April's Promise (Forever Love Series) (2 page)

"At
least one," he assured her.  Then he gave her a hug, and she gave him a
loud smacking kiss.

The
tableau Gabe and Stephie presented made April's chest tighten and her heart
ache because she knew she had to make the most difficult decision of her life
and possibly change Gabe's relationship with Stephie forever.

How
could she ever tell Gabe that he wasn't Stephie's father?

****

After
taking April's luggage to the guest room, Gabe strode down the hall to the den
that served as his home office.  He heard the sound of Stephie's chatter as his
daughter and April played in the family room.  He'd told her he'd deal with the
state of the house later.  His daughter always came first and April knew that.

Sitting
at his desk, he woke up his desktop computer and heard April's voice as she
answered one of his daughter's many questions.

April.

When
she'd appeared in his kitchen with her sparkling brown eyes, soft skin and
concerned expression, he'd had to remind himself about the vow he'd made years
ago to keep distance between them.  They'd only dated a short while after he'd
hired her firm to help him develop a financial plan to make his burgeoning
electronics business a company to be reckoned with.  April had been assigned to
his account, and from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, there'd been chemistry
between them.  As he'd gotten to know her better—her intelligence, her warm
humor, her sweetness—he'd wanted to get a lot more serious than dates that
ended with inflammatory kisses at the front door.  She and Vanessa had both
lived with Winnifred then, in a mansion on a hill overlooking the rest of Cedar
Corners.

But one
night, after their kiss threatened to lead much further, April had pulled away,
told him she was accepting a job with a firm in Boston, and she would be
leaving the States for a year to work in Singapore!  She'd been determined to
put half a world between them and chase career success.  He'd decided if she
could leave so easily, they might have chemistry between them, but her feelings
obviously went no deeper.

He'd
tried to forget her by working day and night.  But one evening he'd bumped into
Vanessa, and she'd entertained him with her vivacious personality that suited
her work in advertising.  She'd flirted with him, he'd felt flattered, and
they'd started seeing each other.  As they dated, he realized he wanted to
settle down and start a family.  He and Vanessa planned their wedding.  When he
saw April again a few weeks before the ceremony, he'd told himself he was over
her, that he was committed to Vanessa and the future they could have.  He and
April would be polite in-laws.

But
something had happened to his marriage—something that his commitment to it and
a child couldn't fix.  He was still trying to figure out what had gone wrong,
why Vanessa had withdrawn from him until he'd felt only duty and responsibility
and nothing more.

Now he
turned his attention to his work, determined to concentrate on
it
rather
than history he couldn't change.

It was
almost ten p.m. when he'd finished in his office and climbed the stairs two
hours later.  No sound echoed downstairs or up.  The hall light shown brightly
on the hardwood floor, and more light spilled from his daughter's room.

The
door was ajar, and when he pushed it opened, he stopped.  April was curled on Stephie's
bed, her arms around his daughter as they both slept.  On one hand April held a
plush blue dog puppet.  Stephie had it cuddled under her chin.  Gabe had never
seen the puppet before and supposed April had brought it for his daughter.

Stephie's
single bed was hardly big enough for the both of them.  April was still
dressed, and he supposed she'd fallen asleep unexpectedly.  Crossing the room,
he watched her for a few moments.  Her long eyelashes fanned her cheeks.  Her
hair fell across her chin.  His pulse beat more rapidly and he suddenly wanted
to hold her in his arms.

The
thought startled him and made him tap her on the shoulder and call her name.

Her
eyes fluttered open and she started, then turned her head and saw him. 
Self-consciously she brushed her hair from near her lips and gently extricated
herself from Stephie's hold, leaving the puppet by her niece's arm.  Sliding
her feet to the floor, she straightened her top.  When she did, the soft knit
pulled over her breasts, and Gabe's gut tightened.

As
April stood, they were very close, close enough for Gabe to smell her perfume,
close enough to know the pink glow on her cheeks was natural, close enough to
realize he was still  attracted to her in an elemental way even after all this
time.

Quickly
he reached for Stephie's covers and pulled them up.  After a kiss on his
daughter's forehead and a murmured goodnight, he switched on the night light.

After
April preceded him out of the room, he motioned toward the guest room.  "I
put your suitcase in there."  His gaze held hers and awareness built up
between them once more.

She
took a breath, then smiled.  "I won't be able to get to sleep after that
little nap.  I'll come downstairs with you and help you clean up."

April
had stayed in his guest bedroom during her overnight visits since Winnifred had
sold the family home.  She'd spent most of her time with Stephie, and he'd
treated her like a guest.  If there had been undercurrents between them, they'd
both ignored them.  So why was tonight different?  Why was his awareness of her
so palpable?

Because
she'd be staying more than one night.  Maybe lots of nights.

Gruffly
he responded, "You don't have to help me clean up.  I don't expect that,
April."

"Are
you going to fight every attempt I make to help you while I'm here?" she
asked simply.

"Is
that what I'm doing?"

"Yes. 
And I wonder if it's because—"

"Because..."
he prompted.

She
hesitated only briefly.  "Because you're too proud to accept help.  Or
maybe you just don't want to accept
my
help."

April's
honesty was one of the qualities he admired and respected about her most. 
"I don't expect you to take Evelyn's place, and I don't expect you to be a
housekeeper."

"How
about if I'm just Stephie's aunt, and I pitch in wherever I can?"

She
seemed determined not to let his pride—or anything else he was feeling—get in
the way of assistance he obviously needed.  Finally he gave in.  "You
win.  I'll even let you vacuum, if that's what you want to do."

She
laughed, and the sound of it brought light into a place in his heart that had
been dark for too long.

He motioned
to the stairs in a cavalier gesture.  "Ladies first."

With a
smile, she preceded him downstairs.

They
worked in the family room first, gathering up toys and cleaning off sticky
surfaces.  As April picked up two coffee mugs, she said, "I think I'll wait
until tomorrow to vacuum.  Then you won't feel guilty about it."

He
looked up at her, and when he saw she was teasing, he gave her a wry grin. 
"Don't you know a man's house is his castle and he wants to think he can
run it with one hand tied behind his back?"

She
shook her head.  "Maybe we'll have to try that while I'm here.  I'd love
to see you cook with one hand tied behind your back."

This
time
he
laughed.  "I gave up on trying to be Top Chef."

A few
minutes later they went into the kitchen and started on it.  As they cleared
the table, April's stomach grumbled.

"Did
you eat supper?" Gabe asked.

"Nope. 
Airlines don't serve meals anymore unless you fly in first class.  I
didn't."

"I
don't have much in main courses, but there are cookies in the cupboard." 
He liked them as much as Stephie.

"I'll
wait until we're finished here."

Gabe
unplugged the laptop and took it to his office.  On his return to the kitchen,
he helped April clean off the counter.  They both reached for the box of cereal
at the same time, and somehow their hands got tangled.  He found his fingers
covering hers and lingering much too long.  When he looked into her dark brown
eyes, he saw emotion there.  But it almost looked like...fear?  Why would she
possibly fear him?

Pulling
her hand out from under his, she avoided his gaze and busied herself.

"April."

She
faced him.

Suddenly
the distance that had grown between them over the years seemed uncomfortable
and unnecessary.  "Maybe we can be friends again," he suggested. 
"We were once."  They had been more than friends and on the verge of
something tremendously important.

His
heart beat at least three times until she responded,  "I'd like
that."

But she
moved away from him, rinsed the dishes in the sink and quickly loaded the last
pot into the dishwasher.  Before they could even begin the process of becoming
friends now, she said, "I think I'll skip the cookies and go on
upstairs."

His
kitchen was once more clean and organized, and there was no reason why she
shouldn't.  And no reason why he shouldn't let her.  "I'll see you in the
morning, then."

Nodding,
she said softly, "Good night, Gabe."

As he
watched her leave the kitchen, he realized becoming friends again wouldn't be
as easy as saying the words...or as easy as it had been the first time.

After
he turned off the light in the kitchen, he went to the foyer and heard no
movement from upstairs.  Feeling drawn to the hall closet, he pulled out the
stack of photo albums, including his wedding album on the bottom.  He hadn't
looked at that one in years.  An envelope under the wedding album fell to the
floor.  When he picked it up, he assumed it was filled with pictures he'd
forgotten to insert in one of the albums.

Crossing
to the living room, he laid the albums on the coffee table, sat on the sofa and
began with the wedding photos.  As he studied each picture, he remembered the
day and the sense of satisfaction that he and his new wife were building a
foundation for the future.  April was in those pictures as Vanessa's maid of
honor.

The two
sisters
were
vastly different.  Vanessa's beauty was model-perfect, her
blond hair always professionally styled, her nails freshly manicured.  However,
not long after they'd married, he'd realized she was spoiled.  She liked to be
the center of attention and when she wasn't, she'd pout.  April, on the other
hand, possessed a quiet beauty, her light brown hair soft and natural around
her face, a touch of lipstick her only make-up.  She didn't crave attention and
she didn't seek it.

He
paged through a second and third album—Stephie's christening, her first
birthday, play times in the park.  And he noticed there were fewer and fewer
pictures of him and Vanessa together.

Finally,
picking up the envelope, he opened it and found three snapshots.  Apparently
they'd been taken at a Christmas party.  He recognized Vanessa's co-workers
from the advertising firm where she'd worked in nearby Richmond.  The first two
snapshots were generic, employees milling around the punch bowl.  The
third...was a picture of Vanessa in a sequined red dress, dancing with Larry
Powell.

Gabe
checked the printed date on the back of the photo.  They'd been married a year
then.  He'd been busy enlarging his company, opening a second store in
Richmond, then a third in Leesburg.  A problem had developed with renovations
on the building there, and he'd missed the Christmas party.

Vanessa's
and Larry's faces brought his gaze to the photos again.  They were
dancing...close...looking at each other...  Once more Gabe examined the other
two photos.  Larry and Vanessa were in both of them.

They'd
worked together
, his common sense told him.

They'd
died together
, a new suspicious voice added.

That
icy night, Larry had picked up Vanessa to take her to a meeting with their
client.  Gabe remembered the phone call, the hours at the hospital, the few
times Vanessa had regained consciousness to speak to April and to beg him to
always take care of Stephie.  But Vanessa hadn't survived, and neither had
Larry Powell.

Inserting
the pictures back into the envelope, he shoved them into the top photo album. 
On the surface, his marriage to Vanessa had seemed ideal—a successful couple
doting on the child they both loved.  But it had been much less than ideal.

The
clock on the living room mantel struck midnight.  Carrying the photo albums to
the closet, he shoved them back on the shelf where they belonged.

****

When
April awoke, the room was pitch-black.  Though the digital clock by her bedside
read four a.m., she was completely alert.  Just what she needed—middle of the
night insomnia.  But even as she thought it, she knew the problem wasn't
insomnia.  It was her reaction to Gabe.  When his fingers had covered hers
tonight, she'd felt her body quiver.  It was too painful to long for his touch,
yet to know she couldn't have it.  She'd left, and he'd fallen in love with and
married her sister.  Anyone could see why.  Vanessa was the beautiful one, the
vivacious one, the ambitious career woman, the wife and mother who'd handled
all the roles perfectly.  Gabe didn't know his wife had been unfaithful.  He
didn't know Stephie was Larry Powell's child.