eyes on the road and drove. She held her breath as the muted tones of the radio announcer and the engine’s purr underscored the silence that stretched between them.

His answer, when it came, was thick with emotion. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you,” he said, and she saw him swallow again, “that you lack courage, Randi Terhune. Lady, you’ve got it in spades!”

A
LERTED BY TRAVIS’S
phone call before they left, Captain Baker welcomed them aboard with the quiet courtesy Randi
recalled from before. There were a few shy smiles of recognition from members of the crew, as well, and before she knew it, she and Travis were settled in the lounge where they’d once nibbled hors d’ouvres and drunk champagne.

After speaking a few words to the steward, who nodded deferentially and disappeared, Travis smiled at her. “You looked elegant in that bridesmaid’s gown, but it’s best you took the time to change.” Warm appreciation filled the eyeshe ran over her, and he shook his head. “Damned if you don’t still look elegant. You’re the only woman I know who can inspire that comment wearin’ jeans ‘n’ a T-shirt.”

Blushing, Randi whispered a thank-you and stared at the hands she held folded in her lap. All too aware of her newfound feelings, she was a taut bundle of nerves, but she wouldn’t let this defeat her. She wouldn’t!

She made herself raise her eyes, though her glance barely lit on the beloved face before skittering away. “I…liked you in that suit tonight,” she managed, hating the schoolgirl callowness of her reply.

She knew they had to talk, but now that they were here, the enormity of her emotional discovery threatened to make it impossible. Talk? She could barely
think.
“Um, I mean,” she added awkwardly, “I never saw you in a suit and tie before, and…well, you looked very, uh, smart.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am.” Would she ever be at ease with him when they were alone like this? Travis wondered. They needed to talk, but he wouldn’t crowd her. He’d resolved to give her space—the space she needed to grow comfortable with him. To trust him, however long it took. He wasn’t going to rush her, though he wanted desperately to reach out to her. No, the impetus had to come from her.

“Here you go.” He handed her a glass from a tray the steward left before disappearing as unobtrusively as he’d come. “Etienne’s a whiz with fresh-made lemonade.”

“What, no champagne?” she quipped, trying for insouciance, fearing she sounded querulous, instead.

His gaze was solemn and direct as he faced her across the hammered brass table where they’d once sipped the bubbly. “I want no fuzzy thoughts between us this trip, Randi. What needs sayin’s much too important.”

Yet he saw that she was taut as a drum, that he needed to put her at ease. “But all in good time.” He rose and took the barely touched lemonade from her hand, set it aside. “C’mon, darlin’, there’s a heavenful of stars need watchin’ up top.”

“All right,” she said, rising. The smile he sent had her blood pulsing madly through her veins. The air topside would be welcome; she needed a clear head.

But as he led her up on deck, something felt wrong, and she tried to think what it was. He escorted her, but…but without touching her, she realized with a stab of disappointment. Without taking her arm or her hand, as he had in the past.

Yet Travis was a toucher; she had only to recall the countless times she’d seen him ruffle Matt’s hair or grab him for a hug, not to mention the myriad ways
she’d
felt the touch of those gentle hands.

But he hadn’t touched her at all this day. Not to lead her to his car, nor to help her in or out of it, not even to dance, though the celebration had been in full swing by the time they left. What was wrong?

I
F THERE WERE ANY HANDS
on deck, Randi didn’t see them; there were just the two of them under an inky sky that blazed with the promised stars. For a long time neither spoke, and at first she despaired, wondering if they even could; perhaps there was just too much that stood between them.

But after a while, as they strolled the pristine deck, the silence grew more comfortable. Moonlight etched a path across the sea, from the horizon to the smoothly gliding vessel. Up close, it pearled the things it touched, encasing them in an incandescence so lovely it made her sigh.

Hearing her, Travis stopped, leaned against the railing and found her gaze. “So, gutsy lady, how’s the horse?”

“The horse? I don’t…” With a gurgle of laughter, she deciphered his meaning. “Oh, the horse!”

Smiling, she moved to lean against the railing, also. Beside him, but not touching him, since this seemed to be how he wanted it. That this troubled her was something she pushed to the back of her mind; perhaps it held no significance at all, and she was just imagining problems that didn’t exist. Those she was sure of were challenge enough, and now was the time.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve climbed back on the silly nag. Now all I’ve gotta do is ride.”

His quick reassuring grin gave her courage; she took a deep breath and plunged in. “Travis, I owe you a deep apology, two of them, in fact. No, don’t shake your head It’s true, and I need to tell you about it…please?”

“Go on,” he said quietly, reading the need in her face.

“Travis, on a beach last summer, you…you began to make love to me,” she said in a voice so low he had to strain to hear it. “You were the first man who ever did. You didn’t know that of course, yet you were utterly gentle and considerate of me.”

She took a deep breath, expelled it in a quavering rush of air. “And I ran screaming from your arms. You didn’t deserve that, Travis. And I’m so heartily sorry for it. So sorry, I could—No, please, let me finish.

“That was the first time, and bad enough. The second time was much worse. It happened here on the
Sarah Anne,
of course, and you deserved my behavior then even less because you tried to tell me that you…that you cared. Yet all I did was spew venom at you. And, Travis, I’m so deeply sorry about that night. Sorrier than I can put into words, although I’m going to try.”

Travis heard the anguish in her voice, saw tears glisten in her eyes, and he wanted to hold her, tell her to stop. She owed him no apologies. She’d had it right that night; he’d
brought it on himself, with his damnable penchant for trying to control other people’s lives.

He wanted to hold her. Tell her what he’d learned about himself and beg her forgiveness for being so blind and stupid. Wanted to, but couldn’t, not until she—

“But telling you I’m sorry isn’t enough.” Randi’s voice shook as it cut across his thoughts, yet gathered strength as she went on. “You see, there are reasons I rejected your…intimate touch. The same reasons, pretty much, why I once refused to explain choosing to conceive Matt as I did.”

There was a tremor in her voice, but she made herself go on. “Travis, when I was barely twelve years old, I was…touched—used—in unspeakably intimate ways by a grown man. An adult. My dead mother’s second husband—my stepfather.”

Beside her, Travis’s body tensed; she could feel it. But he didn’t move to touch her, and when she continued, her voice was laced with pain.

“A man we’d been told to respect, even if we couldn’t love him, because he was now in Daddy’s place.” She gave a small mirthless laugh. “In his place? Dear God, he was as much like Daddy as a gargoyle to an archangel! Oh, he was handsome enough, big and muscular. Yes, I remember very well how strong he was. He’d hold me down, you see, and—”