She stared at their hands, wanting so desperately to turn hers over so she could weave her fingers through his and simply hold on. It felt so good to be consoled, and, God, how she missed being touched. Her grandparents had demonstrated their love with frequent hugs, kisses and pats to her cheek. Paul had run hot and cold with his displays of affection. When a dig was going well, he’d sometimes surprise her with an embrace. If not, days could pass without so much as a brush of fingers against her arm or a chaste peck on the cheek.
“Thank you,” she replied hoarsely. Maybe it was only because Dane was still holding her hand that she admitted, “I really miss them, especially Nonna. She was something else.”
“Nonna?”
His hand fell away and Ree took the seat opposite his at the table. “It’s Italian for grandmother.”
“Tell me about them?”
It came out a question and because he seemed genuinely interested, Ree did.
“Nonna and my grandfather came over from Naples just after the Second World War. My grandfather worked in an automobile factory in the Detroit area and my grandmother stayed home raising my mother. When my mother was a girl, they came north for a vacation and stayed at Peril Pointe. The people who owned it rented out rooms and my grandparents returned every summer after that. My grandfather decided to retire early and they used their savings to buy the house and move here.”
“Did they run it as a bed-and-breakfast, too?”
She shook her head. “No. I think they planned to. They took in guests here and there, and they loved meeting new people. But then my mom died and they wound up raising me.”
“They sound like incredible people.”
“They were. And very much in love.” She smiled at the memories that always warmed her. “When my grandfather was still alive, he and Nonna would go for a walk along the beach every evening in the summer. They always held hands.”
Ree had envied them that. Their grand, sweeping love affair had spanned more than five decades of marriage, while even the most tepid of emotions hadn’t been evident just a few short years after her and Paul’s wedding day.
“I can’t imagine that kind of love,” she murmured.
“My sisters seem to have found it,” Dane said thoughtfully after chewing a bite of sandwich.
“They’re both married?”
He nodded. “And Audra’s expecting her first baby in the fall. A girl. The doctor says she’ll arrive around Halloween, but if the kid is anything like Audra, she’ll be so stubborn she’ll hold out till Christmas.”
Interesting, but beneath the humor she thought he’d sounded almost wistful. And so she asked boldly, “What about you? Have you found that kind of love?”
Dane had spooned up a mouthful of soup as Ree spoke. Then he nearly choked on it as the name Julie Weston blasted into his brain with all the subtlety of a stick of dynamite detonating. It was the first time he’d thought of his girlfriend since arriving at Ree’s. He acknowledged that truth with a stab of guilt, followed swiftly by regret, because he knew that neither the knot on his head nor his near-death experience was the real reason she’d failed to show up on his mental radar.
Everyone kept telling him how perfect Julie was for him. After nearly three years of dating, he’d be the first to admit she was a fantastic woman: smart, funny, pretty in an understated sort of way. She cooked a mean beef stew, could carry on an intelligent conversation and was the ideal euchre partner, never reneging or failing to take a trick with trump. But too often he found himself wishing for a loner hand and thinking that something was missing.
One question haunted Dane: Was this all there was?
Ali had Luke. Audra had Seth. Both couples seemed to have hit the mother lode of happiness. They deserved their bliss. Dane didn’t begrudge them a moment of it. But as they feathered their new nests and made plans to start families, he felt envious, and maybe even a little empty.
He was thirty-five, settled and successful. During the past few months he’d begun to agree with Julie: Time was ticking away and they weren’t getting any younger. Yet marriage to her seemed utterly anticlimactic, an epilogue rather than an exciting new chapter in his life. He had enough respect for the institution that he didn’t think it should be that way.
“When are we going to make it official, Dane?” Julie had asked him the question that very afternoon. He’d had no answer for her when he’d left Trillium, so eager to escape that he’d foolishly headed out into a storm on the pretext of getting supplies that the resort hardly needed posthaste.
He glanced across the table at Regina Bellini. God help him, but he did have an answer for Julie now, and it wasn’t one she was going to like. But how could he make a lifetime commitment to one woman when in the space of a couple hours a virtual stranger had helped convinced him that would be a huge mistake?
Love at first sight? Nah. No way. But something was going on here. Something disturbing enough that it had caused him to forget completely the woman with whom he had been inching toward matrimony.
“Well?” Ree asked.
He blinked. “S-sorry?”
“I asked if you’ve managed to find that kind of love.”
The candle flickered briefly between them on the tabletop, the dim light making the room intimate as the revelation in his head slipped past his lips.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
They talked for another hour sitting in her homey kitchen. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the storm was moving off. Dane credited the food, the painkillers and a second glass of wine for the fact that he no longer felt so shaky and weak. He credited Regina for the fact that he was actually enjoying himself on what undoubtedly had been one of the worst nights of his life.
“Well…” Ree stood and began gathering up the dishes. After depositing them in the sink, she said, “You’re probably getting tired.”
“Not especially. I’m a bit of a night owl,” he admitted. “Besides, I read somewhere that people who take a blow to the head shouldn’t go to sleep—at least not alone. Something about the possibility of lapsing into a coma.”
He couldn’t resist flirting with her and he enjoyed immensely watching one side of her mouth quirk up.
“I think that’s an old wives’ tale,” she replied dryly, but she settled back onto the chair opposite his.
She didn’t rise again for another two hours. By then, they both were yawning.
“I’ll show you to your room,” she told him as she blew out the candle and flipped on the flashlight.
Dane pulled the afghan more securely around his midsection and stood. Even though he felt steady on his feet, he didn’t object when she drew near to assist him.
For the past couple hours they had talked companionably about everything from the right way to eat French fries—doused in mustard rather than catsup—to whether the Detroit Lions would ever manage a winning season. Neither would bet on it. Beneath the newly established camaraderie, awareness had simmered. Now, as he walked with her through the quiet house, that awareness returned to a rolling boil.
“I think you’ll be most comfortable in here. This is the only one of the seven bedrooms located on the main floor.”
Ree opened the door and Dane knew right away that it was hers. The light bewitching floral scent had him inhaling deeply. In the dim light he eyed the big four-poster bed with its fluffy down comforter and then cleared his throat.
“This is your room.”
“Yes.”
“Where will you be sleeping?” It came as quite a surprise to realize he was holding his breath after he asked