Sunset In Central Park Read online

  “Sunset in Central Park,” she murmured. “It doesn’t get any more perfect.”

  They were standing side by side, close but not quite touching.

  He wondered if she was as aware of him as he was of her.

  And then she turned her head to look at him and he saw the heat of his own desire reflected in her eyes.

  Her mouth was a soft, inviting curve. All he had to do was lower his head, but he didn’t. He’d made up his mind that by the time he kissed her she was going to want it so badly she wasn’t going to be thinking about her performance.

  Instead, he stepped back and held out his hand. “Our table is booked for eight fifteen.”

  She hesitated and then took his hand and they walked along the path to the famous Bethesda terrace.

  “I feel as if I’m on a movie set whenever I come here.”

  He smiled. “Which movie? One Fine Day, Home Alone 2 or Ransom?”

  Their voices and footsteps echoed and he paused under the elegant arches, looking toward the famous fountain.

  “I’m more likely to think of The Avengers. Or that episode of Dr. Who. I’m not a lover of romantic movies.”

  “Me neither.”

  “You’re a guy. You’re not supposed to enjoy them.” She strolled toward the fountain. “Aren’t you going to ask me my favorite movies?”

  “I already know your favorite movies. Psycho. Rear Window. You’re a Hitchock addict.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? The guy was a genius. You’re forgetting Vertigo. I love that movie.”

  “You also love The Shining and Alien.”

  “The first one. Ridley Scott.”

  “I love his work.”

  “He should have won best director for Gladiator. He was robbed.” She glanced at a couple who were locked in an embrace by the fountain and then looked away quickly. “So there’s nothing else for you to find out about me. You already know everything.”

  Not everything, but he intended to work on that.

  They walked along the path that skirted the lake, watching the last glimmers of light play across the still surface of the water.

  “We’re eating at the restaurant on the lake?”

  “Yes.” He opened the door of the restaurant and she walked past him. He breathed in the subtle floral scent of her and felt her bare arm brush against his.

  All evening she’d been the one who was tense, but now it was his turn.

  “This is perfect.” She settled into her chair and gazed at the water. “I’ve lived in New York almost all my adult life and I’ve never eaten here.”

  “Jake took Paige here a few weeks ago.”

  They ordered, and Frankie sat back as the waiter poured their wine.

  “Does it feel strange knowing the two of them are together?”

  “Yes. I’m still getting used to it, even though Jake is my closest friend. I have an overprotective streak when it comes to my sister.”

  “It’s a good trait.”

  “It drives her crazy.”

  “But if you asked her, I bet she wouldn’t want it to be any different. You two are lucky. When I was growing up I would have done anything to have someone to share the crap with.”

  “You had Eva and Paige.”

  “But that’s not the same as having someone on the inside. Friends can listen, sympathize and support, but there’s a difference between supporting from the outside and living through it.” She paused. “There are some things you can’t even share with your friends.”

  And that was something else he hadn’t known. He’d always assumed she shared everything with Paige and Eva.

  There was music playing in the background but he didn’t hear it.

  “What things?”

  There was a long, protracted silence.

  He saw the rise and fall of her chest and he sensed she was on the verge of telling him something, but then she gave a little smile and a shake of her head.

  “All I’m saying is that you can’t really understand the workings of a family unless you’ve lived inside it.”

  “Your parents’ divorce must have been tough.”

  “Not just the divorce. The years leading up to it, too.” She took a sip of her drink. “It would have been pretty cool to have a sibling. She could have taken some of the heat off me, particularly if she enjoyed partying and dressing up. I’m not good at that. It’s a constant disappointment to my mother that she has a more exciting social life than I do. Still, on the positive side, the one thing I can be sure of is that she is never going to want to borrow my clothes.” The lightness of her tone was intended to mask the hurt but it didn’t.

  “You might have had a brother, and that wouldn’t have helped with the whole dressing-up thing, either. Not only that, we boys are notoriously bad at remembering to call our mothers so a brother might not have been much help relieving the load.”

  “You don’t call your mother?”

  “I intend to call, but somehow the week gets away from me and then she calls me, and then it’s too late for me to impress her by calling her. Sometimes she doesn’t call me, either. She calls Paige, and they talk about me behind my back, probably agreeing I’m useless. Having a sibling isn’t all roses.”

  “You and Paige are pretty close.”

  “That’s true, but it’s also true that there were plenty of times growing up when I was tempted to throw my sister into the deepest part of Penobscot Bay, so don’t paint it too rosy.”

  “I know life isn’t all rosy, but I still think you’re lucky.” She sat back. “Your family is as close to picture-perfect as it gets.”

  “No family is perfect, Frankie. We have our irritations and scratchy moments. If you don’t believe me, join us for Thanksgiving. Paige gets her planning and organization gene from our mother so you can imagine the two of them together in the kitchen. It’s like two generals with different strategies trying to agree on a battle plan. Everyone takes cover.”

  Frankie laughed. “I love your mom.”

  “She drives Paige insane because she’s so protective.”

  “I guess that runs in the family.” Her gaze lifted to his and he thought how much he wanted to take whatever it was that was hurting her and fix it.

  “I guess it does.”

  Their food arrived and for a while the conversation revolved around the perfectly cooked dishes. They ate sea scallops, followed by a creamy risotto and a perfect salad.

  They were surrounded by the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the occasional bubble of laughter, but he ignored it all. His only interest was in her.

  “You’re not wearing your glasses.”

  “There didn’t seem any point, now you know I don’t need them.” Frankie focused on her plate and he noticed the contrast between the dark sweep of her thick lashes and the rich cream of her cheek.

  “I’m glad. I don’t want you to hide from me.”

  “The food is delicious.” She put her fork down. “So where in Maine is this garden you want me to help you plan? Is it coastal? Because that will make a difference to the variety of apple we recommend. Also how far south they are.”

  “It’s on Puffin Island.” If he hadn’t been watching her face, he might have missed her reaction. “They’re a couple from Boston who bought a house on the northwest side of the island for summers. They’re redesigning the house and the garden. My parents bumped into them in Harbor Stores and that’s how they heard about me. You know how it is.”

  “Yes.” Frankie picked up her spoon and stirred the coffee that had been placed in front of her. “I know exactly how it is. So you’re going back to Puffin Island for a job? That’s quite a commute.”

  The tension was back and he wondered how she could think she wasn’t capable of feeling.

  She had so many feelings they were almost bursting out of her.

  “I’m not anticipating having to make more than a couple of visits. The guy is a partner in the same law firm as my father. It’s a favor.”


  “You’re not charging?”

  “I’m charging. The favor is that I’m willing to travel to Puffin Island. It’s not exactly down the street. We’ve agreed I’ll do a detailed design, both landscaping and planting, and then hand it over to a local company.”

  “Sounds good. Take photos and I’m happy to put together some ideas for you. When are you planning on going?”

  “Weekend after next. I’m already there for a wedding so it makes sense to combine the two. An old friend of mine is getting married. You might know him. Ryan Cooper?”

  “Not personally, but I know who he is. His family owned that amazing house overlooking Puffin Point. White clapboard and stunning views.”

  “That’s the one. My invitation includes a guest.” He paused, feeling like a man poised to dive off the high board into deep water. “Come with me, Frankie.”

  Her cup hit the saucer with a clatter. “You’re not serious.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “For a start because it’s a wedding, and you know how much I hate weddings, and second, because it’s Puffin Island. You’ve put together my two least favorite things and expect me to say yes?” Her coffee sat untouched in front of her. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me. My face is on every Wanted poster in town.” Her words made his chest ache, as did the thought of how bad it must have been for her. A small community could be supportive or suffocating, but either way there was no escaping. No hiding. No anonymity.

  There was no doubt that the local population had an obsession with what their neighbors were doing, and he knew some people hated that element of island living. Matt didn’t feel that way. People were people wherever you lived. He enjoyed living as part of a community. The way he saw it, give-and-take made the world a better place. He tried to make her see it that way, too.

  “We’d have fun, Frankie. A weekend away from crazy, insane New York. We could breathe sea air, walk in the forest, eat ice cream, browse in Ryan’s wife-to-be’s new gift store.”

  The candle between them flickered and for a moment he saw a wistful look in her eyes.

  Then she shook her head.

  “And we could play that really fun game called ‘Avoid Frankie.’ That’s the one where the locals cross the street so they don’t have to come face-to-face with me. If you haven’t already played it, then you should. It was an island-wide activity at one point.”

  Knowing the islanders as he did, he found that hard to believe. It was true that everyone knew what was happening to everyone and that strangers were often treated with suspicion, but on the whole he’d found the people to be kind and supportive. She was painting an image he didn’t recognize. “That wouldn’t happen.”

  “Not to you, maybe. I’m not going back to the island. That part of my life is over. Finished. In the past.”

  “If you won’t go back, then it’s not over or finished.”

  “You and I both know islanders have long memories.”

  “I do know. David Warren still reminds me of the time I stole hay from his field for Paige’s rabbit because I couldn’t be bothered to walk to the pet shop. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t give me a warm welcome when I’m home.”

  “That’s you!” Her exasperated tone was layered with notes of panic. “I haven’t been back to Puffin Island since I left for college. Why would I?”

  Even though his sister had told him the same thing, it still shocked him to hear it. “Because you were raised there. It was your home until you were eighteen.”

  “I don’t think of it as home.”

  “But you do think of it.” He knew she did and he suspected she thought of it more than she would admit.

  “The place has nothing but bad memories for me.”

  “So how about we try and put some better ones in their place?”

  “Maybe we’d just pick up a whole new set of bad ones to add to the bucket load I already have.”

  “That wouldn’t happen. I’d be with you the whole time.”

  Her brows rose. “Will you be riding your white charger and carrying a sword? Just clarifying, so that I recognize you. I don’t believe in fairy tales. I happen to know Prince Charming doesn’t exist. And just so that we’re clear, I don’t believe in true love, happy-ever-after, or any of that crap, either.”

  “As long as you still believe in Santa, we’re good.” His reward for lightening the tone was a begrudging smile.

  “Him, I believe in.”

  “That’s a relief. I was beginning to think we had nothing in common. Come with me, Frankie.” He spoke softly. “Put that ghost behind you. Move on.”

  “It wouldn’t be moving on. It would be going back.”

  “Everything moves on. Even Puffin Island. And sometimes you have to go back to move forward. There is no reason for you to stay away.”

  “My mother was responsible for breaking up at least one marriage on that island. Alicia and Sam Becket. It was a hideous time.”

  Matt had heard plenty of rumors about the Beckets’ unconventional marriage but he decided this wasn’t the time to mention it.

  “Even if that’s true—and plenty would argue that you can’t break something sturdy—you are not your mother. You are not responsible for how she chooses to live her life. You’re not responsible now, and you weren’t responsible then.” He wished he could make her see that.

  “Maybe you’re right and it would do me good to go back because I’ve built the place up into this horror island that Lucas Blade could very well put in one of his books, but part of me is—”

  “Scared?”

  “No! I’m not scared. I’m not that pathetic.” She gave him a furious look and then her shoulders drooped. “All right, I’m scared. Turns out I am that pathetic.”

  “You’re not pathetic. You had a bad time and it’s left bad memories. We all tend to avoid things that bring us down.”

  “What do you avoid?”

  He finished his coffee. “I’m not good with hospitals. After all those visits with Paige—” He paused, fielding the images that rushed at him. “I walk through the door, smell that hospital smell, see medical staff with serious faces and white-faced relatives sipping disgusting coffee out of flimsy cups and I’m right back there, feeling the tension and seeing my parents’ attempt to cover up their anxiety. I can’t bear people talking about health and hospitals. I shut down. Close off.”

  Sympathy darkened her eyes. “Those were bad times.”

  “My point is that we all have things we’d rather avoid, Frankie. It doesn’t make us pathetic, it makes us human.”

  “Well, I’m superhuman, and I’m not going. You’d have to drug me and tie me to the plane. I’ll look at your photos, I’ll talk about your apple orchard, but I’m not setting foot on Puffin Island.” She picked up her coffee and took a sip.

  He watched her. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  He didn’t try and persuade her.

  He’d planted a seed. Now he was going to let it grow. She was a coward. Not only because she was afraid to set foot on the island again, although that was definitely part of it, but also because she knew that going to the island with Matt would mean taking their relationship to the next level. And then it would end.

  She didn’t want it to end.

  Tonight was the most fun she could remember having, but underneath the laughter and the conversation had been a seam of shivery tension and excitement that made her breathless.

  She could almost have believed in happy endings, except she knew better.

  Frankie sat in the cab, watching glittering, nighttime New York slide past outside the windows like a glamorous movie set.

  It was late, but the streets were as crowded as they were in the middle of the day.

  She could have been people-watching, or thinking about Puffin Island and all the things Matt had said, but all she could think about was him. The powerful length of his thigh close to hers but n
ot quite touching, the width of his shoulders against the back of the seat.

  The physical awareness was intense and unfamiliar. She didn’t understand how she could feel this way. He’d taken her hand a couple of times in the park while they were walking, that was all. But she was fast discovering that sexual awareness was rooted in more than just touch. It could be triggered by a smile, a word or a look, like the one he’d given her over dinner that had made her feel as if she was the only woman in the restaurant.

  And she realized that the most deliciously arousing thing of all was how well he knew her.

  It was as if he could see inside to all the parts of her she kept hidden. It should have felt scary, but instead it gave her a warm, excited buzz as if all the energy she usually directed into hiding who she was had suddenly been redirected.

  She stole a glance at him and he turned his head and gave her a half smile. It was as if he understood everything she was thinking.

  There had been a moment in the park where she’d been convinced he was going to kiss her, and then another moment on the bridge while the sun was setting. She’d almost gone up in flames with want and need, and when he hadn’t kissed her she’d been torn between relief that they’d postponed the moment when he was going to discover she was terribly bad at sex and frustration because she’d wanted him to kiss her so badly.

  And now the nerves were back because she had no idea what happened next.

  Her rulebook for relationships didn’t look like other people’s.

  Did she invite him in for coffee?

  Did she say good-night at the door?

  She worried all the way back and the worry intensified as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, the lights shimmering across the gunmetal surface of the East River.

  She paid the cab driver and walked to the door to her apartment, wishing she could calm the feelings in the pit of her stomach.

  Hand shaking, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys. “Tonight was fun.”

  She was as jumpy as a kangaroo on a trampoline.

  Matt reached out his hand and her heart danced in an excited rhythm. This time he was definitely going to kiss her. The chemistry was so powerful, even she could feel it and she waited, hardly daring to breathe, wanting it desperately and yet at the same time terrified because she knew that once he kissed her that would be it. He’d know. Anticipation danced across her nerve endings, sending a thousand volts of electricity through her body.