Lauren
Test: to put under severe strain
“Lauren?” Scott’s voice came from the kitchen, where he’d been working all week. “I need to show you something.”
Lauren carried on painting the wall. She’d postponed working on the Sail Loft, hoping that Scott would have finished before she started but in the end she’d had no choice. The Captain’s House was all but done and they needed somewhere to live. Unless she wanted to share living space with chipped paint, she needed to get to work.
She’d started at the top with her mother’s studio, a whole floor away from Scott. Not that it made much difference, because she was constantly aware of him. The knowledge that he was a mere turn of the stairs away from her made her skin tingle and her heart beat faster. And every time she felt that heady rush of desire, she also felt guilt.
To stop herself thinking about him, she focused her attention on the work she was doing.
Her plan for the Sail Loft was to keep it simple, in keeping with the casual beachfront setting.
She’d contemplated using a fashionable gray on the walls, but in the end had opted for a soft white that reflected the intensity of the beach light. She’d painted the wide planks on the floor white, too, and had already found a blue-and-white-striped rug in a thrift shop. The place felt calming. Relaxing.
“Lauren?”
She closed her eyes. The place would never be relaxing while Scott was working in it, and yet she also found herself dreading the moment he finished because then he’d be gone.
“I’ll be there in a minute. If I stop now, I’ll have streaks.”
“That’s today’s excuse?” His voice was closer this time and she glanced over her shoulder.
“Excuse me?”
He was leaning against the door frame. His eyes were hooded and watchful, but there was a hint of a smile on his mouth that told her he knew exactly how she was feeling.
He claimed he wasn’t good at intimacy and yet every look and every word that passed between them was threaded with meaning.
“I worked here for two weeks before you showed up at all.”
She put the brush down. “I was busy—”
“And then when you did show up, you made sure you were never in the same room as me.”
“We’re working on different things. You’re fixing up the kitchen.” And the kitchen was the smallest room in the house, which was another reason she’d been avoiding it.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror she’d hung on one of the walls. Instead of wearing her oldest clothes, she’d chosen jeans that skimmed her hips and a tailored shirt that nipped in slightly at the waist. Common sense might have abandoned her but it seemed vanity hadn’t.
“Did I do this to you?” His voice was rough. “Is it my fault?”
“Do what?”
“Make you so cautious and careful you no longer dare be who you are.”
She didn’t want to have this conversation. “This is who I am. None of us are the same person at thirty-five that we were at eighteen.”
“I think you’re the same person, but you haven’t let that person out in a long time.”
Was he right? There were days when she couldn’t remember the person she’d been back then.
“Life changes all of us, Scott. When you and I were together I was a teenager. Now I’m a mother and a wi—” She’d been about to say wife and then realized she wasn’t a wife anymore. She was a widow.
She hated that word so much.
“When did you last jump off the Jaws Bridge?”
The question made her laugh. “It’s been a couple of decades since I talked my sister into that one.”
“Let’s do it.”
“You have to be kidding me.”
“I’m not kidding.” He strolled toward her and she felt her heart beat faster.
“Scott, I’m not jumping off the Jaws Bridge. I’m thirty-five years old and I just lost my husband. Can you imagine what people would say?”
“You never used to worry about what people thought.”
“Life seems a lot simpler when you’re eighteen.”
“If not the bridge, then come sailing with me.”
“I’m not going sailing with you either.”
“Why not?”
Because she’d found a way to live without him. What she hadn’t worked out was how to let him back into her life in a way that didn’t destabilize everything.
“I have a house to decorate, a child to raise—”
“A life to live.”
She straightened her shoulders. “This is my life now.”
“You make it sound like a sentence.”
There were days when it felt like a sentence. Days when she dragged herself out of bed and pushed herself from one job to the next. She’d read somewhere that if you gave your brain tasks to do it stopped overthinking. She’d given herself a lot of tasks. Sometimes she felt like a robot.
It seemed like a lifetime since she’d felt human. A lifetime since she’d been hugged and held. It wasn’t just Ed’s arms that she missed. She missed Mack’s. She missed the laughter, and the female bond they’d shared.
Things had improved a little between them but it was still a long way from the relationship they used to have, and even her bond with Jenna and her new relationship with her mother didn’t fill the void.
She rarely slept through the night and was constantly tired. She woke running numbers in her head, wondering how she could make enough for her and Mack to live on. In the winter the population of the island dwindled, and so did the opportunities for employment.
In those solitary moments, lying in the dark, she’d contemplated moving to a city, maybe Boston or even New York, but then her living costs would rise and it would mean uprooting Mack yet again. Her daughter needed stability.
“Life can be tough,” she said. “You know that better than anyone.”
She thought about her mother, living with a man who had affairs, her sister, who couldn’t have a baby, her daughter, who had lost a father, and Gwen, who had lost a son.
Lauren had written to her twice and received no response.
Why that should hurt her, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she and Gwen had been close when Ed had been alive.
She felt hurt, but most of all she felt lonely. Lonely for someone who understood her and cared for her. Lonely for someone she could confide in.
Which made it dangerous for her to be around Scott.
She glanced hungrily at his wide shoulders and muscular arms. It would be so easy to slide into those arms and lean for a moment. She didn’t want him to fix her life. She just wanted to absorb some of his strength so that she could fix it herself. It was the closeness she missed.
“You’ve changed so much. I’m sorry.” His voice was thickened. “I didn’t only kill us, I killed you.”
The emotion moved from her throat to her heart. “That isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it? You’re gripping life so tightly there is no chance it’s going to get away from you. You’re afraid to let go of the reins.”
“Last time I let go of the reins I found myself pregnant.” She’d also found herself in love, and that had been worse. She didn’t ever want to go there again. Love had been the most adventurous thing she’d done and also the most terrifying.
“That was my fault, too.”
“That was no one’s fault. An accident. They happen.” The paint was drying on the brush. “You say I’ve changed, but isn’t that what growing up is all about? Learning from mistakes? Making better choices?”
“You used to be happy. You laughed all the time. I’d never met anyone who laughed as much as you did.”
“My happiness isn’t top priority right now. There’s Mack to think of, and my mother. She deserves some happiness after everything my father put her through. And my sister—” She knew Jenna was suffering, and she felt helpless. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never stayed in one place long enough to learn about responsibility or commitment.” She realized how that sounded and felt instantly guilty. It wasn’t his fault that his childhood had been like an ill-fitting jigsaw puzzle. A series of disconnected pieces. “I meant that as a statement of fact, not a criticism. I know how tough it was for you.” She knew that the repeated rejection had gradually eroded his belief that he could be loved. And why wouldn’t it? No one had stuck with him.
“My childhood taught me plenty about survival.”
It was a depressingly bleak summary.
Shouldn’t there be more to life than survival?
He was silent for a moment, as if there was something he wanted to add. Then he turned away. “Come and look at the countertops.”
Countertops?
She followed him into the kitchen, wishing it wasn’t such a tight space, and saw how much progress he’d made in the two weeks he’d been here.
He’d worked miracles. Because Nancy had chosen the place for the upstairs room with its flood of natural light, she hadn’t cared about the kitchen. That hadn’t mattered too much when it was used as a studio, but they had all agreed that if the Sail Loft was going to become a home, then the kitchen needed serious attention.
Scott had ripped out the old kitchen and replaced the old cheap cabinets with hand-painted custom cabinets he’d built and fitted himself. The countertops were white granite and the result was stylish and sophisticated.
“You’ve done a great job. It’s beautiful.” She stroked her hand over the wood, admiring his skills. “Maybe you should do this instead of working at the boatyard.” He’d told her once about one of the foster families he’d stayed with, who had given him back because they couldn’t handle him. She imagined him as a child, scared and traumatized, waiting for the next rejection. “Will you look for another house for yourself?”
“Not right now.”
He stood right next to her and his arm brushed against hers. She felt the tension in him and sensed he was exercising superhuman restraint. For weeks they’d been dancing round the chemistry and it was becoming harder to ignore.
It had been too long. She still wanted him, and want and denial together created a particular type of agony.
She turned her head and met his gaze. Her heart fluttered and her stomach dipped. She wondered what it was about him that made her feel as if she’d missed a step.
The air was so thick with tension she could taste it.
She wasn’t sure who made the first move, or if they moved at the same time. All she knew was that one minute she was standing there fighting her feelings, and the next she was in his arms.
They came together hard and fast, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her with a raw, savage need. She kissed him back with the same desperation, her hands digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer. She felt the strength of his hands holding her head, the erotic slide of his tongue and the intimate pressure of his body against hers. He tugged at the clip holding her hair and she felt it spill over her shoulders and down her back.
Sliding his fingers into the heavy mass, he muttered something indistinct against her lips but she couldn’t make out the words.
They kissed with undiluted, unashamed urgency and she felt her body flood with sensation and her muscles weaken.
Without breaking the kiss, he ripped at her shirt and she wrenched at his, sliding her hands over taut muscle until she reached the waistband of his jeans. Her hands brushed against his abdomen and he powered her back against the wall, pinning her there. His arms were either side of her and she was grateful to be trapped between him and a solid surface because her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her upright.
She fumbled with the buttons of his jeans and felt the hard, rearing shape of him beneath her fingers. He was brutally aroused and he covered her hands with his as they stripped off her jeans first, and then his.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, she protested.
“Don’t—”
“In my pocket...” He kissed her mouth and then her jaw. “Condom.”
She let him go long enough for him to retrieve it from his wallet, and then she felt the coolness of the air on her skin, the gentle slide of his palm against her thigh and the slow, skilled stroke of his fingers against aching flesh. She almost sobbed with relief, burying her face in his neck as she gasped out his name. His touch became more intimate and she brought her mouth back to his, restless, fitful and needy as he found the most sensitive part of her with breath-stealing accuracy.
There was a brief pause as he dealt with the condom and then he lifted her in a single easy movement. Keeping her mouth on his, she wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her hands into the solid bulk of his shoulders to steady herself. Her head was spinning and she felt as if she was falling, falling.
“I missed you.” He breathed the words against her mouth again and again, missed you, missed you, and each time the words were interspersed with slow carnal kisses that sent her heat levels soaring.
She’d missed him, too.
The world around them faded and her thoughts slowed even as her heart rate increased. The past ceased to exist and so did the future. There was only the slow pulse of awareness and the dizzying thrill of anticipation as she felt him brush against her intimately. His hands locked on her hips and his breath was warm against her mouth as he murmured her name, soothing, seducing. He entered her with a smooth thrust and she gasped at the feel of him, the sweet pressure, the power, the intoxicating combination of silk and heat. He drove deeper still and then held still for a moment, his breathing unsteady as he struggled for control. She closed her hands round his arms and felt the tension in his muscles.
“I want you.” She whispered the words against his ear, against the roughness of his jaw, against the heated curve of his mouth. “I want you.”
He lifted his head and she saw that his eyes had darkened. He moved slowly, his gaze locked with hers as he rocked into her with a slow heated rhythm. He built the tension with long, easy, expert strokes that sent pleasure rocketing through her. Suddenly it wasn’t enough. She needed more, more, but he refused to alter the rhythm. Each sensual glide was so maddeningly slow she wondered if he even knew what he was doing to her, but then she saw the wicked glint in his eye and the sexy slant of his mouth as he lowered his head to kiss her and realized he knew exactly what he was doing.
She scraped her nails over his shoulder, felt him smile against her mouth and then gasped as he thrust deep, the delicious friction almost too much to bear. The tension built and built, higher and higher until finally she came in a rush of pleasure that dragged a sob of relief from her throat. The ripples of her body took him with her and she felt him shudder as he held her, his mouth taking hers so there wasn’t a single part of them that wasn’t connected. Locked together intimately she felt every spasm, every vibration, every heated pulse.
Afterward neither of them spoke.
There was only the unsteady rasp of his breathing and the pounding of her heart.
She had no idea how much time passed but eventually he lowered her gently to the floor, his arms still locked round her. She stood for a moment, unsteady, her head resting against his shoulder. She felt the warmth of his hand on the back of her head, cradling her there, and it felt good. So good she didn’t want to move away, because once she stepped out of this cocoon she knew she’d have to face reality.
“Scott—”
“Hush—” he covered her lips with his fingers “—don’t say anything.”
She cupped his cheek with her hand, feeling the roughness of stubble scrape against her palm. His gaze held hers and she hoped he wasn’t going to ask her, What next? What does this mean? She wouldn’t be able to answer him. There were so many reasons why they shouldn’t have done this.
“We can forget this happened,” she whispered. “We can leave here and never mention it again.”
“What if I don’t want to forget it?” His mouth was so close to hers there was barely a breath of separation. “I’m not losing you again, Laurie. Not again.”
“Oh, Scott—”
He wasn’t supposed to say things like that. He was the practical one, and she was the dreamer. What did he think could happen? She couldn’t let anything happen because she knew that each new tear he put in her heart would reduce the chances of her ever healing.
He took her face in his hands. “This isn’t over.”
It had to be. It hadn’t even been five months since she’d lost Ed.
And this was Scott. Scott, who had walked away from her. Scott, who in all probability would walk away from her again.
What was she doing?
She knew they needed to talk, but instead of talking they were kissing again and his hands were under her shirt, his thumbs grazing the sensitive tips of her breasts. They were lost in each other, insulated from the outside world, and they might have stayed that way if it hadn’t been for the intrusive buzz of Lauren’s phone.
Scott tightened his grip on her. “Leave it.”
“It might be Mack.”
He released her instantly and she searched blindly for her purse. Where was it? Why wasn’t her brain working?
As she hunted for it, as she dragged on her shirt, her fingers were shaky and useless. She pulled on her jeans next, disoriented. She couldn’t see properly through the tangle of her hair and she swept it away from her face, wondering what had happened to the clip.
By the time she found her phone, it had stopped ringing but it started again immediately, shrill and urgent.
She pulled it out of her bag. “It’s my mother.”
If there was one thing guaranteed to kill sexual attraction it was a call from your mother.
She answered, relieved it wasn’t a video call. Her mother would have seen her flushed cheeks and that would have required an explanation she wasn’t able to give. “Is everything all right?”
It took only a brief conversation for her to realize everything was far from all right.
“How bad? How bad is it?”
She ended the conversation and hunted wildly for her shoes.
“Here—” Scott held them out to her. “What’s happened? Is it Mack?” His voice was sharp with anxiety and Lauren shook her head.
“Jenna had a car accident. She’s in the hospital.”
Her mind conjured up hideous images of Jenna being cut out of a car wreck. Her mother hadn’t been able to tell her how bad it was.
The phone slid from her fingers and bounced across the floor. Her sister. Her sister was injured.
She thought about the way Jenna had stayed glued to her side through all the adventures Lauren had dragged her on. Jenna, watching over her as she’d jumped off the Jaws bridge. Jenna tugging her away from the window of the Sail Loft. Flying to London after Ed died. “I have to go to her.”
Scott slipped the phone into her purse. “That was Greg?”
“My mother.” And only now did Lauren pause to wonder why it had been Nancy who had called her and not Greg. Presumably Greg was pacing the corridors while Jenna was in surgery. “I have to go.” She tried again to button her shirt, but her fingers fumbled and slipped. “Dammit—I lost a button.”
Scott helped her. “Tuck your shirt into your jeans and it won’t show.”
She tried to smooth her hair. “I look a mess.”
“You’ve been decorating. You look fine.”
She was pretty sure she looked like she’d been having crazy sex.
“I’d never wear my hair down for decorating.”
Jenna would take one look at her and know.
Except Jenna was in surgery.
Scott turned his attention to his own shirt, and reached for his jacket and his keys. “I’ll drive you. You’re upset, and one car accident in the family is enough for one night.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’m driving you.”
She was shaking. She knew she wasn’t safe to drive the car. The last few months had stripped away all her reserves of strength. She’d handled everything life had thrown at her up until this point, but she couldn’t handle losing her sister.
The room spun around her and she felt Scott’s hands on her shoulders.
“Breathe,” he said and she closed her eyes.
“If she—”
“That’s not going to happen.” Swift and sure he propelled her out of the Sail Loft and into his pickup. He opened the door for her and she slid inside, conscious of the delicate ache in certain parts of her body.
“I feel guilty.” Because of Ed or because of her sister? She didn’t know.
“Don’t.” He started the engine and glanced at her. “We are going to talk about this, but not now.”
“Scott—”
“For the record, this isn’t over. And I don’t regret what we did.”
Did she regret it?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that her life was a complicated mess, and she’d just made it a whole lot more complicated.