Read What the Waves Bring Online
Authors: Barbara Delinsky
What the Waves Bring (6 page)
“I think I should take a shower, myself,” she murmured, looking anywhere but directly at the tall, handsome man.
“It's cold ⦔ he warned softly, his mood having improved with the invigorating shower.
Her long, chestnut tresses fell forward as she lowered her head, shielding her from his gaze. “Look, Heath, I'm sorryâ”
“I'm sorry, Aprilâ”
Their simultaneous apologies brought both heads up, both pairs of eyes into direct confrontation. After a long moment, both pairs of lips curved in smiles. When Heath approached her, she felt no longer frightened.
“Why don't you go wash up, honey,” he suggested softly. “Shower if you must,” he teased, “but at your own risk. I won't come running in to warm you up.”
The allusion to their temporarily banked passion brought a crimson flush to her cheeks. She smiled in gratitude; she trusted him to respect her wishes. “And what will you be doing?”
“I think I'll peel some wallpaper for a stretch. The physical exertion might help.” His suggestiveness was quickly overridden by her concern.
“Are you sure you feel up to it?”
A low laugh rumbled from deep within him. “If I don't do something about this pent-up energy, we're both apt to be in big trouble.” Having drawn out “big” to twice its length, he grinned mischievously. “Now, run along. And don't be too long. I may need some help.”
As it turned out, no help was needed. April's shower was abbreviated yet refreshing, and she spent little time dawdling with her hair, her face or her clothes. There seemed no point, she reasoned, in fixing herself up, especially after she'd sworn off the man and his charms. The butterflies that materialized mysteriously in her stomach, however, belied the image of composure she presented in the spare room a few moments later.
“Done so quickly?” she asked in surprise, her eye coming to rest on the broad set of shoulders, the dark head, the lean torso and legs, as Heath stood with his back to her, gazing out the window.
“It's getting pretty dark. I'll try it again tomorrow morning.” The faraway ring of his voice wrenched April's insides. There was no doubt in her mind as to the direction of his thoughts. They would be searching, ever searching, for the memories that would restore his place in the world, that world across the water.
Slowly, she covered the distance to join him at the window. “It gets dark so much earlier now. Winter will be upon us, before we know it.” Her thoughts took their own diversion, her voice a dreamy lilt. “I wonder what it'll be likeâliving out here in the thick of winter.”
“The house seems sturdy enough. Even with the winds, it hasn't been drafty. If your heating system holds up, you should do fine.”
Their sights met and locked for an enigmatic moment,
both obsessed with their own thoughts. April's hands were in her pockets, and so were Heath's. It seemed the safest place â¦
both obsessed with their own thoughts. April's hands were in her pockets, and so were Heath's. It seemed the safest place â¦
“Come on.” He cocked his head. “Let's go talk. In the living room. You still haven't told me about yourself.”
She laughed softly. “It's not a terribly fascinating story, I can guarantee you.”
“It sure beats mine!” He beamed down at her, warming her with the pure pleasure of his company.
“You've got a point.” Her head dipped in good-humored agreement as she led the way into the living room. While Heath settled his lengthy frame before the fire, now fully ablaze with birch replenishment, she opened the storage cabinet beneath her desk. “It's not that I drink on the job.” She waved a bottle of wine in the air with a flourish. “It's just the only place I could find to store the bottle properly.”
“No need for explanations, darlin'. The end result is what counts!” His eyes danced as she approached him, but she caught their gleam and halted in midstep.
“Hey,” she said, her gaze narrowing, “you weren't an alcoholic once upon a time, were you?”
“Naw,” he drawled. “If I was, you can bet I would have sniffed out that bottle long ago. Have you a corkscrew?” He was on his feet and had taken the bottle from her before she could respond. Silently, she pointed toward the kitchen, then traced his steps, arranging a plate of crackers and Boursin cheese while Heath wrestled with a stubborn cork. At its triumphant “pop” the two returned, arms laden, to the living room.
“Now, sweet April.” He took the plate from her and put it on the floor before the fire, handed her a cracker piled high with cheese and a wineglass, and urged her on. “Your story, please.” He poured the wine, demonstrating the fine art with a concluding twist that ranked favorably with that of even the finest of wine stewards.
“A bartender?” She couldn't resist the quip. “Is that what you did for a living?”
Ignoring her gentle teasing, he gallantly touched his glass to hers. “I'm waiting.”
The command performance began softly. “What can I say? I've spent most of my life in and around New York.”
“You were born there?”
“Uh-huh. My family has a home on Long Island, a summer home in Bar Harbor. That's in Maine ⦔
He nodded his understanding. “Your parents?”
“George and Sheila Wilde. George is the president and chairman of the board of Wilde Enterprises, headquartered in Manhattan. Sheila is president and chairman of the board of her own very exclusive social circle.”
“Is that a note of sarcasm I detect?” His eyes studied her closely as she sipped her wine.
“I suppose so.” It was a reluctant admission that she felt called for an explanation. “She always assumed I'd follow in her footsteps. You know, country-club leader, charity hostess, belle of the ball, so to speak. She's perfect for it. I'm not. When I balked and insisted I wanted a career, we had a mild falling out.”
Heath stopped her gently. “Whoa. You're getting ahead of me. Let's go back a bit. Your childhoodâwhat was it like?”
April eyed him sharply. “Why is it that I get the feeling of being on a psychiatrist's couch? I don't make a habit of discussing this with just
anyone,
you know. Say,” she said, stalling for time,
“were
you a psychiatrist? Just think, perhaps we're colleagues of sorts.” She cocked her head and studied him, finding pleasure in the relaxation of his features. “No, on second thought, not a psychiatrist.”
anyone,
you know. Say,” she said, stalling for time,
“were
you a psychiatrist? Just think, perhaps we're colleagues of sorts.” She cocked her head and studied him, finding pleasure in the relaxation of his features. “No, on second thought, not a psychiatrist.”
“Whyever not?”
“For one thing, you don't wear horn-rimmed glasses. For another, you're too well put together.” When Heath
looked down at his castaway costume she burst into spontaneous laughter. “No! Your mind, Heath!”
looked down at his castaway costume she burst into spontaneous laughter. “No! Your mind, Heath!”
The smile he flashed her quickened her pulse. “That's just because I have so little on my mind. Once it all comes back ⦔ As his words trailed off, their eyes met. The return of his memory was the end goal, yet at the moment it would be a raw intrusion on the peace of the scene. Heath cleared his throat. “Your childhood, April. Was it a happy one?”
Appreciative of diversion from that other thought, she continued reminiscing. “Yes, it was happy. I had a good home, fine clothes, the best of schooling. I went to a private school in New York, spent my junior year in high school on an exchange program in France.”
A dark eyebrow arched. “Very nice.”
“It was. Most summers we spent in Maine.” Her eye trailed to the window. “Perhaps that's why
this
place appealed to meâon the ocean and all.” Her thoughts returned to the story. “I was fortunate enough to be able to travel. I've seen most of Europe, Scandinavia, some of the Middle East, and parts of South America. The islands of the Caribbean are my favorites, particularly in the middle of the northeast winter!”
this
place appealed to meâon the ocean and all.” Her thoughts returned to the story. “I was fortunate enough to be able to travel. I've seen most of Europe, Scandinavia, some of the Middle East, and parts of South America. The islands of the Caribbean are my favorites, particularly in the middle of the northeast winter!”
“I see your point,” Heath agreed. “What about friends, April? Surely there must have been manyâplus a string of men at your beck and call.”
April winced involuntarily. “I do have friends. And I've had my share of male companionship.” She paused, and he waited.
“Yes ⦠?”
“Yes, what?”
“You ended in the middle of your thought. I have to believe there's more to that particular story.”
Her features grew more taut. “You're right.”
“Well, don't keep me in suspense ⦔
“Oh, Heath,” she burst out beseechingly. “You really
don't want to hear all this. It's very boring and self-indulgent.”
don't want to hear all this. It's very boring and self-indulgent.”
He reached out a hand to touch her cheek, then withdrew it before it arrived. His expression was soft but unfathomable. “I
do
want to hear. Please. And, you never can tell, at any time, something you say may hit a familiar note!”
do
want to hear. Please. And, you never can tell, at any time, something you say may hit a familiar note!”
As she considered the possibility, her eyes sought strength in the firm lines of his face. “Your bruise looks a little better,” she commented, impulsively touching her fingertips to the purple flesh in a motion that completed, with tenderness, that which Heath had begun. When he closed his fingers around hers, her heart skipped a beat. His look held a warning; instantly, she drew her hand back, as though touched by fire. “Sorry,” she murmured hesitantly, “where was I?”
“Your men.”
A poignant smile gentled her features. “Yes, my men. I've dated some dashing ones in my time.”
“Anyone special?”
Her brows met and her eyes clouded with pain for a fleeting moment before she regained control. In that moment, Heath saw her emotion and his gaze grew more sharp. But April was no longer looking at him. Rather, she studied the bareness of her pale and slender fingers, their finely shaped and conditioned nails.
“There was someone,” she began with a sigh. “His name was Shane Michaels. You may even have heard of himâ” Her eyes darted quickly up, then back. “No, you won't remember. He is a prominent news broadcaster in the New York area.”
“And your relationship ⦠?”
“ ⦠was pretty heavy for a while there.” She paused, shaking her head slowly, her hair sliding around her downcast face. “I don't know why I'm telling you all thisâ”
His fingers caught her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “Perhaps because you need to tell me, just as I need to know.” He elaborated on his meaning with the acuity of his gaze. In an instant, April knew he was right. Even had he not asked, she would have wanted him to know. Nodding in acquiescence, she inhaled deeply. Heath dropped his fingers to let her continue.
“Shane wasâisâa compelling character. He arrived on the New York scene several years ago. Our social circles crossed and we hit it off from the start. I was working by that time, so it didn't matter to me that so much of his time was taken with
his
work. He was a charming companion. I ⦠fancied myself ⦠in love with him.”
his
work. He was a charming companion. I ⦠fancied myself ⦠in love with him.”
Embarrassed once more by the extent of her naivete, April looked away. In the final analysis, more of the pain she suffered came from this self-reproach than from the loss of a love that had been only superficial.
The silence was disturbed but occasionally by the crack of the fire in the hearth. Suddenly, in April's mind, the affair seemed truly over, a memory from her past, irrelevant to her present life.
“What happened?” His voice was soft in its urging.
She shrugged. “I found him in bed one day with a close friend of mine.” At Heath's low moan, she raised her eyes. “That's one of the reasons why I resisted
you,
Heath. If there
is
a woman out there”âher arm made a wide, sweeping gestureâ“waiting for you, I'd hate to cause her more pain than she's already suffered.”
you,
Heath. If there
is
a woman out there”âher arm made a wide, sweeping gestureâ“waiting for you, I'd hate to cause her more pain than she's already suffered.”
For what seemed an eternity, neither of them spoke. It was, finally, his deep male voice that broke the stillness. “And if there
is
no other woman, April ⦠?”
is
no other woman, April ⦠?”
Her breath caught at his words, her heart pounding as the rougher texture of his man's hand stroked the far side of her face, turning her toward him. The tears that gathered in dark, glistening crescents just within the bounds of her lower lashes bewildered her, as did the blurred image
of vulnerability that she beheld. Mercifully Heath demanded no verbal response but drew her against him, burying her face against the warm haven of his chest and rocking her gently for several moments before setting her back. Though the issue would remain a major one for them both, there was unspoken accord that it should not be pushed.
of vulnerability that she beheld. Mercifully Heath demanded no verbal response but drew her against him, burying her face against the warm haven of his chest and rocking her gently for several moments before setting her back. Though the issue would remain a major one for them both, there was unspoken accord that it should not be pushed.
“Aside from the ugly experience with Michaels,” he began softly, “you've painted a very satisfactory picture of your life. I still don't understand why you left New York. It would seem much more convenient, with your work and all, to have remained in the middle of everything.”
“Perhaps,” she sniffled, blotting the last of the moisture from her eyes with the backs of her hands. “But the city lost its appeal for me, I guess. Oh,” she added quickly, “the fiasco with Shane was merely the straw that broke the camel's back.” She regarded him sheepishly. “An old expressionâI' m sure your alter ego is familiar with it.” With a deep breath she went on. “I had been increasingly disenchanted with my so-called âgroup' in New York for some time. I'm sure much of it had to do with my work. Work isn't something that most of my friends took kindly to. We seemed to grow in different directions. After a while I got tired of making excuses to avoid a party here or a weekend there. They bored me. And I'd had it with apologizing for my work. I enjoy it. It's rewarding and self-supporting. No one can take it away from me, and I refuse to stick around while they try.”
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