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  “I’m sorry,” I said into his chest, feeling utterly weak and exposed for the first time in my life.

  “Don’t be.” He pressed his lips to my clammy forehead.

  “I was horrid to you earlier.”

  “You were,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’d never want me now. I had been so horrible to him. He would be counting the hours until he could leave the blubbering, weak, cranky woman back on her doorstep in Richmond Hills. I’d ruined everything. After all we’d been through it was over.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

  “No, no please, just stay here, don’t leave me.” I pressed into him all the more. I would take what I could while I could. He’d probably pay a nurse to arrive tomorrow and look after me the rest of the week. Hotfoot it back to Orlando as fast as he could and find a woman who was in complete control of every aspect of her life.

  * * * * *

  I woke pressed up against Brick and instantly my chest swelled with relief.

  His breathing was slow and steady and his mouth slightly parted. I rested my palm over his chest and felt the solid rhythm of his heartbeat. He had a big heart, it matched him—big all over, inside and out. He’d held me last night as if he really cared, as if he was genuinely worried about me, even though I’d been so horrid to him. I’d be grateful for that when he left later. I’d be grateful for that for the rest of my life.

  He let out a sigh and I studied the way the morning sun etched across his face and created shadows in the slight dip beneath his cheekbones. He was soul-achingly beautiful. So much more gorgeous in real life than on posters or on TV.

  “You watchin’ me sleep?” he asked, opening his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Was I snoring?”

  “No.”

  “You gonna be cranky today?” He gave me a sleepy, lopsided grin.

  “I’m really sorry about that and no, I don’t think so.” I realized I’d placed my injured wrist on his chest and moved it without wincing, without noticing a throb as soon as I tensed the tendons and muscles. And my head, it felt almost normal, although I hadn’t actually lifted it off the pillow yet. “I think I feel a bit better.”

  “A good cry,” he said. “It sorted you out.”

  I frowned. “It did not.” I’d hoped it wouldn’t be mentioned again, my overwhelming display of weakness.

  “Hey, I thought you just said you weren’t going to be cranky.”

  “Sorry,” I sighed.

  “I’ll go make coffee,” he said, getting up. He still had his jeans on. “You take your painkillers and hold on to those cleansed thoughts.”

  I opened my mouth to speak. What was he? Some kind of psychobabble guru? Cleansed thoughts indeed. But I shut my mouth again. I didn’t want to be cranky, not if he was leaving soon.

  I sipped hot, strong coffee and took my painkillers, then moved around the room on legs that felt almost like mine. My right thigh was bruised and shaky, but other than that I was definitely more like myself.

  I managed a shower with a plastic bag over my hand and wrist because I’d been told not to get the dressing wet, pulled on gray sweats and a small red t-shirt. Scraped my hair into a high ponytail and let it swing down past my shoulder blades. I brushed my teeth and looked at my reflection. I was paler than usual, but my eyes looked clearer, I’d lost the glazed look from the days before.

  I wandered into the kitchen.

  Brick was nowhere to be seen. My heart lurched. Perhaps he’d left already. Gone while I was in the shower so I wouldn’t hear the crunch of tires on gravel. I scanned the work surfaces for a note, looked at the big fridge door for a magnetically held message of departure. Nothing. A horrid, sick feeling washed over me and my throat tightened. I glanced out the doors flung open to the fresh forest air.

  The fluttering in my chest slowed. The nausea subsided.

  Sitting at the end of a long, narrow pier, his legs dangling over the edge, was Brick.

  He was shirtless, his golden shoulders hunched as he dipped into a small green box at his side.

  I grabbed a banana and stepped out into the late-morning sunshine.

  He was still here. Thank god.

  Trying to peel the banana hurt my wrist. I couldn’t get enough grip or maneuver my fingers on my bad hand.

  Stepping carefully onto the heat-bleached wooden slats, I began to make my way down the pier toward him. The sun spread like silk on my shoulders and the gentle lapping of the waves beneath me created a peaceful melody.

  “Hey,” I said when I reached the end.

  He looked up from a bundle of feathers and hooks.

  “Hey yourself.” He smiled.

  “Can you do this for me?” I handed him the banana.

  He grinned and took it.

  I sat down next to him, legs hanging over the edge, and squinted at the sun’s reflection bouncing off the water.

  “Here.” He handed it back.

  For the first time in days I felt genuinely hungry and I bit into the banana eagerly.

  “This is called a merry boatman,” he said, carefully winding wire onto a selection of yellow and blue feathers.

  “A what?”

  “A merry boatman, it’s a fly, should attract some of the bigger fish from the bottom of the lake.”

  I looked down at my toes, hovering several feet above the water. “Are there lots of fish in here?”

  “Yeah, loads, that’s why there’s all these big birds about, they’re looking for lunch, same as me.”

  Good, he wasn’t leaving ’til after lunch then.

  “That should do it,” he said, holding the finished fly in the air for examination. “Perfect.”

  It was like a mini work of art. So intricate and pretty, the thin wire crossed precisely over the base of the feathers and the little silver hook shiny and pointed.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” I asked.

  He pulled back on the rod and flicked the line with a practiced move. The colorful fly landed about thirty feet out and bobbed in its own ripples.

  “My dad,” he said. “He was a keen fisherman, more so after he hurt his back, it was about the only sport he could do then.” He huffed. “If you can call sitting around in the sunshine sport, that is.”

  “Did he catch much?”

  “Yeah, he was a very patient man, would sit for hours.” He turned to me. “I think he did it to give Mom a break and try to bring home some supper too.”

  “It must have been hard for him, not working to support his family.”

  “I think he hated that more than not being able to get about like he used to, more than being registered disabled.”

  I rested my empty banana peel on the wooden slats. “Do you miss him?”

  “Every damn day.” Brick dropped the shades sitting on his head over his eyes. “But especially the days I play well, score goals. He would have loved sharing those achievements with me, he was always so proud of anything I did.”

  “I’m sure your mom is proud.”

  “Yeah, of course, but there’s something about seeing pride in your father’s eyes, hearing it in his voice, that’s real special to a son.”

  A huge bird swooped down to the water just off to the right. We both watched as big yellow talons dipped beneath the surface and reappeared with a wriggling silver fish trapped in its grip.

  “Wow,” I said, “look at that.”

  Brick grunted. “Well there goes my chance of catching lunch for a few hours. He’ll have scared all the fish to the other end of the lake.”

  My stomach growled.

  “You still hungry?” he asked with a grin.

  “Yeah, starving.”

  “That’s a good sign.” He began to reel in his line. “Come on, I’ll rustle us something up. The fridge was stocked before we arrived by Matilda, she keeps an eye on the place when I’m not here.”

  I smiled. Perhaps he’d hang around until later in the afternoon. Get going wh
en it was cooler and the roads less busy.

  We sat side by side on the sofa eating cheese omelet and watching the sports channel. The big game Brick was missing was on later and the analysts where having a field day discussing how Raven would cope after his break.

  “You think he’ll be okay?” I asked, putting my empty plate on the table.

  “Yeah, he’s an awesome player and I’ve seen him in training lately, he seems even more focused, more determined after his injury. There’ll be no stopping him.”

  I glanced at my bandaged wrist.

  “And you’ll be fine too,” he said, following my gaze and knocking back a glass of iced water. “I have a feeling this will make you even more focused and, heaven help us, even more determined.”

  “What do you mean ‘heaven help us’?” I was indignant, there was nothing wrong with being determined.

  “Well, you seem to go out and get what you want with a focus that is so damn intense I’m surprised it doesn’t crack you.”

  “I don’t always get what I want.” This was one of the few times I wasn’t going to get what I wanted and I had no idea what to do about it. I wanted him, I wanted Brick. I wanted Brick to stay more than anything else in the world.

  “What have you ever not had that you really, really wanted?” He tipped his head.

  I sighed. “One year I wanted a horse-riding Barbie for Christmas and I got ballerina Barbie instead.”

  He laughed. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

  “Well, what about you?” I asked, not wanting to dwell on just how much I wanted him so near to his departure. “You’re pretty determined too.”

  “I can’t deny that.” He tipped forward suddenly and his lips touched mine. “I was determined to have you,” he said onto my mouth, “right from that first moment I saw you in the photography studio.”

  A flutter of longing tickled across my flesh. Having him so near, feeling his body heat, looking into his eyes, it could make me lose myself. “You were?”

  “Oh yeah, honey, seeing you all cute and sexy and with those little torpedoes shouting hello at me.” He smiled sexily. “I was hard the whole way through the shoot.”

  “Sounds uncomfortable.”

  “Mmm,” he kissed me again, a little firmer this time. “It was.”

  I rested my hand on the ball of his bare shoulder, relishing the perfect smooth flesh beneath my fingertips and palm. I adored how he kissed me, how his lips moved gently but confidently over mine and how his tongue dipped into my mouth as if he was exploring me anew each time.

  “Just like I’m hard now,” he said, pulling back with an expression that was part grimace, part humor. “Damn shame I can’t do anything about it.”

  I pulled in a juddering breath and tried to dampen my own desire. He was obviously planning on leaving much sooner than I thought. Like now.

  I stared up at the picture above the mantel. It was a deer, a female deer standing alone on a rock, green landscape surrounded her and her nose tipped proudly toward a blazing sun.

  “What time are you leaving?” I asked. I had to know. I couldn’t stand the torment another second.

  “What?”

  “When are you leaving? I presume you’ve organized someone to come ‘babysit’ me.” I folded my arms over my chest, being careful of my wrist but needing to hide my protruding nipples poking like darts against my red t-shirt.

  “I’m leaving next week, Carly, with you.” His forehead creased. “What are you talking about?”

  I studied his eyes.

  “That was always the plan.” His brow crinkled in confusion. “Wasn’t it?”

  “But, but I thought…”

  “What?” He sat back against the sofa and rubbed his temple with one finger. “What did you think?”

  “I thought after last night, after I was so pathetic, you’d want to leave.” I stared up at the deer. “I don’t mind if you do.”

  “You want me to leave?” he asked slowly.

  “No, no, of course not. I want you to stay, with me.”

  “Well that’s what I’m going to do, not because I promised your parents, or because you want me to, but because I want to.” He reached out and touched my cheek. “And why the hell would I leave just because you cried?”

  I swallowed. “Because it was such a show of weakness, I’d dreamed about the accident, about being high up. I was so scared and out of control, it was awful for you to witness when you only ever saw me as strong before the accident, plus I was so snappy with you, so cranky when we arrived.”

  He shook his head. “You were a complete grump but you said sorry, it’s over, forgotten and everyone has weaknesses, Carly. Everyone has demons to battle, no one on earth is lucky enough to get away without any.”

  “You don’t have any.”

  He smiled, though his brows pulled down in a frown. “Sure I do.”

  “Like what?”

  He tugged his bottom lip with his teeth. “I hate dentists,” he said, “which is a nightmare because whenever there’s a loose puck flying around it always seems to get me in the mouth.”

  I looked at his perfect, neat white teeth.

  “And,” he said, tucking a wisp of hair behind my ear, “I hate spiders, I never used to, but a few years back, when I was here in fact, sorting out the barbecue after the winter, I got bitten by some horrid little red thing, it made my hand swell like a balloon and I couldn’t hold a stick for nearly three weeks. So now I have a little arachnophobia going on. For a tiny thing they can really mess up your life.”

  “But they’re easy things to cope with,” I said with a sigh.

  His voice lowered and his brows dropped. “Maybe, but sometimes I miss my dad as much as I would miss all four of my limbs.” He paused. “When I feel like that I just need to be alone, to be quiet with my thoughts and memories. He fills my mind and takes away my concentration. I can’t do much when his birthday comes around or the anniversary of his death.”

  “You can always talk to me,” I said, hating the look of grief in his beautiful eyes. “If that would help.”

  “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that, if you don’t mind fishing trip and family holiday stories.” He grinned suddenly and took my hands in his. “But that’s what this is all about, Carly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Getting to know one another, finding out how another person ticks. You need to know their strengths and weaknesses, dreams and fears, their moods—good and bad—and if you still want that person, need that person even when you know all the crappy stuff as well as the good stuff then…”

  I tipped my head.

  His voice lowered and his gaze captured mine. “Then that is what it means to love someone.”

  “Love?”

  “I don’t know how you feel about me,” he said quietly. “Because you surprise me constantly with the workings of your mind, but I know how I feel about you.”

  “How is that?” My head was whirring, my emotions ballooning in my stomach. A small pop of excitement burst way down low in my pelvis.

  The right side of his mouth curled up a fraction. “I feel like for the first time in my life I’ve found someone I can imagine falling totally, one hundred percent in love with.”

  I watched his lips form the words. Beautiful words that made my heart soar and my breath catch.

  He turned his head and looked out the doors at the lake. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “It’s just happened so fast for me, what with the accident and all. Thinking I was losing you before we’d really had a chance to begin bowled me over. It still does.”

  “Brick,” I said quietly. “Look at me.”

  He turned and I rested my good hand in the center of his chest, over the sprinkle of dark blond hairs on his sternum. “I’m falling in love with you too,” I said.

  “You are?” His eyes widened.

  “Yes.”

  His brow creased. “You sure, ’cause you just asked about me l
eaving?”

  “I just said I wanted you to stay.” I smiled. “In fact, no, I’m not falling in love with you.” I paused and saw uncertainty cross his face. What was the point in holding anything back anymore? This was where we were and this was how I felt. “I’m already in love with you,” I said, “I want, need to be with you. I don’t want you to go anywhere without me ever again.” There, it was said. It made me vulnerable, needy. But it was a truth that couldn’t and shouldn’t be denied for another second.

  Suddenly he was kissing me. “I love you and I want you too,” he said as his mouth trailed across my cheek. “And I need you so badly.” He kissed right next to my ear, pushed back my hair and pressed his lips to my neck.

  “So have me,” I said, delighting in his delicate touch and the words washing like fine wine over my body. “Have me now, all of me.”

  He groaned. “I can’t, can I?” He pulled back to look at my face.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, you’re all bashed and bruised. I brought you here to rest and recover, not jump your bones.” He shifted his hips on the sofa. I couldn’t help but notice the strain under his fly.

  “I think it might be the perfect diversion therapy,” I said, reaching for his nape and pulling him back for a long, deep kiss. I wanted him to make love to me. It was the only thing that was going to happen next.

  He moaned into my mouth. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’m sure.” I reached for the button on his waistband. “More than sure.” It was what my body was crying out for. I needed his skin on mine. I wanted him inside me, loving me, making me feel like the luckiest, most cherished woman on earth.

  “Wait there,” he said, standing suddenly.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a condom.”

  “No,” I reached for his hand. “Please, you don’t need one.”

  His brows lifted as he looked down at me.

  “I got contraception covered while I was at the hospital.”

  “But”

  I pushed up and rested my hands on his shoulders. “And I’ve never gone without a condom.”

  His jaw tightened. “Me neither.”

  I went to my toes and kissed his cheek. “So scrap that idea,” I said by his ear. “Because I need you, flesh on flesh, nothing between. Just us.”