Unforgettable: A Loveswept Classic Romance (9 page)

“Don’t what?” he asked, his hand curving around her throat in a gentle caress. Her skin felt like silk under his fingers.

“Don’t do this. Don’t kiss me like you did before.”

“I’ll kiss you better,” he promised.

His mouth covered hers. She knew she should pull away, walk away, run away. But her own reason was gone at the feel of his lips on hers again. She was already being dragged over that remembered cliff and into a sensual fire unlike any she had experienced before … or since. How could he do it again? And why, she wondered dimly, why was James Farraday the only one who could do this to her?

But instinct took over, and she was lost to the kiss. She wound her arms around his shoulders, feeling the strength in them. Their mouths melded together eagerly, her body tight against his. She wasn’t sure whether it was his hands on her back that urged her closer, or her own want riding her.

Hands pushed clothing away to find the warm flesh of man and woman. He cupped her breasts, his fingers exploring every inch of the soft skin. She moaned into his mouth when he brought her nipples to exquisite aching points.

The feel of his hard muscles flexing under her hands sent her mind and body spinning with desire. She raked her nails lightly across his back and felt the shiver run deep through him. Some hidden knowledge told her how to move and touch to bring him the most pleasure. It was as if she had touched him since the dawn of time. The rightness of being with him like this was undeniable.

She gasped for air when his mouth left hers to trail hot kisses over her cheeks, her jaw, her throat.

“Lord help me, but I want you, Annie Kitteridge,” he murmured against her shoulder. He lifted his head and stepped away. “But I won’t have you.”

“What?” She sagged against the shed wall, her
arms empty. Her ears rang with his unbelievable words.

“It’s the wrong time and the wrong place,” he said, turning away. “I wasn’t fair. I’m sorry, Anne.”

“Do you always have to do the perfect thing?” she asked, pain lancing through her at his rejection. And why did she always have to be on the receiving end when he did? The humiliation was unbearable.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his bewilderment clear.

“Nothing,” she muttered, straightening. She pushed her clothes back into place. “Nothing. Thank you, James, for coming to
our
senses. I promise you this will not happen again.”

Before he could say another word, she walked away from him.

James watched her go. He let her go. It would always be the wrong time and the wrong place.

“… if the projected figures are right, we stand to make our original investment back three hundred percent …”

The voice droned on and on, the speaker’s tone dull and muted in the small wood-paneled conference room. James stared at the papers before him. They could have been written in Greek for all he was interested in them. And he ought to be. He was asking these people to make a sizable investment. Instead, he found himself thinking of Anne.

It was all too easy to invoke memories of last night’s kiss. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. But her closeness, her lithe body, and the elusive scent of her that he’d remembered all too well over the years had combined into an irresistible aphrodisiac. He could still feel her mouth sweet and intoxicating against his. Her flesh had been like expensive satin under his hands. Her body had been a perfect fit to his. He had forgotten all the reasons
that anything between them was impossible. Even now, those reasons seemed to fade.…

“What do you think, James?”

He sat up in the leather wing chair and tried to look as if he knew what he was supposed to be thinking. He cleared his throat. “I think everything ought to be considered.”

The three men and two women stared at him in bewilderment. Obviously, he wasn’t to consider anything. He grinned ruefully.

“Good thing I wasn’t driving, folks. Now, what was the full question?”

His prospective investors chuckled, and the question was restated. As James gave his opinion on a payment schedule, he decided it would be wisest to stay away from the farm today.

Four hours later, James turned his Jaguar into Anne’s long drive. Despite his earlier thoughts, he told himself he did have a right to see his horse. After all, Battle Cry was being bred today—for the first time ever. A horse ought to have a little support from his owner on such a special occasion.

He parked his car in front of the house. Nobody was about, not even the dog. He frowned and loosened his tie. A three-piece suit wasn’t the most sensible clothing for a horse farm. Deciding to leave his jacket on against the cool day, he got out of the car … and immediately faced Anne as she opened the front door.

He tensed. At that moment he realized that despite the feelings the kiss had provoked, nothing had changed for him. He could never tell her; he could never accept a rejection from her. From another woman maybe, but not from Anne. His instincts had been right all those years earlier, and they were telling him the same thing again.

Her expression went from smiling to closed the moment she spotted him. It hurt to know she responded to him with her body, yet not with her mind. It hurt even more to know he was responding to her the way he always did—with instant want. Within him there was a place that only she was capable of touching.

“Hello,” she said, closing the front door behind her. She stood in front of it, unmoving.

“Hi.” He couldn’t find anything else to say. Finally he remembered his reason for coming. He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “How did it go with Battle Cry and Lollipop’s Rainbow?”

“Ah … fine. Fine.” Her gaze shifted away from him.

“I just thought I’d come by and check—” He stopped. He’d been “checking” last night when he’d come upon her by the breeding shed. Maybe the location had effected his libido. Then again, maybe not, he decided as he stared into her wide blue-green eyes. “No problems?”

“No, everything was … it was …” She shrugged and glanced away, clearly uncomfortable in his presence. “Why don’t you go up and see him?”

“Sure.” He looked down in an effort to break the strange tension between them. He hadn’t felt this awkward since his first lesson at dancing school. “I … How’s Mac working out?”

As soon as the question left his lips, he knew it was a mistake. Mac was a sore topic between them. But to his surprise, she said only, “Fine.” The lack of anger in her tone signaled that fight was ended. Or at least in the background.

But it was disheartening to realize they were like strangers forced into each other’s company.
Previously, a spark of … something had existed between them. Now even that seemed to be gone.

“I’m glad everything went well with the horses,” he said.

She nodded.

He stared at her a moment longer, memorizing her face, then turned and walked away.

She couldn’t stand it any longer.

Anne stalked toward the stallion barn. James had kissed her three days ago, and she hated herself for still thinking of it. Every meeting with him was more and more awkward. If she’d been avoiding him before, she was trying to disappear now. It seemed like days since she’d looked at her stallions, but this was the first opportunity she’d had. James had almost been living there. Earlier, though, she had seen him heading for the house and his car, so she’d come over when she was finished in the foaling stable.

She was truly grateful to him for stopping the kiss before it got further out of hand. Or before being further in hand, she thought, remembering the way he had touched her. Yes, she
was
grateful. She could never be the kind of woman she was certain he preferred. That point had been made with a vengeance that morning.

She had driven Lettice to one of her charity meetings. Six women who had been debs with her years before had swarmed around her grandmother, all of them impeccably dressed and asking questions about James, questions that clearly showed a knowledge of him and his habits. Next to their Mazzeo dresses and Adolfo hats, her K-mart jeans had seemed downright grungy, and she had
caught herself trying to smooth down her hair. Their disparaging looks had only made her feel more out of place.

She had realized yet again that she was the kind of woman he’d want, but not the kind he
really
wanted. That added humiliation was no doubt a contributor to the current awkwardness between them.

She had noticed that the cooler their meetings grew, the friendlier he became with her son. She’d seen them talking together several times over the last few days. She couldn’t help feeling that she was somehow being betrayed. And then she couldn’t help feeling silly.

Still, whatever she felt, she wished she could maintain a professional demeanor with the man. But to her disgust, her social clumsiness even seeped into that. She didn’t know who was to blame for their coolness. She didn’t know if she wanted to know either. All she knew was it seemed to be escalating, and it hurt.

She no sooner stepped into the stallion barn, when she saw James lounging on several bales of hay. She froze in mid-stride, wondering wildly how she could have seen him heading for his car. Maybe he hadn’t been headed for his car, just the house. Maybe she was about as dumb as they came.

He straightened with a grace that left her struggling for air.

“Hello,” he said.

She swallowed. “Hello.”

Nothing more was said, and the silence grew tense and awkward.

The clatter of hooves on concrete brought her back to the present. At the other end of the barn,
Battle Cry was clipped to one of the barn posts and Mac was currying him. Both barn entrances were open to the sun, and it was easy to see that the horse’s dark red hide gleamed with health and tender loving care. Anne smiled in genuine pleasure, grateful for the distraction from James.

She walked over and ran her hand down the animal’s neck in an affectionate gesture. The powerful muscles bunched and flexed under her touch. Battle Cry accepted the stroking, then moved restlessly away. In fact, she noticed, he was unusually alert and in constant movement. Generally, race horses kept their heads down, showing no interest in their surroundings. It was an irony of nature that the fastest horses always looked exhausted off the racetrack. Battle Cry was an exception, though. He was always pumped up.

A thought she couldn’t identify niggled at the back of her mind, but a sixth sense warned her that James had moved up behind her. She tensed, then forced herself to relax. She would just have to ignore him. Still, sensing his gaze boring into her back, she had a feeling she’d be more successful ignoring a hurricane.

“He looks wonderful,” she said to Mac.

“Yeah.” Mac’s hands swept the brushes across the coat with deft movements. He glanced over at James, then back to her, and tapped the large head collar around Battle Cry’s neck. “This thing, though, is an annoyance, miss.”

“I know, but it’s a rule I demand be followed with all the horses.” James was so damned deadly silent, she thought, standing off to one side and watching her. She was oddly nervous, as if being scrutinized by a hungry tiger, and she rambled on with her explanation to Mac. “With so many
mares coming and going, we really can’t get to know them as well as we would like, and the horse collars with the name plates are essential. The last thing we need is confusion over who’s who. I carry it through with the stallions because sometimes the men here need to help out in the mares’ stables. The consequences could be disastrous if anyone forgot to put on a horse’s head collar from lack of habit, or worse, put it on the wrong horse.”

“Bet that’s happened a few times,” Mac said with a chuckle.

“Not here,” she said firmly, heat covering her cheeks. She wished he’d never mentioned such a thing in front of James. “Don’t even think it, Mac. The last thing a breeding farm needs is to mate the wrong horse to the wrong horse.”

Mac smiled knowingly, but it was a thought she refused even to consider. No breeder did.

“I’m going now, Mac,” James suddenly said.

“Good-bye, sir,” Mac said. “Our boy appreciates your visits.”

James nodded, then turned to her. “I want to talk to you,” he said in a low voice, “about what happened the other night.”

Embarrassment heated her cheeks, and she could see Mac cocking his head to listen. She couldn’t believe James would bring the kiss up in front of Mac. And she couldn’t believe how much she wanted James to kiss her again. “No,” she said bluntly.

“Right,” he snapped. He spun on his heel and stalked out of the barn. “Good evening, Anne.”

She refused to run after him and give herself away—especially in front of Mac. To cover any awkwardness, she smiled and shrugged at the
little man, then asked if he wanted the large comb for the mane.

A few minutes later a voice called out behind her, “There you are, Anne.”

Anne turned around in time to see Lettice step into the barn. She should have looked out of place in her pearls and pumps, but she didn’t. Tibbs was right at her heels. The dog had quickly become Lettice’s shadow until even Philip had trouble luring him away. Battle Cry gave the newcomer a cursory look, then turned back to Mac’s attentions. He was obviously used to all the various animals and people in his new life.

“Grandmother, I thought you were at one of your meetings,” Anne said, frowning. Her grandmother never came out to the barns.

“I’ve been to two today.” Lettice put her hands on her hips and glared at her granddaughter. “I just asked James to stay for dinner and he refused. Why is that?”

Anne wished Lettice had brought this up in private. Or not brought it up at all. Her biorhythms must be in the pits. She shrugged, refusing to be baited. “Maybe he was busy tonight.”

“In a pig’s eye. What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” Anne muttered. “Absolutely nothing.”

Lettice was silent, and Anne realized she might have given away more than she meant. Quickly she added, “Nothing is wrong, if that’s what you mean, Grandmother. I’ve told you before your imagination exceeds reality. It’s business between James and me.”