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Coming home to the man she's
always loved...
Once, Kate loved Gideon
from afar, but her feelings were not reutrned. Gideon was married, and had the
kind of family life that Kate knew she could never have. Distraught, she fled
the Isle of Wight, determined never to return.
Now, years later, Kate meets Gideon again. Life
has changed them both - Kate is still tortured by her rootless upbringing, while
Gideon is bringing up his two children alone. Kate craves to get close to him
again, as he does to her. But that will mean finding the courage to confront her
past... and find her future. Her reward could be fulfilling her lifelong wish:
having a family to belong to...
The wind tasted salty on her lips and the ice
cold rain pitted her cheeks. Kate Simmonds stared out at the slate grey sea and
felt her hair flick painfully around her face.
She was coming home.
Too late.
Aunt Babs was dead.
She lifted one shaking hand to push back her hair. A week ago everything had
been so different, or had seemed that way. Then there’d been time. She knew
she’d make the trip back home sometime – just not yet. She wasn’t ready. Even
now. And Aunt Babs had understood. She really had.
But now it was too late.
Kate leant against the metal bar of the upper ferry deck and looked out to sea.
An immense, grey vastness stretching out before her. It put everything into
perspective somehow. Made all her bitter angst seem rather unimportant and
petty. She should have made time.
Aunt Babs had given her a home. She’d taken an awkward, angry little ten year
old into her house and loved her as though she’d been her own. A foster mum in a
million. Kate knew she’d deserved more from her than the weekly phone call and
the occasional trip to London. It was just one more regret to add to the pile
she was accumulating in her life.
It must be almost six years since she’d made this trip. She’d not meant to stay
away so long. Six years! So much had changed in that time. She had changed. She
was barely recognisable from that twenty-two year old Katie. She’d passed
through Katie, Kay and Katherine before becoming Kate. Reinvented. Kate
Simmonds. Poised. Elegant. In control of her life.
If only that was true. Inside she still lived with the same cankerous
uncertainties and a desperate desire to belong. Still carried the scars of
rejection. And now, of course, there was something more. Something even deeper.
A more recent pain that seared like a branding iron. She pushed her hands deep
in the pockets of her long black coat and turned away from the overwhelming
greyness of the March sky.
Just a handful of tourists had ventured outside to eagerly watch the Isle of
Wight appear in the distance. They stood clustered together under a canopy of
clashing umbrellas. Dimly she was aware of a questioning glance directed at her,
then a half smile as though the elderly lady in the red anorak thought she might
know her.
Kate looked away. She didn’t. It was an illusion … like so much of her life. She
didn’t want the inane conversation she knew would follow. She wanted to be left
alone with her thoughts, however painful.
Abruptly Kate turned and walked back across the deck, pulling open the heavy
metal door. The high heels on her suede boots made the steep steps down
difficult and her black coat spread out behind her like a flowing cape.
Below the passenger lounge smelt of chips and stale cigarettes but it was good
to be out of the bitter wind. Kate shook out her hair and unwound her long burnt
orange scarf before joining the crocodile of people waiting in line for
something to drink.
“If you want coffee you’re in the wrong queue.”
Her head whipped up at the sound of a male voice and she stared up into the face
of Gideon … Manser.
His name fell effortlessly into place. She remembered him perfectly. His intense
blue eyes and angular features. The small indentation in the centre of his chin.
A man with more sex appeal than the average movie star … and the object of her
unrequited teenage fantasies.
“The machine’s broken down this side,” he said calmly, a faint smile pulling
lines in his strong cheeks.
Gideon Manser.
Instinctively her hand went to her hair; uncomfortably aware it hung damp and
limp about her face. She’d have known him anywhere. He hadn’t altered at all. Or
perhaps he had a little. He was slightly thinner. Tired looking. Slightly worn
at the edges. But he was still very sexy. Very sexy indeed.
“Thank you,” she managed.
She could remember, all too clearly, what a complete and utter fool she’d made
of herself when he’d first arrived on the island. At seventeen she’d thought he
was the most gorgeous thing to have ever walked the planet - and she couldn’t
have made it much plainer.
He was older than her. Much older. A top London chef who’d lived in France and
Italy. He’d had all the glamour and sophistication her young heart had craved.
Just thinking about how she’d behaved made her long to curl up in a ball and
howl with humiliation.
Strangely he didn’t seem so old to her now. With the magic of adulthood she
seemed to have caught him up. Kate straightened her shoulders. “It’s Gideon,
isn’t it?” Kate hesitated. “Gideon Manser? Do you remember me? I’m Kate. Kate
Simmonds? Well, I was always called Katie. You perhaps don’t remember me. I - ”
Shut up. Just shut up. Stop babbling on, she thought desperately. It would be
better if he didn’t remember her.
She bit down on her lip. He probably wouldn’t remember. Why should he? He hadn’t
been interested in her. They must have laughed at her – him and Laura. Or felt
sorry for her – which would be worse.
“Of course I remember you,” he said stretching out his hand.
Hell! She felt a flush mottle her neck as she stretched out her own hand.
“It would be difficult not to.” He smiled and his fingers wrapped around hers.
“Babs has … had,” he correctly swiftly, “photographs of you everywhere and
Debbie made sure everyone knew you were on the television now. Half the island
is fascinated by your reports from the States each week. You’re a celebrity. A
local girl made good.”
Kate looked down at her boots. “Oh, right.” She should have guessed she’d be a
minor celebrity on the Isle of Wight. Debbie had just loved it when she’d landed
the job as LA correspondent and started making weekly television reports.
Couldn’t hear enough of who was doing what and with whom.
And Aunt Babs had just been proud. The thought speared her with guilt. She
should have come back to the island before now. It would have meant so much to
the woman who’d changed her life so dramatically.
Gideon looked across at the other queue. “We’d better get in line or there won’t
be time to have a coffee.”
“I suppose not.”
She felt her stomach twist in a nervous flutter. Gideon Manser. Why did he have
this effect on her still? She was twenty eight years old, for heaven sake. Her
world was peopled with sexy men. She’d interviewed most of them. He wasn’t
anything special.
And yet …
She fiddled with the strap of her handbag. It was probably the place. It brought
back memories she hadn’t thought of in years. Rocked her off balance. Or maybe
Gideon was just a symbol of what she couldn’t have. Something else she couldn’t
have, she amended silently.
She looked back at him. His jacket collar was pulled up against the cold, his
jeans were dark and his hands were … well, they were beautiful.
He reached across for the tray. “Debbie said you’d be coming home for the
funeral.”
“Y-yes.”
“Was it difficult to get away?” Kate reached across for a tray of her own but he
stopped her, “Don’t bother, I’ll get these.”
“You don’t have to, I - ” She broke off and let her hand fall back. “Thank you.”
“So,” he turned to smile at her, “was it difficult?”
His smile was like a gateway to a time tunnel. She felt like she was shooting
back through the years at the speed of light. So many memories flashing by. The
kind that came up to bite you when you were least expecting it.
At seventeen she’d fantasized about what it would be like to kiss him. At night
she’d closed her eyes and pretended he was her pillow and imagined his voice
telling her how much he’d loved her. She pulled her gaze away from his lips,
embarrassed.
She’d been an idiot. It wasn’t surprising a man of twenty-six hadn’t been
interested in an adolescent seventeen.
“Did you find it difficult to get away for the funeral? Debbie thought you might
be too busy. Not be able to make it.”
Kate stuffed her hands down into the depths of her coat pockets. “Oh no.”
“No?” he repeated.
He seemed to be watching her critically. Probably wondering why she couldn’t
have visited Aunt Babs and Debbie more often if it were so simple.
On the surface she’d just packed her bags and left without a backward glance.
Only a few, very special people knew why. And they wouldn’t have told a soul.
“How long are you staying for?” he asked.
“Until Wednesday. Not long. I’ve got to get back to London …” The line moved
forward and Kate reached for a china cup. It was good to have something sensible
to do with her hands. She rested it on the metal grid and pushed the ‘coffee
white decaf’ button.
“Not going back to the States immediately then?”
“No.” She put a cup down on a saucer and made an effort to relax. “And how are
you?” She watched his strong hands go through the same procedure as she’d done.
“Good.” He hesitated. “You heard about Laura I suppose?”
Her stomach did a somersault as the floor appeared to disappear beneath her
feet. Damn it! She had heard.
With crushing clarity she remembered Debbie’s tearful phone call. The shock of
hearing that Laura was dead. How could she have been so thoughtless? “Yes, I - ”
“She died.”
“Y-yes, I know. I’m so sorry.” She pulled her hand through her hair. “I meant to
write at the time but …” she trailed off weakly.
But … she’d been busy with her own trauma. Her own grief had been so intense
when Richard left that she’d struggled to believe anyone could be hurting as
much as she was. She’d had no compassion left for anyone but herself.
Not even Debbie who’d been distraught at having lost her friend. With a pang she
realised she’d scarcely given Gideon a thought.
She looked up at his face. His pain was there. Etched on his face. In his eyes.
And there was nothing she could really say to help him. How did you even begin
to say something sensible to a man who’d lost a wife he’d loved?
From "A Family to Belong To" by Natasha Oakley
Harlequin Romance January 2006
ISBN: 037303878X
Copyright: © Natasha Oakley
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. The
edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance
information surf to:
http://www.eHarlequin.com
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Amazon
4 1/2 STARS
Romantic Times
“...
a deeply emotional, beautifully told story with a sigh-inducing yet still
realistic ending.”
5
STARS
CataRomance
“A Family to Belong To,
is without a shadow of a doubt one of the best books you’ll ever read! Warm,
emotional and heart wrenching, A Family To Belong To
cements Natasha Oakley’s position as one of the best writers of
contemporary romance writing today! ... With richly drawn characters,
powerfully intense emotions and heart stopping romance! Do not miss one of the
year’s best romances!”
Writers Unlimited
“Grab a tissue box before you sit down
to read A Family to Belong To. Natasha Oakley tugs on
your heartstrings throughout the book. Her characters battle their fears and
emotions, all the while discovering unexpected thoughts. You will want to give
them a hug and words of encouragement. Ms. Oakley has a winner with this
touching tale of friendship and love.”
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