Tell Me Your Secrets...

I drew in a deep breath and let it out, wishing I could just as easily get rid of the heat that was flooding through me. I reminded myself of my mission. James might have had his agenda for sending Sloan and me into the garden, but he’d also given me an opportunity that I couldn’t afford to ignore. “Why did I run away?”

Sloan studied me for a minute.

“Or why do you think I ran away?”

“The usual reason. You needed time to think.”

“About what? Was I having second thoughts about the wedding?”

“Perhaps.”

I couldn’t read anything in his expression. He was still playing with the ends of my hair.

“Were you worried that I’d change my mind?”

“No. The whole wedding thing was your idea. You proposed to me.”

That was news. “Dad said we argued the night before I went away. What about?”

Once again, he hesitated for just a beat. “If I told you, you’d only have my version. I think you should wait until you get your memory back.”

Once again, I caught something in his eyes—just a hint of mockery. “You don’t think I really lost my memory, do you?”

“The thought has crossed my mind that you’re faking it.” He hadn’t dropped his hand from my hair, and he seemed to be even closer. I had to struggle to keep my voice steady. “Why do you think that Cameron—that I would come back here faking memory loss?”

“It all goes back to why you ran away in the first place. As I said, my best guess was that you were having second thoughts about the wedding. You needed some time alone to think, so you took off. The memory loss story gives you a chance to come back without having to admit that you ran away. You always hated to admit you were wrong, or worse still, make a fool of yourself.”

The fact that he could believe my sister capable of such duplicity intrigued me. Might I have tried the same kind of masquerade in her situation? Then it occurred to me. Wasn’t the impersonation I was engaged in just as daring? Perhaps Cameron and I weren’t as different as I’d originally thought.

“Would I really do something like that?”

“Oh, yes. You like to play games, and you always like to win.”

As he continued to play with the ends of my hair, I realized that the bigger question was why would any woman be having second thoughts about marrying a man like Sloan Campbell? Or was I just blinded by the fact that I was so attracted to him?

“You know me very well then?”

“I’ve known you pretty much all your life. I was born and raised here. My mother died when I was a baby. My father had the same job that I do now—he was James’s right-hand man running the stables and training horses. They were best friends until my father ran away with James’s first wife, Sarah.”

Pepper had written briefly about this story in her report, but it was different hearing it from Sloan. I found my heart going out to the little boy. I reached out and took his hand. “How old were you?”

“Two. But you needn’t feel sorry for me. James never harbored any resentment against me. He took me in and raised me as if I were his own. He remarried two years later, and you were born two years after that.”

I did the math quickly in my head. Sloan was about six years older than I was. That made him thirty-one.

“What happened? Did your father ever contact you?”

Sloan shook his head. “James hired a P.I. to trace them, but he wasn’t successful. My guess is that he wasn’t much interested in tracking them down. I hired a P.I. five years ago to look into it, but the trail was cold by then.”

I continued to study him. There was so much I wanted to know. I wanted to ask him why he’d left the ranch five years ago, but I wouldn’t have any way of knowing about that. The memory loss thing was tricky—especially with someone who thought I might be faking it.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Sloan said.

When I didn’t immediately answer, he ran the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ll share mine for free. I’ve been thinking of how soft your mouth is.”

His gesture and the words had my mouth trembling, and I felt a flare of something deep inside me that was raw and stunning. He was going to kiss me.

I should have said something. There were so many reasons for not kissing Sloan again, I could have made a list. But right now I couldn’t seem to summon up even one reason, not while his breath whispered over my skin, not while those dark eyes were looking into mine.

The alarm bells ringing in my mind warned me to move away, but my body was no longer taking orders from my brain. Or perhaps my brain was no longer capable of giving any intelligent kind of orders. Bottom line, I wanted Sloan to kiss me again.

But he wasn’t moving. He was waiting for me.

Just one more time, I told myself. Didn’t I have a right to know if it would be as intense an experience as the first time? My curiosity would be satisfied and then I would move on. That was the problem with forbidden fruit—one taste was just never enough. I leaned forward.

The first brush of his lips against mine was light, exactly as it had been before. And not exactly what I wanted. Still, I felt the soft caress right down to my toes. All of my senses were immediately heightened. I felt the firmness of his hand, those strong fingers moving up and down on the nape of my neck while his thumb rested at the hollow of my throat. A mix of anticipation and longing moved through me. I could hear my pulse hammer, feel it beat in a frantic rhythm against his thumb.

His mouth brushed over my lips, slowly, as if he wanted to commit them to memory. The movement was so lazy, so mesmerizing. I’d never been so aware of a man before, never experienced this kind of intensity in a man’s touch. I wanted to simply melt into him.

As if he could read my mind, he put his arm around me and drew me close until every hard angle and plane of his body was pressed against mine. Then I was melting. I felt parts of myself slipping away. I tried to say his name, but all I heard was a sound, part sigh, part moan. He took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit it sharply, then used his tongue to soothe the ache. Explosions of pleasure shot through me, as he drew my lip into his mouth and sucked hard on it. Desire twisted tight in my center.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, and as if he were waiting for that particular response, Sloan finally pressed his mouth fully to mine. I knew the sensation of instant fire—I couldn’t tell whether it came from me or him or both of us. But in that moment it was clear this man could make me want more, demand more than I ever had before.

My tongue met his, seeking, searching. His mouth was…paradise. The rich, dark taste of him was so enticing, so absorbing, I could have explored it forever. Jolts of hot pleasure coursed through me, and I needed more. I felt his muscles so hard beneath my palms, and the sound he made deep in his throat told me he was feeling at least something of what I was. I pressed myself against him, felt his arms tighten around me.

Passion had never tasted this ripe, this dark before.

Desire had never been so sharp, so overpowering that it hurt.

I was so caught up in it, so lost in the moment and in the man that I wasn’t even aware when we were interrupted.

I just knew that Sloan drew away, and I nearly shivered at the abrupt loss of heat. He didn’t release his grip on me. If he had, I think I would have slid right off the bench. Instead, he settled my head against his shoulder, holding me as he spoke to whomever was standing behind me on the path.

“We’ll be right in.”

I heard the words, but it took my mind a few beats before I could make meaning out of them. We were being called into dinner. I had to get it together. More than that, I had to face Sloan. Gathering all my strength, I lifted my head from his shoulder and drew away.

I met his eyes, and he met mine. Neither of us spoke for a moment, and I wished that I could tell what he was thinking. What does one say to a man who’s just turned you into a puddle of lust? I was a writer. I should have had lots of words and phrases at my command, but what popped out of my mouth surprised me. “I can’t imagine why I would have run away from you.”

The look he gave me was enigmatic. “You don’t know me yet.”

A SHORT DISTANCE AWAY, a shadow silently moved among other shadows in the garden, watching as the man and woman rose and moved back toward the patio.

She was back. Just thinking the words had the anger building. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Everything had been going so smoothly. She’d been eliminated. Finally, justice had been accomplished.

But she was back. Fury erupted. Then ruthlessly the emotion was shoved down. Anger never solved anything. That had been a lesson learned at an early age.

Anger never changed what was. It wouldn’t change the fact that she’d returned. Speculating on how was a waste of time. The plan had been perfect…. But the only thing that mattered now was a new plan.

All that mattered was that she had to be eliminated…again. This time there would be no mistake. And then everything would be perfect.

8

I BARELY BIT BACK A SIGH as two servants carried in yet another set of platters from the kitchen. The dining room was every bit as cavernous as the main parlor had been. Three crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and we sat at a huge oak table that looked as if it had been used by Don Roberto Montega, the man who’d built the hacienda. There were small vases of flowers at intervals along the table.