Five Days in Skye: A Novel (19 page)

James put his arms around her and kissed her hair, but she was too locked in the memory to register anything beyond his presence. She leaned against him and said, “That was the end of my marriage. He went back and filed for an annulment before I could divorce him. He said I’d tricked him into marrying him by getting pregnant and then I’d had an abortion. I was on the front cover of every tabloid. It didn’t matter what I said. It was my word against theirs, and Logan came out looking like the victim. Everyone believed him over me. My father, my church—everyone but Becky.

“I was pretty much shunned in New York. No one dared to go against the Roberts family. So I took my mother’s maiden name and went back to school. After a while, things died down and people stopped recognizing me. But I couldn’t go back to performing. It would dredge up the old scandal, and I couldn’t go through it all again. ”

James tightened his arms around her. “Andrea. You realize this was not your fault. You were just trying to do what was best for the baby. Logan will have to answer for his actions someday.”

“Yeah. I’m still waiting.” She closed her eyes, summoning courage for the last part of her story. Even if they were just acquaintances, he deserved to know. Before he got any ideas about what they might be to one another.

Yet when she opened her mouth, the words stuck in her throat. James drew back from her and took her face in his hands, his expression pained but his eyes gentle. “Let it go, Andrea. You’ve carried it for too long.”

Andrea started to tell him she was fine, but the only thing that came out was a choked cry. She fell against him and sobbed.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Emotions warred inside James as Andrea wept against him, her body shaking, her tears soaking his shoulder. He didn’t trust his voice in the grip of burning anger toward the man who had wounded her so deeply she’d had to turn her back on everything that was important to her. Instead, he just tightened his arms around her and smoothed her hair with his free hand.

It all made sense now, though: her reluctance to let down her guard, her determination to believe he was just another entitled celebrity, her need to reassure herself she wasn’t merely a conquest to him. She had carried a terrible burden all these years. She had been pregnant, devastated, and treated cruelly, when she deserved to be protected and cherished.

Like he would do, if given half a chance.

The thought ambushed him and drained the air from the room. His heart thudded so hard in his chest, he was sure it would jolt her from his arms. What exactly was he thinking here? He couldn’t possibly be having serious thoughts about a woman he’d known less than a week. It had taken six months of dating Cassandra to admit they were in a committed relationship, and more than two years until he’d worked up the courage to ask her to marry him.

Maybe that should have been an indicator it wasn’t meant to be.

Before he could dwell further on those disturbing thoughts, he realized Andrea’s body had stilled and her tears had subsided. Still, she clung to him, her head tucked into the spot between his neck and shoulder. Her vulnerability took his breath away.

She pulled back, her gaze sliding past him to the piano. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …” She moved away from him down the bench, straightening her clothing as she went. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and the stiffness in her body spoke of embarrassment. As much as he ached to see the invisible shield go up around her again, she would never trust him if he forced the issue.

“I’ll go reheat our coffee.” James straightened his legs, cramped from his awkward position on the piano bench, and collected their coffee mugs. As he took them to the microwave, he heard the tentative notes of the piano begin again. He’d been afraid she would close up to him completely, but the quiet melancholy strains of the piano made him think she was merely gathering her thoughts.

If she’d really turned her back on the woman who’d risked everything on love, she would have given up her music completely, wouldn’t she have?

He almost groaned aloud. First, he’d let Ian make him second-guess all his choices, and now he was psychoanalyzing a woman he barely knew, trying to assess her readiness for a relationship he’d spent the last two years insisting he didn’t want.

Wasn’t that why he’d dated pretty young women who were happy to take what he was willing to give? Because he knew they couldn’t tempt him out of a vow of permanent bachelorhood?

He thumped his head against the cabinet, hard. Ian deserved whatever torture James could devise for leading him down a slippery slope of … self-examination.

Andrea’s idle playing had turned into a quiet, moody melody he didn’t recognize. He removed their mugs from the microwave and went back to the reception room. He sat back down on the bench, but this time he didn’t try to touch her. “What is that?”

“I don’t know.” Red still rimmed her eyes and tears had dried in faint tracks down her cheeks, but she seemed settled now, if not entirely peaceful. “Do you like it?”

“You’re just making that up?” It had the sound of a fully composed piece, not something she was creating on the fly.

“I play when I’m upset.” She lifted her hands from the keys, but the chord faded away slowly. “I … I’m sorry, Jamie. I know you weren’t asking for all this. We don’t even know each other.” She glanced up and fixated on the wet blotch on his shoulder. “I’ve made a mess of your sweater.”

It took everything he had not to take her in his arms again and tell her he wanted to know everything about her, but he stopped himself just in time. He’d already said he was infatuated with her. Any more and he risked looking like a lovesick idiot.

Did he actually just think that?

He threw her a smile instead. “Don’t worry. I’m washable.”

She struggled for words. “I understand if you … I mean, I know we …” She broke off and chewed her bottom lip. “It doesn’t matter, does it? I only have one day left here.”

“Andrea, nothing you have told me changes the way I see you. If anything, it makes me realize how amazing you really are. You’ve made a wonderful life for yourself.”

“I’m broken,” she whispered.

“We’re all broken. We’re only human. Some wounds only God can mend. If we let Him.” He took her hand. “I haven’t been so good at that myself. But I’ve been thinking perhaps I’m ready to try.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently.

She flinched at his touch, and her abrupt withdrawal made him feel like he was falling off a cliff. He scrambled for purchase on the slippery edge, tasting desperation. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I don’t know what comes next, Andrea. But I’m willing to figure it out.”

Tears sprang to her eyes again, glistening in the dim light. “Jamie, I might not be able to have children.”

If he had been falling, now he was jerked to an abrupt stop. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. “Because of the miscarriage?”

She wasn’t looking at him again, but she nodded. “They were overaggressive because I could have died. The damage is probably irreversible. No one knows if … It could be difficult. It could be impossible.”

And like that, everything else fell into place. The respectable men she could date would want families of their own. The ones who didn’t care were the ones who wanted something she wasn’t willing to give. No wonder she’d devoted herself to work. Why set herself up for heartbreak?

He moved carefully, not wanting to spook her. This wasn’t a discussion anyone had until they’d been dating for months. Not just a few days and a few kisses into an acquaintance that might not have a chance to develop into more. But he didn’t have the time to let things unfold naturally. “There is more than one way to build a family, Andrea.”

Her tears were back. Before they could spill over, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her slowly and carefully, handling her like a breakable thing. When she pulled away, her wondering look did terrifying things to his insides.

He clawed back to some sense of normalcy. “What do you say to a quiet movie in tonight? I imagine I could even find us some popcorn to go with it.”

“That sounds perfect.” She rose from his lap and settled herself a safe distance away on the bench once more.

“My laptop is still down at the cottage. Do you want to stay here and play while I go get it? I won’t be long.”

“If you don’t mind. Jamie?”

“Yes, love?”

She smiled and reached for his hand. “Hurry back.”

His heart lifted. He retrieved his keys and quickly exited the front door. Just as he closed it behind him, Andrea’s melody started again, this time with a hopeful lilt.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Andrea played with half a mind, teasing out a melody on the piano. It was easier than facing the swell of emotion in her chest. Other than her sister, she’d never told anyone the full story of her relationship with Logan. James hadn’t seemed shocked. If anything, her admission had drawn out a tenderness for which she’d never dared to hope.

Telling the story should have made her feel better, but it still didn’t completely ease the burden on her heart. She’d thought when he knew how little she could offer him he’d pull back and make it easier on the both of them. Instead, he’d kissed her with such aching gentleness her insides twisted into knots.

Her fingers stilled on the piano keys.
We’re all broken. We’re only human. Some wounds only God can mend.

She sighed. It wasn’t that simple. Maybe James could put his problems behind him that easily. Or maybe he hadn’t. It wasn’t as if he had his life together. He could barely speak to his own brother, and it sounded like he wasn’t on the greatest terms with his mother, either. Plus, there were plenty of issues left over from his broken engagement with Cassandra. He was hardly a model for God’s healing grace.

I haven’t been so good at that myself. But I’ve been thinking I’m ready to try.

We’re only human.

Maybe it was unfair to expect him to have his own life figured out just because he claimed to have faith. Whatever his faults, he was kind. Funny. Intelligent. He made her smile, and her heart felt light when she was with him. That couldn’t be bad, could it?

She went back to the piano, playing simple exercises automatically. She was trying to rationalize something that was patently irrational. James was absolutely wrong for her. His job, his lifestyle, his wealth—all warning flags when it came to men. And still, everything in her strained toward him when he was near, had since the moment she met him.

Tires crunched on gravel outside, and the quiet hum of a motor died. When James entered the front door again, she was midway through the seventh movement of Schumann’s “Scenes from Childhood,” a lovely, simple piece that fit the wistfulness of her mood. There was a reason it was subtitled “Dreaming.”

She didn’t look at him, and he stood near the door until she finished. Then he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and moved onto the kitchen, giving her space to think.

She could learn to love this man.

A groan slipped from her mouth. That was definitely enough Schumann for now.

“What’s wrong?”

Andrea jumped to her feet and almost knocked over the piano bench. She quickly righted it and moved into the kitchen. James had the popcorn and some oil heating in a heavy, lidded pot on the range.

“Like to do things the old-fashioned way?”

He smiled over his shoulder. “The microwave holds no challenge for me.”

“Does anything cooking related hold a challenge for you?”

He held out an arm, and she went to him. He pulled her to his side and squeezed her waist. “Be careful. I might start believing you’re fond of me.”

“Hard to believe after all the grief I’ve given you, isn’t it?” He was backing off, and she was grateful for it. There had been far too much intensity today. She couldn’t handle any more tonight.

James dipped his head to peck her lips. “You’ve never been any grief. Well, today at least. You were awfully feisty when we met.”

Andrea elbowed him, and he chuckled. “Stop! I’ll burn the popcorn.”

“It’s not even popping yet.”

On cue, the first kernels snapped in the pan, followed by a cacophony of pops. He gave her a knowing stare. “It’s a gift.”

“You’re always so humble.” She grinned, her pensive mood evaporating, and moved away to rummage in the cabinet for a bowl. She set it on the counter beside him.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Her heart gave a little leap at the absent-minded endearment, and her mind wandered to what it would be like to hear it from his lips every day.

No. Can’t go there tonight.

“Butter or margarine?” She laughed at his incredulous look. “Sorry I asked. Butter it is.” It took a quick look in the refrigerator to remember the marble crock on the counter where Muriel kept the softened butter.

James seasoned the popcorn, dumped the whole mess into the bowl, and swept a hand toward the living room. “Your movie awaits. If I can remember how to plug in the computer. I don’t usually watch on a big screen.”

“That one I can handle.” She’d done enough presentations to have this kind of technology down pat. Within minutes, Andrea had a cable hooked between the laptop’s video output to the TV’s input. “What are we watching?”

“It’s a surprise. You sit. I can do the rest. My fragile male ego can’t handle any more of your extreme competence.”

Andrea laughed and went back to the sofa. “Right. Your ego wouldn’t suffer from a little deflation.”

“Ouch. You don’t pull punches.” He apparently had the movie set up, because he flipped the light off and hurried back to the sofa as the main titles came up.

Andrea smiled slowly at the familiar opening. “
North by Northwest
?”

“I figured you should have a chance to prove why it’s the greatest movie ever made.”

“A Hitchcock film starring Cary Grant? I shouldn’t have to argue the point. Handsome, charming, and looks great in a suit.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re talking about Grant and not Hitchcock, but those are pretty big shoes for a man to fill.”

Andrea smiled at him. “You stack up pretty well from where I’m sitting.”

He grinned and put his arm around her. “In that case, sit a little closer.”

Andrea settled in beside him, his arm draped over her shoulder, and let out a sigh of contentment. She wouldn’t spoil this moment by thinking about what had to happen next. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent a quiet night at home watching a movie with a man, free of pressure or expectations. Had she ever? She hadn’t been particularly experienced when she met Logan. He’d loved Manhattan’s nightlife, and they always had to be seen at the hottest clubs and parties.

Like James.

Still, that didn’t feel like the whole truth. She couldn’t reconcile the paparazzi hound with the man who made popcorn and streamed her favorite sixty-year-old movie simply to give her a reprieve from the intense emotion of the day. He surprised her time and again with his sensitivity.

The day’s emotional rollercoaster had taken its toll, and before long her eyes burned from the effort of focusing on the screen. Somewhere after the scene where Cary Grant’s character was framed for the murder of the UN delegate, Andrea’s eyelids began to drift downward. She shifted against James for a more comfortable position while he traced patterns on her arm in long, lazy strokes.

“Time to wake up, sweetheart.” James’s soft tone penetrated the fog, and she pried her eyes open. She blinked at the flicker of light from the television, disoriented. The movie was over, and the evening news was playing at a barely audible level. She lay against his side, legs curled up on the sofa beside her. At some point, he had apparently covered her with a blanket.

“This is the second time I’ve fallen asleep with you.”

“I’m beginning to think it’s my personality.”

She smiled and brushed her messy hair from her eyes, enveloped in a pleasant haze. “You make a nice pillow. A little hard, maybe, but warm.”

“Are you ready to go then? Serena and Muriel got home a while ago.” James eased himself out from beneath her and stood, then pulled her to her feet and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She should feel self-conscious about the fact his family had seen her curled up on the sofa with him, but she was too sleepy to care. She stifled a yawn. “You may have to carry me to the car.”

“Gladly.” He helped her with her coat, but she could barely focus through her sleep-drugged brain to coordinate the movement of her arms. She blinked against the grit in her eyes and followed him out to the car, where she huddled into the depths of her coat. After their warm cocoon on the sofa, the cold, damp air sent waves of shivers through her.

When James walked her to the door of her cottage minutes later, he lingered, as if he were reluctant to say good night. Andrea didn’t think. She simply slid her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He pulled her close and returned the kiss, slow and sweet and filled with as much tenderness as she’d felt from him.

He pulled away first and touched his forehead to hers. “Good night, Andrea.”

She smiled, still sleepy but now thoroughly happy. “Jogging tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t you rather get some rest?”

“It’s my last day on Skye. I want to see the sunrise one more time.”

“Jogging it is, then. Sleep well, love.”

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. He’d used the address casually before, but now she thought he might truly mean it.