Read What the Waves Bring Online
Authors: Barbara Delinsky
What the Waves Bring (5 page)
Monogram?
Why hadn't she noticed it earlier? April caught the word and clung to it as he growled on. This was a new face he was showing her, a face charged with determination and bearing the vehemence of his character as he whirled around and strode toward her. “From what I can see, we're going nowhere for a while. From what I also see,” he said, the chill in his eyes showing signs of thawing, “we are well-stocked and relatively comfortable.”
Why hadn't she noticed it earlier? April caught the word and clung to it as he growled on. This was a new face he was showing her, a face charged with determination and bearing the vehemence of his character as he whirled around and strode toward her. “From what I can see, we're going nowhere for a while. From what I also see,” he said, the chill in his eyes showing signs of thawing, “we are well-stocked and relatively comfortable.”
From where she sat, upright now on the sofa, April watched his approach, tilting her head back to take in his towering height. Her mouth felt strangely dry as she waited for him to go on. When he did, his voice held a clearly sensual note.
“To sum it all up, I see myself stranded, with neither
past nor future, in a small house, with a very beautiful womanâ”
past nor future, in a small house, with a very beautiful womanâ”
“Not beautiful,” she interrupted, turning awkwardly away, her heart pounding, her mind in a whirl.
But his strong fingers curved at her jaw, forcing her gaze back to his. “Yes. Beautiful. Warm. Giving. Compassionate.” He paused, studying the tremor of her lower lip, then traced it with his thumb. “You rescued me from the storm and took me in, didn't you?”
A strange euphoria had begun to seep slowly through April's body, generated by the nearness of this man and the inexplicable excitement of his touch, which now curled its way to the back of her neck. All she could do was to nod mutely.
“Then, let me do something in return.”
Swallowing hard, she struggled to speak. “You could build a fire ⦔
“I could.”
“Or”âshe moistened her lips with inadvertent allureâ“make us some lunch ⦔
“I could.”
“Or ⦔ Her mind drew a blank, all power diverted to her budding senses.
He drew her to her feet with a gentle hand, threading his long fingers through the thickness of her chestnut hair. “Why not kiss me, then we'll decide what to do ⦔
“No ⦔ Her whisper was feeble, her entire being mesmerized by the aura of masculinity that had enveloped her and seized control. His mouth took hers while her lips were still parted, coaxing her response with the persuasiveness of his tenderness. Now it was she who was the helpless one, tossed about on a sensual sea that threatened to overpower her. Mindlessly, she returned his kiss, welcoming his tongue with her own, clinging to him as he had clung to that fragment of wood on which he'd first floated to shore.
It was this darting allusion to reality that kept her from surrendering to the depths. Gasping, she turned her head aside, appalled to find her arms around his neck, continuing to hold him as her knees found their strength. The thunder of his heart by her ear was small solace for her lapse.
“That shouldn't have happened,” she whispered hoarsely.
“I'm very glad it did, April,” he contradicted, his arms now about her waist, holding her close. “We'll never make it through this unless we can be honest with one another.” His voice was a gentle croon, by her ear, his breath fanned the hair by her cheek. “I find you very appealing, and I believe, unless you'd like to deny your response just now, that the feeling is mutual.”
Mortification brought April's head more deeply against his chest, as she burrowed in a vain attempt to escape the facts. Much as she wished it, she couldn't deny his claim. Even the smell of him, healthy, musky, and male, tempted her senses. When she pushed herself away defensively, he let her go, mindful of her inner war.
“Come, April.” He took her hand, startling her with his abruptly eased tone. “Let me fix you some lunch. Then, we'll go to work in the other room, while you tell me more about yourself and”âhis eye flipped toward the cornerâ“that machine.”
“My Apple?” Her shaped brows lifted in surprise, then knit as quickly in puzzlement. “What work in the other room?”
“It looked to me,” he said, grinning disarmingly, “that you're in the middle of a project. Stripping the walls of that, uh, charming wallpaper?”
“Oh, that.” She returned his grin. “Wasn't it awful? Say, are you an expert in renovations?” The words were no sooner out than she caught herself. “I'm sorry ⦔
The man before her took a deep breath, raising his gaze to focus on some distant mind-point for a fleeting moment before looking down at her. “Don't apologize, April. I may well have been a handymanâ” He stopped, noting her vigorous headshake. “Why not?” His dark brow furrowed.
“No calluses. I looked for that.”
He was mildly amused, the corner of his firm lips quirking upward. “What else did you decide?”
As April reported her observations, he listened raptly. “ ⦠and the labels on your clothes tell us nothing, except they are of good quality.” It seemed suddenly a game, a route to mental survival, one that might salvage an otherwise awkward moment. In this spirit, she examined the monogram of his shirt. “H.E.A.”
The subject of her speculation drew himself up, feet firmly planted, hands hugging his hips. “Well ⦠? Any suggestions?”
April's gaze flicked to the window. The outer pane was still saturated with rain, lending an impressionistic sheen to all without. “Come here.” She motioned enthusiastically, the thought dawning sweetly. Her hand reached for his arm as she drew him to the window. “Look out thereâat those small bushes, the low-growing ones on the moor. Do you see?”
“Uh-huh.” He spotted them dutifully, then lowered his gaze to her teasing eyes.
“Those are heath plants. Rugged. Resilient. Strong. They've survived the elements of this island for hundreds of years.” With a nod of utter satisfaction, she grinned. “I'll call you Heath!”
“Heath ⦔ he said, sampling the name. “Heath. Not badâ”
“Not bad? It's perfect!” April interrupted buoyantly. “And it's as close to H.E.A. as we're bound to get!” For an instant, she held her breath, mindful that the final
approval must come from the subject himself. It came with a heart-stopping smile.
approval must come from the subject himself. It came with a heart-stopping smile.
“Heath it is, then. Now,” he said, shifting the topic quickly, amusing April with his establishment of priorities, “I saw some very appetizing salami on the verge of smelling up that icebox of yours. Got any Swiss cheese?”
Gamefully, she prodded. “If you can't remember anything, how would you know to look for Swiss cheese?”
His brilliant white smile was proof of his joining the game. He, too, recognized its therapeutic value. “Who knows, perhaps I come from a long line of mice.”
“Fat chance!” she chuckled, appreciatively eyeing his masculine physique for a final moment before heading for the food.
Over salami and cheese on rye, Heath probed the very professional side of Dr. April Wilde. “Exactly what is your work? A doctorate in counseling sounds pretty vague to me.”
“In New York I had a small practice counseling private patients. But the larger part of my work deals with writing.”
“I'm listening ⦔
So was April. “I think the storm's letting up.”
“Uh-huh. Either that, or we're in its eye.”
A mischievous grin toyed about her pink lips. “You may be right at that, Heath.”
Even as he pondered her humor, he urged her on. “What do you write?”
“Journal articles. Expert opinions. But, most regularly, I have a syndicated column. It appears now in two dozen newspapers across the country.”
Her pride was contagious. “Very impressive.” He nodded, balancing his chair precariously on its hind legs. “And what do you talk about in this column?”
For an instant, her mind was diverted by his agility. “Maybe you were a gymnast? Or a stunt man?” She lifted
an eyebrow toward his back-tilted chair, then turned her attention to his question. “Hmm? Oh, it's a question-and-answer type of thing.” She held his gaze, alert to his reaction. “Readers of the papers write to me, care of the newspaper office, and then I choose freely which issues to discuss. Though I usually deal with psychological matters, there are frequent references to more mundane matters,” she smirked, “such as managing a budget.” Suddenly, she had an idea. “I can show you my next column.” She hesitated. “ ⦠if you'd like.” Her voice ended on a softer, less sure note.
an eyebrow toward his back-tilted chair, then turned her attention to his question. “Hmm? Oh, it's a question-and-answer type of thing.” She held his gaze, alert to his reaction. “Readers of the papers write to me, care of the newspaper office, and then I choose freely which issues to discuss. Though I usually deal with psychological matters, there are frequent references to more mundane matters,” she smirked, “such as managing a budget.” Suddenly, she had an idea. “I can show you my next column.” She hesitated. “ ⦠if you'd like.” Her voice ended on a softer, less sure note.
“I'd like that very much.” His forcefulness restored her confidence. “But how do you manage to handle all your work from this house? It's rather remote, isn't it?”
April grinned triumphantly. “Bingo! My Appleâa computer! It sends whatever I want over the phone lines to a terminal in New York.”
The dark head dipped in understanding. “Very clever.”
“Except,” she said, quickly qualifying his assessment, “when the phone lines are dead and there is no electricity ⦔
Her remark suddenly reminded them of their predicament. With a jarring thud, the legs of his chair hit the floor. “That does seem to be a problem.” He stood with a frown, withdrawing before her eyes to a more preoccupied state. Without further word, he gathered the dishes and brought them to the sink, once again prompting April to contemplate his domesticity. Someone had trained him well, she mused with feministic fervor, as she studied the enigmatic fierceness of his dark form. Yes, he was aptly named. He was strong and resilient. At the moment there was a bit of that brooding, moody Heathcliff about him. She smiledâthen sobered instantly. How little she really knew of him! What would the next day or two reveal? A shiver of apprehension ran through her limbs as she forced herself toward the living room and the manila parcel on
her desk. Moments later she spread its contents on the clean kitchen table. Heath stood over her shoulder as she singled out the letter in question and her response, for them both to peruse.
her desk. Moments later she spread its contents on the clean kitchen table. Heath stood over her shoulder as she singled out the letter in question and her response, for them both to peruse.
“Not bad,” he murmured. “Very smooth. Reassuring. You
are
the compassionate one.” Where there might have been mockery, there was none. “No wonder you took me in ⦔
are
the compassionate one.” Where there might have been mockery, there was none. “No wonder you took me in ⦔
He was too close for comfort. Looking up, her face was mere inches from his. But his attention was suddenly on the outer label of the large manila mailer. “âEye of the Storm'?” he queried softly.
“My column,” she explained, mindful of its deeper application to their present situation. “That's what it's called.”
A slow smile spread over his features, reaching even the deepest recesses of his dark eyes. “âEye of the Storm.' Very appropriate.” His downcast gaze caught April's, sending ripples of comprehension in its wake. His strong arm circled her shoulder, drawing her close against the lean lines of his body. “This certainly is the eye of the storm,” he said, echoing her thoughts, “isn't it?”
Lids down, April savored the safety she felt. Safety. Contentment. Happiness. Her whisper was a soft purr. “Yes. It is.”
Indeed, she could have stayed there forever, held securely in her sea-tossed mariner's arms, had it not been for a thunderous crash that reverberated through them both with lightning force.
“What was that?” she cried in nerve-shattered alarm, her gaze flying toward the back door, from which the uproar had come. Tearing from his arms, she covered the distance to the door in an instant, threw it open and gasped.
Heath was immediately behind her. “Wait a minâ” he began, but his plea fell on deaf ears for April had already ventured onto the back porch and stood amid a perilous carpet of broken glass. “April!” His bark was more gruff.
“It was the storm door,” she said softly, as though to herself. Only the slanted porchtop roof kept the rain from her head. “I thought I had locked it, but it must have worked loose somehow.”
“April.” The deep voice burst into her thoughts. “Get back in here! You'll cut yourself!”
Heedless to his warning, she stooped and tossed several larger pieces of glass into a makeshift pile in the corner. Continuing to survey the damage, she turned gingerly. Heath had disappeared from the door and was returning, just as she noted his absence, with his shoes on. Cursing softly, he strode toward her, swept her off her feet into his arms and returned her over the plane of jagged shards to the kitchen.
“That was a stupid thing to do!” he scolded darkly. “Would you like to permanently scar the bottoms of your feet?” He looked scoffingly at the wool socks that offered but minimal protection, then glanced at a red blot on her
finger. “Let's clean that off,” he ordered, placing her gruffly onto the table, then stooping down to strip the socks carefully from her feet. “And check those for glass while I get a Band-Aid.”
finger. “Let's clean that off,” he ordered, placing her gruffly onto the table, then stooping down to strip the socks carefully from her feet. “And check those for glass while I get a Band-Aid.”
Throughout his demonstration of force, April had been the stunned victim. Not only had the power of his arms, especially given his recent ordeal, startled her, but she was taken aback by the sense of command he exuded. She spoke more meekly.
“Heath, that glass is apt to blow around and off the porch if it isn't cleaned up now. Once it gets into the grass and the bushes, it'll really be a mess to collect.” Her eyes were wide brown pools focused at the tall figure before her.
Anger drew his lips into a thin line. “Then you can tell me where I might find the broom,” he seethed with a deep breath, “and I'll see to it myself.”
“Just inside the basement stairs.” She pointed, gratitude reflected in her tentative smile.
“Crazy woman,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head as he followed her finger and retrieved the broom.
April was more than pleased to escape his wrath, taking refuge in the living room with a paper towel wrapped tightly around her finger. Well, she mused, the man certainly had a way about him! Whatever had made him so angry? Her actions were no different than any homeowner's might have been. Of course, he was right. It
had
been slightly foolish of her to stampede into the middle of the mess like that! But where was his understanding?
had
been slightly foolish of her to stampede into the middle of the mess like that! But where was his understanding?
“Let me see that finger now.”
Lost in her thoughts, April looked up quickly to find Heath lowering himself to sit by her side on the sofa. To her instant relief, his anger had cooled. When he took the profferred digit and removed its wrapping, his touch was gently exploratory.
“Looks like it's not deep. Sit still.”
With the order, he was up once more and gone. Moments later, he returned with disinfectant and a Band-Aid. “You certainly have found your way around,” she teased softly.
“When a man needs a shave”âhe shrugged with a smileâ“he is willing to wade through any number of things by way of reaching a razor. In this case, the jungle held other goodies.”
April thought hard, trying desperately to recall what else he might have found in her own private medicine chest. To her knowledge, there was nothing either incriminating or embarrassing. Reassured, she lifted the injured finger, now circled tightly with a Band-Aid, for inspection.
“If it's uncomfortably tight,” he offered, “we'll take it off in a few minutes. The most important thing is to stop the flow of blood.”
“It wasn't really bleeding all
that
much ⦔
that
much ⦔
“Any
cut should be taken care of.” His face was close to hers, his nearness beginning to affect her. Seeking respite from his intensity, she grinned.
cut should be taken care of.” His face was close to hers, his nearness beginning to affect her. Seeking respite from his intensity, she grinned.
“Maybe
you're
a doctor.” At his raised brow, she breezed on. “Or a paramedic? How about a veterinarian?”
you're
a doctor.” At his raised brow, she breezed on. “Or a paramedic? How about a veterinarian?”
Through narrowed eyes, he assessed her. “You have quite a sense of humor, sweet April. Anything else to suggest?”
“No.” She shrugged innocently, rather enjoying the game.
“Good! Now.” He stood up. “You say there is firewood in the basement also?”
“Uh-huh.”
He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “That's what we need. A little warmth. A little romance.”
“Now, wait a minute ⦔
“Uh!” He stopped her protest. “Doctor's orders. You” âhe pointed straight at herâ“sit!”
Amusement flitted about her features as she watched Heath vanish for an armload of wood, set the logs carefully on the iron grate in the fireplace, scatter small kindling beneath, and strike a match.
“It works, doesn't it?” He paused in the act, hand suspended.
“Yes,” she chuckled.
His sigh of relief was audible as he touched the flame to the dry wood. “Thank goodness! All we need is a roomful of black smoke!” April laughed with him as he unceremoniously swiped the cushions from the nearby armchair and piled them on the small area rug before the fire. “Come here,” he growled, giving April no time for second thoughts, as he reached for her and gently hauled her to his improvised lair.
“For a man who can't remember who he is,” she mused aloud, “you're in high spirits!”
Settling her comfortably in the crook of his arm, he cocked his head nonchalantly. “You've given me a name, I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, a woman by my sideâwhat more could I ask?”
“You make it sound so simpleâadapting to amnesia.”
“Do I have any choice?”
She shook her head against his shoulder, feeling more comfortable by the minute. “I suppose not.” Soon she became hypnotized by the dancing flame in the hearth. “That's a super fire! Where did you ever learn to build one like that? I know,” she said with humor. “Were you a logger?” He shook his head, grinning against her hair. “An Indian chief?” Again he shook his head. April lowered her voice in feigned secrecy. “A pyromaniac?”
Her kidding ended with his pounce as he flipped over to pin her to the cushions, his body holding hers at his mercy. When she opened her mouth to protest he closed
it with his own, demonstrating a hunger she'd only had glimpses of before. It was intoxicatingâhis hungerâand exhilarating. April felt her senses fall into the swirling eddy of desire, yet her mind resisted to the last.
it with his own, demonstrating a hunger she'd only had glimpses of before. It was intoxicatingâhis hungerâand exhilarating. April felt her senses fall into the swirling eddy of desire, yet her mind resisted to the last.
“Don't, Heath,” she whispered, when he released her lips for a brief moment. “We shouldn'tâ”
“Shhh.” His fingers wound through her chestnut mane, holding her face immobile. A slow rain of kisses fell on her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, as April struggled to deny their rapturous shower. But she felt herself weakening, ever weakening before the tender onslaught.
“No. Please, don't ⦔ Yet even as she spoke, her body betrayed her, straining toward the muscular lines of his virility, lean and long against her.
He said nothing but let his hands venture into eloquence. With infinite care they caressed herâher shoulders, her neck, and then, as she cried out with pleasure, her breasts. His fingers found their fullness and their peaks, coaxing each to greater sensitivity.
“Ah, sweet April,” he rasped, instants before seizing her lips in a kiss as fierce as any she'd known. And she had known many over the yearsâbut none like this. Had she simply been out of the mainstream too long? Had she missed a man's touch, without realizing it? Was her appreciation that of a pauper finding gold?
Her response was wild and fevered, her pent-up passion suddenly unleashed. Beneath a veneer of composure lay a bee's nest of desire. This man, whom she barely knew, had plumbed its honey. Yet as the force of her need shocked her, so did his sudden withdrawal. Her cry of loss was muffled in the wool of her sweater gliding up over her head. To her confusion, she found herself against the cushions once more, Heath close above her, his hands releasing the buttons of her shirt, one by one.
For an instant, she felt that she could stop him. Her fingers, trembling, closed over his, her eyes locking with
his in silent pleading. It was his lips, lowering and gently consuming hers, that stilled her protest. As the fire crackled brightly in the hearth and its wood smell wafted through the room about them, he finished his task, spreading the shirt to make way for his hands as they intimately stroked her ivory flesh. To her whispered moan, his fingers slid inside the lace of her bra, cupping the warmth of her breast, his thumb sliding back and forth over its crest, sending ripples of sweet torture through her. When his mouth resumed its plunder, she felt her grasp on reality slipping, slipping through fingertips that sought the thickness of his hair and held his head closer, ignoring the last wee voice that persisted in distant objection.
his in silent pleading. It was his lips, lowering and gently consuming hers, that stilled her protest. As the fire crackled brightly in the hearth and its wood smell wafted through the room about them, he finished his task, spreading the shirt to make way for his hands as they intimately stroked her ivory flesh. To her whispered moan, his fingers slid inside the lace of her bra, cupping the warmth of her breast, his thumb sliding back and forth over its crest, sending ripples of sweet torture through her. When his mouth resumed its plunder, she felt her grasp on reality slipping, slipping through fingertips that sought the thickness of his hair and held his head closer, ignoring the last wee voice that persisted in distant objection.
Heath lifted his head and slid his hands down her body, pressing her hips against his in frustration. That his arousal was as great as her own, she knew for a fact. That she wanted him closer, deeper, more fully a part of her still, gave her a jolt. But it simply wasn't right.
“No, Heath!” she rasped. “Please stop ⦔ From somewhere she found the sudden strength to spread her palms against the wall of his chest and lever him ever so slightly away.
He stared at her for a long uncomprehending moment. Very slowly his breathing steadied and the raging fire of desire faded to a more docile glow.
“No?” he muttered thickly.
She shook her head.
“Why, April? Why the turn-off? Was it nothing more than a game?”
“No!” she cried out in instant horror.
“Then why? I thought you wanted me as well.”
“I did! I do!” Bolting up, she twisted to put her back to him.
His approach grew newly mellow. “Then why? Why won't you let me make love to you?”
“I can't. I just can't.”
“April ⦔
There was warning in his voice, forcing her on. She spoke in an agonized whisper. “I'm frightened.” Until she'd said it, she hadn't even realized it. But, yes, she was frightened.
“Of me?” he asked hesitantly.
“Not really.” She shook her head in self-reproach.
“More of myself, I think.” It was as far as she could go at the moment. “I wouldn't want to get ⦠carried away ⦔
“You're not making sense, April. A minute ago you responded to me with
all
of you. Are you saying that you're afraid of lovemaking?”
all
of you. Are you saying that you're afraid of lovemaking?”
A tremulous hand ran through her hair as she sought the correct words. “Of the physical act, no.”
Heath stood impatiently. “Then what
is
it you fear?” He loomed high above her, compounding her dilemma with his overwhelmingly powerful presence.
is
it you fear?” He loomed high above her, compounding her dilemma with his overwhelmingly powerful presence.
Tucking her knees up to her chest, she buried her face. “I just can't explain. I'm not even sure of it myself.”
An interminable silence followed her half-whispered words. As he stood between the fire and her, his frame diverted its heat, leaving her chilled both in body and spirit. When with an oath he stalked from the room, a dry sob coursed through her, leaving her emotionally spent. Moments later the sound of the showerâthe still cold showerâattested to Heath's state of mind.
April sighed in resignation, her own body reluctantly calming. Her fingers shook imperceptibly as she buttoned her shirt, then stood and walked to the window. The rain had let up to a light drizzle; the end was in sight.
The end was in sight.
It was those words so innocently passing through April's mind that embodied the crux of her fear. In the instant she saw it clearly. To give herself to Heath would be to become more deeply involved in a relationship that was destined for destruction. Here,
alone, in this house at the far end of nowhere, Heath was a terribly appealing man. Yet what of reality? Once the storm ended the utilities would be repaired, reestablishing her link to a world of information that could, most probably, identify this man with the initials H.E.A. within days. If April allowed herself to become emotionally involved with him, only to discover a wife and children waiting for his return, she would be in for heartbreak. And Lord knew she had suffered enough of
that
in her short lifetime. Shane Michaels's betrayal, though wiped now from her everyday awareness, had left its scar. Could she knowingly risk her peace of mind?
It was those words so innocently passing through April's mind that embodied the crux of her fear. In the instant she saw it clearly. To give herself to Heath would be to become more deeply involved in a relationship that was destined for destruction. Here,
alone, in this house at the far end of nowhere, Heath was a terribly appealing man. Yet what of reality? Once the storm ended the utilities would be repaired, reestablishing her link to a world of information that could, most probably, identify this man with the initials H.E.A. within days. If April allowed herself to become emotionally involved with him, only to discover a wife and children waiting for his return, she would be in for heartbreak. And Lord knew she had suffered enough of
that
in her short lifetime. Shane Michaels's betrayal, though wiped now from her everyday awareness, had left its scar. Could she knowingly risk her peace of mind?
The shower had been turned off; sounds from the bedroom kept April where she was until, after a few minutes, Heath came out to join her. He looked fresher than she felt, and she told him that.
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