by Amy DeLuca
“Who I was talking to. It was… my son.”
All the breath left Alex’s lungs in a rush. His head spun as he tried to process the shock.
“You have a child?”
In all his daydreams about Cinda over the years, he’d never imagined her with a baby.
“Yes. He’s with my friend Kristal tonight. He’s afraid of storms and is having a hard time sleeping. He’s why I was so determined to get home today.”
“So… you’re divorced.”
Cinda shook her head. “No. I never married.”
She kept her gaze trained on her lap. She was quiet, almost as if she was waiting for something. Judgment? Condemnation?
Speculation?
A new feeling invaded Alex’s chest, a burning sensation that was equal parts excitement and outrage as sparks of suspicion landed and ignited inside him.
His tone was low and deliberate when he asked the next logical question.
“Who is his father?”
Seventeen
Her First and Only
Tremors shook Cinda’s body. The moment she’d been dreading was here, and she was so not ready for it.
Alex was trembling too, and his breathing sounded weird. Cinda thought she might have to administer some first aid because he looked like he was on the verge of passing out.
“His father is…” At the last second she swerved. “…not in the picture.”
It was true. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth. Not while they were trapped there together. Not without knowing how he’d react, what he might do with the information.
“We were together only a short while. And he’s… got his own life. He’s not the family-man type.”
She rushed to add, “It’s fine. AJ and I get along just fine. We don’t need him.”
Cinda studied his face and waited, struggling to keep her expression neutral and her breathing even.
Had he bought it? Her non-answer? Or did he see through her bluff?
He knew she’d been a virgin when they’d started their relationship. Could he somehow tell there’d been no one after him? That he was her first and only?
The wait was killing her, those penetrating deep brown eyes making her feel like the layers of secrecy she’d worn like armor were being peeled back with painstaking slowness.
Alex’s expression changed then, softening until he almost looked like he was in pain. “That can’t be easy—being a single mother.”
She nearly sagged in relief. “No. It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But my baby’s worth any sacrifice. That’s why I don’t date. When you’re a single parent and running a business, it doesn’t leave much time for a social life.”
Alex nodded. “I see.”
Was it her imagination, or was there a hint of satisfaction in the smile sneaking across his lips?
“I’d love to see him,” he said. “Do you have some pictures with you?”
“Of course. On my—” A swift realization cut off Cinda’s answer.
The instant Alex saw AJ he’d know. The boy was practically a clone of her long-lost love.
“Oh… they’re on my phone, but the battery died,” she lied.
Alex’s smile dimmed. “That’s too bad. I guess I’ll have to wait till we get power back. Can you tell me about him? What’s he like?”
He’s like you, her mind screamed. In so many ways.
How was she supposed to do this? Talk about AJ to his father… who didn’t know he even had a child. Panic simmered just beneath her skin.
She couldn’t do it.
Faking a wide yawn, Cinda closed her eyes in a long blink. “I think the muscle relaxer is kicking in,” she said, dragging her lids open again with overdone effort.
“Oh. Right. I should… let you get some sleep.”
Alex hesitated for another moment, scanning her face and body before rising and going back to his own makeshift bed across the room. “Need anything before I lie down?”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll probably go right to sleep. You should too.” Please, please go to sleep.
Cinda did not go right to sleep. It was impossible with Alexander Wessex only a few feet away. And she wasn’t fine. Far from it.
Her whole being was caught up in a fierce longing she hadn’t experienced in… well, in about five years, since she’d last been with Alex.
It was colder without him next to her. Though she knew it was foolish, she kind of regretted sending him to the other couch instead of asking him to lie down beside her and hold her the way she’d dreamed of him doing during the countless lonely nights they’d been apart.
Why did this man, above all the others in the world, have the unique ability to affect her like this, to overtake her mind and heart and upset her usual certainty in her own plans for her life?
At some point she must have fallen asleep because she found herself in a nightmare.
It had something to do with the hurricane, but in her dream, it seemed more like a tornado event with terrifying dark funnel clouds all around.
She ran around her small house, frantically checking the closets and under the beds, searching for AJ. He was frightened and alone, and she had to get to him.
At one point she spotted Alex and begged him to help her, to find their son, to save him.
“Cinda?”
A gentle shake blurred the frightening images, sending a ripple of reality through them like a water droplet disturbing a still pool.
“Cinda, you okay? Having a bad dream?”
“Alex?” Cinda opened her eyes, blinking in confusion at the deep male voice and the outline of wide shoulders and a rumpled head of blond hair in the waning firelight.
“Where’s AJ?”
“It’s okay,” he soothed, stroking her tear-dampened hair back from her cheek.
“Everything’s okay. He’s safe with your friend Kristal. You were having a nightmare. Maybe I shouldn’t have given you that muscle relaxer. They can cause bad dreams in some people.”
Sitting up slightly, Cinda became more alert.
“It was just a dream,” she said, mostly to herself.
“Just a dream,” Alex confirmed. “Want to tell me what it was about?”
She waved a hand in front of her face as if clearing away a wisp of smoke from an extinguished candle flame. “No. It was nothing. I can’t even really remember it.”
“You were calling my name.”
Cinda blinked again, this time from surprise. “I was?”
“Yes, over and over again. You sounded scared. Was something bad happening to you?”
“No, to—” She stopped herself abruptly. She’d almost said, “to our son.” Instead, she began again, saying, “It was AJ. He was lost.”
“You’re worried about him,” Alex said. “Even in your sleep. I’m sorry I made you come out here. You should be home with your child.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. What you said is true. He is safe with Kristal. And when I spoke to him earlier, he sounded happy by the time we hung up. He just misses me. I miss him too. We’ve hardly been apart since he was born.”
“How old is he?” Alex asked, his voice gentle.
He was obviously trying to comfort her, but the question had the opposite effect. Cinda’s heart rate rocketed.
Every conversation she had with Alex was fraught with danger. One wrong word, and he’d figure out what she was hiding.
“He’s little. Just a toddler,” she said.
Well, some people might consider a four-year-old a toddler, right? Although with the way her son ran and jumped and climbed everything in sight, his toddling days were long past.
Alex nodded. “Does he look like you?”
Her pulse still racing, she answered honestly. “He looks like his father, actually.”
“That’s too bad.”
He stroked wisps of hair back from her forehead with his fingertips then let the back of one glide over her cheekbone. “I used to think if we ever had children, I
’d want them to look exactly like their lovely mother.”
Panic lit a signal fire inside Cinda’s heart, alerting her brain it was time to take evasive action.
She knew that look in Alex’s eyes. She’d seen it many times before. He was thinking about kissing her.
It didn’t matter how long it had been since she’d kissed a man, or how incredibly handsome Alex looked, or how cozy and romantic the firelit room was—she couldn’t go there.
Not with him. Not again.
Cinda struggled to sit up. “I need to…”
What? She grappled for an excuse to burst this bubble of intimacy that seemed to have formed around the two of them in the last minute.
It felt too good. It felt like it used to feel between them—before Alex had vanished from her life.
She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I need to pee.”
His eyebrows shot up, and the spell was broken. “Oh. Of course. Here, let me help you.”
“No.” Putting a hand on his chest, she rebuffed Alex’s attempt to lift her. “I can go by myself.”
Cinda could think of few things more humiliating than being carried to the loo by Prince Alexander Wessex of Aubernesse. And she wasn’t used to depending on anyone for anything. She hated it.
But her self-sufficient attitude came to a swift and painful halt when she attempted to stand. And fell back onto the sofa, wincing and clutching her ankle.
“I don’t think I can put any weight on it.”
And now that she was thinking about it, she actually did need to pee. Great.
As it turned out, he didn’t carry her, but he did provide a personal escort, one slow step-hop at a time.
When they were inside the bathroom, Alex gave Cinda an uncertain look.
“Do you want me to… stay?”
“No,” she yelped. Then more quietly, she said, “No, thank you. I can hold on to the wall and the vanity counter. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll go to the kitchen and get a glass of water for you. It’s time for another dose of pain medication. I think we’ll skip the muscle relaxer this time.”
“Okay. That’s probably a good idea because I still feel a little loopy.”
He gave Cinda another long look as if unsure he should leave her.
“Not that loopy. I’m not going to fall in,” she told him.
“Right. All right then. Be back in a few minutes.”
When she was safely settled onto the couch again, Alex handed her the water glass and two more ibuprofen tablets. He watched as she swallowed them then restacked the pillows at the foot of the couch and helped her lift her leg to prop her throbbing ankle.
“I need to change your ice packs. They’re not cold enough anymore.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’ll be fine by morning.”
“Not if we don’t keep it iced.”
Alex reached into the first aid kit and grabbed two new cold packs, squeezing and shaking to activate them. “Okay, hold still. I’ve got to unwrap the gauze.”
He used excessive care unwrapping her swollen ankle, which had now turned all sorts of lovely colors, removing the old cold packs and replacing them.
All the while he kept sneaking glances at Cinda’s face, checking for pain reaction, she assumed. It touched her.
“It’s weird to have someone take care of me,” she said softly. “Usually I’m the one doing the caretaking.”
“That—is a true shame. And it’s truly my pleasure.”
Alex stared at her for a long moment, his eyes squinting in concentration. “Why are you alone? I know what you said about not having time because you’re a single mum… but single parents do date. And you’re far too young to have given up on the whole enterprise. So it’s a choice—it must be because there’s no way you haven’t had plenty of opportunity. Either that or there’s something seriously wrong with American men.”
She laughed. “Well, that’s up for debate… just kidding. No, you’re right. It is a choice. I just… I don’t want to make a mistake. Because of AJ. I can’t bring just anyone into his life, you know? He’s so little, so helpless. His heart is so sweet and pure. I can’t even think about someone hurting him in any way. I have to be careful.”
“I understand.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’re a mother. Don’t get me wrong, I can totally see it—how you’d be an amazing, loving mum. I can tell that you are. But well, I guess my mind just refuses to picture you with another man… no matter how short the relationship might have been.”
Desperate to change the topic, Cinda said, “I’m not even going to ask about your love life. I’m sure you haven’t been lonely all these years.”
Alex chuckled but then his expression turned serious. “You know what? I was. I mean, yes, I’ve dated from time to time, but there’s been no one special.”
Another long pause. “And I thought perhaps… well, I wondered… I wondered if you’d chosen to remain alone because of what happened between us. Because you… you gave me your virginity, and then I vanished. I thought it might have left you… well, reluctant to get into new relationships. I’m sorry for that—sorrier than you can even imagine. I would never have hurt you willingly.”
For a moment Cinda couldn’t draw air because Alex’s words seemed to have siphoned the entire oxygen supply from the room. Not only were they unexpected, but he’d seen through her bluff about being “too busy” to date and read her heart with laser-like precision.
“I believe you,” she finally said. “Thank you for saying that.” She took a fortifying breath. “And you’re right. I have been squeamish about romantic entanglements.”
“Except for AJ’s father,” he prompted.
“Yes,” she rushed to agree. “That’s right. Except for him.”
“I can’t help but surmise he was a disappointment as well,” Alex said. “Whatever the reason that one didn’t work out, well, I just want you to know you deserve better than to be left to raise a child alone. You deserve to have everything you want. When we met five years ago, I thought you were the most beautiful, cleverest, most amazing woman I’d ever met. Now… well, you simply astonish me.”
His eyes dropped to Cinda’s lips, and she realized he’d been leaning closer and closer as they talked.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, just kept angling toward her until his face was just above hers and his mouth was only inches away.
“Cinda?” he whispered.
Her heart fluttered like the wings of the hummingbirds AJ loved to watch at the feeder outside their kitchen window.
“Yes?”
Alex’s large body shifted toward her, depressing the sofa cushion, causing her to roll toward him, and—
“Ow!” Cinda yelped as pain radiated from her ankle up her leg.
Mesmerized by the intention in his eyes, she’d forgotten all about her sprain. Now she had no choice but to remember it.
“Ow ow ow.” Pain sang through it like an opera diva.
“Oh, your ankle.” Alex stood and moved back away from the sofa. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted… never mind. Forgive me. How much does it hurt?”
She grimaced. “It’s not bad.”
“That’s not true. I hurt you. I feel terrible. How stupid of me. Can I get you something? More pain reliever? A new ice pack?”
Cinda smiled at him. “No, I’m okay. I promise. It’s better now.”
“Okay good.”
Shaking out his arms and hands, Alex backed away but kept eye contact with her. He hooked a thumb over one shoulder.
“So… I think I’d better go back to my own sofa—and stay there.” He gave a nervous sounding laugh.
She nodded. She knew exactly how he felt. If she’d been ambulatory, she’d be backing away herself.
Being close to him was too tempting. Tempting and scary and wonderful.
And scary. Had he been
about to kiss her? Or had she only been wishing he would?
Ooh. Bad. Bad, Cinda. No kissing. Kissing would only confuse this already confusing situation even further.
“That’s probably a good idea,” she said. “And we really should try to get some sleep before the sun comes up.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Still watching her, Alex slid under the blanket on the other couch. “Goodnight Cinda.”
“Goodnight Alex. Sleep well.”
Eighteen
Genetic Gifts
Cinda wasn’t sure what time Alex got up or if he’d managed to sleep well, but when she woke in the morning, he was in the kitchen. Cooking.
Apparently, the gas stove still functioned with the electricity out. Whatever he was making smelled good.
She sat up on the couch, looking around and blinking in the hazy daylight like a kitten with newly opened eyes.
“Good morning,” Alex said in a cheery tone, turning to transfer the fragrant food from a skillet onto a plate waiting on the counter. “How’s your ankle feeling today?”
Cinda looked at the ankle in question, wincing as she moved it gingerly. “Better, I think? A bit tender. It’s swollen, though. And colorful.”
Pinks and purples and even a bit of black covered the skin, and her ankle looked at least twice its normal circumference.
“I saw that. Even with proper treatment that would have been inevitable. And with only ‘Dr. Wessex’s’ questionable skills at your service… I’m afraid you may be in for a bit of a protracted recovery period.”
Alex came into the living room carrying the plate which he set on the low table in front of the sofa. He offered her a steaming mug.
“The coffeemaker’s electric, but I found some tea bags and a kettle. Do you still like tea?”
“Yes.”
“There’s sugar if you’d like it. No cream obviously.”
She lifted the cup and took an exploratory sip. “Sugar would be great, thank you. How long have you been up?”
Alex walked back to the kitchen to fetch the sugar bowl. “A while,” he answered with a smile. “I’m still on Aubernesse time, and my sleep schedule is all out of whack. I’m glad you managed to sleep. I was worried the pain might keep you awake.”