Читать книгу Surprise Baby, Second Chance - Therese Beharrie - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT?’ ROSA ASKED, anxiety pounding with her heart. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s locked.’

‘It’s—what?’ She strode past him and tried the handle of the door. It turned, but no amount of pressure made it open. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘This is not happening. We are not locked in here. There must be some mistake.’

Panic spurred her movements and she reached into the clutch she’d forgotten was in her hand. She took her phone out. ‘I have signal!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Only a few bars, but it should work. Who should I call?’

‘I suppose we could try the police.’ His calm voice was a stark contrast to the atmosphere around them.

‘Do you have the number?’

‘No.’

She stared at him. ‘How do you not have the number of the police?’

‘It’s on my phone. It’s dead,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the table where it lay.

‘You didn’t charge it,’ she said with a sigh. It was something he did—or didn’t do—regularly. Which had driven her crazy on good days. This day had been anything but good.

But if he was going to pretend to be calm—if he was going to pretend he wasn’t freaking out when she knew that he was—she could too.

‘Okay, so we don’t have the number for the police station. I’m assuming that covers all emergency services?’ He nodded. ‘I guess we better hope that nothing happens during this storm,’ she muttered, and scanned her contacts for the number she was looking for.

As if in response to her words, a streak of lightning whipped across the sky. It was closely followed by booms of thunder. Rosa closed her eyes and brought the phone to her ear.

‘Liana, we’re locked in,’ Rosa said the moment she heard Liana’s voice—distant, crackling—on the phone.

‘Rosa?’

‘Yes, it’s Rosa. Aaron and I are trapped on the top floor of the house.’

‘What?’ Static dulled the sound of Liana’s voice even more. ‘Did you get to the house safely?’

‘I’m fine. But we’re locked in, so we can’t get off the top floor.’

Liana didn’t reply and Rosa looked at the phone to see if they’d been cut off, but the call was still ongoing.

‘Here, let me try,’ Aaron said and she handed him the phone. And bit back the response that him speaking to his mother couldn’t magically make the connection better.

‘Mom? We’re locked on the top floor of the house. Hello? Hello?’

Rosa waited as Aaron fell silent, and then he looked at the display on the phone and sighed. ‘It cut off. I don’t think she got any of that.’

‘We could try someone else—’

She broke off when thunder echoed again, this time followed by a vicious flash of lightning. And then everything went dark.

‘Aaron?’

‘Yeah, I’m here.’

Her panic ebbed somewhat with the steadiness of his voice. ‘Does this mean what I think it means?’

‘Yeah, the power went out.’ She heard movement, and then the light of her phone shone between them. ‘The generator should be kicking in soon though.’

Silence spread between them as they waited.

And relief took the place of tension when the lights flickered on again.

‘I think we’re going to be stuck here for a while,’ Aaron said after a moment.

‘We could just try calling someone again.’

‘Who?’

‘Look up the number for the police,’ she snapped. Sucked in a breath. Told herself her confident façade was slipping. Ignored the voice in her head telling her it had slipped a long time ago.

Aaron didn’t reply and tapped on the screen of the phone. Then he looked up. ‘There’s no signal. It must have something to do with the electricity being out.’

‘That’s impossible. We can’t not have a connection.’

‘It’s Mariner’s Island,’ he said simply, as though it explained everything.

And, if she were honest with herself, it did. Mariner’s Island was tiny. The locals who lived and worked there did so for the sake of tourism. And it was the perfect tourist destination. In the summer. When the demands on power and the likelihood of storms were low.

There was a reason the airport had closed over the weekend. A reason the lights had gone out. The island thrived during summer, but survived during winter.

A clap of thunder punctuated her thoughts and she turned in time to see another flash of lightning streak across the sky. She badly wanted to try the door again, but when she turned back she saw Aaron watching her. And if she tried the door again she would be proving him right. She would be proving to him that she was running. She would look like a fool.

She didn’t want to look like a fool. A fool desperate not to be in the same room with the husband she’d left.

With the husband she still loved.

* * *

Again, Aaron found himself enthralled by the emotion on her face. She looked torn, though he didn’t know between what.

It wasn’t the ideal situation, them being locked in this room together. But it was what it was. And, since the storm was probably going to keep the good folk of Mariner’s Island in their homes, no one would be saving them for a while.

They’d have to accept that fact and do the best that they could.

It almost seemed as if he were okay with it. As if being alone with the woman who’d left him wouldn’t remind him of all the reasons he’d given himself for why she’d left.

His reluctance to be spontaneous. His caution surrounding their lives. How he always had to clean up the messes his mother created. How he did so without a word.

She hadn’t seemed to mind any of it before. But then she’d left, so what did he know?

‘You should turn your phone off.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Preserve the battery.’ He took off his jacket, loosened his tie. Threw them both over the couch. ‘We’re not calling anyone for a while, but we’ll have to do so tomorrow.’

‘But what if someone tries to contact us?’

‘No one is going to contact us.’

He opened the top button of his shirt, and then narrowed his eyes when he saw two suitcases in the corner of the room. He’d known something was up when he’d got to the top floor and saw that it hadn’t been set up for a party. Instead, it looked as it usually did when they visited normally.

Perhaps that had dulled his suspicions. He’d thought his mother had wanted them to share a meal, or that they’d meet there before going to the actual party.

He should have known better.

The pieces had only fallen into place when he’d seen Rosa. And he’d barely managed to see the whole picture those pieces painted when he’d been battling the emotion at seeing her again.

He walked over to the cases and laid them both on the bed. The first held men’s clothing. The second, women’s.

‘Is that lingerie?’

His lips twitched. ‘Yes.’

She’d come over from where she’d been standing on the opposite side of the bed and now began to throw the offending items out of the case. ‘Well, at least there are some other things here too.’ She paused. ‘Did your mother pack this?’

He shrugged.

‘The other things—’ she pulled out a casual-looking dress, holding it between her index finger and thumb ‘—are less...seductive, I suppose. But I don’t think any of them would fit me.’ She frowned. ‘If it was your mother, this makes no sense. She knows what size I am.’

‘Maybe the selection was meant to seduce anyway.’ He fought to steady his voice. ‘You’d be able to wear that, but it would be tighter than what you’re used to. Or more uncomfortable. So you’d—’

‘Be encouraged to wear the lingerie?’

‘I was going to say you’d look different.’ He said the words deliberately now, determined not to show her how the conversation was messing with his head.

‘There’s nothing wrong with how I usually dress.’

‘No,’ he agreed.

‘So...what? Tighter, more uncomfortable—different—clothing would seduce you? And then we’d reunite.’ She said the last words under her breath, as though saying them to herself. ‘There isn’t anything I can wear here that’s appropriate for this.’ She gestured around them.

‘I don’t think my mother intended this.’

‘Us being trapped?’

He nodded. ‘She probably wanted us to go out and enjoy the island like we have in the past.’ He let that sit for a moment. ‘You’re free to use whatever she’s packed for me.’

‘It’ll probably only be jeans and shirts.’

You could wear the lingerie, if you like.

The words seared his brain. Out loud, he said, ‘You’re welcome to help yourself.’

He walked to the other side of the room, as though somehow the distance would keep him from remembering her in lingerie. And what had happened after he’d seen her in lingerie. It would do nothing for his need for control to remember that.

He eyed the alcohol his mother had left on the counter of the kitchen—at least she’d done that—and reached for the rum and soda water, adding ice from the freezer. He was sipping it when he faced her again, but her back was towards him and the memories he’d tried to suppress struggled free, even though he couldn’t see her front.

But he didn’t need to.

Because, from where he stood, he could see the strong curve of her shoulders, the sweeping slope of her neck. He’d only have to press a kiss there, have his tongue join, and she would moan. She’d grab his hands as his mouth did its work and pull them around her, over her breasts, encouraging him to touch them...

He gritted his teeth. Reminded himself—again—that he needed to be in control. But his reaction wasn’t a surprise. His attraction to Rosa had always goaded him in this way. When he’d first seen her—her curves, the curls around her face, the golden-brown of her skin—it had kicked him in the gut.

He’d managed to ignore it for a full year, and only because both their mothers had been going through chemotherapy and acting on his attraction had seemed inappropriate. But their year of friendship hadn’t been enough for him. And their chemistry had constantly reminded him of its presence.

Stalking him. Mocking him.

It was why control was so important now. He couldn’t act on his attraction this time. He couldn’t show Rosa how much she’d hurt him when she’d left. And how shaken he was to see her again. He’d only just begun to face the fact that the morning she’d left might have been the last time he’d ever see her...

Control meant that he had a plan. And plans were how he lived his life. How he made sure his law firm remained successful. How he tried to make sure his mother hadn’t created another problem for him to fix.

He hadn’t had a plan in his marriage, and he’d wondered if that had contributed to how—and why—it had ended so abruptly.

Or had his need to plan been the cause of its end?

He took a long drag from his drink and shook the feelings away. He might not know if his plans—his need for control—had contributed to Rosa leaving, but having a plan was the only way he’d survive the night.

Now he just had to come up with one.