Tell Me Your Secrets...

“Then I’m good at what I do?”

He glanced down at me. “You have a knack with people, and you have a lot of plans for expanding McKenzie Enterprises. The older man standing behind James’s wheelchair is Doc Carter. He’s widowed now, and he has a house within walking distance on the estate. He’s been the family doctor ever since I can remember.”

Doc Carter hadn’t been in Pepper’s report so I studied him now. He was medium height with a portly build and he wore wire-framed glasses. His mustache and the hair he had left were white. And when he threw back his head and laughed at something James said, he reminded me a bit of Santa Claus.

“James trusts him implicitly,” Sloan was saying.

Who wouldn’t trust Santa Claus, I thought.

“He and your mother traveled the year she was carrying you, and they took Doc Carter and his wife along. Lucky thing because you arrived a month early, and he had to make all the arrangements in a hospital in Switzerland.”

As Sloan’s words sank in, I very nearly stumbled. “I was born in Switzerland?”

“Yes. You were about a month old when they brought you back.”

My head was spinning. Was it possible that Cameron had been passed off as James’s biological daughter? Didn’t anyone here know that Cameron was adopted? Then I did stumble.

“Are you all right?” Sloan asked.

“Yes,” I lied. My mind had jumped ahead to another explanation. What if Cameron hadn’t been adopted? What if she and I were both James McKenzie’s daughters—only I had been given up for adoption?

And that was ridiculous. My imagination really did run wild at times. Pepper had discovered adoption papers for both of us. Still…it would make a great story line for Secrets.

But this new information did leave open the possibility that no one besides James knew that Cameron was adopted.

“The woman to James’s left is—”

“Is my Aunt Beatrice,” I finished for him. The Snow Queen. “I met her when I arrived this morning.”

Tonight, she wore a powdery-blue dress, outdated in its design. The filmy material flowed around her and I was once more reminded of a Tennessee Williams heroine—fragile, lovely, but clinging to a bygone day. But when she took my hand, I discovered her grip was surprisingly hard, and I recalled my earlier impression that she had strength that didn’t appear on the surface.

“Welcome back, Cameron.” Beatrice’s voice was as ethereal as her appearance, and once more I couldn’t read anything in her expression.

“Isn’t it about time you paid your old father some attention, gal?” When I turned, James took my free hand and tugged it. With a smile, I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“James has told us what happened to you,” Jane Radcliff said. “It must have been horrible to wake up in a strange place and not know who you are.”

I met her eyes and smiled. Of all the strangers I’d met since I’d walked into the room, I sensed that she was sincere.

“Odd to think that you don’t remember us,” her husband, Sandy, said. “You’re the reason that we decided to join forces with McKenzie Enterprises.”

“She’ll be up to speed in no time,” James assured them.

“It’s a miracle that she’s back with us,” Doc Carter commented. “Memory loss, even the kind that’s caused by sudden trauma, can last for a long time. You look none the worse for wear,” Doc Carter said. “But James wants me to see you tomorrow and check you out for myself.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Doc Carter continued. “It’ll set James’s mind at ease.”

“Fine,” I reluctantly agreed.

“The Bolands are late as usual,” James said. “Sloan, while we’re waiting, why don’t you take Cameron for a stroll in the gardens? Maybe something there will trigger a memory.”

I glanced at Sloan. “I’m sure he’d rather stay here.”

“Nonsense,” James declared. “He’s wanted to get you alone since he brought you here. Beatrice and I can hold down the fort until dinner is served. Go.” He shooed us with his hands. “You’ve been away from each other for over a month. You need some time alone together.”

7

SLOAN TOOK MY HAND and led me through the nearest set of French doors. Once we’d crossed the terrace and started down the short flight of stairs to the garden, I asked, “Does my father always order people around like that?”

“Yeah.”

I shot him a sideways glance. “You don’t impress me as a man who’s easily ordered around.”

“I learned a long time ago to pick and choose my battles with James.” When we reached the bottom of the steps, he guided me along a flagstone path which wound its way through a garden that had been laid out with meticulous care. Flowers of every color and size bordered the path, and their scents floated on the early-evening air.

“There are times when I go to the mat with him.”

“Who wins?”

After a moment, he said, “Usually, I do. James is a smart man. He knows that when we disagree, there’s a good reason, and he listens to what I have to say.”

“Did he and Cameron butt heads often?”

He glanced at me then, and I could have sworn that there was a mocking glint in his eye.

“What?”

“It’s odd hearing you refer to yourself in the third person.”

He was sharp. I’d have to remember that. “I feel strange when I try to think of myself as Cameron McKenzie. It’s going to take some getting used to.”

Sloan steered me toward a wrought iron bench at the edge of the path. “We’ll take a longer stroll another night when your ankle’s had time to heal.”

I started to protest, but he merely said, “Sit.”

“You’re as bad as my father is.”

“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.” He smiled as he sat down beside me, and I found myself wanting to smile back. Though I wouldn’t call him charming, I was discovering that Sloan Campbell could be very disarming.

“Thank you for your help back there. It was…kind of you to fill me in on everyone.”

“No problem.”

I was very aware of the fact that Sloan had placed his arm along the back of the bench and that we were sitting close enough so that I could feel the heat of his body. As much to distract myself from that as out of curiosity, I asked, “Why was Dad so anxious to get us out of there?”

“The way I see it he’s trying to accomplish three things at once. First, he’s aware that tonight is a strain for you—meeting all these people that you don’t remember.”

His tone was neutral and he didn’t look at me, but I sensed that he wasn’t quite buying that yet.

“He’s also showing the family and a select group of business associates that everything is back to normal on the McKenzie ranch. Cameron has returned, and the engagement is right back on track.”

“The engagement? You mean ours?” I could hear a thread of panic in my voice.

Sloan shifted that intent gaze of his to mine and studied me for a moment. “Yes, our engagement. James’s health has deteriorated in the past year. His heart attack last winter gave everyone a scare, and his arthritis is causing him to use his wheelchair more frequently.”

“But the engagement is not back on track. Not really. I don’t remember you.”

“Enter Doc Carter. He’s here tonight to assure everyone that he’s going to work with you on recovering your memory. I imagine James will be emphasizing that while we’re out here. By morning, the Lakewoods and the Bolands will be spreading the word to others.”

I thought about it for a minute. “You said Dad was trying to accomplish three things at once. He doesn’t want the evening to be too stressful for me, and he wants to reassure business associates. What’s the third reason?”

“I suspect he’s doing a bit of matchmaking.”

I frowned at him. “Hasn’t he already done that? We’re engaged.”

“But you don’t remember me. James is providing us, not too subtly, with an opportunity to get reacquainted, Red. He’s a master at manipulating people.”

I was once more aware of how close we were on the bench. I could smell him above the scent of the flowers—soap and sun and something more elemental and very male.

I had to clear my throat. “And you’re willing to go along with that even though you don’t trust me?”

He raised his hand and touched the ends of my hair. “I told you the jury’s still out on the trust issue. Has anyone ever told you that you have honest eyes?”

“No.” I barely got the word out. Every cell in my body was aware of his fingers as he tucked the strand of hair he held behind my ear. He was so close now that I could see his eyes were darker. They didn’t remind me so much of fog as of the kind of dark-colored smoke that shoots up from a fire, and I found myself wondering what it would be like if he really touched me. I imagined the brush of those fingertips and the press of that hard palm against my shoulder, my arms, my…

I managed to clamp down on the images moving through my mind, but I couldn’t prevent the arousal that started deep and spread as quickly as the ripples a stone would cause when it was tossed into a pond.