Nights in Rodanthe - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,37

ladder above her, those eyes that always reflected what he was thinking and feeling. Standing in the pouring rain, she felt the pull of the person he was, and the person she realized she wanted to be.

By the time he finished, his sweatshirt and jacket were soaked and his face had paled with the cold. After storing the ladder and the tools beneath the house, he joined Adrienne on the porch. She’d run her hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face. The soft curls were gone, and so was any evidence of makeup. In their place was a natural beauty, and despite the heavy jacket she was wearing, Paul could sense the warm, feminine body beneath it.

It was then, as they were standing under the overhang, that the storm unleashed its full fury. A long, streaking lightning bolt connected sea to sky, and thunder echoed as if two cars had collided on the highway. The wind gusted, bending the limbs of trees in a single direction. Rain blew sideways, as if trying to defy gravity.

For a moment they simply watched, knowing that another minute in the rain wouldn’t matter. And then, finally giving in to the possibility of what might come next, they turned and headed back into the house without a word.

Twelve

Wet and cold, they each went to their rooms. Paul slipped out of his clothes and turned on the faucet, waiting until the steam was billowing from behind the curtain before he hopped into the shower. It took a few minutes for his body to warm up, and though he lingered far longer than usual and got dressed slowly, Adrienne hadn’t reappeared by the time he went back downstairs.

With the windows covered, the house was dark, and Paul turned on the light in the sitting room before heading to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. The rain beat furiously on the hurricane guards, making the house echo with vibration. Thunder rolled continuously, sounding both close and far away at the same time, like sounds in a busy train station. Paul brought the cup of coffee back to the sitting room. Even with the lamp turned on, the blackened windows made it feel as though evening had settled in, and he moved toward the fireplace.

Paul opened the damper and added three logs, stacking them to allow for airflow, then threw in some kindling. He nosed around for the matches and found them in a wooden box on the mantel. The odor of sulfur hung in the air when he struck the first match.

The kindling was dry and caught quickly; soon he heard a sound like the crinkling of paper as the logs began to catch. Within a few minutes the oak was giving off heat, and Paul moved the rocker closer, stretching his feet toward the fire.

It was comfortable, he thought, getting up from his chair, but not quite right. He crossed the room and turned off the light.

He smiled. Better, he thought. A lot better.

In her room, Adrienne was taking her time. After they’d reentered the house, she’d decided to take Jean’s advice and began filling the tub. Even when she turned off the faucet and slipped in, she could hear water running through the pipes and knew that Paul was still upstairs showering. There was something sensual in that realization, and she let the feeling wash over her.

Two days ago, she couldn’t have imagined this sort of thing happening to her. Nor could she have imagined that she’d be feeling this way about anyone, let alone someone she’d just met. Her life didn’t allow for such things, not lately, anyway. It was easy to blame the kids or tell herself that her responsibilities didn’t leave enough time for something like this, but that wasn’t completely true. It also had to do with who she’d become in the aftermath of her divorce.

Yes, she felt betrayed and angry at Jack; everyone could understand those things. But being left for someone else carried other implications, and as much as she tried not to dwell on them, there were times when she couldn’t help it. Jack had rejected her, he’d rejected the life they had lived together; it was a devastating blow to her as a wife and mother, but also as a woman. Even if, as he’d claimed, he hadn’t planned on falling in love with Linda and that it had just happened, it wasn’t as if he simply rode the wave of emotions without making