“It’s nearly two o’clock,” he said, growing worried. “Where have you been?”

  “Downstairs in the bar.”

  That he could believe. From the slurring of her voice, she was more than a little tipsy.

  “I’ve been talking to Keith.”

  Gunner couldn’t help the flat tone that entered his voice. “What did he have to say?”

  “That sometimes, when your heart’s really committed to something, you have to go with it.”

  “Do I get to hear the rest of that conversation?”

  “No,” she said, but when she looked up at him, he could see that her eyes were filling with tears.

  He leaned against the doorjamb, watching her. “Do you cry every time you get drunk?”

  “How should I know?” she asked. “I never drink anymore. It gives me a headache.”

  “Why is tonight any different?”

  “I needed clarity.”

  He chuckled despite his concern. “Hell of a way to achieve it.”

  “I’ve been talking to Keith.”

  “You mentioned that.”

  “He’s a very nice man, a good friend.”

  Gunner’s jaw tightened. “Glad to hear it.”

  “He said some things are just meant to be and we have to face them squarely.”

  “Sounds like words to live by.”

  “Yeah.” A tear slipped past her lashes and ran down her cheek, and he couldn’t resist reaching over to wipe it away.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, softening when she closed her eyes at his touch. God, there was something about this woman that had gotten into his blood. They had absolutely nothing in common. He’d barely heard of quantum physics; she knew zilch about racing. She was serious and intense; he was always trying to rile somebody. She lived a celibate’s life; he felt more comfortable raising hell. They’d never be able to make a go of it. Yet she was the first thing, the only thing, to interest him since his mother had died and he’d lost his desire to race.

  She sniffed but didn’t answer.

  “What do you need, April?” he pressed, cupping her cheek.

  More tears pooled in her eyes as she looked up at him. “You.”

  * * *

  FOR A SPLIT SECOND, April felt as though she’d just dived off the edge of a cliff into total blackness. She’d done it. She’d opened her big mouth and confessed all. Next came the part where Gunner apologized and told her she was mistaken if she thought he wanted her to care about him. Just like Bill Sossaman.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, free-falling through space, picking up speed, plummeting faster and faster and faster toward—

  She never found out because suddenly Gunner was there, taking her into his arms and pulling her close. She felt him kiss the top of her head, heard him murmur that everything was going to be okay. Then he carried her to his bed, and she fell asleep with her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

  * * *

  APRIL WOKE UP in Gunner’s bed. Sometime in the middle of the night, he’d taken off her cover-up and the top of her bikini—or she’d done it herself. Her breasts were against his bare back, and she had one arm wrapped possessively around his waist as if she thought he might try to get away during the night. But he was still wearing his pajama pants, and she was still wearing the bottom of her swimsuit. Which meant she hadn’t missed too much.

  A good thing, she decided. If she and Gunner ever made love, she’d want to remember it.

  Sliding away from him, she started to get up to brush her teeth. It was her first time waking up in a man’s bed. She had to vanquish her margarita breath—even if it meant pirating his toothbrush. But the slightest movement made her head threaten to explode, so she shifted gingerly onto her back and tried to figure out how she could get hold of a bottle of Tylenol, and then a toothbrush, without having to move or wake Gunner.

  He rolled over a moment later and opened his eyes. “Hangover?” he asked, taking one look at her face, which she knew, from the way she felt, had to be ashen.

  “Tylenol,” she said.

  He chuckled at her one-word answer and called the front desk to request a bottle of painkillers and some soda water. Then he called room service and ordered a plate of steak and eggs and a stack of pancakes. “It’ll help if you eat something.”

  “Maybe you could do me a favor and just shoot me now.”

  “Want a massage?”

  “Is that how I lost my top?”

  “Don’t look at me,” he said with a shrug. “You took it off. You were practically begging me for more intimacy lessons.”

  “I was?”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, maybe I would. But you were drunk, and I was a total gentleman.” He let his fingers slide lightly over her stomach, raising goose bumps. “If you want, we could start advanced classes as soon as we get rid of your headache. I’d like to repeat yesterday morning’s get-naked experience—and have it end with a little less frustration.”

  April would have laughed, except the mention of “advanced lessons” had triggered a Bill Sossaman flashback. “Um…I’m afraid I have some bad news,” she said, finding some of that clarity she’d been searching for.

  He sat up, his expression guarded. “What kind of bad news?”

  “The kind you won’t like.”

  “Does anybody like bad news?”

  “This isn’t all bad,” she said.

  “Then give me the good news first.”

  “I care about you and I’m willing to trust you enough to risk my heart.”

  He seemed to think that over. “So what’s the bad news?”

  “I believe in waiting.”

  She could tell from the blankness in his eyes that he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “Waiting for what?”

  “You know…”

  Suddenly he straightened, and she knew her meaning had just registered. “For a ring?”

  She winced at his incredulous tone. “I know it sounds old-fashioned to want to see if a commitment develops before we make love, but…”

  “We’ve only known each other for a few weeks!”

  “Exactly. And you’re probably not the marrying kind. I’m honestly not pushing for anything you’re not ready to give. It’s just that, well, there are a few things I need in my own life, Gunner. And I’m simply not cut out for casual relationships. You might have noticed.”

  He didn’t answer. He was still looking shocked. And then the phone rang. Dragging his gaze away from her, he answered—and sagged against the headboard as if his morning had just gone from bad to worse. “Hi, Dad.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  APRIL LISTENED as Gunner talked to his father for a few minutes. The conversation sounded a bit formal for a father and son, but April didn’t have time to think about it. Her painkillers had arrived and room service came immediately afterward with breakfast. She ate wearing one of the fluffy robes provided by the hotel. But when she started to feel better, she began worrying about her own father, and his chest pains, and the fact that she’d been so preoccupied with breaking out of her thirty-year cocoon that she hadn’t focused much on Walt.

  She pulled on her bikini top and waved to get Gunner’s attention because he was still on the phone. “We have reservations to go deep-sea fishing with my parents today,” she said. “I’m going to visit my dad and check on my mother. I’ll see you in the lobby in two hours, okay?”

  He covered the mouthpiece as though he wanted to say something to stop her. They certainly hadn’t reached any agreement about how they might proceed with their relationship. But now obviously wasn’t a good time to discuss it. Instead of interrupting the call, Gunner nodded grudgingly, and she left.

  April wondered if she’d be giving too much away if she showed up at her father’s door wearing the same thing she’d had on last night. She considered going back to her room to change, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape again once she saw her mother. Besides, she’d never been much for pretense. Smoothing down her hair, she promised herself she’d have a nice hot shower soon, found her father’s room and knocked.

  “Who is it?” he called.

  “April.”

  April thought she heard voices inside, followed by movement. Then Walt finally called, “Just a minute,” and, after a prolonged silence, opened the door wearing a robe.

  April glanced beyond him, but didn’t see anyone else in the room or anything out of the ordinary.

  “Hi, honey,” he said. “How’d it go last night?”

  “Good.” She hugged him and was fairly sure she smelled perfume on his clothes. “Did you have Regina fly down or something?”

  His face reddened. “No, no, of course not.”

  “Then can I come in?”

  He stepped more squarely in front of her, as if he’d actually bar her way, and alarm bells went off in April’s head.

  “Actually, I was just about to take a shower,” he said. “Do you want to meet me for breakfast in an hour or so? You can—” he cleared his throat “—you can ask your mother to join us if you’d like.”

  Her mother! Of course. That was the scent April had smelled—it was her mother’s perfume! She recalled her father’s asking Claire to join them in the Jacuzzi, remembered leaving them alone afterward—and felt a moment’s terror. What had she been thinking? She wanted to get her parents back together. But a one-night stand wasn’t what she’d had in mind. If her father returned to Regina after something like this, it would push her mother over the edge.

  “Mom?” she called, absolutely positive that Claire was hiding in the bathroom.

  Her father winced. “Honey—”

  “Don’t ‘honey’ me,” she said. “Are you two fooling around? Because I can’t take any more of your emotional ups and downs.”

  Her mother finally came out of hiding—also wearing a robe. “I’m sorry April. The secrecy is my fault. I didn’t want you to know we were seeing each other because nothing’s been decided.”

  So now what?

  Walt was scowling, his customary expression. But when Claire caught his eye and smiled, April saw her father melt—which completely defused her anger despite what her mother had just said.

  “Want to join us for breakfast?” Claire asked.

  April looked from her mother to her father. “No, I had breakfast with Gunner. And I think you two could use the time alone. Just don’t—” she took a deep breath “—just be patient with each other, okay?”

  * * *

  GUNNER SAT ON HIS BED long after he’d hung up with his father, staring into space. Quincy Senior had talked to him for almost thirty minutes, but he hadn’t really said anything. He’d gone on and on about how the Murray town council was considering naming the new park after Gunner, and mentioned that they were thinking of putting up a statue of him—as if Gunner cared about that sort of thing. Then his father had talked about going ice fishing when Gunner came to visit and how he’d found the perfect fishing hole.

  Gunner had done his best to act interested, but he wasn’t sure how he’d get through the week he’d promised to spend with his father when he returned to New York.

  The telephone rang again, and this time Gunner welcomed the interruption. He didn’t want to think about his father, didn’t want to acknowledge that Quincy Senior had been trying for years now and Gunner was the one holding out…. “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  April. She wasn’t much easier to deal with than his father. Why couldn’t she simply fall into his bed and put an end to the desire that licked through his veins every time he saw her? She said she wasn’t cut out for casual relationships. Well, he wasn’t cut out for any other kind. He was good at fast and fleeting. He’d had lots of practice.

  “You all set for deep-sea fishing?” he asked.

  “Just about. How did it go with your father?”

  “Fine.”

  “When you were talking to him, you seemed a little tense.”

  He opened his mouth to dismiss his feelings, as he always did. He was mildly surprised she’d noticed the strain. But he shouldn’t have been. April was more sensitive than many other people and he knew he had to respect that by being honest with her, even when it was painful.

  “We’ve had some trouble connecting,” he admitted. “Especially since my mother died.”

  “She passed away just before you retired from racing, didn’t she?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Is that the reason?”

  His throat began to burn, but for the second time he fought the impulse to dodge her. “Yes. At that point, racing didn’t hold the same appeal for me.” But he hadn’t known where to focus his attention after that and it felt like he’d been wandering around lost ever since.

  “I’m sorry, Gunner.” April’s voice was soft and warm, completely sincere. “I can tell you were very close to her.”

  “She was—” Suddenly he wanted to talk but found it difficult to get the words out. He rarely spoke of his mother, hadn’t allowed himself to cry over her death. He didn’t feel he had any right to self-pity when his life had been so good. But now the loss felt new and raw, like a giant hole blown through his chest, and he couldn’t fight the tears that blurred his vision. “She was a good woman.”

  “She’ll never really be gone, Gunner, you know that, don’t you? Not as long as you carry her in your heart.”

  He closed his eyes, almost certain April had found her way into his heart, too. “I know.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go fishing today,” she said. “I’ll say I’m not feeling well, and we can lie around the beach for hours and make out. I’m pretty sure I need a refresher course.”

  He chuckled, feeling strange, different…more at peace somehow. “Don’t cancel the fishing. I’m fine.”

  “Want me to come to your room so we can talk? I can swing by the vending machine first.”

  “No. I need to call my father back. I’ll see you in the lobby in a little while.”

  * * *

  WALT GLANCED LONGINGLY at the array of foods at the breakfast buffet. Omelettes, Mexican entrées, waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, sausages, bacon, biscuits and gravy, cheese blintzes and more. It smelled like heaven. But he passed up all those fat-and cholesterol-laden foods and followed Claire to the fruit island, where he loaded up on watermelon, cantaloupe and grapes, adding only a poached egg to the fruit.

  She found them a small table in the corner, and he joined her a moment later.

  “You’re not having any of the Mexican food? Or an omelette?” she said, eyeing his plate as he sat down.

  He glanced at the short line in front of the omelette station but refused to weaken. “No.”

  “Why not? You love omelettes.”

  He loved sausage, too. But knowing he had open-heart surgery in a couple of weeks had a way of taking the fun out of a poor diet. “I’m trying to lose a few pounds,” he said, because he didn’t want to broach the subject of the triple bypass just yet. They had several more days in Cabo and plenty of other things to work through first.

  “You look good to me.” She smiled meaningfully, and he couldn’t help grinning in return because he knew she was referring to last night. He hadn’t been that excited in a long time. But it was more than the sexual high that had made the night unique. Being with Claire was somehow richer and more meaningful for the familiarity, trust and trials of the past thirty-three years.

  “I’m glad you came to Cabo,” he said, knowing he might never have realized the truth if she hadn’t.

  She accepted some freshly squeezed orange juice from the waitress, but her smile disappeared as she set her glass on the table. “I’m glad, too, Walt,” she said. “Last night was…extraordinary. Something I really wanted. But we should probably talk now, instead of pretending we can simply step back into our old lives. A lot has changed.”

  Did they have to talk? Walt didn’t want to face what might have changed a lot any more than he wanted to face that he could no longer risk clogging up his arteries.

  “I owe you an apology, Claire,” he said. “I know that.”

  “We’ve both been acting like fools.”

  “But it’s mostly my fault. I took you for granted over the years, got too caught up in the business.”

  “I’ve always been patient about the business.” She took a sip of her orange juice. “I want to hear what you have to say about Regina.”

  Walt couldn’t help wincing. How could he have betrayed Claire, when she’d been faithful to him for so long, when he owed her more than he did anyone else? “I won’t see her again, of course.”

  “That’s not enough, Walt.” Claire’s eyes remained steady. “I need some sort of explanation. What went wrong between us? Not knowing the answer to that question has been the toughest part of the past few months. You came home, told me you were in love with someone else, and moved out. You never even told me what I was doing wrong.”

  “Because you weren’t doing anything wrong.” Forced to deal with the issues he’d worked so hard to avoid, he sighed and shoved his plate away, although he hadn’t started eating. “Regina was…a diversion. Something different. Something to keep me from realizing—” he hesitated, embarrassed to admit the truth, even to Claire “—that I’m not as handsome as I used to be, that I’m not as strong as I used to be—”

  “You’re not the only one who’s getting old,” she broke in. “We’ve been together for thirty-three years. I’m in the same boat.”

  “I know.” He shook his head. “You want this to make sense, Claire, but it doesn’t. Even to me. I can’t explain what was going on in my head. I guess I just didn’t appreciate what I already had. And Regina was there, flattering me, building my ego. I suddenly felt as though I needed what she was offering.”

  She studied her hands, which she’d clasped in her lap. “And after you left?” she said softly, looking up at him again. “Was life any better?”

  He admired her clear, direct gaze and the loveliness of her face. Maybe she had a few wrinkles she hadn’t had when they were newlyweds, but he still found her beautiful. Still loved her, despite everything he’d said and done. “No. I wouldn’t admit it, even to myself. But on some level I knew I’d thrown away everything that really mattered to me.”