Sunset In Central Park

by Sarah Morgan

  She walked into Harbor Stores feeling as if she was walking the plank. The bell on the door sounded, announcing her arrival, and heads turned.

  Here we go.

  Her face burned and then she felt Matt’s arm curve around her waist protectively.

  “Relax.” He murmured the word in her ear. “Almost everyone in here is a tourist. What do you want to eat tonight? Before you answer I need to warn you that if I’m cooking, you have a choice of three things.”

  “Three? That’s all?” She was relieved to have an excuse to focus on him. “Spell it out.”

  “Pizza, pasta and duck legs in orange sauce.”

  “That’s fancy.”

  He gave her a wicked smile. “It’s the dish I cook when I want to get laid.”

  “Does it work?”

  “I guess we’ll find out later.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and for a moment she forgot about the locals. “I don’t want to ruin your record, so let’s go with pizza.”

  They made their choices and took the basket to the checkout. Frankie was beginning to think that Matt might be right and that this wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d feared, when she turned and bumped into an elderly lady carrying a bag of apples. Her hair was as white as the snow that blanketed the island during the long winter months; her skin was wrinkled and paper thin, but her blue eyes were sharp and alert.

  Hilda Dodge.

  Recognizing her immediately, Frankie turned to make for the door but the woman shot out a hand and caught her arm.

  “It’s Francesca, isn’t it?”

  Crap. Coming back here had been a mistake. A big fat mistake.

  Hilda had lived next to the Beckets. She’d probably seen Frankie’s mother climbing in and out of the bedroom window. And now they were going to talk about it in glorious detail. They were going to reminisce, right next to the vegetable aisle, where no doubt the color of her cheeks would make the heap of glossy vine tomatoes look washed out.

  “It’s Frankie.”

  “We haven’t seen your face here for—” Hilda’s head bobbed as she did the calculation “—it must be almost ten years.”

  Ten years, one month, six days and five hours.

  “I went to college.” I ran away and never came back. That’s how strong and brave she was.

  “I remember you well. You, Paige and that other girl—pretty blonde who lived with her grandmother—”

  “Eva.”

  “That’s her. Eva. My memory isn’t what it was. The three of you were thick as thieves. And you were so shy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “So many times I tried to talk to you after that business with your parents, but you always crossed the road so that you wouldn’t have to speak to me.” Hilda leaned in and lowered her voice. “I was the same age as you when my parents divorced. Such a shock. Like coming home and finding someone has knocked your house down. In an instant, everything you’re used to has gone. Vanished.”

  It had felt exactly like that. As if her world had collapsed.

  Frankie stared at her. “You—I assumed—”

  “I wanted you to know that you had our support. Everyone on the island felt the same way. When you went missing that day—” Hilda’s eyes filled and she patted Frankie’s arm “—we all went out looking for you. Everyone. We searched the fields and the forest. We were all praying you hadn’t gone into the water. When Kathleen called to say she had you safe in the cottage—well, a few prayers of thanks were said that night.”

  They’d said prayers of thanks?

  “I—”

  “We’ve missed seeing you around, although I understand why you needed to leave this place and have a fresh start. Too many memories here.” Hilda gave her a quick hug. “Still, it’s all behind you now. And you’re home, that’s the main thing.”

  Home? “I live in New York now, Hilda. That’s my home.”

  “Once an islander, always an islander. You can’t get away from it, pumpkin. Enjoy your stay. The whole island is excited about the wedding.”

  In a daze, Frankie let Matt guide her to the door and back to the car.

  He pulled out of the space, avoiding the line of traffic queuing for the ferry.

  Frankie’s head was still spinning. She sat in silence, processing what had just happened. “Aren’t you going to say it?”

  “Say what?”

  “I told you so. You told me it was in my head. People crossing the road.”

  “First, I grew out of saying ‘I told you so’ when I was around nine years old, and second, I don’t think it was all in your head. I love this place, but I’m the first to admit that it has downsides, and one of those downsides is the interest people take in other people’s business.”

  “Maybe.” But looking back, she could see that Hilda might have been right. She was the one who had crossed the road because she’d been too ashamed to face anyone. “I assumed I knew what they were thinking. What they were going to say to me.”

  “You’re not the only person who goes around imagining that they know what people are thinking.”

  “You don’t do that.”

  He shrugged. “I’m human. I do it sometimes, but generally I find it more reliable to wait until a person tells me what they think, rather than making a guess. Not only does that make sense to me, but also I’m a guy. I don’t have female intuition.”

  “Neither do I, it seems.” Frankie leaned her head back against the seat and let the memories flow over her. “I was so scared of her.”

  “Hilda? She’s virtually an island elder. Growing up, we were all a little scared of her. But she has a wicked sense of humor and she’ll do anything for the people of this island. Look on the positive side. You went into Harbor Stores and came out alive. In fact, you did better than that. You were hugged by Hilda. That’s a ticket to island approval right there.”

  That much was true.

  Frankie felt some of the tension leave her. She had built it up in her head. Her own embarrassment had led her to avoid people and she’d confused who was avoiding whom.

  Once an islander, always an islander.

  Maybe she didn’t feel as if this place was home exactly, but she had to admit that it had charm. A charm she’d forgotten. Or maybe it wasn’t that she’d forgotten, more that the beauty of the place had been blackened by the events surrounding her parents’ divorce.

  Matt paused to allow traffic to pass and then took the road that led toward Camp Puffin on the eastern side of the island.

  Frankie gazed out the window across the rolling fields to the sea. It glistened and sparkled in the sunshine, a perfect day for sailing. The bay bobbed with boats, and in the far distance she could see the mainland. “It’s pretty here. I never spent much time on this side of the island.”

  “You never spent a summer at Camp Puffin?”

  “No. Paige didn’t do it because she wasn’t well enough. But you know that, of course.” And she’d been relieved to have an excuse not to spend the summer alongside the other kids. Some of them had been fine, but there had been a group of older boys who had made her life a misery. It had been hard enough to cope with the teasing at school, without extending the torture through the long days of summer. It was a relief to escape from it for a few months. “Eva and I used to make our own camp in the cave on the bay just beyond South Beach. Do you know it?”

  “I know it well.” The smile on his mouth made her wonder how well.

  At night the cave had been a favorite hangout for teenagers seeking privacy.

  “We buried a box in the cave. Each of us put something personal in it.”

  “I hope you buried it deep or that box is probably floating somewhere close to Greenland now. The wedding is on South Beach, so we can look for it.” Matt slowed as the road turned to a dirt track. It skirted the forest and headed directly to the camp. “There’s a path from here that leads over the cliffs to Castaway Cottage.”

  “I walked it a couple of times.” She’d
been fourteen years old and isolated, with a secret she couldn’t even tell her closest friends. “I often walked as far as the cottage, but I never went inside apart from that one time. I used to sit on the rocks and stare at it for hours.” Until the welcoming glow of the lights and the curl of smoke from the chimney had increased her feeling of isolation and she’d returned over the cliffs to the shards of her own shattered family. “I remember it being cozy. Kathleen had framed photos of seabirds on the walls and in the kitchen there were huge jars filled with sea glass she’d picked up herself from the beach. Everything about the place made you think of the ocean. I remember wishing I could stay there forever, wrapped in that blanket, listening to the waves crashing onto the rocks. And Kathleen was so kind.” So kind that she’d almost told her everything.

  Almost.

  And that was the reason she’d never knocked on the door again. She hadn’t trusted herself not to blurt it all out. And the secret wasn’t hers to tell. It was a burden she’d unwillingly carried through her life.

  “So you do have some good memories of the islanders.”

  They drove past the main camp buildings and took the narrow track that led up the coast. Frankie saw groups of kids in kayaks bobbing in the water close to the shore, and another group building a camp on the beach. They were laughing, gathering pieces of driftwood and arguing with each other. Making memories.

  Did she have good memories?

  “Maybe I do, but they were eclipsed by everything that happened. After my dad left, my mom was so upset I didn’t know what to do.” She watched as two of the girls tried to wedge the driftwood into the sand, laughing and falling over each other. “There were days when she didn’t get out of bed at all. I was scared to leave her. That went on for months. People called around every day to check on us. Whenever I went into Harbor Stores people patted me and told me they were sorry for my troubles. We had a casserole on our doorstep every single day. And then Mom decided she’d had enough of being the victim so she got herself a makeover, went out partying, got drunk with Sam Becket and the rest is history. The casseroles stopped. After that I kept waiting to have one tipped over my head.”

  “From what I heard the Beckets’ marriage was in trouble long before your mother decided to rediscover her youth.”

  “I never heard that.”

  “You were probably too young to pick up on it. If the rumors were correct, he had numerous affairs.”

  Frankie absorbed that information. “He had other affairs? Why didn’t I know that?”

  “You’ve never been one for gossip. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

  Her heart gave a little jolt. “There’s more than one thing about me that you like?”

  “Are you flirting with me?” He gave her a teasing smile that made her heart pump hard against her chest.

  “I don’t know how to flirt. I was going to research it, but I’ve been too busy.”

  “You can research flirting?”

  “You can research anything. There’s probably even some online training you can do.”

  “Flirting 101?” He kept his eyes on the track as he negotiated the uneven surface, but the smile on his face widened. “So if you weren’t flirting, that means it was a serious question. I’ll answer, but I should probably warn you I’m into high numbers so it could take a while.”

  “You’re full of crap, Matt Walker.”

  “I think you mean charm.”

  “And does that charm usually work for you?”

  “I guess we’re going to find out.” He shot her a glance and she saw the burn of heat in his eyes but she didn’t have time to analyze his words because moments later he was pulling up outside a cabin. “We’re here. This is Seagull’s Nest.”

  The simple log cabin nestled on the cliff where the forest met the sea. It had its own private deck suspended above the beach and on a day like today when the sea was rough, the waves spattered spray across the broad planks.

  Charmed, Frankie slid out of the passenger seat.

  The cabin was idyllic but secluded. Until today, she’d assumed they’d be spending the night surrounded by other wedding guests. She’d pictured group celebrations, drinking and hilarity.

  She hadn’t imagined anything like the intimacy of Seagull’s Nest.

  “Do you have a key?”

  “In the door.” Matt lowered the bags. “No one bothers much with keys around here, which comes as a bit of an adjustment to us New Yorkers.”

  He pushed open the door and Frankie walked past him, his body brushing against hers.

  Her insides were a tumble of sexual awareness and nerves, which was crazy because this was Matt. Why should she feel so nervous when she’d known him forever?

  Except that this wasn’t the Matt she’d known. This Matt was new to her.

  The cabin was simple but stylish, the perfect hideaway for a romantic weekend. The large bed had been made up with fresh linen, and a bunch of scented flowers had been placed in a vase by the bed. The window was open and the cabin was filled with the smells of summer and the faintly salty air.

  It was charming. And romantic.

  Which was lovely, except she didn’t do romantic. She was clueless, and pretty soon Matt was going to discover just how clueless. What was he expecting? She was pretty sure that the list of reasons he liked her was going to dwindle to low single figures once he discovered more about her. She’d tried warning him but either he hadn’t been listening or he’d assumed that she was exaggerating the problem.

  Or maybe he was one of those men who thought he was such a sex god he’d be able to get past the problem.

  Which simply increased the pressure.

  She was going to be the first woman he didn’t manage to turn on. Like an old, rusty engine that no amount of love and care could restore to working order.

  She longed to have a normal, healthy attitude toward relationships. She should be flirting and laughing with anticipation. Instead, she wanted to run into the forest and hide as she’d done as a child.

  Losing her nerve, she backed toward the door. “This place is for lovers.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” He slid his arm around her and hauled her back against him. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  Everything was wrong with that.

  Now she was here, all her insecurities came rushing back.

  The fact that sex had never played a big part in her life had never bothered her much, and she realized now it was because it had never mattered enough. She’d never cared enough to be disappointed. To her, sex had been an activity fraught with complication and weighed down by uncomfortable memories of the past. But she’d never experienced the same electrifying urgency she felt with Matt.

  She wanted him desperately. So desperately that the hum of physical awareness was something that seemed to be permanently switched on whenever she was near him. It had been that way since the kiss. And she wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to rip at his clothes and explore, a feeling she’d never had before. She wanted all of him, and the only thing stopping her was the fear that she was going to disappoint him. And herself. What if reality didn’t live up to the promise and expectation? Never before had she felt this delicious, intoxicating excitement. It was like being injected with a drug, and she didn’t want the feeling to vanish.

  “Talk to me.” His voice was soft. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “This is never going to work.” Given everything he knew about her, she saw no reason not to be honest. She hated keeping secrets. She already had more than enough of those locked inside her. “Every time I go to bed with a man it’s a disappointment. I’m bored. He’s bored. You’d probably have more excitement trawling the internet. I can’t—I mean I’ve never—” And that was something else she’d never told anyone. “Never mind.”

  “You could never bore me, Frankie.” He slid his thumb across her burning cheek. “And you don’t need to be stressed.”

  “I’ll decide what I wa
nt to be stressed about.” If a situation had ever been more stressful she couldn’t remember it. “I’m an adult. I own my stress levels.”

  He smiled. “Sometimes the way to handle something you’re afraid of is just to do it.”

  “Like going to the dentist, you mean?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty confident the experience will be a few steps up from that. Do you trust me?”

  “Of course, but that has nothing to do with this.” She made another desperate attempt to make him understand. “I don’t think I’m very sexual. I’m not built that way. Or maybe the whole thing with my mom has just made me so tense I can’t relax enough to do it. I don’t know, but I do know that you being insanely hot isn’t going to change anything. You think this is going to work because you’re a rampant sex god who is going to be the one to show me what I’m missing?”

  “No, I know this is going to work because I care about you and you care about me. And also because I want to rip your clothes off the whole time. That’s another clue right there.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips across her neck. “Stop thinking about how it was before, and focus on how it is now.” He was so self-assured, every movement was smooth and confident whereas she was a shivering wreck.

  She closed her eyes, trying to control the waves of sensation. Her heart was thumping so hard she thought he must be able to feel it. “Matt—”

  “Have I ever hurt you before?”

  “No, but we’ve never—”

  “No is all you need to say. You don’t need the but. If I do anything you don’t like, or that makes you feel uncomfortable, all you have to do is say and I’ll stop.” His hand curved around the back of her neck and his lips trailed from her neck to her jaw, hovering tantalizingly close to her mouth. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose, teasing her, making her wait. Waiting increased the tension, and underneath the tension was excitement.

  Her nerves and uncertainty didn’t change the fact that she wanted him with every fiber of her being.

  She didn’t have the chance to speak because he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her in a slow, seductive exploration that made her pulse pound. It was every bit as exciting as it had been the first time, and she gave a little moan and grabbed for the front of his shirt. This part she could handle. If only he’d stop at this, they’d probably ace it.