April's Promise (Forever Love Series)

by Smith, Karen Rose

  She was definitely right about that. There was silence for a little while as she finished the juice.

  But once she did, he said, "You really need to get this leg cleaned up. I'll carry you upstairs."

  "You will not. Can't I just bandage it down here?"

  "I ran out of antiseptic down here, and the antibacterial soap is upstairs, too. My bathroom. Come on, let's get this done."

  "You're bossy," she murmured.

  "No, I'm the best part of your good sense. It's telling you what you should do."

  A cloud seemed to cross April's face and he wondered if she suddenly felt a jolt of pain.

  "I have ibuprofen upstairs, too," he cajoled.

  "Blackmail."

  "Whatever works."

  April had a stubborn streak and he knew he had to get past that. He also had to get past her sense of independence and her resolution that she didn't need anyone else.

  When he took the ice pack from her knee, April stood. "It feels better already."

  "That's just because it's numb. If you won't let me help, take your time on the stairs."

  When she didn't reply to that, it took everything in him not to sweep her up into his arms and carry her up there. But he didn't. He did stand by, though, just in case her knee buckled, just in case the pain took her down.

  Walking beside her until she reached the stairs, he stood behind her, making sure she could handle what she was trying to do. He knew she hurt. He knew the stairs weren't easy. He knew she wouldn't complain. But he did see her wince with each step, and each of those winces hurt him.

  At the top she was breathing heavy but he could see she was glad she'd made it without his assistance. That was April.

  She took off her warm-up jacket though because the exertion had obviously overheated her. He took it from her and she didn't protest.

  "I guess Stephie's taking a nap?" she almost whispered as they walked down the hall.

  As they went by April's bedroom, he tossed her jacket inside over the chair then rejoined her. "She and Beverly had a little tiff and she started crying so it was a good excuse to ask Debra to leave. I told her I had to put Stephie down for a nap."

  "You asked her to leave?"

  He stopped in the middle of the hall and took April by the shoulders. "You're one exasperating woman. I didn't want her here in the first place."

  April had the grace to look embarrassed. "Okay, I'm sorry."

  "There's nothing to be sorry about. You just had a parallel reaction to how I felt about Nicholas."

  To his surprise, April didn't protest. She didn't contradict him and say she wasn't jealous. Maybe that was progress. Maybe they were finally being honest with each other.

  As they walked through his bedroom to the bathroom, he spied April looking around. When her gaze fell on the photo of him and Vanessa and Stephie that was on his dresser, she looked away. Too difficult to think about Vanessa's death? Too difficult to think about him and Vanessa and Stephie as a family? Too difficult to think about their kisses, what they'd shared and what she'd given up?

  Maybe later he'd get the answers to those questions and others, too.

  At his bathroom, he went in ahead of her, pulled the black enamel bench away from the vanity and pointed to it.

  But, of course, she protested. "If you just get everything out, I can do it myself."

  "I'll get everything out, but I'll do it to make sure you've cleaned the scrapes well. Believe me, if you do it yourself, it will hurt more."

  "You know this from experience?"

  "I've had sports injuries."

  "Recently?"

  "Nicholas and I go at it pretty hard sometimes. I've ended up in the emergency room on occasion and so has he."

  "Bonding time," she said with a straight face.

  He chuckled. "Women go shopping. Men play sports."

  "Some women go shopping. Others…have lunch, watch a movie, or just share a glass of wine."

  He turned to the long, floor to ceiling cabinet beside the shower. "Do you have good friends in Boston?"

  Supplies in his hands when he turned around, he saw her watching him. He put everything on the sink and turned on the spigot.

  "Yes, I have good friends, some married, some not. Charlene and Emma are probably my best friends. Charlene is married. Emma isn't. Why are you asking?"

  "Because I really don't know much about your life, and because— I don't think Vanessa had friends she could confide in. She worked a lot of hours and that didn't leave much time for friendships, I guess."

  "That's silly, Gabe. There's always time for friends."

  He shrugged. "She liked parties. You know that. It seemed she liked to be with groups of people rather than with one or two at a time. Wouldn't you say that was true?"

  April looked away for a moment, and then she shrugged. "Yes, I think that was true. She was a party girl."

  Gabe put his knuckle under her chin and lifted her face so she'd meet his eyes. "And you're not?"

  "No, I'm not."

  Taking a clean washcloth, he ran it under warm water, wrung it out, then laid it gently over the worst of April's scrapes and cuts.

  "That hurts," she murmured.

  "I know, but it will help prepare you for what comes next."

  "You're going to give me a bullet to bite on?"

  "I can give you a towel to bite. This isn't going to be pleasant. Not when I scrub it."

  "Just do it. Let's get it over with."

  So they did. But when Gabe was finished with the warm water and the soap, with the rinsing and the antiseptic and the bandaging, April was pale.

  "You're not going to pass out on me, are you?"

  "No," she snapped, then in a gentler voice, she added, "But I do think I'll lie on my bed for a while. That is, if you don't need me for anything else."

  Need her for something else. Oh, yes, he did. His bathroom wasn't too small, but it wasn't large, either. Being this close to her, touching her as he had, taking care of her had easily aroused him. April easily aroused him. He'd fought old feelings for her up until this visit. He'd fought the chemistry between them up until this visit. Now, he wanted to give into it and see where it took them. But he wasn't going to take advantage of this situation. He wouldn't take advantage of April while she was hurting.

  She stood and gingerly took a step forward. He could tell by the expression on her face that her leg certainly didn't feel better.

  "I'll get that ibuprofen," he muttered.

  ****

  It was almost two a.m. when Gabe finally gave up the battle of tossing and turning and trying to go to sleep. His mind just wouldn't shut down. His evening with April and Stephie had been spent quietly. Fortunately, they'd had left-overs for supper so food preparation hadn't been a big deal. He'd insisted on cleaning up and April hadn't argued. That was a first. Afterward, they'd played board games with Stephie and put puzzles together. That way, April didn't have to move around so much. He'd caught a grateful glance more than once. Those grateful glances did funny things to his heart rate. Either that, or he'd had too much caffeine at supper.

  Sure, blame it on the caffeine.

  He threw off the covers and stood by the side of the bed. Those brownies Debra had brought over were still downstairs. One of them probably wasn't much better than another cup of coffee, but at least he'd enjoy it, at least he wouldn't be thinking about April not so far down the hall lying alone in her bed.

  However, once downstairs, he thought about April upstairs. The brownie tasted dry in his mouth and chocolate didn't seem a solution to anything. Maybe he'd just go back upstairs and read until he fell asleep.

  He'd left the light on in his bedroom, but hadn't turned on the hall lamp. He knew every inch of this house by heart. Ambient light from the moon shone through the skylight in the hall. He was just climbing the stairs when the door to April's room opened and she stepped into the hall. She was wearing a pale pink nightgown that stopped halfway down her thighs. It was silky
with little cap sleeves and a boat neck. It slid to one side now.

  He heard a small gasp when she saw him.

  "Gabe."

  "Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you need more ice? I'll go get it."

  "No, no more ice. It hurts. I'm restless. When I turn over, my leg brushes the sheets."

  "Tomorrow I'll get some of those patches with the antibiotic right on the patch. It will be easier for you to change the dressing."

  "I was just going to get a glass of water."

  But she wasn't moving toward the bathroom. She was standing perfectly still, staring at him. Well, staring at his chest that was bare. He could practically feel her eyes passing down his chest, straight down the middle, down to the low ride of his jogging shorts, further—

  She saw immediately what her perusal had done and her gaze slipped back up to his. Denying anything would be stupid. He wasn't going to deny this attraction to her, not anymore. He climbed the remaining few steps and approached her.

  "What do you need, April? Someone to sing you a lullaby?"

  "I don't need anything. I'll just grab another pill."

  He clasped her elbow. "Do you think a pill is going to help?"

  They were speaking in implied words and underlying messages. It was time they got plain about it. "I can give you something to take your mind off the pain."

  "Something more than ibuprofen?"

  "Not a controlled substance. Something much better, though I've heard kissing can be addictive."

  He leaned toward her and bent his head. There was no doubt as to what he was going to do. She could have backed away. She could have said no. She could have put her hands against his chest so their bodies wouldn't touch. But she didn't do any of those things. She just stood there and waited.

  That was the loudest and most graphic signal. Her acquiescence told him she wanted his kiss. When her arms banded around him, he brought her tighter against him. She lifted her lips to his and he took advantage of the invitation. This kiss wasn't going to be hurried or quick. This kiss was going to tell him things he wanted to know. This kiss was going to answer some of the questions he had.

  This kiss.

  He knew his arms were possessive. He knew his mouth was claiming. He knew his tongue was seductive. Everything about this kiss was intent on seduction.

  Although he was lost in kissing her, he was mindful of her leg and careful when he swept her up into his arms.

  "Gabe," her voice held a question and a bit of wonder.

  "I'm taking you to my room." The underlying message there was clear. "Speak now if you don't want me to."

  She didn't say anything. She just held on as if she wanted this as much as he did.

  The room wasn't very far away, yet it seemed like it was. "Are you hurting?"

  "Not when you're kissing me," she teased.

  Her flirty response almost made him groan. It was another assent that she wanted this as much as he did.

  In his bedroom, he gently laid her on the bed, but she kept her arms around his neck as if she didn't want to let go. He knew the feeling. Now that they had physical contact, now that they knew they were going to do this, he didn't want to leave her for a moment.

  Sitting beside her on the huge bed, he kissed her again and again and again. Finally they broke for air and April slid over. He quickly pulled off his shorts and joined her.

  Turning to her, he ran his hand over the slinky fabric of her nightgown, caressing every curve underneath. Although he desperately wanted to join their bodies, he found he wanted intimacy with her almost as much.

  "What happened when you fell today? Were you crossing the street?"

  "Just running. Going too fast for the conditions."

  "The pavement was dry."

  "The leaves were wet," she reminded him.

  "You're a focused runner," he said, remembering. "Where was your head?"

  She went silent and he understood there was a reason she didn't want to tell him. Because it would reveal too much about what she'd been feeling? Or something else. Maybe she and Winnifred had had a disagreement.

  "Did you and your mom fight?"

  "We don't fight. We have unilateral discussions. But, no, nothing like that. In fact…during this visit, she's told me some things about her marriage that I'd never known."

  "Like?" he prompted, thinking maybe this was the root of why April had fallen.

  "It's not important."

  He caressed her cheek and lifted her chin. "Don't lie to me."

  "I'm not." Her denial was more vehement than it should have been, and he wondered what that was coming from. But he waited, not wanting to push her.

  "Mother admitted Dad had had multiple affairs. That wasn't a secret. Vanessa and I both had known about a few of them. It wasn't the quantity that bothered me, it was the way Mother had thought about it. As long as it was just sex he was after, she could live with it. But when one of the affairs turned serious, then she couldn't. That's when she divorced him."

  "That's kind of a perverted look at marriage, isn't it? Aren't sex and everyday life supposed to go together?" he asked, glimpsing a deeper look into April and Vanessa's backgrounds.

  "That's essentially how I responded, and she said I was naïve. She said that mothers sometimes have to do what they have to do, for whatever's best for their kids. She felt staying, having an opulent roof over our heads, being able to pay for the best schools, the luxury of never having to worry about money, was best for all of us. I don't know, Gabe. Do men look at it the same way? Would a man stay together for finances? To keep his family from falling apart?"

  But as soon as April asked the question, she looked as if she wished she hadn't.

  "There are some women who wouldn't stay past one affair," he said. "Your mother's generation is different from ours. Their thoughts on the subject are different, too."

  "But she took us to church every Sunday. We know vows are meant to be kept. Isn't black black? Isn't white white? Or do you mix it into gray to sort it into your own needs? I want to believe in more than everybody being selfish."

  He took her hands, brought them into his chest, and kissed her knuckles. "Then do believe, and it will be. Isn't that how the saying goes?"

  "If only that was true," she murmured, lowering her gaze from his.

  Something seemed to be bothering her, but she wasn't ready to divulge what it was, let alone confide in him. But she would soon.

  Because he was going to convince her to trust him.

  He kissed her forehead and then her eyelids, and then her mouth. She made a little sigh and wrapped her arms around him.

  "I don't want to hurt you," he said, thinking about her leg.

  "I don't want to hurt you, either," she murmured, and he realized she'd taken what he said a different way.

  How could they hurt each other by pleasuring each other? How could they hurt each other by just living in the now for a change? When was the last time he'd done that?

  As he kissed her again, his hands bunched up the silky gown. He drew it up her body...up, up, up and over her head until there was no longer a barrier between them. Not the soft material one, anyway. Maybe soon there wouldn't be any others, either.

  He'd fallen in love with April all those years ago, and now he felt as if it were happening all over again. His hands were possessive as he cupped her breasts. His mouth was greedy as he took everything she'd give.

  He broke away and asked, "Does it hurt to bend your knee?"

  "No," she told him. "I want you, Gabe. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. When you kiss me, nothing else matters. When you touch me, I only feel where you touch me, nothing else."

  "Are you on the pill?" he asked.

  "No, because I haven't been involved with anyone. Because I never expected—"

  "I stopped at the drugstore yesterday afternoon," he said. "I didn't plan for this to happen, but yet that last kiss—" He stopped.

  She put a finger over his lips,
telling him she didn't need an explanation. So he reached for the nightstand drawer, pulled it open, and found a condom.

  They took their time, which was excruciatingly frustrating, but tantalizingly exciting. He caressed her until she was breathless. She touched him, rolled on the condom, and held him in her hand. He felt as if he were going to burst into a million pieces. Then he thought about the best way to make her comfortable. He lay on his side and he brought her good leg up over his hip.

  He stroked her hair, kissed her lips, rubbed his beardline against her breasts until she said, "I can't take any more of this, Gabe. Please make love to me."

  Love. Is that what they were doing? Is that what they had? Did it even matter?

  He wrapped his arm around April and thrust into her body. Her moan of assent drove him on. She kissed his chest and stroked his back. When her hand dipped below his waist to his backside, he was gone. His last thrust pushed her over the edge, too, and she clung to him, shaking, reverberating with the climax that had taken their world and turned it upside down.

  A few minutes later, when their breathing had returned to normal—or more normal than it had been—he was going to pull away. But April wouldn't let him. She held on tight.

  "Do you really want to go?" she whispered.

  The way he felt right now, he never wanted to be anywhere but here.

  "No, I don't want to go, but at some point I'll have to. Stephie still calls out some nights in her sleep."

  "If she does, we'll be here for her, right?"

  There was something in April's eyes that he didn't understand, something that made her question that fact. But that couldn't be. She knew he loved his daughter, no matter what. But he felt as if he might have to find out the truth behind the "no matter what."

  Tomorrow, he'd go back to doing that. Tomorrow, he'd also start showing April how much she meant to him...that maybe, just maybe, she could be his future.

  ****

  Chapter Eight

  As Gabe sat at his desk on Monday, he realized yesterday had been...a day more satisfying and pleasurable than he'd ever spent.

  Because of April.

  They'd awakened in each other's arms, taken Stephie to the Halloween party the Chamber of Commerce threw for kids at the fire company's social hall, spent the evening playing games with Stephie and then the night—