by Maya Banks
“There is a certain weirdness to this whole place,” Rafael said with an amused tone. “Like stepping into a time warp. I’m shocked that you have internet access, cable and cellular towers.”
“We keep up,” she said. “We just don’t particularly care about getting ahead. There is a certain je ne sais quoi about our lifestyle, our people and our island. In a lot of ways it can’t be described, only experienced. As you did for those weeks you were here.”
“And yet you were going to walk away from your life here. For me.”
She went still. “Yes, I’ve already said so. I mean I assumed I would have to make changes. You run a business. You have a home in New York. I could hardly expect you to give all that up and live here. I expected it to be an adjustment but I thought it—you—would be worth it.”
“Given your passion for this island and the people here, I’m a little awed that you thought I was worth that kind of sacrifice.”
“You sell yourself short, Rafael. Don’t you think you’re worth it? That someone could and should love you enough to give up important things to be with you?”
He averted his gaze, staring out over the water as if he had no answer. His body language had changed and he held himself stiffly. His jaw tightened and then he made an effort to relax.
“Maybe I’ve never met anyone who thought that much of me,” he finally said.
“Again, you’re associating with the wrong people. And you’ve definitely been dating the wrong women.”
The mischievous tone in her voice wrung a smile out of him.
“Why do I get the feeling that I probably tried like hell to keep you at arm’s length and you were having none of that?”
She frowned. “Not at all. You seemed…” Her expression grew more thoughtful. “You were definitely open to what happened between us. You certainly did your share of pursuing. Put it this way. I didn’t have to try very hard to get past that stuffy exterior of yours.”
He shook his head. “I’m beginning to think I have a double running around impersonating me. I know I keep saying this, but the man you describe is so far out of my realm of understanding that he seems a complete and utter stranger. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I suffered the head injury before I arrived here. Not after.”
“Does it appall you that much?”
He jerked his gaze to her. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s not that I’m shamed or angry. It’s hard to explain. I mean think for a moment of things you would never do. Think of something so not in line with your personality. Then imagine someone telling you that you did all those things but you can’t remember them. You’d think they’d lost their mind, not that you’d lost yours.”
“Okay, I can understand that. So it’s not that you can’t accept the person you were.”
“I just don’t understand him,” Rafael mused. “Or why.”
“Maybe you took one look at me and decided you had to have me or die,” she said impishly.
He leaned sideways until their mouths were hovering just a breath apart. “Now that I can understand because I find I feel that way around you with increasing frequency.”
She closed the remaining distance between them and found his lips in a gentle kiss. He kissed the bow of her mouth and then each corner in a playful, teasing manner, and every time she felt a thrill down to her toes.
“I have tea, but I can see you’re not that interested,” Mamaw said with a laugh.
Bryony pulled back and turned to see her grandmother standing outside the glass doors holding two tea glasses. “Of course I want your tea. It’s the best in the south.”
“Do I like it?” Rafael asked, a hint of a smile on his face.
Mamaw walked over and handed him a glass. “You sure do, young man. Said it was better than any of that fancy wine you drink in the city.”
He gave her a smile that would have made most women melt on the spot. “Well, then if I said it I must have meant it.” He took the glass and took a cautious sip.
Bryony took her own glass and sent Rafael an amused look. “It isn’t spiked. I promise. You’re looking at it like you expect it to be poisoned.”
He took another sip. “It’s good.”
Mamaw beamed at him as if it were the first time she’d heard the compliment.
“Have a seat, Mamaw. We came to see you, not to be alone.”
Her grandmother pulled up a chair and sat across from Bryony and Rafael. “Bryony tells me you were in a plane crash. That must have been traumatic for you.”
Rafael nodded. “I don’t remember much about the crash. I do have a few memories. Mostly of the aftermath and feeling relief that I was alive. But the rest is a blur. Including the weeks before the crash as I’m sure Bryony has told you.”
Mamaw nodded. “It’s a shame. Bryony was so upset. She was sure you’d pulled a fast one on her and left her alone and pregnant.”
Heat crept up Bryony’s neck. “Mamaw, don’t.”
“No, it’s fine,” Rafael said to Bryony. “I’m sure she has anger toward me just like you did. There’s no need for her to pretend differently.”
Mamaw nodded. “I like a man who’s honest and straightforward. Now that you’re back and are trying to work things out with my granddaughter, I think we’ll get along just fine.”
He smiled. “I hope so, Ms.…” He stopped in midsentence and looked to Bryony for help. “What do I call her? I don’t remember you telling me her name.”
Bryony laughed. “That’s because to everyone she’s just Mamaw.”
Mamaw reached forward and patted Rafael’s leg. “There now, if that makes you uncomfortable, you can call me Laura. Hardly anyone does. Just the mayor because he thinks it’s unseemly for a man of his position to be so familiar with one of his constituents. His malarkey, not mine. He’s a bit of an odd duck, but he’s a decent enough mayor.”
“Laura. It suits you. Pretty name for an equally pretty lady.”
To Bryony’s amusement, her grandmother’s cheeks bloomed with color and for once she didn’t have a ready come back. She just beamed at Rafael like he’d hung the moon.
“Are things okay with you, Mamaw?” Bryony asked. “How have you been feeling and do you need us to get you anything while we’re out?”
“Oh, no, child, I’m good. Silas came by while you were gone and took my grocery list to his nephew. He’s got a job delivering groceries now. Just got his driver’s license and he’s excited to get to be driving everywhere. I keep expecting to hear of him getting into an accident with the way he zips around these roads but so far nothing’s happened and not one of my eggs was broken, so I guess he’s got it under control.”
“You’re taking your medicine every day like you’re supposed to?”
Mamaw rolled her eyes and then looked toward Rafael. “One would think she was the grandmother and I was the ditzy young granddaughter. Mind you, it wasn’t me who got herself pregnant. I know how to take my pills.”
“Mamaw!”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s true.”
“Oh, God,” Bryony groaned. “You’re on fire today, aren’t you. I should have just gone home.”
Rafael chuckled and then broke into steady laughter. Bryony and her grandmother stared as he laughed so hard he was wiping at his eyes.
“You two are hilarious.”
“Easy for you to say. She wasn’t taking you to task for not using a condom,” Bryony said sourly.
“It was next on my list,” Mamaw said airily.
Rafael shook his head. “At least I can claim I have no memory of the event.”
“It broke,” Bryony said tightly.
“Now see, if you were taking your pills like you were supposed to, a broken condom wouldn’t be an issue,” Mamaw said.
Bryony stood and tugged at Rafael’s arm. “Okay, I’ve had enough of let’s embarrass the hell out of Bryony today. It’s obvious Mamaw is feeling her usual sassy self, so let’s go home. I’m starving.”
&nb
sp; Rafael laughed again and climbed out of his chair. He bent down to kiss Mamaw on the cheek. “It was a pleasure to reacquaint myself with you.”
Fourteen
“Comfortable?” Rafael asked as he plumped a pillow behind Bryony’s back.
Bryony reclined on the wicker patio lounger. She smiled up at Rafael and sighed. It was an absolutely beautiful day as only a fall day could be on the island. Still quite warm but without the oppressive heat and humidity of summer. The skies were brilliant blue, unmarred by a single cloud, and the salt-scented air danced on her nose as the soft music of the distant waves hummed in her ears.
“You’re spoiling me,” she said. “But by all means keep on. I’m not opposed in the least.”
He sat at the opposite end of the lounger and pulled her feet into his lap. He toyed with the ankle bracelet and then traced a finger over the arch of her foot.
“You have beautiful feet.”
She shot him a skeptical look. “You think my feet are beautiful?”
“Well, yes, and you draw attention to them and your ankles with this piece of jewelry. I like it. You have great legs, too. A complete package.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had my feet propped on a gorgeous guy’s lap while he does an analysis of my legs and ankles before. It makes me feel all queenly.”
He began to press his thumb into her arch with just enough force to make her moan.
“Isn’t that how a man should make the mother of his child feel? Like a queen?”
“Oh, God, you’re killing me. Sure, in theory, but how many guys really do? Of course, I’ve never been pregnant before so how would I know?”
He laughed. “I think you’re supposed to pick up on the fact that I’m embracing this child as our child. Our creation. Together. I know it seems I’ve ignored his or her presence. We haven’t discussed your pregnancy much, but I’ve thought of little else since I found out. It’s kept me up at night. I lay there thinking how ill-prepared I am to be a father and yet I have this eager anticipation that eats at me. I start to wonder who the baby will look like. Whether it will be a son or a daughter.”
Tears crowded her eyes and she felt like an idiot. But there was no doubt the longing in his voice hit her right in the heart and softened it into mush.
“Why do you think you’re ill-prepared to be a father?” she asked softly.
He closed both hands around her foot and rubbed his thumbs up and down the bottom, pressing and massaging the sole, then moving up to her arch and on to the pads below her toes.
“I work to the exclusion of all else. I never go anywhere that I don’t bring work with me. Most of my social events are work-related. There are times I sleep at my office. Just as many times I sleep on a plane en route to a meeting or to scope out a location for a new development. A child needs the attention of his parent. He needs their love and support. All I can really do is provide financially.”
“I said this once already but you don’t have to stay the same person just because that’s who you’ve always been. Parents make changes for their children all the time. I’m not any more prepared for parenthood than you are. I always imagined I’d wait until I was older.”
He arched a brow. “Just how old are you? You make it sound like you’re some teenager.”
She laughed. “I’m twenty-five. Plenty old to have children but since until a few months ago I haven’t had a serious relationship, and by serious I mean thinking of marriage and commitment, et cetera. I knew that having children was still some years away.”
“It would seem we’re both going to be handed parenthood before we thought we w ere ready.”
“But would we really ever say we were ready? I mean who just announces one day, ‘Okay, I’m ready for children’? I think even people who plan their pregnancies still have to be a little unprepared for the changes that occur with the arrival of a child.”
“You’re probably right. I think you’d make a great mother, though.”
She cocked her head, flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “That means a lot that you’d say that, Rafael, but what makes you think so? I haven’t exactly shown a lot of responsibility to this point.”
“You are a loving and affectionate woman. Warm, spontaneous. Loyal and generous. And you’re direct. You had no qualms about taking me on when you thought I’d wronged you. I can only imagine how fierce you would be in protection of our child.”
“Do you know why I think you’d make a great father?”
His hands stilled on her foot and he glanced up at her.
“Because you admit your shortcomings,” she said gently. “You know your faults. You acknowledge them. You’re well aware of the areas where you’d need to change. Most people aren’t that self-aware. I have no doubt that you’d be sensitive to your child’s needs and make adjustments. There’s nothing you can say to convince me that you wouldn’t absolutely put your child first in your priorities.”
He slid one hand up her leg to snag her fingers and then he squeezed. “Thank you for that.”
“I still love you, Rafael.”
The words slipped out. They were an ache in her heart that she had to let loose. Here in this moment, it was more than she could take, even though she’d sworn she wouldn’t make herself vulnerable again until they had resolved his memory loss and their relationship. She simply had to tell him how she felt.
His eyes darkened. His hands were no longer gentle as he roughly pulled her up and toward him. She sprawled indelicately across his lap as he framed her face in his grasp. For a long moment, he stroked her cheek as he stared into her eyes.
Then he leaned his forehead against hers in a surprisingly tender gesture as he gathered her hand in his, trapped it between their chests.
“I had no idea how I’d feel when I asked you if you still love me yesterday. It was an idle curiosity. I had no idea the impact those words would make. I can’t even explain it. How can I?”
“I had to tell you,” she whispered. “I’ve been honest. I don’t want to hold anything back. It’s hard for me. I’m unused to being reserved. You deserve to know the truth. You’re here. You’re making the effort. The least I can do is meet you halfway. It was my pride that held me back before. I didn’t want to humble myself or make myself vulnerable to you again, but holding back the words doesn’t change anything.”
He lowered his head and kissed her, forgoing his earlier gentle and playful smooches. His lips moved heatedly over hers, dragging breath from her then returning it, demanding it.
He tasted of the lemonade he’d served with the lunch he’d prepared. Tart and sweet and so hot. He licked over the seam of her mouth then plunged inward again as if determined to taste every part of her.
Always before, his lovemaking had seemed practiced and deliberate. Smooth and seductive. Now there was a desperation to his every caress and kiss, like he couldn’t wait to touch her or to have her. Even as the differences plagued her, she gave herself over to this seemingly new man. It felt different. He was different.
“I want to make love to you, Bryony, but I want it to be for the right reasons. I want you to know I want you for the right reasons. Right now I couldn’t care less about the past or what I do or don’t remember. What I know is that right here, right now, I want to touch you and kiss you more than I want anything else.”
As gracefully as she could manage when her legs and hands were shaking, she got off his lap to stand before him. Then she reached down for his hand and slid her fingers through his.
“I want you, too,” she said simply. “I’ve missed you so much, Rafe.”
He rose unsteadily, his eyes dark and vibrant with desire. His usually calm composure seemed shaken and he raised a trembling hand to her cheek.
“Be sure of this, Bryony. Whatever happens today, whatever has happened in the past, what I remember or don’t remember—it’s not going to matter if you give yourself to me again. Now. If we do this now, we’re starting over. New page. Fresh beginni
ng.”
She rubbed her cheek over his hand and closed her eyes. “I’d like that. No past. Just today. Here and now. You and me.”
He wrapped an arm around her and urged her toward the door. They stumbled inside the cottage and she guided him toward her bedroom. Past the guest room where he’d slept the night before. Back to the place where they’d spent so many hours making love in the past.
He closed the door and she stood in front of him, suddenly shy and unsure. Though she’d made love with him countless times before, it seemed new. He seemed different. Maybe she herself was even different.
And then she laughed.
Her laughter startled him. He looked up and cocked his head to the side. “What’s so funny?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head ruefully. “I was standing here thinking that this felt like the first time and I’m so terribly nervous but then I thought how ridiculous that was when I’m pregnant with your child, a testament to the fact that it’s far from the first time for us.”
His expression softened and he pulled her gently into his arms. “In a lot of ways this is our first time. I think we should treat it as such. I know I plan to reacquaint myself with your body. I want to touch and see every part of you. There’ll be no rushing. I want to savor every moment and draw it out until we’re both crazy.”
She swayed toward him, feeling light-headed, as if she were a little drunk. He caught her to him and carefully walked her back until she met with the edge of the bed.
Silently he began to unbutton her shirt, taking his time as he worked down her body. When he was done, he carefully parted the lapels and pushed back and over her shoulders so that the material fell away and she stood in her jeans and bra.
“Pretty and delicate,” he said as he fingered the lace that cupped the swell of her breast. “A lot like you. It suits you. I like you in pink.”