Her Man To Remember

by Suzanne McMinn

  He waited, wondering—

  But then she shook her head. “Let’s go.”

  If she had any memories, she wasn’t sharing them with him.

  They climbed down from the top of the lighthouse and walked back toward the Shark and Fin. The afternoon was hot, but a soft breeze played across the sea.

  “Do you have any kids?” she asked suddenly, as if she’d just thought of the possibility. “I was just, you know, wondering about when you move here—”

  “Nope. No kids. My wife wanted kids. Right away. I said no, of course.”

  “Why of course?”

  He gave her a look.

  “I mean, besides the fact that you were a bastard. You’ve established that,” she said teasingly, gently.

  “I didn’t think I’d be a good father,” he told her. “That’s the real reason. I told her a bunch of lies—about how I wasn’t ready yet. I wanted to get more established. I had a whole plan for my life, and kids didn’t fit in until I’d accomplished certain goals.”

  “And that wasn’t true?”

  They’d stopped near the shore. The water was only a few feet away. He took her hand, tugged her down, and they sat on the soft-packed pebbly sand. His jeans were going to be covered in sand, but he didn’t care.

  “Great big pile of garbage,” he said quietly. “I would love to have kids. She would be—would have been—a great mom.”

  “You know, not to be disrespectful or anything, but I’m sure she wasn’t perfect,” Leah said, her eyes soft on him.

  “She was pushy,” he said. “But that was actually endearing. She was always trying to get me to do crazy things.”

  “I bet she thought you were endearing, too. You’re a nice guy, Roman Bradshaw.”

  He liked the way the sun lit up her eyes. He was still holding her hand, and for just a beat, it felt real. This closeness.

  But she didn’t know him, not really. She had blocked him completely from her mind.

  “Well, you’re seeing Roman Bradshaw Version 2.0,” he pointed out. “This is the advanced model.”

  Ah, that crooked, heart-killing smile of hers came out to play then. Would she still smile when she knew the whole truth? How could he convince her that he had changed when in the process he was still lying to her, if only by omission? What other choice did he have?

  The more time he spent with her, the harder it became to hold back the truth. And the angrier she might be when she finally learned it.

  “So why didn’t you think you’d be a good dad?”

  He took his hand from hers. Sharing his feelings was a new thing and he still struggled with it. Especially with Leah, because he had to be so careful with his words. Slowly he drew a line in the moist sand in front of them. The water lapped softly at the shore a foot away from where they sat.

  “I wanted to be a different kind of father than my father was to me. But— I don’t know how, I guess,” he admitted. “My family is…distant. Very reserved. Most of us spend almost twenty-four/seven together at the firm. And yet I don’t know them at all. They’re strangers. That’s how my family operates. Emotions are to be kept under wraps. We’re all business, all the time. She wasn’t like that.”

  “What was she like? Tell me something about her.”

  Her expression was pained, and it took him a second to realize she was hurting for him.

  “She was carefree. She didn’t like making plans. She would just do whatever came to mind. She drove me nuts because I needed plans, schedules, for everything.” That was the Leah she used to be when fear didn’t lurk in the shadows of her green eyes. “I like to feel in control, and she made me feel out of control.” She still made him feel out of control. He still didn’t know how to deal with her.

  He leaned forward, dipped his finger in the warm water. Sitting back, he took her hand, turned it over and placed the wet tip of his finger inside her palm, then folded her fingers over it.

  Her eyes locked with his, connecting, holding. She didn’t move away.

  “Feel that?” he said quietly. “It’s the sea.”

  She nodded.

  He forced himself to move his hand away.

  “Scared?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  She looked oddly confused now, and he wanted to just put his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be all right. But he still wasn’t sure about that himself. The future was a blank slate.

  “It’s time to go back,” she said. She stood, brushed the back of her pants, then stopped, her attention seeming caught by something up the beach. “There’s a turtle.”

  Roman turned, following her gaze.

  “Oh, look, there’s something wrong with it,” she whispered, and started running.

  Roman caught up to her as she knelt down on the wet sand at the sea’s edge. Leah’s eyes narrowed critically on the hard-shelled reptile limping along the beach in front of her, and only when Roman reached her did he see what she saw—a piece of fishing wire wrapped around a front flipper.

  He looked at Leah, not surprised at all by the sudden anger in her eyes. It was like Leah to feel immediate empathy for any creature. What did surprise him was the tightness banding his chest. Then he realized why. This was his Leah. She’d changed in so many ways, but the familiarity of her reaction to the wounded turtle hit him hard. He knew she’d want to do something. She’d want to save it. That was Leah.

  “Why’s it tagged?” he asked, seeing a small red band on one of the turtle’s uninjured rear flippers.

  “It’s been to the turtle hospital.” Leah reached out, touched the turtle’s back, stopping it in its uneven track. “And it needs to go back. I hope I can pick it up.”

  “We will,” he said determinedly.

  Leah looked up at him, seeming startled as her mouth parted. “You’re going to help me?”

  “Where’s the turtle hospital?”

  “Orchid Key.” She looked wary still, as if she didn’t expect—or want—his assistance. She seemed to search his face for— What? He had no idea.

  “Let’s go.”

  She was right, the thing was heavy. Roman spanned his hands across the back of the turtle, curling around its side. It hobbled backward, flapping its flippers in protest. His arms brushed Leah’s as they lifted it. She jerked back and they almost dropped the turtle.

  Roman stared at her, seeing the brief glimmer of fear in her eyes. God, was she afraid of him still? Then the look was gone, hidden behind a mask of concern directed solely at the turtle. It had happened so fast, he wasn’t sure if he’d seen it. He only knew he hated it, whatever it was.

  He wanted her to trust him. But he was going to have to earn her trust, and that was going to take time. He was impatient. He wanted her to trust him now, and dammit, she didn’t.

  They made it to the Shark and Fin. Leah nodded toward a beat-up truck in the parking lot. “That’s Morrie’s. He left me the keys to use it if I need it. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  She ran inside, leaving Roman holding the turtle on the pavement. This was, he thought to himself wryly, a typical Leah episode. One minute you’re taking a walk on the beach, the next you’re on your way to a turtle hospital.

  He didn’t realize he was smiling until she burst back out of the bar with the keys.

  She stopped short.

  “What?” he asked in response to her baffled expression.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. You’re just—looking at me weird. Smiling at me like—” She didn’t seem to know what to say. Avoiding his eyes, she bent down to the turtle, cooed gently at it. “Come on, big guy, you’re going to be all right.” She ran to the truck, opened the passenger side door then returned to heft the turtle together with Roman onto the vinyl bench seat.

  Roman climbed in, and Leah took the driver’s side. The engine coughed, then turned over. She had sand all over her clothes, and he realized for the first time, so did he. And neither of them had remembered to pick up their sh
oes.

  On the way to Orchid Key, Leah kept up a steady stream of chatter as if trying to calm the turtle. And unbelievably, it seemed to be working. Well, for the turtle. Roman wasn’t calm at all. He felt as if something was bubbling inside him the whole way, rising, filling his chest, and he was afraid to name it because he knew it was hope. He couldn’t stop looking at Leah as she drove, captivated by her natural charm and energy. It was like seeing the old Leah again.

  He felt as if he could stare at her forever, and he was sorry when they got to Orchid Key.

  “I take it you’ve been here before,” he said when she turned in at an unmarked gate in a stand of mangroves and the truck slid on the gravel to a stop in front of what looked like a run-down motel.

  “I found a nest of baby turtles once,” she told him. “Their mother had probably been hit by a boat or something. She’d washed up on the beach near the bar, and she was in bad shape. I knew about the turtle hospital, and I called them. They came out and took the babies. They tried to save the mother, but there wasn’t anything they could do. Wait here.”

  She jumped out of the truck, returning moments later with a guy in shorts and a Save-a-Turtle T-shirt.

  Roman moved out of the way while the guy examined the turtle before asking Roman to help him get it inside. It was, he realized once they went in through the small lobby, a motel.

  “It’s run completely by volunteers,” Leah explained when they’d delivered the turtle to one of the clinic rooms. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  She talked at warp speed as they walked, pointing out the holding pools for the turtles and the facilities where they received shots, IVs, even surgery. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Leah.

  “Some of the turtles live here full-time because they’re too injured to go back into the water,” she went on. “But whenever they can, they release them—but they tag them first. That’s how we know this one’s been here before.” She stopped suddenly. They’d walked out back where a one-time motel guest pool had been turned into a saltwater turtle habitat. In the sun, her bright, dancing eyes seemed to shadow. “What? You keep—”

  “What?”

  “Looking at me!” She sounded annoyed.

  “I just…haven’t seen you this excited.” Well, not in a long time, he added silently. “I bet you’re one of the volunteers.”

  She shrugged. “I help out sometimes.” He could see her closing up, as if she felt she’d revealed too much of herself to him. “We should get back to the bar,” she said suddenly. “I didn’t plan on being gone this long.”

  Before they left, one of the volunteers told them they’d probably have to amputate the wounded turtle’s flipper. Leah was quiet on the way back to Thunder Key. When they got to the Shark and Fin, Roman went around the bar and got their shoes while Leah went inside.

  “Oh,” Joey said, polishing the counter and looking up at Leah as Roman walked in. “I almost forgot. Someone called for you.”

  “Who?” She bent, slipped on her shoes.

  “Don’t know. He didn’t leave his name.”

  Roman didn’t like the look that passed through Leah’s eyes. He didn’t like the fact that she’d been hung up on twice today, and that she had panic attacks. He didn’t like that all the excitement that had been in her eyes at the turtle hospital was gone.

  “Anyone else calls, let me take it,” he told Joey. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mark now. Would Mark call and ask for Leah? Just to see if it was really her? I won’t tell anyone about Leah—if that’s really who it is.

  Leah cut him a frowning glance. Damn, she was as independent as ever.

  “I’ll get the phone, thank you,” she said. “You don’t own the bar yet.”

  “Something going on here I don’t know about?” Joey asked.

  “She’s had a couple hang-ups.”

  “Wrong number, disconnection. It’s no big deal,” Leah inserted.

  Joey looked at Roman.

  “Hmm.” The cook didn’t look convinced. “Shanna called, too,” he added. “She’ll be in this evening. She’s feeling better.”

  Roman guessed she must have been the missing waitress from lunch.

  “Great.” Leah headed toward the back. “I’m going to run upstairs for just a sec, then I’ll help you prep for tonight,” she said to Joey.

  “We do an outdoor buffet on the beer deck,” Joey explained to Roman. “Kind of a help-yourself thing. I grill shark, tuna, whatever we have on hand. It’s all you can eat, one set charge.”

  Leah was gone now. Joey’s gaze narrowed on Roman. “If the phone rings,” Joey said, “I’ll get it.”

  Protective.

  Roman understood how Joey felt. He was bugged about the calls, too. And more bugged that like Morrie, Joey seemed to have the inside track on Leah’s trust.

  Had he made any progress today in getting Leah to trust him? He headed for Morrie’s office and put in a call to Mark’s cell. His brother-in-law picked up.

  “Did you call here?”

  “What?”

  “Did you call here? Did you ask for Leah?”

  “You told me not to. Of course not.” Mark sounded offended.

  There was a crash upstairs. Roman’s heart froze. He hung up the phone and bolted for the stairs.

  Chapter 6

  She barely even registered the crash of the lamp she’d knocked over when she backed into it.

  Someone had been in her apartment.

  It wasn’t any one thing she noticed, but a combination of elements that shot a creeping, nameless dread up Leah’s spine. The drawer she’d left slightly open was closed. The sheers were pulled straight. The tray of beads was on the floor, not on the coffee table. The pile of magazines on the kitchenette counter was stacked too neatly.

  It was all just slightly off. Not how she’d left things. The bar was quiet, empty, and the back door had been unlocked. Between the walk on the beach and the trip to Orchid Key, they’d been gone for hours.

  But why would someone come into her apartment? What could they want? Her thoughts reeled. Had she heard those words on the phone earlier today, or had they come from her nightmares, her unknowable past?

  She’d backed up so quickly she’d pushed over the lamp on the table near the door. There was glass everywhere. The fixture had been an old-fashioned hurricane-style lamp. It belonged to Morrie, as did most of the furnishings in the small apartment. She felt shaky and scared and alone, and she wished desperately that Morrie were here now.

  Then arms surrounded her. She jumped, let out a small scream.

  “Leah, it’s me.”

  Roman.

  “Are you all right? The door was open, and I heard a crash—”

  “I’m fine.” No, she wasn’t fine, not at all. Roman turned her in his arms, and she found herself nose to nose, so close to him she could have sworn she heard his heartbeat over her own. His eyes were steady, warm, concerned. And suddenly she felt like an idiot. “I knocked a lamp over.” She swallowed thickly, her pulse still drumming. God, what must he think of her? She was a mess. This was the second time she’d broken something today. She turned back, looking at the room.

  In the still quiet, with the bright daylight filtering through the pulled sheers, the room looked peaceful, normal, safe. Or was it Roman’s arms that made her feel this way?

  She twisted out of his arms. “I’m a klutz, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure that’s all?”

  No, that wasn’t all. There was more, so much more. But was it real?

  Was she going crazy? None of it made sense. She was accustomed to not remembering, to not knowing anything about her past, but now she was starting to feel something that scared her even more. Maybe she really was losing it. Had someone been in her apartment, or was she paranoid? Had someone said those nightmare-echo words to her on the phone this afternoon, or had she imagined it?

  All this had begun since Roman Bradshaw had arrived in Thunder Key. Was he somehow connected to the phon
e calls, someone being in her apartment?

  But Morrie had checked him out. Roman Bradshaw was for real, a zillion-dollar finance guy from Manhattan. But what did she really know about him besides that? Her initial gut feeling had been to not trust him. Had that gut feeling been right? But what connection could he possibly have to the phone calls? He’d been right there, in the bar, every time. He couldn’t have made them.

  The questions made her feel sick and angry.

  “I’ll just clean this up and be right down,” she said quickly. Go away. She needed him to go away so she could pull herself together, think.

  There was a broom and a dustpan in the tiny pantry closet in the kitchenette. She retrieved them, began brushing at the shattered glass with the broom.

  “I’ll do that,” Roman suggested.

  “No, I’m fine.” She had the glass in a pile now. “You’re not cleaning up another one of my messes.” She knelt hurriedly, began pushing it into the dustpan. Brittle, brittle, just like glass—that’s how she felt. She was so tense, she thought she might shatter into a million pieces if anyone so much as touched her.

  Then Roman knelt, too, and put his hand over hers on the dustpan. And she didn’t shatter. His fingers felt solid, warm. They were slightly bronzed from the sun now. “Let me help,” he said gently. “It’s not a crime to let someone do something for you, you know.”

  She swallowed thickly again and looked up at his face. He was very close, and she was struck by the vulnerability shining in his eyes now. And she had the oddest sense that she would hurt his feelings if she refused him. And she didn’t want to hurt this man. Her emotions were conflicted and she didn’t know what she was feeling. He was so near, she could see every chiseled character line on his too-handsome-for-her-nerves face. She’d be crazy to let herself be attracted to this man, any man, and yet…

  The phone calls, the sense of someone having been in her apartment—it was all but forgotten as she fell, seemingly in some dreamy slow-mo, into his eyes.

  He reached up with his other hand, stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb. Gentle, caring, intent, the way he’d been with the turtle. And fascinated somehow…by her. The way he’d looked at her during their tour of the turtle hospital had almost given her a heart attack. It had definitely had her stomach muscles dancing, her palms sweating, her head lightening. And now she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything. His amazing gaze took her out of the moment, into something that was familiar and strange all at once.