Enticed by His Forgotten Lover (5 page)

Six

“T
his reminds me of the nights we spent at my house,” Bryony said as she forked another bite of the seafood into her mouth.

He paused, fork halfway to his own mouth, resigned to hearing more about his uncharacteristic behavior. But she said nothing and resumed eating, her gaze downcast, almost as if she knew how ill at ease he was.

But his curiosity was also piqued because, damn it,
something
had happened between them and she was the only key he had to recover the missing pieces of his memory.

He forced himself to sound only mildly inquisitive. “What did we do?”

A faraway look entered her eyes and she stared toward the window at the night sky. “We used to sit cross-legged on the deck and eat the dinner I’d cooked. Then I’d lay my head in your lap and you’d stroke my hair while we listened to the ocean and watched the stars.”

Her voice lowered, catching on a husky note. “Then we’d go inside and make love. Sometimes we didn’t make it to the bedroom. Sometimes we did.”

The dreamy quality of her voice affected him fiercely. His body ached and he hardened at the images she provoked. It was suddenly very easy for him to see her spread out before him, his mouth on her skin, her fingers clinging to him as he brought them both pleasure.

He shook his head when he realized he was staring and that he was so tense that his muscles had locked. Part of him wanted to just get it over with. Take her to bed, have sex with her until they both forgot their names. His body was eager enough, but his mind was calling him a damn fool.

And she’d likely think it was some damn experiment after he’d basically admitted earlier that his kiss had been nothing more than that.

An experiment.

He wanted to laugh. Could he call desire so keen that his eyes had crossed when he’d looked at her an experiment?

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, they had compelling—uncontrollable—chemistry. Maybe he’d gotten so wrapped up in her that he’d lost all common sense. Maybe he’d made her rash promises in the heat of the moment. If her out rage was anything to go on, he at least hadn’t been stupid enough to sign anything.

He needed her cooperation. He needed this deal. He had too many investors committed. Money had exchanged hands. Construction was on a tight deadline, and the last thing he needed was her making noises over him reneging on a deal.

She’d lifted her gaze and was now studying him so intently that he found her scrutiny uncomfortable. He studied her in return, finding himself mesmerized by her dark eyes. The delicate lines of her face called to him. He wanted to trace his fingers over her cheekbone and down to her jaw and then over the softness of her lips.

Had this been the way he’d felt when he’d first seen her? Logic told him it had to have been. How could his reaction now have been any different than the first time he’d laid eyes on her?

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked in a low voice.

“Maybe I find you beautiful.”

Her reaction wasn’t what he expected. She lifted her nose in scorn and shook her head.

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“What I said was that you aren’t my
normal
type.”

Her lips twisted. “That isn’t what you said. To quote you exactly, you said, ‘You aren’t my type.’ That pretty much tells me you don’t find me remotely appealing.”

“I don’t care what I said,” he growled. “What I meant was that you aren’t the type of woman I normally…date.”

“Have sex with?” she asked mockingly. “Because we did, you know. We had lots and lots of sex. You were insatiable. In fact, unless you are the best damn actor in the world and can fake, not only an erection, but an orgasm as well, I’d say you’re either lying now about me not being your type, or you’re not terribly discerning when it comes to the women you sleep with.”

He’d just been insulted but he was so distracted by the sparks shooting from her eyes and how damn gorgeous she looked when she got sassy that he couldn’t formulate a response.

“See, the problem is, a woman can get away with faking sexual attraction,” she continued. “We can pretend all manner of things. Men? It’s kind of hard to pretend attraction to a woman if your penis isn’t cooperating.”

“Holy hell,” he muttered. “I think we’ve established that it’s pretty damn obvious I’m sexually attracted to you. Whatever I may have thought in the past about my preferences in women obviously doesn’t apply to you.”

“So then you’re willing to concede that you slept with me and that the child I’m carrying is yours?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m willing to concede it’s possible, but I’m not stupid enough to believe it’s absolutely true until either I regain my memory, or we have DNA testing done.”

Her top lip curled a moment and it looked as if she wanted to light into him again, but instead, she took a calming breath. “As long as you’re willing to accept the possibility, I can work with that,” she muttered.

“Were you always this…charming with me when we spent all this time together?”

She lifted one eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I tend to like my women a little more…”

“Stupid?” she challenged.

He scowled.

“Weak? Mousy? Unchallenging?” she continued. “Or maybe you prefer them to simply nod and say ‘yes, sir’ to your every whim.”

She broke off in disgust and regarded him as if he were some annoying bug she was about to squash.

He finally decided remaining silent was his best option so he didn’t dig his hole any deeper.

She laid down her fork and raised her haunted gaze to his. He was surprised to see tears shimmering in her eyes, and his throat knotted. Damn. He hadn’t wanted to upset her again. He wasn’t
that
big of a jerk.

“Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?” she asked in a quiet, strained voice. “Do you know how difficult it is for me to see you again and not touch you or hug you or kiss you? I came here expecting to confront a man who scammed me in the worst possible way. I had resigned myself to it and there was nothing I wanted more than to wash my hands of you. But then you tell me this story about losing your memory and what am I supposed to do then? Now I have to consider that maybe you didn’t lie to me, but I’m scared to death of believing that and then being wrong. Again. I have to put everything on hold until you regain your memory, and that sucks because I just don’t know how to feel anymore.”

He stared at her, frozen, an uncomfortable sensation coiling in his chest.

“I can’t exactly walk away. It’s what I accused you of and there’s a part of me that thinks, ‘What if he’s telling the truth? What if he regains his memory tomorrow and remembers he loves you? What if it’s all some horrible misunderstanding and we have a chance to get back what we had on the island?’”

She shoved her plate away and looked down as she visibly tried to collect herself.

“But what if I was right?” she whispered. “What if me sticking around hoping makes me an even bigger fool than falling for your lies to begin with? I have a child to consider now.”

Before he could think twice about what he should say or do, he found himself reaching for her. It was impossible not to want to touch her, to offer her comfort. The pain in her expression was too real. Her eyes were clouded with moisture and hurt shimmered in their depths.

He pulled her into his arms and leaned back against the couch. For a moment she lay there stiffly, so still that he wondered if she held her breath.

He inhaled the scent of her hair and felt keen disappointment that it stirred nothing to life in his memories. Wasn’t smell supposed to be the most powerful memory trigger?

Gradually she relaxed against him, her fingers curling into his chest as her cheek rested on his shoulder.

He dropped his mouth to the top of her head and stopped himself a moment before brushing his lips across her hair. It seemed the most natural thing to do and yet he knew tenderness wasn’t a usual characteristic. It seemed too personal. Too intimate.

But the need to show her a more gentle side of himself was a physical ache.

“I’m sorry,” he said truthfully. He had no love for seeing this woman hurt. He didn’t like to see anyone needlessly suffer. The fact that he was the source of her pain made him extremely uncomfortable.

“Just let me stay here a minute and pretend,” she said. “Just don’t say…anything.”

He carefully laid his hand over her dark curls and did as she asked. He sat there, her head on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around her, his hand wrapped in her hair, and silence descended on them.

But the silence felt awkward to him, as if he should fill the gaps. Or ask questions. Something…

He glanced down at the soft curls splayed out over his chest. He could just feel the swell of her belly against his side.

Was this his reality? And if it was, why wasn’t he running as hard as he could in the other direction?

It wasn’t as if he was commitment-phobic. Okay, maybe a little, but it wasn’t as if he’d endured some trauma in the past that made him leery of women. Nor was he some patsy who was afraid of allowing a woman to hurt him.

He hadn’t ever committed because… Well, he wasn’t entirely certain. Men in relationships lacked a certain amount of control. They could no longer make solo decisions, and Rafael was used to making decisions in a split second—without conferring with someone else.

It wasn’t a fluke that he owned his own business, not to mention had a partnership with three of his friends. His work took a lot of time. Time he wouldn’t have if he had to worry about being home every night for dinner.

He liked being able to jet off at a moment’s notice. He looked forward to business meetings—considered them a challenge. While he didn’t have a lot of downtime, he did enjoy taking it at his leisure. He met Ryan, Devon and Cam at least once a year for golf, lots of alcohol and other pursuits only available to men who were not otherwise involved in a relationship.

Simply put, he’d never met a woman who made him want to give up all that. He damn sure couldn’t imagine meeting her and giving up his life in a matter of four weeks. That kind of decision would have to be made over the course of years. Maybe never.

But on the other hand.

There was always a
but.

As he stared down at the woman curled trustingly in his arms, something pulled at him. Some desire he hadn’t ever acknowledged, one that would normally have horrified him—
should
horrify him.

He found himself wishing he could remember all the things she’d described to him, because all of a sudden, they sounded appealing.

And if that didn’t scare the hell out of him, he wasn’t sure what would.

Seven

“R
afael! Rafael! Wake up! Hurry!”

Rafael came awake with a start, his arms flying out as he pushed himself up from his bed. Bryony stood at his bedside, fully dressed, hopping around like her feet were on fire.

He threw his feet over the side and leaned forward. “What is it? Is it the baby? Are you hurt?”

She frowned a moment, shook her head and then grinned like a maniac. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.

“Then what the hell are you shouting about?” He glanced over at his bedside clock. “For God’s sake, it’s early!”

“It’s snowing!”

She grabbed at his hand and started to pull. The covers fell away from his hips and they both went still. Her gaze dropped about the time his did and it was then he remembered he hadn’t worn anything to bed, and worse, his penis was making its presence known in a not very subtle way.

He yanked the covers back over him as she stepped hastily back, pulling her sweater around her like a protective barrier. Hell, it wasn’t as if he was bursting into
her
room trying to maul her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll just go down by myself.”

She turned and he scrambled out of bed, pulling the sheet with him.

“Wait a minute,” he ordered. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

Her eyes came alive again, brimming with excitement. The sparkle was infectious.

“Outside, of course! It’s snowing!”

He glanced toward his window but he was too bleary-eyed to make sense of the weather. “Haven’t you ever seen snow before?”

She shook her head.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded this time. “I live on an island off the Texas coast. We don’t exactly get snow there, you know.”

“But you’ve been off the island. Haven’t you ever been anywhere it snowed before?”

She shrugged. “I don’t leave much. Mamaw needs me. I go to Galveston to do our shopping, but I do a lot of it online.”

He saw her cast sidelong glances at the window as if she were afraid the snow would disappear at any moment. Then he sighed. “Give me five minutes to get dressed and I’ll go down with you.”

Her smile lit up the entire room and he was left with the feeling that someone had just punched him in the stomach. She nearly danced from his bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Slowly he dropped the sheet to the floor and stared down at his groin. “Traitor,” he muttered.

He went into the bathroom, splashed water on his face and surveyed his unshaven jaw with a grimace. He never left his apartment without looking his best. There wasn’t time for even a shower. The lunatic was probably already outside dancing in the snow.

He brushed his teeth and then went to his closet to pull out a pair of slacks and a sweater. He realized that since she’d never seen snow, she’d hardly be dressed for it, so he pulled a scarf and a cap from the top shelf.

Any of his jackets or coats would swallow her whole so he’d simply have to limit her snow gazing to a short period of time.

After donning his overcoat, he walked out of his bedroom to find Bryony glued to the window in the living room. Big flakes spiraled downward and her smile was like a child’s at Christmas.

“Here,” he said gruffly. “If you’re going to go out, you need warmer things.”

She turned and stared at the scarf and cap he held out and then reached for them, but he waved her hand off and looped the scarf around her neck himself, pulling her closer.

“You probably don’t even know how to put one on,” he muttered.

After wrapping the scarf around her neck, he arranged the cap over her curls and stepped back. She looked…damn cute.

Before he could do something idiotic, he turned and gestured toward the door. “Your snow awaits.”

Bryony walked into the small courtyard that adjoined the apartment building, surprised that it was empty. How could everyone just stay inside on such a beautiful day? As soon as one of the flakes landed on her nose, she turned her face up and laughed as more drifted onto her cheeks and clung to her lashes.

She held out her hands and turned in a circle. Oh, it was marvelous and so pretty. There was just a light dusting on the patio surface, but along the fence railing and the edges of the stone planters, there was enough accumulation for her to scoop into a ball.

She scraped her hands together until she had a sizeable amount of snow and then she turned to grin at Rafael. He regarded her warily and then held up his hand in warning.

“Don’t even think…”

Before he could finish, she let fly and he barely had time to blink before the snowball exploded in his face.

“…about it,” he finished as ice slid down his cheek.

He glared at her but she giggled and hastily formed another snowball.

“Oh, hell no,” Rafael growled.

As she turned to hurl it in his direction, a snowball hit the side of her face and melting ice slid down her neck, eliciting a shiver.

“I see you couldn’t resist,” she said with a smirk.

“Resist what?”

“Playing. But who could resist snow?”

He scowled. “I wasn’t playing. I was retaliating. Now come on. You’ve seen the snow. We should go back inside. It’s cold out here.”

“Well, duh. It
is
snowing,” she said. “It’s supposed to be cold.”

Ignoring his look of exasperation, she hurled another snowball. He ducked and she ran for cover when she saw the gleam in his eyes. She hastily formed another snowball then peered around one of the hedges in time to get smacked by his. Right between the eyes.

“For someone who doesn’t play in the snow, your snowball fighting is sure good,” she muttered.

She waited until he went for more snow and she nailed him right in the ass. He spun around, wiping at his expensive slacks—but who wore slacks to play in the snow for Pete’s sake?—and then lobbed another ball in her direction.

She easily dodged this one and nailed him with another on the shoulder.

“I hope you know this means war,” he declared.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I made you lose that stuffy attitude once. I’ll do it again.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion and she used his momentary inattention to plaster him in his face.

Wiping the slush from his eyes, he began to stalk toward her, determination twisting his lips.

“Uh-oh,” she murmured and began backtracking.

There wasn’t a whole lot of room for evasion in the small garden, and unless she wanted to run back inside, there wasn’t anywhere to go. Since it was probably his plan to herd her back indoors, she decided to meet him head-on and weather whatever attack he had in mind.

She began scooping and pelting him with a furious barrage of snow. He swore as he twisted and ducked and then he made a sound of resignation and began scooping snow from the stone benches and hurling it back at her as fast as he could.

Unfortunately for her, his aim was a lot better and after six direct hits in a row, she raised her hands and cried, “Uncle!”

“Now why don’t I believe you?” he asked as he stared cautiously at her, his hand cocked back to blast her with another snowball.

She gave him her best smile of innocence and raised her empty hands, palms up. “You win. I’m freezing.”

He dropped the snowball and then strode forward to grasp her shoulders. He swept that imperious gaze up and down her body, much like he’d done the first time they’d met. This time it didn’t rankle, for she knew that beneath that boring, straight-laced hauteur lay a fun-loving man just aching to get out. She just had to free him. Again.

She sighed at the unfairness of it all. It was like some sick joke being played on her by fate. Karma maybe. Though she was sure she’d done nothing so hideous as to have the love of her life and father of her child regard her as a complete stranger.

She shivered and Rafael frowned. “We should go inside at once. You aren’t dressed for the weather. Did you bring nothing at all to wear for colder weather?”

She shook her head ruefully.

“We’ll need to go shopping then.”

She shook her head again. “There isn’t a point. We’ll be leaving to go back to Moon Island and it’s still quite warm there.”

“And in the meantime you’ll freeze,” he said darkly.

She rolled her eyes.

“You at least need a coat. I’ll send out for one. Do you have a preference? Fur? Leather?”

“Uh, just a coat. Nothing exotic.”

He made a dismissive gesture with his hands as if deciding that consulting with her was pointless. “I’ll have it arranged.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He always did.

“When the doorman told me you were out playing in the snow, I asked him if the real Rafael had been abducted by aliens.”

Bryony and Rafael both swung around to see Devon Carter leaning against one of the light posts just outside the door leading back into the apartment building.

“Very funny,” Rafael muttered. “What are you doing here?” He took Bryony’s hand in his.

Devon raised one lazy brow. “Just checking in on you and Bryony. I heard there was some excitement yesterday.”

Bryony grimaced and automatically put her other hand to the bruise she’d forgotten about until now.

“As you can see, she’s fine,” Rafael said. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going up so she can change into some warmer clothing.”

“Actually I was checking on you,” Devon said with a grin. “Bryony strikes me as someone who can take care of herself.”

Bryony cleared her throat as the moment grew more awkward. Devon wasn’t worried about her. He was worried about Rafael in her clutches. Her face warm with embarrassment, she extricated her hand from Rafael’s grasp.

“I’ll just go up and leave you to, uh, talk. Did you leave the door unlocked?” Or whatever it was they did in these kinds of apartments. Rafael fished in his pocket and then held out a card. “You’ll need this for the elevator.”

She tucked it into her hand and hurried toward the door after a small wave in Devon’s direction.

The two men watched her go and then Rafael turned to his friend with a frown. “What was that all about?”

Devon shrugged. “Just checking in on you, like I said. You’ve had a lot to digest over the past couple of days. Wanted to see how you were holding up and whether you’d remembered anything.”

Rafael grimaced and then shoved Devon toward the door. “Let’s at least go inside. It’s cold out here.”

The two men stopped in the coffee shop off the main lobby and Rafael requested the table by the fire.

“Things are fine,” Rafael said after they were seated. “I don’t want you worrying, nor do I want you plotting with Ryan and Cam to protect me for my own good.”

Devon sighed. “Even if I think this idea of yours to jet off to this island is a damn foolish idea?”

“Especially then.”

Devon sipped at his coffee and didn’t even attempt to sugarcoat his question. But then that wasn’t Devon. He was blunt, if anything. Cut and dried. Practical to a fault.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, Rafe? Do you really think it’s a good idea to go off with this woman who claims to be pregnant with your child? It seems to me, the smarter thing to do would be to call your lawyer, have paternity testing done and sit tight until you get the results.”

Rafael’s lips were tight as he stared back at Devon. “And what then?”

Devon blinked. “Well, that depends on the outcome of the tests.”

Rafael shook his head. “If it turns out that I’m the father, if everything she claims is true, then I will have effectively denied her for the entirety of the time I wait for the test results. If she’s telling the truth, I’ve already dealt her far too much hurt as it is. How can I expect to mend a rift if I have my lawyer sit on her while we wait to see if I’m going to be a father?”

Devon blew out his breath. “It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind that she’s telling the truth.”

Rafael dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what the truth is. My head tells me that she couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. That the idea of me falling head-over-ass for her in a matter of weeks is absurd. It sounds so ludicrous that I can’t even wrap my head around it.”

“But…?”

“But my gut is screaming that there is definitely something between us,” Rafael grimly admitted. “When I get near her, when I touch her… It’s like I become someone else entirely. Someone I don’t know. I hear the conviction in her voice when she talks of us making love by the ocean and I believe her. More than that I
want
to believe her.”

Devon let out a whistle that sounded more like a crash-and-burn. “So you believe her then.”

Rafael sucked in his breath. “My head tells me she’s a liar.”

“But your gut?”

Rafael sighed because he knew what Dev was getting at. Rafael always went with his gut. Even when logic argued otherwise. And he’d never been wrong.

“My gut tells me she’s telling the truth.”