Tides of Hope: It's Never Too Late For Second Chances (A Nantucket Island Romance Book 1)

by Dawn Tomasko

  "You are gorgeous,” he whispered, and let his calloused fingers travel from her shoulder to the soft curve of her wrist.

  "Thank you.” Goosebumps rose along her flesh. She dipped her head to shield her reaction. A fresh coat of red nail polish on her toenails glared up at her. She'd taken a lot of care to impress someone she wouldn't allow herself to have. Part of her wanted to turn and run, and the other wanted to wrap herself up in him. To feel calloused hands abrade her skin, wake nerve endings with their rough texture. Take the leap between control and an emotional free-fall.

  "Can I have my good night kiss now?"

  "What good night kiss?” Her head came up. A flutter of apprehension rippled through her. Could she hope and fear at the same time? Her gaze dropped to his mouth, broad and carnal. She wanted to open her mouth under his, feel the hot, slow thrust of his tongue. "How do you know you'll get one?”

  Dark brows slammed together. "Sara,” his deep voice vibrated, warm yet with an edge. "You know there's a strong attraction between us. Unless I'm a total idiot and don't remember how to read the signs, you feel it, too. I want to be with you more than I've wanted to be with anyone in a long time."

  "That doesn't make it right.” The tension in her fingers crushed her purse, the silver clasp bit into her fingers.

  "It doesn't make it wrong, either."

  After a deep breathe, she said, "Nantucket is meant to be therapeutic for me. I came to a place I love to sort out my life, start over, and plan for the future. There's already one failed relationship under my belt, and I don't want another one. There are aspects of my life you may not like."

  After he had blown out a hard breath, he nodded. "That's a lot to take in.” His hands slid into his pockets. Catlike, he took two steps closer, into her personal space. "Tell me, how do you know it would fail? I can guarantee certain parts of my past won't please you. I figure we'll get around to talking them through. There's not much you can say to change my mind. I want to spend time with you, get to know you better, not interrupt your plans."

  "Damn it.” A frustrated sigh escaped her as she tucked her clutch under her arm. She didn't want to hurt him, didn't mean to put him off, either. One minute she blazed hot, the next, ran ice cold. What the hell did she want?

  "I don't want this to come out wrong, Gabriel.” Hands clasped together, she squeezed tight, the tips of her nails biting into the skin on the back of her hands. Could she lose something before she even had it? "I didn't come here to find a relationship."

  “I’m hearing that loud and clear.” When his shoulder lifted in a deceptively casual shrug, the fabric of his dress shirt pulled tight across his chest. "Neither did I. Work brought me here. But then I met you. Sometimes the best life offers comes when we don't plan it."

  Sara’s life was all about planning. Could she let go for once? The innate need to keep safe and steady drove her decisions all her life. Control kept her in the comfort zone. Even if it lacked logic, the illusion of control helped avert disaster.

  Eyes sober, Gabriel stared at her.. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart, which thudded, steady and firm beneath her palm. She curled her hand into warm solid muscle. Realizing what she’d done, she jerked her hand, but his came up and held on tight.

  "Don't pull away.” His other hand came to rest on the small of her back to ease them closer until her belly brushed his belt buckle. Sara gasped, and their eyes locked. Gabriel dipped his head and for a heart-stopping second, his lips hovered above hers, with fresh, mint-laced breath. When he lowered his head to kiss her, she pulled back.

  "No.” God, yes, her mind screamed.

  "Yes,” came his sexy whisper, and then he fitted his mouth to hers.

  Oh, he was warm, and all that heat cracked the shell of ice around her heart. Expertly, he tasted her, tested her willingness. Her heart galloped, the wet slide of his tongue tangled with hers, learned the contours of her mouth. Immersed in sensation, she wanted what he offered, but this was too raw, too new, and too close. She pushed at his chest. When he pulled back, she pushed harder.

  "Stop. Gabriel, I can't do this.” No experience with David prepared her for this. The wild, uncontrolled sensations, the betrayal of her body. The sharp slice of panic.

  "Yes, you can,” his arm tightened around her back, his other buried in her hair at the nape of her neck. "Just try. Don't think. Go with it, sweetheart.” He tilted her head, set his hot, open mouth behind her ear, down her neck. An urgent sound of need came from her throat. Her fingers dug into the smooth fabric over his shoulders, and his mouth came back to hers.

  "Open for me,” he demanded urgently, and lost, she did. The kiss exploded in a blinding flash.

  Carnal, wet, hot, the kiss was more intense than any sexual encounter she’d ever had. Gabriel moved his hand through her hair, spilled it loose. Her fingers slid through the cool silk of his, still damp from his shower. Then she gripped his head, her nails scraped his scalp. Noises of need came from her throat, blood roared in her ears.

  God, he felt good. She loved his height, his strong arms, the fit of hard thighs pressed to hers. His mouth slanted over hers, again and again, his warm breath fanned her cheeks. Masterful and urgent, his large body bowed over her. She panted, her pulse throbbed. Drunk on passion, Sara was mindless to anything but him. Oh, to hell with control. Sara wanted him. All of him, now.

  He pressed himself into her belly. Nothing about the man was small. The ache spiked quick and sharp. Her inner muscles clenched, and hips fitted to his, she moved against him with reckless abandon. When he finally broke free, he pressed his forehead to hers. Arms locked around his neck, she pressed open-mouthed kisses along his jaw.

  His chest heaved like he'd run a mile. "God, Sara. I knew it would be like this. You’re so damned beautiful. The sight of you in this dress is killing me. If we don't stop right now, we won’t make dinner. If it weren't such a special night for Gary and Charlotte —” he growled low in his throat.

  "But it is,” she spoke in a sultry voice she didn't recognize. Lust and common sense waged a battle she couldn't win. The dark haze clouding her mind began to clear. She took a step back, but left her palms on his ribs. The air cooled between them.

  "Later. We'll pick this up later. I messed up your hair,” he confessed, without a trace of regret, "and your lipstick's gone."

  Still a bit disoriented, she glanced up. "I found my lipstick. You're wearing it."

  He puckered his lips, and she choked out a pained laugh. "We don't want to disappoint our friends. Let's fix ourselves up."

  In the bathroom, she ran shaky hands through her hair to repair the damage. Passion glazed eyes stared back at her. Sara touched her swollen mouth. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  The reflection of the woman in the mirror shocked her. I didn't want to stop. If it weren't for their dinner plans, she'd be in bed with Gabriel right now. Or on the living room floor, or the stairs. She wanted nothing more than to strip the clothes from his body and have him do the same to her. Discover the planes and angles of him, explore and taste. Gabriel awakened her from the inside out. A torrent of lust and longing, an emptiness demanding fulfillment and a keen desire to understand and be understood roared to life. Everything about him spoke to her. Any denial of it would be nothing more than a lie.

  Try as she might, she would never be the same.

  The restaurant overlooked a swath of beach and the harbor beyond and served excellent food. Gary and Gabriel talked and laughed often, and she and Charlotte made decisions about the cottage renovations, chatted about the baby and Charlotte's recent real estate transactions. The Silvas' generosity and open friendliness made Gabriel relax.

  All during dinner, what they started at the cottage continued to sizzle under the surface. Time and again she caught his eyes on her, hot with need. He found any excuse to touch her, a hand on the small of her back, the brush of his knee against hers, long fingers lingering on hers as he passed the salt. Fearing transparency,
she forced herself to look away, her face no doubt flame red. Charlotte certainly picked up on it, a devilish look in her eyes, and a knowing smile hovered on her lips all night. Sara wanted to kick her in the shins.

  Because they found much in common, Gabriel and Gary became fast friends. They set a date to go fishing. Charlotte suggested a trip off the island with Sara to look at baby registries and home furnishings for the cottage.

  After they had left the restaurant, Gabriel and Sara rode in silence as his truck hummed down Madaket Road at nearly midnight. Languid from good wine, food, and company, she leaned her head on the headrest and gazed at the night sky through the windshield.

  "What are you thinking about?” Gabriel asked.

  Sara rolled her head in his direction. "They've wanted a family for so long. When Brianna was little, sometimes I'd catch Charlotte watch her with such longing in her eyes I felt guilty. Now she'll get her turn. I'm happy for them.” His hand settled over hers on the center console. All night, she worked to forget their kiss and what it did to her. Every nerve ending alive, she'd found it hard to sit still in her chair during dinner.

  "I am, too,” his gaze locked on her, his eyes dark and magnetic. What would he do if she leaned over the console, pulled his collar down and nuzzled his neck? Let her open mouth taste, lick his hot, tanned skin? "They're good people."

  “Yes,” she agreed in a whisper. To break the spell, she turned toward the truck window. He made the left-hand turn down her lane, and the truck bounced over the uneven surface. The moon hung high in the star-studded sky.

  "It looks like the moon's right over the cottage,” she mused.

  "It does,” he smiled. "Nantucket continually takes me by surprise. The island is beautiful, different from any place I’ve ever seen.” After he had maneuvered the truck into her driveway, Gabriel killed the engine and walked her to the front door. Because of her pure desire to kiss him again, and quite sure she wouldn't ask him to go, she thanked him and turned to open the door.

  Get back in your space, her mind rationalized, alone. Otherwise, it's all over. My plan, my independence, my entire purpose for being here, will be finished. Sara held the door only slightly open, giving him a quick look of apology. "Please don't be upset if I don't invite you in. It's late, and I'm tired."

  Disappointment flickered over his face, and he hesitated, silent for long moments. "All right, Sara. I had a good time. You're excellent company."

  “Thank you.” The deep smolder of his eyes fired her already electrified nerves. His hand held hers in a warm, firm grasp, and with no small amount of guilt, she tugged it free. After murmuring a soft goodnight, she escaped inside. The door closed with a distinct click, and she turned to lean against it. "Coward,” she berated herself.

  Their kiss earlier went far beyond what she and David experienced. Ever. Sex had been satisfying, if infrequent, but their relationship lacked spark right from the start. How could she have expected fireworks? While the constant comparisons she made between David and Gabriel were unproductive, but she couldn't help herself. The two situations couldn't be more different and the sensations she now experienced caused no small amount of amazement and fascination.

  Gabriel made her think, and feel,different. Terms from her ever-present romance novels now applied to the sensations slithering through her system. Before, she lived vicariously through her favorite heroines. Now she related to them. Gabriel invoked a feral sensuality, left her feeling needy and raw.

  Sara knew lust and love could push and pull, demand and give, and bring two people to levels of intimacy far greater than the purely physical. A kind of depth she'd deliberately avoided. Her philosophy of not giving herself away, so if a relationship didn't work out, something would be left of her, in the end, had been shaken to its foundation.

  As much as she wanted to give into what Gabriel offered, she also wanted to push him away. Poised on the edge of uncertainty, the need to bring the evening to a halt rose up sharply. Sooner or later he’d tire of her ambivalence and move onto someone else, someone without baggage and issues. Right now, she wasn’t prepared to deal with these raging impulses.

  For a few minutes, she waited for him to drive off, but didn't hear the engine start. Had he walked off the porch? Gone down to the beach? Sara hoped she hadn't hurt him, but feared she had. When they’d returned home to the cottage, she knew he would expect more of her. Alarm sliced down so fiercely, escape reared up, primary in her mind.

  Forehead pressed to the door, she let out a shaky breath.

  "Sara,” Gabriel entreated from the other side, his voice muffled.

  She jerked back. Wild-eyed, her heart tripped and began to hammer. Palms sweaty, she rubbed them down her dress and waited. Still, he didn't leave. Gabriel waited for her. By all accounts, he deserved better. Open the door, the rational voice in her head told her. Coward.

  The lock with a soft click and she inched the door open. His hand fell to his side. He'd rested it on the door as she leaned on the other side. The knowledge that they’d been reaching for each other on instinct touched a place deep inside her heart.

  Indigo eyes, nearly indiscernible in the dark, glinted into hers. Details of him created a palpable yearning so intense it hurt. Silky hair, black in the moonlight, massive shoulders, muscled forearms where he'd rolled up his sleeves, all rekindled what they'd started earlier.

  The scent of him surrounded her, clean, warm, earthy. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She fought a ferocious need to reach out.

  He stepped into the foyer, close enough to make her swallow hard. Serious, his face tightened with determination and a flash of impatience. With the flat of his palm, he pushed the door open wider. When his hands lifted toward her, she stopped them. He deliberately laced his fingers with hers.

  "Damn it, Sara,” he growled, squeezed her hands. "Don't push me away."

  What woman under a full Nantucket moon, to the music of distant waves crashing against the shore, the air heavy with the tang of salt and the promise of summer, would refuse this man? It’s what I need to do. Depth and substance wove into him naturally, something she'd not seen in other men.

  She could easily disappoint him. How could she bear the risk of losing herself, or even worse, him? The avoidance of pain was practically a mission with her. Sara rode a razor sharp edge of yearning, lust, trepidation. Hope.

  “Do you want me?” his husky voice stroked her.

  Frustrated tears gathered. "You have no idea,” she groaned.

  "Then talk to me,” he said and loosened his hands from hers to lay them on her shoulders. "Sweetheart, it’s not good for you to be too tense. Let go.” Then he pressed gently on her shoulders, so she consciously she eased them down. His fingers skillfully stroked the clenched muscles until her head lolled to the side.

  A deep sigh escaped her. "You need to know me better."

  He inclined his head. "I can, if you open up to me. You've had a hard time, I understand. Do you think I'll walk out if you tell me your story? I don't scare easily, Sara. Everyone owns crap they wish they could forget. What if you don't like what's in my past? It's real life, and it's not always pretty."

  "I know.”

  At her admission, something shifted in his expression. "I've made some major screw-ups in my life. In the end, the experiences make us who we are. With courage, we learn from them and move ahead."

  A challenge. But he didn't understand what held her back. "You're right, but it's complicated,” she said in a whisper. "Don't you want someone simpler, freer? Less damaged.” There, she’d said it.

  "No,” he responded, his voice swift and sure.

  "How do you know?” She put her hands on her hips, with a challenge of her own. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

  "I know more than you think. Not only from time spent with you but by your stories of Brianna and Charlotte and Gary's fondness for you. I trust my instincts. Sarah, I'll tell you about my life. When you come to believe in me, no matter how long it ta
kes, trust me with yours."

  Sara went cold, knew the color leeched from her face. "I don't want to talk about my life,” she replied through gritted teeth.

  "Why not, sweetheart?” His thumbs drew little circles on her upper arms as she vibrated with tension. "It could help."

  His endearment warmed her heart. The silence stretched out in hot little pulses. Determined to remain honest and real, she spoke the truth few people knew. "It's manageable where I keep it. After all the words, the details, everything I'm wrapped in falls away, I'm afraid there won't be anything left."

  The softness of his mouth pressed into a hard line. "There's more than your marriage involved, isn't there?"

  The constriction of her throat nearly prevented her answer. "Yes."

  Gabriel's head moved in a slow nod. "We start off slow. You don't have to tell me a thing. Maybe one day, you'll be ready. I'll start first, do the talking."

  More than fair, but she didn't want to share the past with him, to be too exposed, vulnerable. But she very much wanted to hear his story. "Let’s start tomorrow?"

  Surprise flashed in his eyes and a smile graced his lips as he thought for a moment. "Yeah, it's late, and if we start now we'll be up all night, and you need to rest. Even with your beautiful makeup, I see the dark circles. Not that I have any objections to staying up all night with you,” he leered suggestively. "Much as I want to carry you up to bed right now, you need to sort things out. I'd never want you to be sorry."

  The assumption they'd end up in bed both thrilled and confused her. "I don't know if I want this, Gabriel, any of this."

  The need to talk, to trust, to touch, burned in her. A combination of frustration, fear and the need for understanding created a storm of emotion she couldn't decipher. A tear slid down her cheek, and Gabriel caught it with the pad of his thumb.

  "Whatever you feel is okay. You're safe."

  "Safe,” she stated flatly, unable to believe it, and stared at the fabric of his shirt. Did he have a concept of what the word meant to her? What kind of significance such an offer held? No one in her life ever offered safety to her. Not David, not her mother. Safety she created for herself.