Free What the Waves Bring by Barbara Delinsky

me in suspense …”
    â€œOh, Heath,” she burst out beseechingly. “You really
don’t want to hear all this. It’s very boring and self-indulgent.”
    He reached out a hand to touch her cheek, then withdrew it before it arrived. His expression was soft but unfathomable. “I do want to hear. Please. And, you never can tell, at any time, something you say may hit a familiar note!”
    As she considered the possibility, her eyes sought strength in the firm lines of his face. “Your bruise looks a little better,” she commented, impulsively touching her fingertips to the purple flesh in a motion that completed, with tenderness, that which Heath had begun. When he closed his fingers around hers, her heart skipped a beat. His look held a warning; instantly, she drew her hand back, as though touched by fire. “Sorry,” she murmured hesitantly, “where was I?”
    â€œYour men.”
    A poignant smile gentled her features. “Yes, my men. I’ve dated some dashing ones in my time.”
    â€œAnyone special?”
    Her brows met and her eyes clouded with pain for a fleeting moment before she regained control. In that moment, Heath saw her emotion and his gaze grew more sharp. But April was no longer looking at him. Rather, she studied the bareness of her pale and slender fingers, their finely shaped and conditioned nails.
    â€œThere was someone,” she began with a sigh. “His name was Shane Michaels. You may even have heard of him—” Her eyes darted quickly up, then back. “No, you won’t remember. He is a prominent news broadcaster in the New York area.”
    â€œAnd your relationship … ?”
    â€œ … was pretty heavy for a while there.” She paused, shaking her head slowly, her hair sliding around her downcast face. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this—”

    His fingers caught her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “Perhaps because you need to tell me, just as I need to know.” He elaborated on his meaning with the acuity of his gaze. In an instant, April knew he was right. Even had he not asked, she would have wanted him to know. Nodding in acquiescence, she inhaled deeply. Heath dropped his fingers to let her continue.
    â€œShane was—is—a compelling character. He arrived on the New York scene several years ago. Our social circles crossed and we hit it off from the start. I was working by that time, so it didn’t matter to me that so much of his time was taken with his work. He was a charming companion. I … fancied myself … in love with him.”
    Embarrassed once more by the extent of her naivete, April looked away. In the final analysis, more of the pain she suffered came from this self-reproach than from the loss of a love that had been only superficial.
    The silence was disturbed but occasionally by the crack of the fire in the hearth. Suddenly, in April’s mind, the affair seemed truly over, a memory from her past, irrelevant to her present life.
    â€œWhat happened?” His voice was soft in its urging.
    She shrugged. “I found him in bed one day with a close friend of mine.” At Heath’s low moan, she raised her eyes. “That’s one of the reasons why I resisted you, Heath. If there is a woman out there”—her arm made a wide, sweeping gesture—“waiting for you, I’d hate to cause her more pain than she’s already suffered.”
    For what seemed an eternity, neither of them spoke. It was, finally, his deep male voice that broke the stillness. “And if there is no other woman, April … ?”
    Her breath caught at his words, her heart pounding as the rougher texture of his man’s hand stroked the far side of her face, turning her toward him. The tears that gathered in dark, glistening crescents just within the bounds of her lower lashes bewildered her, as did the blurred image
of