As he continued to stare blankly at her, though, her heart sank. He was hiding something, and he didn’t want to tell her.
She looked out across the inlet, trying to think what to do, what to say. They’d only hooked up together twice. It was a lot to ask someone to tell you their life history so early in a relationship. Everyone had done something in their life they wished they hadn’t, and everyone had embarrassing or painful memories they’d rather not share.
Relationships weren’t about becoming one person. They were about finding someone with whom you could share certain aspects of your life. She understood that. But how could she reconcile this with the terrible betrayal she’d suffered?
She looked back at him to find him watching her, his expression a mixture of affection and pity. They’d just shared the most intimate moment two people could share, and yet she barely knew him at all. She should tell him that if he didn’t agree to her demand, she was walking out of the door right now. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. If he was refusing to agree, he must be hiding a secret that he knew she’d have a problem with.
And yet, she didn’t want to walk out. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, there was something about this guy that hit all her targets like a game of pinball—she could practically feel the steel ball whizzing around inside her, lighting her up. She wanted a man who would be there for her, whom she could trust, and who would never hurt her. But how could you ever be sure of a person?
Jeez, dating was hard.
To her embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears. When she saw sympathy fill his face and he began to reach out to her, she said, more sharply than she’d meant, “Don’t.”
He lowered his hand and leaned back, and they sat there in silence for a while, listening to the water lapping down on the beach, Sandi biting her lip hard so she didn’t cry.
“I suppose you think I’m being unreasonable considering we’re not even dating really,” she said eventually.
“Of course not.” His gaze was clear and even. “After what you’ve been through, I’m honored that you came within sixty feet of me.”
“You want me to go?” she asked softly.
“Do you want to leave?” he replied.
She studied his hazel eyes, remembering the way he’d looked into hers while they’d made love. “No,” she admitted.
He inhaled deeply and blew out a long breath. “Look. As you said, we’ve fallen into bed without dating properly or getting to know each other. I like you, a lot, but I’m not ready to share every detail of my life with you yet. I’ve had... shall we say... a somewhat checkered past. If we get to know each other better, I’m sure I’ll be ready to share it with you.”
She lowered her gaze, resentment rearing its ugly head. She’d confided everything in him—details about her life with Brodie she hadn’t told anyone else—and yet he was refusing to open up to her.
“I know that seems unfair,” he said. “I wish I could give you a guarantee that things will work out, but love doesn’t work like that.”
Love? A tingle passed through Sandi, like the touch of a light breeze across her skin.
“There is a reason I can’t tell you everything,” he continued, “and one day you’ll understand. But for now, if we’re going to keep on seeing each other, I need you to take that leap of faith and believe me when I say that I will never knowingly hurt you the way Brodie did.”
“You’re asking me to trust you,” she said.
“Yes. I suppose I am.”
She gave a little wry laugh and stood, walking over to the edge of the deck. The one thing in the world she wasn’t sure she could ever do again, and it was the one thing he wanted.
She heard the scrape of his chair, and then the pad of his bare feet across to her. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Sandi?”
“I can’t,” she said hoarsely, folding her arms, her spine stiff. She turned to face him. “It’s too much to ask.”
His face was full of sorrow. “I know.”
“Why not just say you’re not hiding anything?” she snapped, burning with illogical anger at his honesty.
“I’m not going to lie to you. Wouldn’t that be worse? I’m just not going to reveal every facet of my life to you on the second date.”
She pushed past him. “And now you’re trying to make your case with semantics.” She walked into the living room and began to gather her clothes.
He followed her in and leaned against the breakfast bar, watching as she got dressed. “Don’t go. Not like this.”
“I can’t stay, Jace. I’m too upset.” She took off his shirt and tossed it onto the sofa, then started to put on her underwear. “I’ve been to hell and back, and even if what I’m asking is unreasonable, I think it’s justified. If you can’t go along with it, that’s fine, that’s your prerogative. But you can’t expect me to just trust you blindly.” She tugged on her skirt. “I’ve been hurt too badly, and I refuse to let myself go through that again.”
“That’s fair enough.” He walked over to pick up her top and handed it to her. She slid it on and pulled it down, then turned to find her sandals.
“Hey.” He caught her hand. She stopped, and he turned her to face him. “I’m sorry,” he said, cupping her face. “I hope you don’t regret meeting me.”
“No,” she said honestly. “You’re pretty amazing in bed.”
He gave a wry laugh. “You, too.”
“I’ve had fun,” she said. “And for that, I’m grateful. I hope you understand why I can’t let it be more than that.”
He nodded. Then he bent and kissed her.
She accepted it, because she wanted him to kiss her again, oh, so much. His lips were firm and warm, and she had the melting-caramel feel in her stomach as his mouth slanted across hers, always with the promise of volcanic heat bubbling away inside him.
He pulled back, though, and she dropped her gaze and slipped on her sandals, then retrieved her purse.
“Thanks for a lovely evening,” she said.
“Thanks for dinner.”
She smiled, and they exchanged a long look of regret.
Then she turned and left.
WHEN SHE GOT HOME, Sandi dismissed Ally, quickly finished up in the B&B, and then avoided bumping into her sisters by switching off all the main lights in her cottage and pretending she’d gone to bed.
She sat in the semi-darkness with a glass of brandy and watched the fairy lights she’d placed around the window twinkling like stars. It was so strange here in New Zealand, she thought, because houses rarely had fireplaces the way they did in England, or certainly not up in the Northland, anyway. Nowhere for Santa to come down and deliver his presents—he was expected to use the front door like everyone else. Instead, she had a heat pump that doubled as an air-conditioning unit on the wall, which was now blowing cool air over her skin because it was early summer and rather hot and humid, even at ten o’clock at night. Hot and humid, on the eighteenth of December! It made her head hurt.
She couldn’t imagine it would feel anything like Christmas Day here. But then again, how often had the holiday lived up to her expectations of a Dickensian-style Christmas with knee-deep snow and people singing Christmas carols? For a start, in England the weather was normally wet and mild, plus, because everyone tried to be inclusive and celebrate the time as a winter festival or ‘winterval’, it was rare for a child nowadays to know carols or the nativity story, unless they regularly went to church.
Sandi was all for being inclusive, and for celebrating all faiths, and she wouldn’t have called herself a Christian, but she’d grown up singing carols and sending Christmas cards with the Three Wise Men on them, and it made her sad now that the Dickensian-style Christmas was a thing of the past. In that sense, it would be better here in New Zealand, because when it was midwinter, they’d be able to celebrate it the old way, as Yule, with the bringing in of greenery, eating roast meat and Yorkshire pudding, and toasting her toes around the heat pump... All rig
ht, maybe not quite the same, but she’d work on that.
She sipped her brandy, lay back on the sofa, and looked up at the ceiling. Why did things have to change? Her childhood had been difficult at times with her mother being unwell, but on the whole they’d had happy Christmases, even if their father hadn’t been around. She, Fred, and Ginger had always played together, coloring in fashion wheels, or dressing their dolls. Their favorite game had been making them wedding outfits, then taking turns in making them bride, groom, and bridesmaid.
Did all little girls dream of being married? It had been all they’d ever spoken of when they were young. As they’d grown up, they’d developed other dreams too, but Sandi suspected that deep down, they’d always fantasized about their wedding day with the perfect guy.
Well, both her sisters appeared to have found theirs eventually, but it looked as if she was going to have to spend a little longer kissing frogs to find her prince.
She sipped the brandy, let it coat her tongue before swallowing and feeling it sear down to her stomach.
No more kissing, she thought. Frogs or men. She was done.
But it had been so nice...
She closed her eyes, tired and dispirited, unable to stop her mind playing back the memory of Jace’s lips on hers, the way he’d made love to her with such passion only hours before. He’d made her feel so desired, so wanted. And God, he’d been so hard for so long... so bloody amazing. To be with a man like that all the time... To know that you could go to bed with him at any minute of the day and he’d want you, he’d be ready for you, oh... that would be heaven...
She could, she supposed, always carry on seeing him just for sex.
Opening her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. He was the one who’d suggested it, the morning after the wedding. How about regular sex? he’d offered when she’d said she didn’t want a relationship. Think about it.
She liked sex. Having a hot guy at her beck and call whenever she felt in the mood sounded like a great compromise.
Then she screwed up her nose. That was just using him, and what sort of person did that make her? Although... she couldn’t imagine him complaining overmuch.
But she was being naive, and she knew it. She wouldn’t be able to have regular sex with Jace Hart and keep her heart unscathed. It was already scathed. Was that a word? Anyway, her heart certainly wasn’t untouched by the sexy lawyer. And if they continued to sleep together, eventually one of them was going to get hurt.
She turned onto her side, letting the drink dangle from her hand. Did it have to end badly? But what was his ‘checkered past’? Did he have a wife somewhere else? Or maybe kids?
He’d promised he wouldn’t hurt her the way Brodie had done. Ultimately, it came down to a single question. Could she bring herself to trust him?
Sandi sipped the brandy, and watched the fairy lights twinkle in the darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
“WE’RE GOING OUT FOR a drink,” Fred told her sister, accompanying her words with a jab in the shoulder. “The B&B’s closed now, so you don’t have any work to do. For God’s sake, I’m not letting you sit here on Christmas Eve in the dark. You’ve been moping all week, and I’m sick of it. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready, and then I’m going to drag you to the car, even if you’re in your pajamas.” She glanced at Sandi’s pink PJs. “And you’re bloody well going to enjoy yourself.”
Sandi leaned against the door jamb, shocked by her sister’s outburst. She’d been about to make herself a hot drink and settle down for the evening. The last thing she wanted was to go out.
Fred blew out a breath and gave her a pained look. “Please. You wouldn’t leave me here if our roles were reversed, would you?”
“I’m just not in the mood for partying.” She’d spent her days cleaning the rooms after the last guests had left, and getting the washing up to date, so everything was ready when they re-opened after Christmas. She was tired and felt a bit low, and tonight she wanted nothing more than to sit in front of the TV, drink brandy, and watch Die Hard or The Bourne Conspiracy or some other action thriller until she fell asleep.
Fred had demanded to know what was going on with Jace, and Sandi had finally told her. Fred hadn’t said much, maybe knowing her sister well enough to understand why she’d left, and why she hadn’t contacted him again all week. But it looked as if she’d finally lost her patience.
“Will he be there?” Sandi asked.
Fred hesitated. “Maybe. I think several guys from the rugby club are going.”
“Fred...”
“Sandi, come on,” Fred pleaded. “I don’t know if this thing with Jace is going to lead to anything, but are you really going to let another man influence what you do with your life?”
Sandi met her eyes, then looked down at her shoes.
“You need to go in there dressed to the nines, and show him what he’s missing,” Fred stated. “It’s fair enough that he doesn’t want to tell you his life story yet, but equally if he wants you he’s going to have to go the extra mile. And if it doesn’t work out, you’ll move on. It doesn’t mean every relationship is going to be doomed, or that every guy is going to have a dramatic ‘secret’.” She put air quotes around the word and rolled her eyes.
Sandi’s lips curved up. Fred wore her long hair down tonight, and it fell almost to her waist in red-brown waves. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and there was something about her, an inner glow, that made Sandi stare.
“Hey...” Sandi narrowed her eyes. “Are you pregnant?”
Fred’s eyebrows rose, and her jaw dropped. “What? How did you...”
“Oh my God!” Sandi squealed and threw her arms around her sister’s neck. “I can’t believe it.”
Fred laughed and hugged her back. “Shh, you mustn’t say anything. I’m not supposed to tell anyone yet. I’m only ten weeks.”
Tears pricked Sandi’s eyes. “It’s amazing. I’m so pleased for you.”
Fred’s arms tightened around her, and for a long moment the two girls just hugged. Sandi knew her sister must be experiencing the same overwhelming feelings as herself. They’d all been through so much. Fred had spent years looking after her mother and sacrificing her own needs for her sisters. She deserved every single piece of happiness coming her way, and Sandi was thrilled for her.
“Oh my God, I’m going to be an auntie.” Sandi drew back with a laugh, wiping her eyes.
“And you’ll be an amazing one.” Fred was trying hard not to cry too.
“What did Mac say? Oh, I wish I could have been there when you told him.”
“He’s so happy. He’s finding it really hard to keep a secret. To be honest, now you know, we might have to tell Sam and Ginger. If something goes wrong, it’s not as if we’re going to be able to keep it to ourselves.”
“Nothing is going to go wrong,” Sandi said fiercely. “Oh, I can’t believe that in seven months I’m going to be holding my baby niece or nephew.” She felt awash with emotion. “What a wonderful night to find out, on Christmas Eve.”
Fred smiled and squeezed Sandi’s arm. “So will you come out with us tonight, to celebrate?”
“Well, I can’t say no now, can I?”
Fred laughed. “I’ll be driving as I’m not drinking. We’re going over to Paihia to Between the Sheets.”
“All right. I’ll get ready now.”
“I’ll be back in a bit.” Fred waved and disappeared around the corner.
Sandi closed the door and walked into the living room. She looked out of the window, across the courtyard leading to the pool. Fred was having a baby! She felt such a strange blend of emotions—happiness, relief, sadness, and a touch of envy—all rolled into one.
A family of California quail was making their way across the courtyard, the distinct black plume on the top of the adults’ heads bobbing in the breeze. A cluster of tiny chicks followed them, keeping close to the mother, although one or two ventured further away to investigate a clump of daisies. The mother s
colded them, and they scuttled back, suitably reprimanded.
Sandi smiled sadly. She’d be able to watch Fred getting bigger, and maybe she’d even be there when Fred had the baby. If she was never going to have any of her own, she’d love to see a child being born. She would still be able to babysit and look after the baby. She’d get all the perks without any of the disadvantages—waking every few hours at night, the tiredness, the mood swings.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, inhaling as a deep, powerful need swept through her, so strong it took her breath away. Having never felt broody in her life before, it took her by surprise. She wasn’t the sort of person to coo over babies normally—she didn’t spend hours in baby stores looking at the tiny clothes, and she didn’t find young children cute. They tended to irritate her more than anything, and she’d always thought she’d be a terrible mother because of it.
But this wasn’t about looking after someone else’s baby. Suddenly, she understood how the notion of bearing a child herself, of having it grow in her womb and appear as a whole, living person, was a miracle.
Holding her breath for a moment, she let the idea sweep over her like a summer breeze.
She’d been lying to herself. She, who valued honesty above all things, had turned her back on the truth and created a life for herself not from the heart but from a position of cowardice. Fred had been right—she was afraid. Terrified, in fact, of being hurt again, and because of that she’d told herself she didn’t want to get married or have kids, and that she was perfectly happy staying single for the rest of her life.
As Timeless as the Sea Page 13