April's Promise (Forever Love Series) (3 page)

Gabe's
relationship with Stephie was so precious.  How could she ever tell him the
truth?

Pushing
back the sheet, she slid out of bed and opened her bedroom door.

April
headed for the bathroom to get a drink.  But even with the small night light
burning above the sink, she missed Stephie's step stool and tripped over it,
making a clatter.  The master suite had its own bathroom and Gabe had outfitted
this one for Stephie.

April
switched on the bathroom light and was rubbing her foot when she heard Gabe's
bedroom door open.  She thought about scurrying back to her bedroom for her
robe, but it was too late for that.

When he
appeared at the bathroom door, she murmured, "I'm sorry I woke you..." 
Her voice trailed off as her gaze settled on his bare chest.  Curly brown hair
sprung up the center whirling around his nipples and lower down to his navel—

"Need
anything?" he asked, his eyes touring her shimmery pink nightgown.

She
felt extremely self-conscious.  When she'd stayed overnight before, she'd never
forgotten to put on her robe.  And she'd never bumped into him in the middle of
the night.  As he gazed at her, she felt her nipples harden.

Flustered,
she brushed her hair away from her cheek.  "No.  I just wanted a drink of
water.  But I should have turned on the light.  I forgot about the
stepstool."

"Trouble
sleeping?"

She
shrugged, wishing her mother had never sold their house in Cedar Corners to
move to Florida, wishing Gabe would go back to his room instead of showing
concern.  "Maybe if I read a little, I'll be able to fall back to
sleep."

He
moved Stephie's stool to the place where it belonged next to the sink. 
"Would music help?   You can use my iPod."

Grabbing
onto anything that would get them out of the confined space of the bathroom,
she said, "That would be great."

He
motioned for her to follow him.

As
April stepped into his bedroom, she realized again how briefly they were both
dressed.  His navy sleeping shorts didn't leave much to her imagination.

The
king-sized bed with its rumpled sheets took up half of the room.  The double
cherry-wood dresser and chest, along with two-bedroom chairs and an oval cherry
table forming a sitting area, took up the rest.  She followed him to the chest
of drawers.

Opening
the top drawer, he took out the iPod—this one different from the one on the
dock downstairs.  "I don't know if there's anything here you might
like."  He switched it on and tapped on the music menu.

When
she stepped up beside him, she could almost feel the heat of his skin.  She'd
heard his shower running before she'd fallen asleep.  Now she could smell soap
and male, and as she glanced over at him, the matt of hair and the expanse of
his chest made her long to touch it.

Focusing
her attention on the music playlists, she said, "These are great!  I
forgot you like Coldplay as well as Blake Shelton and..."  Her voice
trailed off as she glanced up at him.  His gaze caught hers and held it, and
she felt her breaths become shallow and faster.

She
could feel the electricity between them as surely as if tiny sparks were
stinging her.  Could it be her imagination?  Could she really see desire in his
eyes?

Gabe
took a step away.  His voice was gruff as he said,  "I like a little bit
of everything.  Except jazz."

April's
hand trembled as she gathered the ear buds along with the iPod.  Then she
crossed to the door and paused.  "I'm going downstairs to make myself a
cup of tea.  Sometimes that helps me unwind.  I'm sorry I've kept you up."

As she
started down the hall, Gabe called, "April?"

She
stopped and turned.

"You
might want to wear a robe downstairs.  Some of the windows don't have
shades."

Her
color heightened as she murmured, "I'll keep that in mind."  Instead
of continuing down the hall, she ducked into her bedroom.

Closing
his own door, Gabe swore.

He
hadn't meant to embarrass her.  But if she was going to stay, she couldn't go
roaming around like that...

He
closed his eyes for a moment seeing her creamy arms, the few freckles along her
neckline, her soft fluffy hair caressing her nape.  He grew hard with desire.

Opening
his eyes, warring with needs that he thought had long died, he swore again.

****

Chapter
Two

Dressed
for work in a white shirt and striped tie, Gabe entered the kitchen early Friday
morning before Stephie was up, the smell of coffee and bacon welcoming him. 
"You didn't have to make me breakfast," he said as he crossed to the
carefully set table.  April was supposed to be on vacation!

"I
have to eat, too, don't I?" she asked with a smile.

"And
you cook yourself a breakfast like this every morning?"

Her
cheeks flushed.  "No, but this wasn't a chore, Gabe.  I like to cook when
I have the time."

They
needed to set some ground rules or he'd feel as if he was taking advantage of her
kindness.  His gaze passed over her snug, worn jeans that fit her slender
figure as well as the red-and-white striped, long-sleeved knit shirt that
molded to her breasts.

He
remembered kissing her years ago, touching her last night and her response to both—she'd
pulled away.  His gaze settled on her lips, perfectly pink without lipstick. 
"You're on vacation and you could be having fun somewhere."

"How
do you know I won't have fun here?"  An impish twinkle danced in her eyes
and it was hard for him not to respond to it...or to the sweet garden scent of
her standing so close.

"April,
whether you have fun or not isn't the issue.  What if I pay you?"

She
brought a plate with strips of bacon and scrambled eggs to the table and set it
at his place.  "Don't be ridiculous."

"I
don't want to owe you."

The
silence between them seemed to stretch interminably until finally she said,
"You won't owe me if you look at my staying here as a gift."

The
kitchen was alive with more than her offer.  There was a pulsing awareness that
wouldn't quit.  The tenderness in her expression, the curve of her cheek, the
inviting softness of her skin drew his hand to her face.  His thumb traced the
line of her chin.

"It's
a special gift, April, and I'll accept it under one condition."

"What?"
she murmured.

"That
you take time for yourself.  That you spend evenings however you want.  I know
you still have friends in Cedar Corners.  I don't want you to feel tied to
us."  He dropped his hand before he slipped it under her hair to finger it.

"It's
a deal," she replied softly.

Why did
he suddenly want to hold her more than he wanted to breathe?  Calling on the
self discipline he'd honed for years, he gestured to her plate still on the
counter.  "Good.  Now we'd better eat before all this good food you
prepared gets cold."

When
she moved away from him, he was sorry.  But he could be even sorrier if he
acted on an impulse for old times' sake.

As he
sat at the table, he tried to push his awareness of her aside.  "I've
enrolled Stephie in preschool.  I thought it would be good for her to interact
with other children her age."

An only
child himself, his mother had died when he was ten.  It had been he and his dad
until Carl Chronister had suffered a fatal heart attack when Gabe was in
college.  He'd intended to become stable financially, then find a woman to love
who wanted a large family as much as he did.  But after Stephie was born,
Vanessa hadn't been interested in having more children.  In fact, for the last
year of their marriage, they'd slept apart more than together.

"Do
I need to take her to school today?" April asked.  "I don't have a
car seat in my rental."

"She
goes on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.  But if you need to drive anywhere, take
Vanessa's car.  It has a car seat.  I always use the SUV, and I've thought
about selling her sedan.  But I just haven't gotten around to it.  We can turn
in your rental tomorrow."

April
was quiet for a moment.  "All right.  It does seem silly to keep the
rental while I'm here."

Motioning
to the kitchen window, he added, "Remote is on the sill.  Insurance card
is in the glove compartment."

As Gabe
dug into his eggs, keeping his eyes off of April, the lull in their
conversation grew uncomfortably long.  To fill the gap, he asked, "Do you
think Winnifred's happy in Florida?"

"I
don't know.  Every time we talk, she tells me about all her activities.  She
wouldn't admit it, but she was lonely in that big house here after Vanessa and
I moved out."

"She
was fortunate it sold so quickly."  There was something he'd wondered
about for years.  "What was your father like?  I know he and Winnifred
divorced when you and Vanessa were teenagers, but whenever I asked her about
him, she just said she never knew him very well...that after the divorce, he
didn't try to stay in touch."

April
took a few moments before answering, and Gabe wondered why.  But then she said,
"That about sums it up.  His work took him away a lot, and we hardly ever
saw him."

"He
was an expert at international law, wasn't he?"

April
nodded.  "Whenever he came home from a trip, he'd bring a stack of
postcards to show us the places he'd been.  I guess he thought that would make
up for him not telling us about them."

She
didn't sound bitter, just disappointed.  He sensed there was a lot she wasn't
saying.

As he
reached for another strip of bacon, so did April.  This morning their fingers
didn't touch, but their gazes held for a few seconds.

Then
April looked away, set the bacon on her plate and picked up her glass of orange
juice.

They
might both want to be friends again, but something was standing in their way. 
Maybe if April stayed long enough, he'd find out what it was.

****

April
could still feel the trail of heat from Gabe's thumb on her face after he left
for his office.  She had to get a grip on her emotions.  Every time he got that
close she wanted more.  She'd run from him years ago because of intangible
fears.  She'd come here determined to face those fears as well as her feelings
for Gabe.  Yet it was so complicated now.  Could Gabe ever forgive her for
leaving five years ago?  Could he forgive her for keeping Vanessa's secret?

If she
held back the truth, Gabe and Stephie's relationship would be safe.

Built
on a lie
? her conscience asked.

She
didn't have the answer.  She'd loved her sister.  Before she died, Vanessa had
explained how she'd been racked with guilt since she'd discovered she was
pregnant, how she'd cut off her affair with Larry before Stephie was born...but
that they hadn't been able to stay away from each other.  However, before she
died, her main concern had been Stephie, and Gabe's feelings for their baby. 
That's why April had promised she wouldn't tell Gabe the truth...not ever.

But now
whenever she looked into Gabe's eyes, she felt compelled to tell him the
truth.  Then she thought of her niece and held back.  At the hospital the night
of the accident, April had learned Larry Powell had no living relatives.  If
Gabe's feelings towards Stephie changed, the little girl would have no one else
to give her the unconditional love a child deserved.

April
had to be sure she was making the right decision no matter what the cost was to
herself.

Once
her niece awakened, the morning passed quickly.  But after Stephie finished her
milk at lunch and put down her cup she asked, "Go see Daddy?"

"Daddy's
working."

"But
I wanna see him."

Though
she had never read child psychology books, April would bet that if a child's
world was disrupted, she'd want to hold onto something or someone stable. 
April was sure Stephie missed her mother's presence, and now Evelyn's.

"I
don't think your dad would mind a visit from us.  Why don't we stop at the
bakery and take him something for a snack?  You can pick out a dessert for
supper."

"Cupcakes!"
Stephie decided with a wide smile.

April
laughed.  "Cupcakes, it is."

Cedar
Corners, once a farming community, had grown into a mid-sized town with new
residential developments cropping up periodically, school districts expanding,
and more businesses moving in.  Yet it still retained its small town flavor
with lots of community events like its summer strawberry festival, periodic
spaghetti suppers served at the fire hall and its Fall Festival taking place
this weekend.  Tomorrow, crafters and artists would line the downtown streets
which would be barricaded against traffic.