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Claustrophobic.
“That’s why we’re going to shop online. Later, of course, once you’ve had time to settle in and recover.” Courtney stopped outside her son’s office door and tapped lightly until Porter glanced up. “Since the baby is napping, that’s my call to be a grandmother. Son, take your wife out and romance the socks off her.”
Four (#ua6f07b32-bd1d-5b7d-b03a-32b3c2e9b10a)
His mom walked away from the office door, heels click-clacking in time with her singsong voice as she spoke to Thomas. He hadn’t expected his mom to embrace the grandmother gig so wholeheartedly, but then his life was anything but predictable these days.
Porter searched Alaina’s expression. The tension in her jaw. The way her brow furrowed as she subconsciously drew one arm across her midsection to grasp the opposite upper arm.
She gave him a good-natured grin, but it was clear she was still unsure of how to act around him. He couldn’t blame her for that.
But she also looked ready to bolt and that’s the last thing he wanted, so he took the time to take her in. Alive. Vibrant. Here, with him and Thomas. Thank God.
On top of her head, she’d piled her hair in a loose, messy bun. Wavy blond strands fell out of the bun, framing her slender face.
Her white dress hugged her breasts, drawing his eyes. Tempting him. Reminding him of the heat they’d always found in bed. The passion that still simmered between them, that they could find again if he could make the most of this time. His hands ached to stroke the fabric along her skin, to caress her along the length of the dress that fell in rolling pleats from her waist, to trace the red flower embroidery snaking around at midthigh.
To press his mouth behind her knee and tunnel his way up her skirt.
She looked like a vision right out of The Nutcracker. Clara, as she ran away with the Nutcracker Prince. The only question was, could he be that prince again? Could he charm her, show her how damn great they were together? Somewhere along the years the fantasy had given way to a reality that neither of them had anticipated.
And he hated that.
And he hated that the reality had broken their family, nearly ending the life he’d dreamed of as a boy.
Though she lacked memories, every item she’d added to the house screamed its sentimentality. It was like alarms blaring. The dress she wore was no different.
It was the same dress she had worn two years ago, on their vacation to St. Augustine. They were only supposed to be in town for the night. He had surprised her after a major art opening by booking a charming bed-and-breakfast room for the weekend. They’d spent the whole time laughing, drinking local wine. Back when things were simpler. When they still sparkled and sizzled together.
It could be that way again.
It would be that way again. He refused to accept any other outcome.
“Don’t let my mother get to you or put pressure on you when it comes to our marriage.”
It was the best he had to offer. Wooing her back into this family was a delicate task requiring finesse.
“There’s not much you could do to romance a new mom who’s recovering from amnesia.” She tapped her forehead in jest.
“That sounds like a challenge.” He thrived on a challenge.
“Okay—” she spread her arms wide “—give it your best shot.”
“Really? You want me to sweep you off your feet?” He cocked his head to the side, a thrill zipping through him.
“Sure, what woman wouldn’t want to be swept off her feet?” Inclining her head, she dramatically twirled. The fabric of her skirt tightened and loosed as she turned. She was so damn sexy.
And he wanted her for his own.
“Challenge accepted.” Progress. He could practically taste it.
She stopped midspin. “Wait, never mind. This shouldn’t be a game.”
“Believe me—I understand that all too well.” Closing the gap between them, he rested his hands on her shoulders. “So relax. I’ve got this under control. Let me pamper you, and you focus on recuperating.”
“You’re right. The best thing I can do for my family is to regain my memory so we can move forward with our future rather than staying here in limbo with you working from home at a vacation house.” She twisted her hands nervously, glancing out the window. “Honestly, I believe it’s too soon for us to go on some extravagant outing.”
So large gestures were out of the question. It was time for a game plan. He knew he had to be quick. They couldn’t hole up in this house forever. Her memory would slowly come back into focus. It was time for action. Now.
Still, he said, “Of course. I agree and I have a few ideas, but I’ll need a half hour to pull things together. There’s a hammock past the pool, by the shore. I’ll meet you there.”
Her smile was hopeful. Beautiful. “Sounds perfect.”
* * *
Alaina inhaled deep breaths of ocean air, one after the other, a foot draped over the side of the hammock, toe tapping to keep the steady swaying motion. The hammock was attached to two fat palm trees, branches and fronds rustling overhead.
Could Porter really find a way to put her fears to rest? Could regaining her memory be as simple as relaxing and enjoying time with the man she’d married?
She wanted to believe that. It had only been a week since she’d woken up after all. Yet, every hour that passed with no breakthroughs knotted the anxiety tighter within her.
Answers. That was what she needed. She was desperate for them. She kept hoping the scenery would jog her memory. Bestow the memories that were locked away somewhere in her mind.
Glancing at the harbor, she tried to imagine what sort of person she had grown into. A twenty-eight-year-old woman with a husband rich enough to bump elbows with the incredibly wealthy. And, judging by the sheer size of the yachts before her, incredibly wealthy didn’t even begin to cover it.
Yachts spotted the water with the same frequency as white caps in a storm. A few of them looked like personal cruise ships.
Had she been out on any of these? Did she move comfortably in a world like this? Knowing what her life had been like before, she couldn’t imagine it.
Her thoughts were cut short as a sun-bronzed woman approached. Alaina guessed the woman was probably a decade older than her. Maybe more. But older, Alaina realized, was a matter of perspective. She still felt as if she was looking through the eyes of a twenty-three-year-old.
The woman bustled toward Alaina, brunette hair flapping beneath an oversize white floppy hat. Cat-eyed sunglasses shielded the majority of her face, concealing her eyes from view. The gust of wind tugged at her bright pink-and-peach shift dress.
Alaina stood with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was glad to have someone else to talk to, but on the other, she was nervous. It was too soon. What if the woman asked something Alaina couldn’t answer?
But then hadn’t she just thought how she needed to push ahead? She had to be strong, brave, for Thomas.
And Porter.
The woman jogged the last few steps and hugged Alaina hard before stepping back, her hands clasped to her chest. “Oh my God, Alaina, I thought that was you.” The woman scrunched her nose, crinkling zinc oxide into the creases. “I forgot for a minute you can’t remember all of us. I’m Sage Harding. Your neighbor. I like to think I’m your friend, even if we only see each other a couple of times a year for holidays.”
A couple of times a year? But Porter had said they came here often. Perhaps Sage didn’t come as often and so their paths only crossed a couple of times a year. Alaina wanted to believe that. Porter had no reason to lie.
She didn’t understand her need to believe the worst in him, to be so suspicious of his every word.
They were married. There was ample proof. And they’d adopted a child together. They had a beautiful life—if she could just bring herself to accept it.
“Thank you for coming over to speak to me, Sage. That makes me feel less like an amnesia freak or a patient.”
“Honey, you can’t help what happened to you.” Sage sat on a teal Adirondack chair next to the hammock. “You were in a car accident.”
“I understand the facts in my mind, but it’s difficult to trust my mind these days.” She rolled her eyes at her own lame joke. “But enough about my medical woes. Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Are you here with your family? How did we become friends?”
“Wow, that’s a lot of questions.” Sage held up her fingers, holiday-green glitter polish on short nails. “I’m from the D.C. area. My husband’s in the House of Representatives, so we keep this house to stay Florida residents. Our two kids go to boarding school. And you and I became friends at an art gallery fund-raiser for the homeless.”
That all rang true and fit with everything Porter had been telling her. “What type of art do you enjoy?”
“Oh, I don’t know jack about art.” Sage waved a self-deprecating hand. “I was there for the canapés, champagne and movie-star company. And helping the homeless. I like being a part of charity work. It’s a rewarding way to spend my time.”
“That’s nice.” Alaina wasn’t sure what else to say to this refreshingly honest woman.
Sage leaned closer, her elbows on her knees. “Are you okay, really okay? I’ve been so worried. I came by the hospital when I heard and left flowers. But you weren’t allowed to have visitors. I would have a baby shower for you, but that might be awkward just now. Maybe we’ll wait until you get your memory back.”
“I think that’s best. And I’m still...resting.”
“Oh, right. Silly me. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just so glad to see you and wanted to make sure you and Porter are doing okay.”
Now that was a loaded statement. Alaina opted for an answer that wouldn’t land her in hot water. “We’re enjoying being parents.”
“How is your little guy’s foot?”
“Healing.”
“I’m so relieved.” Sage studied her matching Christmas-green toenails for three crashes of the waves. “I wasn’t sure you would be back this year after, well, your male visitor last Christmas.”
Alaina forced herself to stay still. There was no answer to that revelation and she sure as hell wasn’t going to quiz a virtual stranger. “Thank you for stopping by.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought maybe he’d contacted you and I wanted to be sure you knew. I mean well.” She pushed to her feet and dusted sand off her legs. “Please accept my apology.”
“Accepted. It’s tough to know the right thing to say. Amnesia isn’t an everyday occurrence and it’s difficult to know how to handle it.” Alaina stood and saw Porter walking down the bluff carrying a picnic basket and an insulated bag. “There’s my husband.”
Sage crinkled her nose again. “That’s my cue to leave.”
“Merry Christmas to you and your family.”
“To you and yours, too, honey.” Sage squeezed Alaina’s hand quickly. “Enjoy your baby’s first visit from Santa Claus.”
Santa Claus?
Of course. She should be focusing on Thomas’s first Christmas. On doing normal family things like picking out toys for him to enjoy over the next year. Or making Christmas cookies, as her mother had always done as far back as Alaina could remember. Starting her own family traditions with Porter.
Or had they had traditions? Tough to tell in this generic-looking house without her own personal stamp.
She wanted that homey holiday life so desperately. Wanted to be normal again. To be herself again. Whatever that meant and whoever that was.
If things were normal, she and Porter might be standing in line somewhere, debating how to spoil their beautiful new son.
Anxiety ebbed back into her chest. Not that it was ever far away.
The thought of melting away into a crowd sounded a lot more appealing now than it had earlier.
A quick glance back down the sandy path toward the vacation home revealed that Porter had already started to make his way toward her. He was only about ten feet away and just the sight of him took her breath away all over again.
She allowed herself to examine him fully as he approached, basket in hand. His broad shoulders and chest, the clear suggestion of muscles beneath his casual light blue button-down. The way his jawline appeared to be chiseled out of marble. Strong. Defined. Like some of the statues she used to have in her old apartment.
But it was the lightness in his demeanor, the force of his smile that made her heart hammer. While he was made up of hard angles, his smile made him seem approachable. Understanding. Maybe even affectionate.
Was that what she’d seen in him from the first?
She wanted to kiss him. To know what they were like together. In bed. Or in the shower. Or in the dozens of other places her imagination wandered with fantasies.
Or were those memories? She couldn’t be sure. There had been an undeniable physical connection between them from the moment she’d seen him in the hospital. It had laced each of their conversations so far. Amnesia or not, that much of a connection had persisted.
How could she have looked at another man as Sage had not too subtly insinuated?
Alaina had wondered more than once if Porter had been hiding something from her. She just hadn’t considered that whatever he might be hiding was her fault.
* * *
Sunglasses shielding his eyes from the late-morning sun, Porter jogged down the last step cut into the bluff, his deck shoes hitting sand. He’d expected to find his wife napping in the hammock. Not chatting with their gossipy neighbor. Hell, he’d even checked with the staff to make sure the Hardings wouldn’t be here for Christmas.
Apparently, staff intel was wrong.
Sage Harding fanned a wave at him as she slid her own sunglasses back on her face and sashayed through the sea oats and around a bluff back to her white mansion on stilts.
Between his mother and Sage, he couldn’t catch a break. Although a voice in the back of his mind persisted that he didn’t deserve one. He was deliberately keeping parts of their past from his wife. He tamped down that voice, not just for his own reasons but for her sake, as well. The doctor had said not to push her, but rather to let her recover the missing years on her own.
All the CT scans and MRI scans hadn’t shown any brain damage, and yet her coma had persisted. The doc had said her mind was most likely protecting herself from something she wasn’t ready to deal with. Again that voice piped up that maybe she didn’t want to recall how close they’d been to signing the divorce papers their lawyers had drawn up. That she wanted this second chance at creating a family every bit as much as he did.
His pace quickened as he approached. He could see that there was something sparking beneath the surface of her eyes. It was in the way she cocked her head to the side and studied him up and down. A question in her expression. A curiosity. One he wanted to answer.
Time was limited now as their son napped—and the holidays were a brief interlude, too. Soon, they would have to return home. She would find out all that he’d been keeping from her and all hell could break loose. He intended to use this time with her, away from all that, wisely.
Porter placed the picnic basket and insulated bag on the Adirondack chair so there would be nowhere to sit except beside his wife. “You’ll want to stay clear of Sage Harding.”
“Sage?” Alaina shifted, the roped hammock swaying beneath her. “Why on earth should I avoid her?”
“Because she’s not as genuine as she tries to appear. She’s cultivating wealthy friends to fund her husband’s run for the US Senate. Plain and simple, she uses people.”
Alaina slowly nodded as if she was unsure how to respond. As if she didn’t trust his word. Ouch.
“Okay. That’s sad to hear, that someone’s using others.”
“You’re not sure if you believe me about Sage’s motivations for coming over?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. But people can have different impressions of someone.”
A diplomatic answer. But one that reminded him he still had to earn her trust. Well, re-earn. “Fair enough. It’s your judgment call to make. Just promise me you’ll be careful around her.”
