Freefall

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Still, the burden of caring for William fell on Maura's shoulders. "You know, I have some time during the day while the children are at school," she said on impulse. "I've been trying to figure out how to fill it until I decide what to do with myself. If you need an extra set of eyes on William sometime while you take a break, I would be glad to help for an hour or two."

  She was surprised how easy it was to make the offer. Why would she be so willing to help care for William, the man she had despised and feared for so long?

  Maybe because this man with his hands buried in the dirt and his silver hair ruffling in the wind seemed like a completely different person from the man who had bullied her into leaving ten years ago.

  Maura smiled at her. "He would enjoy that, I think. Your sister was wonderful with him. So patient and loving. He loved to listen to her read to him. He would sit for hours and never seemed to tire of it. I swear, she went through every book in the house. Mark Twain, Shakespeare, Steinbeck. Even the children's books."

  Shelly had been such a good person. Decent and loving and kind to everyone, whether they deserved it or not. Tears burned behind her eyes. How could fate have taken someone with so much to offer the world?

  "Shelly always seemed to know just what people around her needed to make them happy," she murmured.

  That had been her sister's gift, one developed during a childhood where they had been forced to nurture each other.

  "Mr. Canfield loved her like a daughter. I'm sure her loss hurts him every bit as much as losing Peter. I believe that's why he's having such a hard time accepting she's dead, why he wants so much to believe you're her whenever he sees you."

  Now that was a surprise. Sophie was sure the nurse had to be mistaken. She remembered clearly during that last terrible meeting with William how he had said Peter was throwing his life away on Shelly and accused her of trapping his son into marriage by her pregnancy with Ali. "The white-trash Beaumont sisters," he'd called them.

  Could he really have had such a complete turnaround in the years since?

  She wanted to believe Shelly had been happy here, wanted some assurance that she had been right in the choice she'd made ten years ago to leave without destroying her sister's marriage.

  If Shelly and William had been able to develop a loving relationship before he'd been struck by Alzheimer's, perhaps her sister really had found the home and family she had always dreamed of.

  "Why don't I read to him for an hour or so tomorrow morning after I take the children to school?" she said to Maura. "That should give you a nice break."

  The nurse smiled. "You're every bit as sweet as your sister was."

  Very few people in her life had ever called her sweet. She'd been the reckless twin, the troublemaker. The wild one. But she had to admit, it was nice to hear for a change, even if it wasn't true. She smiled back at Maura, grateful to have found a friend here at Seal Point, then hurried off to collect the children from school.

  * * *

  What a hellish day.

  The house was quiet and dark when Tom returned from the office. He turned on the lights in the kitchen and found a note on the counter from Mrs. Cope, informing him she had left a plate of grilled chicken and pasta for him in the refrigerator and some Dutch apple pie on the counter.

  The woman was double the worth of any of the high-priced executives at Canfield, he thought. With a mental note to give her a well-deserved raise, he dug through a drawer for a knife to cut into the crusty, delectable-looking pie when he spied a math book on the table. Ali must have been working on her homework in here.

  With a sigh, he set the pie back on the counter for later. He desperately needed a hot meal and a good, hard five-mile swim to work out all the kinks in his spine and take away the tension spawned by a fourteen-hour day. But he needed to see the children first.

  He checked his watch. Just after eight. He might still be in time to read them a story before bed.

  On his way up the stairs, he took off his tie and hung it on the newel post, heading toward the soft murmur of voices and muted laughter. The door to the master suite was open and warm, welcoming light spilled out into the hallway.

  When he peeked inside, he found Sophie sitting on the bed propped against the headboard, her legs outstretched. A twin sat on either side of her and Ali cuddled next to Zach.

  She was smiling down at something Zach said and the light from the bedside lamp created a shimmering glow around her. Something funny tugged at his chest. Something rich and full and tender, and he could do nothing but stare.

  He still had feelings for her. He couldn't deny them any longer, not when they reached out like this and grabbed him by the throat.

  In just a few short days he had let her sneak her way into his life, into his heart. Stupid. Utterly stupid, when she would only be leaving again, when he could do nothing to stop her, just like a decade ago. How was he supposed to stand by and watch her walk away again?

  He breathed out another sigh, loud enough to catch her attention. She looked up and caught him watching her and he watched as an appealing little blush spread like spilled wine along her cheekbones.

  For a few breathless seconds their gazes held. It might have been a trick of the light or wishful thinking on his part but he thought he saw something in her eyes, some answering emotion. She looked happy to see him. Almost as if she'd been waiting for him.

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Everything else—the room, the children, his tight muscles and empty stomach—faded away, leaving only Sophie.

  And then Zoe caught sight of him and shattered the connection by shrieking with excitement. "Uncle Tommy! You're home! You're home! Guess what? My best friend Bella broke her arm on the swings at school today and she had to go to the doctor and get a cast and everything. It's pink. She said it hurt a lot."

  With effort, he slid his gaze away from Sophie and focused on his niece. "I'm sure it did."

  "Yeah, and her mom said tomorrow when she comes back to school we can write our names on it and stuff."

  He leaned against the door frame. "What other kind of stuff do you think you'll put on her pink cast?"

  "I don't know. Maybe I'll draw a rainbow. I'm super good at making those."

  Zach snorted at the idea and Tom turned to him. "How was your day, bud?"

  Thin shoulders lifted inside his airplane pajamas. "Okay. We had corndogs for lunch and Tanner threw up. It was really gross."

  "I bet. Al, what about you? I saw your math book down in the kitchen. Did you finish your homework?"

  She shook her head. "I missed a lot of assignments. I still have a few to make up but Mr. Lindley gave me until the end of the week to turn them all in."

  "I can help you if you need it. Math was one of my best subjects."

  She smiled. "Thanks, Uncle Tommy."

  He returned her smile, astonished at the comfort he found being here with all of them. The stress of the day already seemed to fade away, layer by layer.

  How had his life managed to change so drastically? A week ago he was content with his bachelor life, living alone in his condo in Pacific Grove. He dated some and hung out with buddies from the Coast Guard and spent time helping out with his father but other than that he had had a pretty solitary existence.

  That life seemed as cold and barren as the Arctic.

  "How was the rest of your day?" he asked, remembering his conversation with Sophie about Ali being upset before school started.

  "Good. I missed my friends a lot. It was really great to see them all again. I was afraid it would be weird but it wasn't."

  Sophie gave her arm a little squeeze then turned her attention to him. "You're just in time for a story, Tom. We're reading Green Eggs and Ham tonight."

  "Ah. One of my favorites."

  "I picked it," Zoe said proudly. "It's one of my favorites, too. Do you want to hear the story with us, Uncle Tommy? You can lay here by me. I'll make room."

  Now that was a dangerous idea, shar
ing a bed with Sophie. On the other hand, they had three eager chaperones. How much trouble could they get into? After a moment he shrugged, slipped off his shoes and joined them all on the wide bed.

  He listened to them all take turns reading, the twins halting over the words and Ali and Sophie helping them along. It didn't take long for him to close his eyes. This was nice. It was warm and comfortable and he felt more relaxed than he'd been all day….

  "Tom. Thomas."

  He blinked and found Sophie leaning over him, her tousled curls brushing his face. He wanted to wrap one of those curls around his finger and tug her down to him. To roll over and cover her with his body and kiss her until he couldn't think straight…

  He blinked away the thought. "Did I fall asleep?"

  "I think so. Either that or you were meditating on the deeper literary nuances of Green Eggs and Ham."

  He sat up against the headboard. "Try it, you'll like it. I had an American Lit professor in college who believed the book was a metaphor for the whole Sixties experience."

  Her soft laughter wrapped around him like a warm breeze and another layer of his stress slid away. "The children are brushing their teeth then heading to bed."

  He shoved off the bed. "I'll tuck them in, if you don't mind, since I haven't seen them all day."

  "I don't mind."

  After prayers had been said and kisses exchanged and blankets tucked in just right, he left the twins' door ajar and returned to the hall. To his surprise, Sophie was waiting for him.

  "Did you find something to eat? Mrs. Cope said she would leave a plate for you in the refrigerator. I'm sure she did. I've learned the woman doesn't say much but she backs up her words with actions. Dinner was a really delicious grilled chicken and pasta with Dutch apple pie for dessert. Zach's favorite, apparently."

  It had been so long since someone had fussed over him that he didn't know quite how to respond. He had to admit, he liked it, though. "It's one of my favorites, too. I saw her note and what was left of the pie when I came home but I wanted to see the children first before they went to sleep. I guess I'll go finish it off." He shrugged. "And maybe everything else in the kitchen while I'm at it."

  She laughed. "Been a long day, has it?"

  "Excruciatingly."

  Her laughter faded and she touched his sleeve. "I'm sorry. I know it's not easy for you, taking over at Canfield."

  He was silent, warmed more than he should be by the concern in her eyes, by the frown twisting her mouth. He wanted to kiss that mouth. Wanted to taste her again, to pick up exactly where they left off the night before. Tangled mouths and straining bodies and ragged breathing. He wanted all of it.

  Without thinking it through, he leaned forward slightly. She swallowed but didn't back away.

  Just before his mouth descended to hers, he jerked back to his senses. He couldn't kiss her. Not when she had made it abundantly clear the night before that she wasn't any more interested in what he had to offer than she'd been a decade ago.

  He checked the motion even as his body cried out in protest. "I'm going for a swim," he said abruptly.

  He was starving but dinner could wait. Now he not only needed to work out the stress of the day that had somehow returned in the last few moments but the relentless desire for Sophie that burned through his insides, brighter than ever.

  Chapter 12

  This time when she awoke a little after midnight, Sophie only sighed with resignation.

  At this rate, maybe she ought to think about trying to rustle up some kind of over-the-counter sleep aid. She hadn't had a decent night's rest since that terrible phone call from Tom in Morocco. Though she usually tried to avoid sleeping pills, sometimes they were a necessary evil when she spent her life jumping between time zones.

  She certainly couldn't keep functioning on the tiny amount of sleep she was eking out each night. With another sigh, she rolled over and tried to adjust the pillow to a little more comfortable position. On this side she could see the moonlight filtering through the filmy curtains. She watched it dance across the floor, making filigree patterns on Shelly's carpet.

  She supposed she should be grateful she had been able to get any sleep at all, especially since her bedtime entertainment had been anything but restful. For longer than she cared to admit, she had stood behind those very curtains watching out the window at Tom's powerful strokes in the swimming pool.

  Was it her fault her room had such a perfect view of the pool? He hadn't helped by staying out in the water for more than an hour.

  She had tried to resist as long as she could, had curled up in the comfortable armchair pretending to read a mystery she'd picked up that day on her shopping expedition.

  Normally she loved the author's quirky sense of humor but she couldn't seem to focus, too busy trying to ignore the urge to sneak just a peek and unable to concentrate on anything else but the knowledge that he was out there just on the other side of the window.

  Finally she had lost the battle with her own prurient curiosity. Oh, she fed herself some palatable lie about how she really ought to make sure he was all right since he'd been out for so long. Maybe he'd gotten a cramp or something. It really wasn't safe for him to be out there by himself.

  Even as she'd come up with the flimsy excuse to peek, in her heart she knew she only wanted to watch him, to take this rare opportunity to catch him in an unguarded moment.

  And then once she saw him out there she couldn't manage to drum up the self-control to step away from the window.

  There was something captivating, seductive, about watching a well-honed athlete cut through the water with such strength and grace. He was a thing of beauty that was definitely a joy to behold.

  His body had matured in the decade since her hands had so briefly explored that firm skin. His shoulders were wider, more toned, his thighs tight with muscles.

  Again she longed for her camera to catch that moment when he turned in the water and shoved off smoothly from the pool's edge to head back in the other direction.

  He was beautiful. Lean and male and muscular, and her insides had been weak just watching him. That was another excuse she used to remain rooted at the window. How could she possibly move away when she was afraid her trembling knees wouldn't support her?

  At last he had climbed from the pool, droplets clinging to his skin, and grabbed a towel off one of the deck chairs. He had rubbed at his face first and then dropped the towel.

  For one horrible, heart-stopping moment he had looked up at her window. She had gasped and quickly stepped back from the glass, mortified that he might have seen her standing there watching him like some sex-starved voyeur.

  He couldn't have seen her, she assured herself after a moment's reflection. She at least had the foresight to turn off the lights in her room and would have been concealed by the darkness and the curtain.

  But still she wondered.

  Though it had still been early by her usual standards when he finished his swim—not yet ten—she had decided reading would be pointless after that. How could she be expected to concentrate on words when the image of Tom soaring effortlessly through the water was etched into her mind like acid on glass?

  She hadn't dared go down to the media room to watch television for fear she might run into him there. She just wasn't up to another confrontation. Not tonight.

  And since she was exhausted anyway from her tumultuous night before—first that heated kiss and then the sleepless night that followed it—she decided the smartest thing would be for her to try to rest while she had the chance.

  By some miracle she had drifted off quickly. But just as the night before, the few hours of rest she had managed to find had been haunted by torrid dreams of steamy kisses and sweat-soaked bodies, dredged up by a subconscious that remembered entirely too well what it was like to be in his arms.

  That must have been what awakened her, this edgy need churning through her. She fought the urge to yank a pillow over her head. She barely recognized it,
she was so unaccustomed to those kinds of feelings.

  Sex just hadn't been an important part of her life. Besides Tom, she'd been intimate with only one man, an Italian art dealer she'd met during the year she spent in Tuscany working on a photo book.

  Gianni had been charming and sweet and had adored her. She'd been in love too, whether with him or the romance of the countryside, she wasn't quite sure now, but they had spent two delightful months together, both comfortable with the knowledge that they had no future together.

  That had been four years ago and she had been celibate ever since. It had never particularly bothered her before. She had just considered herself lucky that she had escaped her mother's destructive pattern of always needing a man in her life.

  But this restlessness inside her was something new.

  No, she realized with one of those particularly vicious self-epiphanies. It had always been there, she had just worked herself into exhaustion for years trying not to acknowledge it. She had pretended her heart was whole and intact for so long she had almost come to believe it.

  No, she wasn't like her mother. Sharon always needed a man—any man—in her life.

  Sophie only needed Tom.

  What a mess she had created for herself. How would she ever be able to live here with him, trapped in a platonic relationship as they cared for the children? Bumping into each other in the hallway at night, sitting across from him at the breakfast table, watching him emerge from the swimming pool, wet and relaxed?

  She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. She was still trying to figure it out when she heard a small, high-pitched scream.

  That sounded like Zoe!

  Without taking time to throw on a robe, she thrust off her covers and rushed toward the twins' room at top speed. Inside, she flipped on the light and found Zoe sitting up in her bed, her face ashen.