The Homecoming

Her host was definitely a hottie. He looked like a young god from a Greek story, with his golden hair and blue, blue eyes. And his build did nothing to detract from the image. He was tall, with wide shoulders that tapered to a slender waist and strong thighs that showed beneath the khaki shorts he wore today with a white sport shirt that hugged his chest, hinting at even more hard, muscled flesh.

She wasn’t looking for a man, but if she were, she’d look twice at him.

Then she stopped with her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She’d just remembered something! She was single, she was sure of it. Not even a fiancé or a boyfriend. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did.

Then she saw Danny’s face and she immediately set her new knowledge aside. “What’s wrong?”

Danny resumed his seat opposite her at the lovely glass-topped table beneath the umbrella. He sighed. “My brother called with some good news. At least, it’s sort of good news.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Well, that explains why you look as if your last friend in the world just died.”

Danny looked at her strangely. “Actually, it’s the very opposite of that.”

She was intrigued by the statement, and by the air of melancholy that surrounded the handsome man. She’d noticed even through yesterday’s somewhat muddled impressions that Danny rarely smiled. The corners of his mouth turned up a little when something amused him, but his expressions were nearly all variations on a sober theme. What could make a man look like that?

“I’m sorry,” Danny was saying. “You have enough to worry about. How’s your head feeling?”

But she wasn’t going to abandon his moment of sharing, regardless of whether he regretted it. Danny needed someone to talk to, she was certain. It would be a small thing to do in return for what he’d done for her. “My head’s fine,” she said firmly. “Tell me what you meant about your friend.”

Danny hesitated. One long finger traced the rim of his saucer over and over in a gesture she doubted he even knew he was making. “When I was six years old,” he said at last, “my best friend was abducted. A man took him right out of my front yard.”

She was horrified both by the revelation and by what he hadn’t said. “Did you see it happen?” she asked carefully.

He nodded.

“Oh, dear heaven.” Without thinking she reached out and placed her hand atop his. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked surprised as his gaze locked on her face. “Thank you,” he said. “It was a tough thing to go through.”

“I can’t imagine,” she responded. When he didn’t speak, she prompted, “You said you had some good news.”

He nodded. “Apparently, my friend has been found alive. He was living under another name.”

“Wow.” Realizing she was still holding his hand, she released him and tried unobtrusively to draw her own hand back across the table. “That is good news.”

“Yes, but he’s been accused of being involved in a kidnapping ring.”

She shook her head, speechless. Every time he revealed something new, she was sure her mouth was hanging open. “Well,” she finally said, “I can see why you aren’t sure it’s good news. Does his family know?”

“Trent didn’t say. But I’m sure they must. That’s part of what’s so awful. They held a funeral for him—or at least for a child they thought was him—years ago. And the kidnapping ring has been targeting an adoption and fertility clinic called Children’s Connection, which his parents, the Logans, have supported in a big way.”

Children’s Connection. The name hit her like a bolt from a clear blue sky. She must have made some sound or expression of shock, because Danny leaned forward, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Children’s Connection is in Portland. Attached to the hospital.”

This time he was the one who took her hand in a strong grip. “That’s right! You remember that? What else?”

“I—I’m not from Portland, I’m from Washington state. But I moved to Portland several years ago.” She felt as if she were swimming underwater with her eyes open, seeing things with the blurred vision the water produced. “And I’m Sydney, Sydney…Aston!” she said triumphantly.

Danny was squeezing her hand tightly and she turned her fingers up without thinking and laced them through his. “That’s terrific,” he said. “You’re remembering.”

He didn’t sound entirely surprised, and she paused in the middle of the returning memories to glance at him. “You knew already, didn’t you?”

“Only your name,” he said. “I didn’t know you lived in Portland. That’s interesting. My family is from Portland.”

“Crosby,” she said, her eyes widening. “You’re one of the Crosby Systems Crosbys?”

“Yeah.” His lips curved upward in that intriguing little smile. “I guess I am.”

“How weird is that, that I should be rescued by someone from my own city?” She shook her head. “How did you know my name, anyway?”

“When I called the police to report finding you, your hotel had reported a woman of your description missing. But the doctor didn’t think I should prompt you.”

“The Marriott,” she said promptly. “So they know I’m all right?” Then something else floated to the surface of her mind. “Good heavens, I’ve got to call my mother. She’ll be frantic, not hearing from me in two days. She’s keeping my son. I have a son! Nicholas.” She smiled crookedly, feeling tears rise. “I can’t believe I forgot him. He’s five and he’s wonderful and I miss him so much.”

Danny carefully withdrew his hand from hers and stood. “I’m glad you’re remembering,” he said. “I’ll go call the doctor and let him know.” He turned and started across the terrace toward the house.

“This is a wonderful day!” she said exuberantly. “Lots of good news.”

Danny paused for a moment, turning to look at her. “Yes,” he said, “lots of good news.” But his expression was odd—remote, as if he were no longer involved in their conversation but merely a disinterested observer.

Her euphoria dropped a notch as he left the lanai. Sipping her juice, she thought back over their conversation. When she’d begun to tell him what she remembered, he disappeared. What had happened to cause that reaction? He’d withdrawn as surely as if he’d pulled a curtain down between them.

Leilani, the housekeeper who’d been so kind to her, came out to the table with a covered dish, which she set on a trivet with a conch-shell beside Sydney’s plate. “Macadamia-nut pancakes, eggs Benedict and fresh pineapple,” she said, whipping the shiny cover off with a flourish. “Guaranteed to put some meat on your skinny little bones.”

Sydney forced a laugh, though her thoughts were still on Danny. “Thank you,” she said. “Sounds delicious.”

“Where Danny go?” Leilani asked, looking around.

Sydney shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Leilani made a plainly disgruntled sound beneath her breath. “Dat boy,” she said, “need something to distract him from his troubles. But if he won’t stick around and talk to you, how he gonna distract himself?”

Before Sydney could ask what she meant by that cryptic comment, the housekeeper had vanished, leaving her to eat her breakfast on the beautiful patio overlooking the ocean. From here she could see the green hills and red cliffs of Kauai, the island from which she’d come, and the marvelous blue shades of the water between.

What a beautiful spot to call your home. Of course, it was extremely isolated, which would never do for someone with children. Children needed other children to play with, places to go, things to see and try.

Suddenly, a reason for Danny’s withdrawal occurred to her. Perhaps he thought she was married. He hadn’t seemed to back away until she’d mentioned her son, she recalled. Could that be why? There was no denying that she found her host extremely attractive, and when he’d looked into her eyes she’d thought that perhaps he felt the same way.

It might have been nice to get to know him better.

Then she laughed at herself. And how do you propose to do that, Sydney Leigh Ashton? The man lives on a remote Hawaiian island and you live in Portland.

Thinking of Portland reminded her again of Nick. She hastened to finish her breakfast so she could call her mother in Washington and tell her that she wouldn’t be home tomorrow as she’d originally planned.

But she wouldn’t tell her mother about the boating accident or what had possessed her to try to sail alone from Kauai to Nanilani. Or that she couldn’t really remember much about Nicholas yet. She had the sense that there was something important, something urgent, that she still needed to recall, but it eluded her as surely as her name had eluded her for more than a day.

Oh, well. She finished her breakfast and gathered the dishes to carry inside so Leilani wouldn’t have to make an extra trip out to get them. She’d just have to trust that it would come back, as everything else seemed to have.

And hope it was nothing terrible she was forgetting.

Three

S ydney called her mother, who confessed she’d been getting worried. It wasn’t like Sydney to go so long without calling, and she hadn’t answered the phone in her hotel room.

After reassuring her mother, she spoke briefly to Nick. His grandfather had taken her son out on his tractor, and he was full of excited chatter about the big event. When she told him she’d probably be away a few more days, he didn’t even protest. And although she sort of wished he missed her a little more, she knew that his easy acceptance was a good sign of a well-adjusted child. Given the nightmares he’d had off and on over the years—a recurrent dream in which someone was trying to steal him from her—she was particularly thankful.

Afterward, feeling ridiculously fatigued, she returned to the lovely room Leilani had put her in and took a nap.

She woke before noon, stretching and wincing when she began to move. Her shoulders, she’d noticed, were stiff and sore, presumably from something to do with the boat she’d been in or from swimming to shore. The ugly knot on her right temple was sore, too, as she’d discovered the hard way when she’d been washing her hair in the shower earlier.

As she rose from the bed, Leilani knocked quietly on the partially open door. “How you feelin’ now, little miss?”

Sydney smiled. “Much better, thank you. I feel silly sleeping in the middle of the day. Usually it’s my son who nods off.”

“You have a son?”

At Sydney’s nod, Leilani said, “How old?”

“He’s five and a half.”

The housekeeper’s eyes widened. “The same age as Mr. Danny’s little boy.”

“Danny has a son, too? He hasn’t mentioned him to me.” She was too surprised to resist the urge to gossip, though she knew it was rude.

Leilani’s expressive face was suddenly so sad that Sydney was alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Danny’s son kidnapped four years ago. Never been found.”

“Dear heaven.” Knees weak, Sydney reached for the edge of the mattress as she sank back down. “How old?”

“He was a year old when he was taken. He’d be five now, same as your little boy.”

A shiver ran down Sydney’s spine, making her shudder. “How awful.”

“It is.” Leilani shook her head sadly, then cleared her throat. “I didn’t come up here to make you sad. I came to tell you lunch will be ready in about half an hour.”

After Leilani had left the room, Sydney sat for a long moment on the edge of the bed. No wonder Danny had gotten quiet this morning. She had inadvertently reminded him of his pain, she was sure.

She couldn’t even imagine what she’d do if something happened to Nick. His big blue eyes, the silky feel of his flyaway dark curls beneath her hand, the warmth of his small body snuggled against her when they read their nightly story… She could practically feel him in her arms right now and her throat grew tight. She missed him so much!

She wondered if his father— His father? A panicked sensation caught at her throat and tensed her muscles. She couldn’t remember his father! Something was knocking at the closed doors of her consciousness, taunting her, but she simply couldn’t bring it into focus. But it had something to do with her son, she was sure.

Why couldn’t she remember his father? Her clasped hands clenched so tightly her knuckles went white. It wasn’t just the man she couldn’t recall. There was absolutely nothing in her memory about Nick’s birth. Or about the husband she must have had at the time. Was it possible she’d borne a child out of wedlock? She might have a head injury but she was pretty sure her moral values hadn’t changed that much. Her instinctive recoil at the thought of giving a child the stigma of illegitimacy told her that it was highly unlikely she’d done so.

Thinking back over her conversation with her mother, she reflected that her mother had said nothing about her child’s father. Was it possible there wasn’t one in the picture? If that were true, where had he gone and why was she raising a child alone? Had he died? Surely she’d know it if he were dead.

She waited for some feeling, some sense of truth or falsehood to strike, but finally she had to admit that she had no idea, none at all, what the story of her son’s father might be.

Darn it all! She’d had a few short moments of euphoria when she’d remembered her name and Nick and her family. She simply hadn’t taken a complete mental inventory to see what else she might have lost that hadn’t returned. She was so frustrated she could feel tears rising, and the weakness only made her angry, which made her cry even more.

Then she glanced at the clock and squeaked in alarm. Lunch was going to be served in a few moments. She didn’t want to insult Leilani or her host by appearing rude or indifferent to their exceptional goodwill. Springing to her feet, she rushed into the adjoining bathroom and splashed cold water over her face. Quickly she ran a brush through her shoulder-length brown hair, then headed for the terrace where Leilani had served breakfast.

Sydney rushed through the French doors onto the lanai breathlessly, saying “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Danny turned from the edge of the flagstones, where he’d been standing studying the ocean. “Lunch hasn’t been served yet.”

Sydney made a nervous gesture, then caught herself and clasped her hands before her. The small movement made him wonder what she was so nervous about. “What have you been doing this morning?” he asked.

She smiled at that, a wry expression that made her lovely blue eyes twinkle. “I was busy napping. Breakfast wore me out.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I think I must have been swimming before I hit the rock.” She indicated her temple, where a striking blue-and-purple bruise had formed. “My shoulders are sore and my arms feel like two bags of concrete.”

“Your boat hasn’t washed up,” he said. “Are you a strong swimmer?”

“I thought I was,” she said. “I grew up swimming in a river with some pretty strong currents. But the current of Kauai’s beaches was a shock the first day I got here.”

He nodded. “There are a few places where it’s protected and safe to swim. But there also are a lot of beaches that are too dangerous for swimmers. You should check at your hotel before going in the water.”

Sydney smiled again. “Too late.” Then the smile faded. “Although I might have asked. I don’t remember. I don’t remember getting a boat, either. I just have a vague impression of waves—one really big one—swamping a small boat I was in, and of swimming.”

“Rogue wave,” he told her. “It’s not uncommon here for the surf to be unpredictable. An unusually large wave can come out of nowhere without any warning.”

Leilani came onto the patio then with lunch, which she served beneath the same large umbrella where they’d eaten breakfast.

“This looks wonderful,” Sydney told her. “What are these dishes?”

“Seared ahi with a mustard-soy sauce,” Leilani said, “macadamia-nut wontons stuffed with brie, sea-vegetable salad and for dessert, Kilohana mud pie with mocha ice cream.”

“Ahi is just tuna,” Danny told her. “And she stole the recipe for the mud pie from her cousin who works at Gaylord’s over on Kauai.”

The housekeeper sniffed. “It was my idea first. She’s the one who copied. But I don’t mind. It’s a compliment to know that my cooking is so in demand.”

Danny couldn’t entirely suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. “I bet you’re making her pay you royalties on that recipe.”

“Ha. What you know?” Leilani gave him her best menacing glare before turning and heading back into the house.

Sydney was staring at him. “Is she really mad at you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. She sharpens her tongue on me all the time. It’s a good day when I can pay her back a little.”

Sydney smiled at him as he stepped forward and held her chair. “She and her husband are sort of like family to you, aren’t they?”

Family. The word actually hurt. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing as he took his seat. But when he glanced at her, Sydney looked stricken.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “That was thoughtless of me. Leilani told me about your son.”

He nodded curtly. “Apology accepted.”

There was a strained silence as they passed the food. Sydney shook out a huge snowy white napkin and placed it over the short pink shirt and skirt set Leilani had given her that morning. The outfit was one that a granddaughter had left behind and it bared her pale, slender midriff and nicely toned arms.

Danny cleared his throat as she cut into her tuna. “If you’d like to tell me about your son, it’s all right.”

As olive branches went, he thought that was quite a large limb. Apparently she agreed, because she looked across the table at him. “He’s just a typical little boy.” Then she frowned. “Except for his family structure.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted, frustration coloring her tone. “I thought I’d remembered everything but this morning I realized I can’t recall anything about Nick’s father. Nothing! It’s like I found my baby under a toadstool or something.”

“You mean you don’t remember…” There was no way to put it delicately so he didn’t finish the sentence.

A blush that matched her top flooded into her cheeks. “No. But it’s odd. I don’t feel as if I’ve ever been married, but I also don’t think I’m the kind of woman who’d conceive a child without being in a committed relationship.” She stumbled over her explanation a little, but plowed on. “I really don’t have an idea what kind of person I am! I could have a much more colorful history than I think I do.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes while he digested all that she’d told him.

“Have you asked anyone who knew you before?” he said at last. “About what you were like before this?” He didn’t think she seemed like a woman who’d sleep around, either. She had the genteel, restrained manner of one who’d been raised a lady. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and he’d bet she hadn’t worn one any time in the recent past, because her ring finger was smooth and unmarred by any paler skin or slight groove from a ring.

“I talked to my mother briefly this morning,” she told him, “but I didn’t want to alarm her so I didn’t tell her exactly what had happened. Also, I didn’t realize until just a little while ago that there are still some gaps in my memory.” Her voice rose in agitation. “Right now, all I want to do is go home and see Nicholas.”

“I imagine you do,” he said in an effort to calm her, “but it’s only been a little more than a day since I found you. Eddie said you need to give yourself a couple of days to relax without any stress.”

“It’s stressful being away from my son,” she said in an aggrieved tone. Then she seemed to realize what she had said. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was much more subdued. “That’s about as insensitive as I could get.” She looked down at her plate.

“It’s all right.” He reached across the table and tapped the back of her hand gently. “I’m sure your son is in excellent hands with your mother. As for your memory lapse, why don’t you try not to think about it for the rest of the day?”

Her wide brow wrinkled. “It’s hard not to, when I’m just sitting around thinking, thinking, thinking all the time.”

“Now, that I can help with.” He withdrew his hand when he realized he was still lingering, tracing a finger over her soft, satiny skin. “After lunch, I’ll take you down to the beach. It’s beautiful. Then again, we’re in Hawaii. Everything is beautiful.”

“In its own way?” she asked immediately, the twinkle in her eye clueing him in to the fact that she was mimicking the words to an old tune.

He shook his head, groaning. “I’ll only take you if you promise not to do that again.”

Sydney smiled, and the small dimple in her left cheek winked at him. “I won’t—if you don’t give me the opportunity. My mother says I have a song for every occasion.”

“My wife was like that,” he said before he could stop himself.

She went still. “I didn’t realize you’d been married.” She made a face. “I guess I just didn’t think about it or I’d have assumed you were.”

“She’s dead,” he said before she could ask. “After Noah—my son—was kidnapped, she had a terrible struggle with depression. A year later she just couldn’t deal with it anymore.”

“She took her own life?” Sydney’s eyes were soft and compassionate. “Oh, Danny, I’m so sorry. You’ve had some awful moments, haven’t you?”

You don’t know the half of it, he wanted to say. But he’d already talked too much about his problems. “If you’re finished there,” he pointed to her empty plate, “we can go down to the beach. Leilani’s family has left every imaginable type of clothing here. I’m sure there’s a bathing suit somewhere that will fit you.”

“I’m not so certain I want to go swimming again,” she said, and he could tell she was only half kidding.

“I wouldn’t let you,” he said seriously. “It’s not safe to swim in the ocean at most of the beaches on Nanilani.”

“Why?”

“Riptides that flow out through breaks in the reefs, really strong undertow, high surf a lot of the time—you name it. But I’ll show you some of the island’s prettiest beaches and most unusual features.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, “but I’m not sure I’m up to hiking yet.”

“You won’t have to.” He stood and came around to pull back her chair. “We use ATVs to get around the island.”

While she went in search of a bathing suit, Danny brought one of the all-terrain vehicles around to the front of the house. It had a double seat to accommodate two passengers, and he put beach towels, water bottles, hats and sunscreen in the attached storage compartment. He also added reef shoes in sizes that he thought might fit her in case she wanted to walk in the water.

A few minutes later Sydney came out the door. She was wearing a sleeveless white T-shirt dress with armholes that drooped nearly to the waist, allowing him a glimpse of a powder-blue bikini beneath.

She climbed on the bike behind him, and Danny suddenly realized how intimate their excursion was going to be. “You’ll have to put your arms around my waist and hang on,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m going to try to go slow and avoid the bumps so your head doesn’t start to hurt again.”

He climbed on the bike and waited for her to settle in behind him. His heart was racing and his body was far too aware of her slim frame as she got onto the bike. When her slender thighs were spread wide on either side of his and her hands gingerly clasped his waist, he thought he might expire with pleasure right on the spot.

He hadn’t thought much about women since Felicia’s death. He’d been functioning on autopilot for the first year or so after her suicide, but even in the three years after that, he hadn’t cared about meeting anyone. He’d assumed his sex drive had died with Felicia.

But judging from the adrenaline rushing through his system now as he put the vehicle into gear and Sydney’s small hands tightened around his waist, he’d been wrong in a big way.

Hell. Sydney was pretty, agreeable and sweet, and he hadn’t been around a woman in ages. There was no more to his physical reaction than that.