Читать книгу Mills & Boon Introduces: What Lies Beneath / Soldier, Father, Husband? / The Seven-Day Target - Andrea Laurence, Soraya Lane - Страница 13

By the time Will glanced down at his watch, it was after ten. He’d been pounding the pavement trying to figure out what to do. The cool night winds bit at his cheeks and forced his hands deeper into his pants pockets, but it barely registered in his brain as anything more than a nagging annoyance. He deserved the punishment for being that stupid.

He’d almost done it. Almost let himself go too far. Took Alex’s ridiculous advice and set his inhibitions free. And what happened? Her lover called the apartment again.

Will could’ve let that go. Cynthia couldn’t stop him from calling. But he’d hoped in that instant that she wouldn’t recognize the number. That she would have the same blank look in her eye that she got when she met anyone else she should know and didn’t.

But there was no denying the horror painted across her face. Cynthia knew exactly who it was. Knew exactly how poorly timed that bastard’s call had been. His chest had grown so tight in that moment, he almost couldn’t breathe. He had to leave the apartment and get some fresh air before he suffocated.

She didn’t remember her parents or her friends. Will, her fiancé of two years, was a total stranger. She didn’t know if she liked hot dogs, for the love of God, but she remembered him. She’d even looked at Will, a glimmer of hope shining in her bright green eyes. Cynthia was hoping he didn’t know who was on the phone. That he believed it when she said she wanted to put the past, and her lover, behind them. He was right not to trust her. The woman that betrayed him was still in there somewhere.

Spying an empty park bench, Will flopped down and decided to give his aching feet a break from their punishment. The shoes he wore to work weren’t exactly designed for long strolls through the city. Hell, he was still wearing his suit minus the jacket he’d tossed aside. He’d accosted Cynthia the minute he walked in the door and then walked out without a second thought to how cold it was tonight. He hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t even checked his phone as it chimed and rang with repeated requests to contact him.

That plane crash was supposed to be their second chance. Her lover and all their other relationship baggage were supposed to be in the past. Just when he’d finally decided to take this chance seriously, she’d ruined it.

The blinking neon lights of the bar across the street from where he’d stopped beckoned Will to come in. He considered going inside and taking the edge off with some expensive whisky, but he knew drinking wouldn’t help the situation. He was never one to just sit back and drown his sorrows. He always took action. And that was what he needed to do now.

Walking around Manhattan in the middle of the night wasn’t going to fix anything. It helped him clear his head, kept him from doing something rash, but the only thing that could help him deal with this situation was probably asleep in their apartment.

Leaping back up after only a few moments rest, Will took the most direct route back to the apartment building. Cynthia had left on the entryway light, but the rest of the apartment was dark. He flipped on the living room lamp, illuminating the carnage that had once been their telephone. Based on the divot in the sheetrock, she’d slammed it against the wall.

Stepping around the plastic and metal bits, he continued down the hallway to their bedroom. He hadn’t set foot into this space since the night she came home from the hospital. His clothes were in the closet of the guest room where he’d been sleeping, so there wasn’t much point. He’d gathered his toiletries that night and had stayed out of her personal space while she adjusted.

Not tonight. Turning the doorknob, the light from the hall cast a beam across the king-size bed. He could barely make out the small bundle beneath the blankets. Will flipped on the lamp on his bed stand.

Cynthia was curled up tightly in the fetal position. She had tissue clutched in her hand and used tissues strewn over her nightstand. He could make out the dried tracks of tears across her cheeks. She’d taken it harder than he anticipated. She was so emotional lately.

“Cynthia,” he said, shaking her arm softly so as to not startle her.

She muttered and shifted around, straightening out of her tight ball before her eyes fluttered open and her gaze fixed on him. They widened in an instant, and she shot up in bed even though he wasn’t entirely certain she was fully awake. Her expression was panicked and confused, but as the fog of sleep faded away, her gaze hardened, protectively. She drew her legs up to her chest and scooted back against the headboard.

Will felt like a Goliath hovering over David, so he sat down on the edge of the bed and opted to face the wall so she wouldn’t squirm under his gaze. “Why is Nigel calling again?” His voice was flat, unemotional. He didn’t want her to shut down, and if he started yelling, she might.

“I don’t know. He called the house the night I came home from the hospital while you were getting dinner. He kept talking to me like I knew who he was, but I didn’t. It didn’t take me long to figure it out, though.” She shook her head and looked down at the tissue she was tearing to shreds in her hands. “He kept pushing to see me.”

She looked back up at him, glassy tears sparkling in her green eyes. Seeing her cry was like an iron fist straight to his stomach. He wanted to reach out and soothe her, but he didn’t react. For all he knew, this was a new tactic for manipulating him. He couldn’t let her see that she was getting to him.

“Then I remembered what you said about choosing who I would be now. I couldn’t do anything about what I’d already done, but I could put an end to it. So I told him I wouldn’t see him and to stop calling.”

Will’s fists were curled tightly in his lap. He wanted to believe her, but a part of him had heard too many lies. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were starting over, being honest with each other?”

“I didn’t want to drag it all back up. And he’d stopped calling at first. Then the calls started again. But I don’t answer.”

“I just don’t know that I can trust you, Cynthia. I want to, but this doesn’t help.”

She flung back the covers and slid to the edge of the bed to sit beside him. She was wearing navy satin pajama pants with a matching tank top that left little to the imagination. The warmth of her hovered near, but not quite touching. His whole body hummed with the awareness of her, the scent of her skin making his brain lose focus. Will hated that even in this moment when he should despise her the most, he still wanted her. But he didn’t pull away.

“You have no reason to trust me. And I have no reason to trust you. We’re strangers. But I want more. I want this to work out. And I don’t know of any other way to convince you of the truth.”

Will looked down to see Cynthia slip off her engagement ring. She held it up and watched it sparkle in the light for a moment. “This isn’t mine. You gave it to another woman. It’s a symbol of our past and everything that has gone wrong between us.”

Her fingers sought out one of his fists, uncurling it to place the ring in the palm of his hand.

“I know you’re worried that one day I’ll wake up and become her again. But you were right. I have a choice. Even if I recover my memory tomorrow, I’m promising you that I’m changing the person I was. I’d like to try making this work with you, with or without amnesia.”

Since day one, Will knew her memory coming back would be the relationship killer. His interest and attraction to her would no doubt be erased by the return of her old personality. It was the thing he clung to, the last barrier he used to keep from letting himself get too close. And she’d just taken it away, leaving him exposed to her and their new possibilities together.

“Let’s try to make a new relationship out of the wreckage of the one we destroyed. We can date, get to know each other as we are now. The world can continue to think we’re engaged, including my father. And if and when,” she said, her hand covering the one in which he held the ring, “you want to give that back to me…okay.”

Cynthia watched Will’s face for any sign that she wasn’t about to be single and homeless, dragging two hundred pairs of shoes behind her down the street, but he was so hard to read. It wasn’t until his other hand covered hers that she was able to take a breath.

“Okay,” he agreed, although his face was still lined with concern. She understood that. She’d obviously hurt him. Giving the ring back was evidence of her good-faith effort to make this work. In time, she hoped that they could make new memories to help mask the old ones. It would be a slow process, but she would take it one step at a time to be certain she did it right.

“I look forward to getting to know you,” she said with a crooked smile and an awkwardly adolescent bump to his shoulder. “I like what I’ve learned so far.”

His expression softened and he smiled, too. “It’s been a long time since I’ve dated,” he admitted. “I might be a little rusty.”

“That’s okay,” she said with a shrug, “I don’t remember ever going on a real date, so I’ll be easy to impress.”

At that, he laughed. It was the first real laugh she’d heard, and it was everything she hoped it would be. It was a deep, sexy rumble that vibrated in her chest and made her want to cling to him and bury her face in his neck.

“I’m glad your expectations are low,” he said, turning to place a soft kiss on her lips. He pulled away immediately and stood up. “Good night.”

She wanted him to stay, to pick up where they’d left off earlier, but she knew that wasn’t the best idea. But the kiss held promise, just like their new relationship, and that was enough for her. “Good night,” she said as he walked out of the room and then quietly pulled the door shut behind him.

Unfortunately, even as she switched off the lamp, she knew it was a lost cause. Sleep was no longer an option. She was as wired as if she’d chugged an entire pot of coffee. She’d gone to bed crying because she was certain she’d ruined everything. Now she had a world of new possibilities ahead of her. Her mind was spinning from their conversation, her thoughts bouncing around in her head. Cynthia lay there in the dark for nearly an hour, praying she would drift off to sleep, but it was no use.

She didn’t have to get up early in the morning; she had nowhere to go, so she decided to put her energy to better use. Slipping quietly out of the bedroom and down the hallway to her workroom, she decided to do some sketching. She wouldn’t run the sewing machine because the noise would wake up Will, but she could do everything else.

Her plan to make her own dress for her mother’s party loomed heavy on her mind. It was an ambitious project to say the least, and she needed to start on it as soon as possible. Any design worthy of the event would be infinitely more complicated to construct than the dress she’d already made. It also needed to be well designed and perfectly suited to her style aesthetic. If it was going to be in newspapers, it needed to be the evening look she would use to close her collection on the runway. The wow piece that everyone could look at and say, “That’s the latest Cynthia Dempsey design.”

If that wasn’t enough, she now had an added layer of pressure. She wanted to look good for Will, too. When she stepped out in this gown with her hair and makeup done, she wanted him to curse. She wanted him to threaten to rip it off her body and delay their arrival at the party—if they arrived at all—even though she was the guest of honor. To be honest, she wanted him to be as miserable with desire all night as she would undoubtedly be.

Will was a strikingly handsome man. Not pretty, like so many of the models in the magazines, but everything a man should be. Hard. Sophisticated. Confident. She’d seen him in everything from khakis to a suit, but she could only imagine how delicious he would look in his tuxedo. He had the broad shoulders and narrow waist that the jacket would cling to. His high, firm rear and solid thighs would be on display in his meticulously tailored suit pants. All he’d have to do is flash her one of his charming smiles and she’d be a puddle on the floor. Her best defense was a good offense, and she was going to make sure her new dress blew his mind.

Picking up her sketchbook, she flipped through pages to see if any of the designs sparked her imagination. So far, she’d done a lot of casual wear and separates with a retro feel and modern styling. One of the sketches for a daytime dress caught her attention, and she knew that that was the piece she needed to use to transition the style into an elegant, formal look. The dress was fitted with a pencil-skirt silhouette and a sweetheart neckline that appeared to be like a corset atop a white dress shirt. It was a smart daytime look for the office.

Flipping to a blank page, she pulled out her colored pencils and started working on a new design. Like the daywear, this dress had a fitted silhouette, although instead of the skirt falling at the knee with a ruffled kick pleat, the gown would take it a step further by blooming into a full mermaid skirt. She echoed the neckline with a strapless sweetheart top that plunged deep in the center.

Losing herself in the sketch for an unknown amount of time, she added special details and penciled in the texture she hoped the fabric and beading she chose would provide.

Rubbing her eyes, she sat back from the picture and admired it with pride. Making this gown in time for her mother’s party would be a challenge, but she could do it. The structure was actually easier to construct than sportswear. There was just one last decision to make—the color.

The theme of her collection had been a lot of black and white with pops of color. The dress would be stunning in black, but would it stand out enough? By the same token, she dismissed the bright pinks and teals other pieces had. That would be too much. Her gaze drifted over the pile of fabrics on the makeshift worktable that used to be a red sofa. It landed on a color she hadn’t used yet, but that could easily be worked in. It was sure to be a stunner. She picked up the matching pencil off the table and started shading the dress, a smile curving her lips as she worked and brought the sketch to life. It was perfect.

Emerald green, just like her eyes.

* * *

Will found himself in the Flower District the next day after work. He hadn’t been joking when he’d told Cynthia he was a little rusty where dating was concerned. He’d dated in high school and the first few years of college, but once he and Cynthia got together during their junior year, that was it. College girls hadn’t required much wooing, and Cynthia had never been one for silly things like flowers and chocolates in the past. She wanted ice. He wouldn’t have bought her an engagement ring guaranteed to get her mugged one day if she hadn’t made it perfectly clear what she expected.

But now he had no idea what she expected. Well, actually he did. She expected very little, so any gesture would be welcome. That almost made it harder. He didn’t want to slack off or not put in the effort she deserved because she was easy to please.

He picked up a bundle of roses. They were fresh and pink and reminded him of the color she blushed when he kissed her. Pink was her favorite color. Turning, he spied a few different types of lilies one stall down. Would she prefer something more exotic?

Will ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation and shook his head. He could only guess, so he opted to follow his instincts and go with his first choice. He walked to the counter, paid for the pink roses and hopped back in the cab that was waiting for him. Hopefully she would like them.

He rang the doorbell of their apartment when he got home instead of going inside. Her footsteps thumped across the floor as though she were running to the door.

“Did you forget your k—” she started as she flung it open, then she stopped when her gaze fell on the flowers in his hands. “Oh,” she said, a smile lighting her face.

“I’m taking you on a dinner date this evening.” He held out the flowers. “These are for you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Let me put these in some water and I’ll get ready.”

Will nodded and followed her inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him. He watched as she searched the cabinets until she found a vase, unwrapped the flowers and arranged them in water before placing them on the kitchen table. “They’re beautiful, Will, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I got us reservations for dinner at six-thirty. You’d better get a move on if we’re going to make it on time.”

Cynthia glanced at the clock and gasped, turning on her bare heels to disappear into the back of the apartment. Will waited patiently on the couch, wondering if she could manage to get ready that quickly.

Ten minutes later, he got his answer. She emerged from the back in a fitted black skirt and a ruffled white top with black details and stitching. She’d pulled her dark brown hair up into a bun and put on some lipstick that made her lips look pouty and plump like cherries. It was perfect.

“You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you. I tried to hurry.”

“You did very well. We might even get there early.”

They gathered their coats and caught a cab to the restaurant. It was an expensive Italian place, but not one of the society haunts where they might run into someone they knew. Not that she knew anyone. This being their first date, he wanted it to be private and without people gossiping about where they were and why her ring was suspiciously absent.

They were seated at a curved, burgundy leather booth for two, the table lit with the soft glow of candlelight. The sommelier brought him the wine list, and he was two seconds from ordering for her when he stopped. He didn’t know what she liked anymore. “Do you want a diet soda, or would you like to try some wine tonight?” he asked.

She thought about it for a moment. “I’d like to try wine, but I want something light and sweet.”

He nodded, taking the sommelier’s suggestion for a brand of Riesling and a cabernet sauvignon for himself. Once they gave the waiter their order, they were finally left alone with a crusty loaf of bread and some herb-infused olive oil.

“Normally on a first date, I think I would ask a woman about herself, what she likes to do, where she grew up. Unfortunately, I don’t think you know the answers.”

Cynthia laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Mmm…this is lovely, thank you for choosing it. It might be hard, but maybe I can learn something about you and me while we’re at it. Give it a try.”

“Okay,” he said, tearing a chunk of bread from the loaf and dipping it. “We’ll go more esoteric, then. If you were trapped on a desert island, what three things would you take with you?”

“Well, if we’re talking deserted with absolutely nothing, I say food, water and a toothbrush. If that kind of stuff is covered, then I say some books, a sketch pad with pencils and an mp3 player with a solar battery pack. How about you?”

“Given base needs are met, I would take.” he shook his head. “I almost can’t even say. I wouldn’t know what to do with a bunch of leisure time.”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“Fun? I just work. That’s what I do. Occasionally Alex makes me play racquetball or you drag me to a party or a play. That’s about it.”

“Doesn’t the paper own box seats at Yankee Stadium or something?”

“Courtside for the Knicks, actually, but I usually give the tickets out to clients and friends.”

“Why? Don’t you like basketball?”

“Yes. I just never make the time to go. You never wanted to go with me, and Alex typically had a date or was traveling on business when I asked.”

“When the season starts up again, I think I’d like to go. It sounds fun.”

Will smiled as he tried to picture Cynthia at a Knicks game with a beer in one hand, nachos in the other, screaming at the players. “We can certainly do that. Anything else you’d like to try, assuming we go on a second date?” he said with a wink.

“Hmm…” She thought aloud. “Bowling, maybe. Or doing some of the touristy things around town. I don’t remember any of that stuff, so it’s like I’m a visitor.”

“Do you mean like seeing the Statue of Liberty and Times Square?”

“Yeah. Maybe get one of those ‘I NY’ T-shirts.”

Will had to laugh. The woman across the table from him surprised him every day. She really was an entirely different person. A sweet, caring woman with a zest for life and the simplest pleasures, like silly tourist fare. Maybe she really had changed for good. Enough that he could trust her with some of the feelings swirling in his gut but wasn’t ready to say aloud.

“You know I work crazy hours, but I’ll happily squeeze in some sightseeing with you if that makes you happy.”

“It would. But tell me, why do you work so much?”

Will took a bite of bread to consider his answer. “When I took over for my father, Junior, after his retirement, it took a lot of hours to really get a feel for running the paper. Then things at home got strained and it was easier to bury myself in work. Then it just became a way of life.”

“Isn’t there someone else that can handle a lot of that stuff for you?”

He had a staff of hundreds of capable people, so he sincerely hoped so. “Probably, if I let them. But I like being involved. I don’t want to be one of those disconnected CEOs in the ivory tower.”

“There’s got to be a happy medium. A line you can draw in the sand that says when you’re working and when you’re not. I mean, what would you say if I told you it was rude to constantly check your phone during our date?”

Will paused, his hand literally reaching out to compulsively check his phone when she spoke the words. His gaze narrowed at her and then he conceded with a nod. “I’d say you were probably right and offer to put it on silent.” He held it up and flipped a switch, putting an end to the constant symphony of beeps, chirps and ringtone melodies. He wasn’t comfortable turning it completely off in case there was a serious emergency.

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction, I suppose. When was the last time you went on a vacation?”

“I took leave the Monday after your accident.”

Cynthia frowned. “That’s not a vacation. I’m talking sand between your toes and a frosty drink in your hand.”

He thought back to his last trip and calculated how long it had been. “Sadly, it was after we graduated from Yale. Junior paid for both of us to spend a week in Antigua as a present.”

“That was a long time ago. Do you have anything planned in the future?”

“Just our honeymoon. Two weeks in Bali,” he said. “We reserved one of those little private huts over the water.”

Will’s mind instantly flashed to being on the beach with her. He knew she wasn’t pleased with whatever weight she’d put on since the accident, but he didn’t mind in the least. It gave a new fullness to her breasts and a roundness to her hips that would fill out a bikini quite nicely. He imagined rubbing thick, creamy sunscreen over every inch of her pale, delicate skin to protect it from burning. The undeniable desire to pull her into the water and taste the saltiness of her skin and the ocean mingling together washed over him. It was a fantasy worth indulging, even if not for a honeymoon. Two weeks in paradise, indeed.

“That sounds heavenly,” she said, echoing his thoughts without realizing it. “Maybe we should plan something. Not necessarily two weeks in Bali, but something to get you away from work and me out of the apartment.”

“Definitely,” he said. Wherever it was, it had to have a beach, and he would buy her a pink bikini to wear. He’d already decided as much.

Just then, the waiter returned with their meals. “Wow,” Cynthia remarked as she took in her large platter of pasta and immediately dug in. It provided him the luxury of watching her for a moment without her noticing.

Everything about Cynthia fascinated him. He supposed that having a brush with death could make you appreciate the smallest things, even fettuccine with clam sauce. It made him want to expose her to new things and shower her with gifts—not only because she deserved them but because she would genuinely appreciate them. He would take her on a tour of the city she would love, and as soon as the doctor cleared her to travel, they would be off to the nearest tropical locale. If she was too afraid to fly, he’d charter a yacht to take them there. But that would all come later.

First, he intended to expose her to another new experience. Once they got home, he was going to coax every type of pleasure he could from her body.