Rekindled by Barbara Delinsky Read Free Book Online

remembered. It had been warm that night. The crescent moon had been brilliant, repeated in the white smile that split Ross’s dark beard when he looked down at her.
    “You’re a vision, Chloe,” he whispered, sharing her fascination. “Are you real?”
    “I’m real,” she whispered back and was suddenly, uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
    But further words were unnecessary. The guest house where Ross was staying was on a far corner of the estate. He took her there, pausing along the way to kiss her, to assure her with a protective embrace that he wouldn’t hurt her, and he hadn’t. He had been a masterful lover, so very gentle undressing her, so very subtle baring his potentially frightening body, so very patient as he coaxed her to heights of desire, then tender when he took her virginity. When tenderness gave way to driving passion, she rose with him, reveling in an ecstasy she had never known before.
    Ross’s lovemaking had been a magical experience. She would always cherish it.
    She stirred in the tub, suspended between the world of memories and the present. In a final indulgence, she submerged her hand and touched the skin Ross had touched, traced the curves he had traced. Thoughts of him were fresh and near. She sighed in delight.
    Then her back slipped on the porcelain. With a jerk, she sat up, but not before her hair got wet. Hissing her annoyance, she reached for a towel to wrap around her head, then soaped herself quickly and climbed out. A lovely trip into the past had ended in frustration. Satisfaction would not be forthcoming. Nor would there be a respite from the guilt she still felt.
    For the guilt was only in part related to the act of loving Ross. Its other part was Crystal. Crystal-her twin. Crystal-her alter ego. Crystal-who had never known that same joy, but should have, should have at least once before her death such a short time later.
    The long ponytail bobbed against her neck as Chloe jogged on the beach. Indian summer had come to Rhode Island, bringing bright sun and a heat that was unusual for mid-October. She wasn’t about to complain, though. All too soon her daily run would require a sweat suit, hat, and gloves. Now she delighted in the freedom of shorts and tank top, which allowed her arms and legs to breathe. The sweat that dotted her brow trickled across her temple and down along her hairline. It glistened on her skin, adding glow.
    It had been two weeks since she had seen Ross Stephenson, two weeks since his presence had stunned her. He had a way of doing that, she mused, as she dodged a piece of driftwood that had washed up on the beach. The slap of her sneakers on the wet sand evened out.
    Eleven years before, Ross had scored a coup, conquering her mind and body within hours. Their encounter two weeks ago had been under vastly different circumstances, but it was nearly as devastating.
    The physical attraction between them hadn’t diminished. If anything, it was more awesome than before, if her recollection of that kiss in the Wayward Sailor’s kitchen was correct. He had to have known how he would affect her, which made his disappearance the next morning all the more unforgivable.
    Chloe hadn’t known what to expect-whether Ross would wake her or meet her downstairs for breakfast. She had assumed that, at the very least, he would drive her back to her car. But a maid had awakened her at seven, putting a pot of fresh coffee and a plate of sweet rolls on the small stand by her bed before scurrying back out, and when Chloe reached the front desk, she learned that Ross had already checked out.
    She was immediately disappointed, then annoyed with herself It was better this way. She was too vulnerable, if the previous night’s kiss meant anything. Ross made her feel beautiful things, things she didn’t deserve.
    She was alive. That was enough. She reasoned that it was far better that he should be gone from her life.
    When the day manager had handed her Ross’s note, though, she