“No, no, hold on. Hold on.” He herded her like a wayward steer. “You’ve known me for all of two seconds, and you have our future already laid out. Let’s take it one day at a time.”
“Look,” she said sharply. “I’m only here for a few months, and I don’t do short term.”
“It’s just one date,” he coaxed.
“You’ll break my heart.” Her soft words barely reached his ears.
“Why would you say that?” he asked just as quietly.
“Guys like you don’t know how to treat girls like me. It’s inevitable.”
At some point they had stopped dancing, and she stood cradled in his arms. “I’d never hurt you, Greta.”
She sniffed in disbelief. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” He leaned closer until a whisper separated them. Holding her there, gazing into her rich brown eyes, he was never more certain of anything in his life. “Deep down, in my gut, I know that I could never hurt you.”
Greta looked away, her lips pinched tight. A fine tremble shook her shoulders. This sudden glimpse of her vulnerability drew him in like bees to sweet nectar.
He couldn’t resist the temptation to taste her. He tracked light kisses across her cheek to her ear. Ruby red drops hung from her earlobes and sparkled against the pale flesh. Her skin was so soft under his lips. Another shudder coursed through her body.
“Twirl me,” she said suddenly.
“What?” Her words were slow to penetrate to his brain.
“Spin me out.”
Trey was willing to give her anything she asked. With a grace even he didn’t know he possessed, he spun her away from him, then back in. He twirled her away one more time and she let go. In a blink, she was gone.
Trey frantically searched for her in the crowd, jumping up and down like on a pogo stick, trying try to catch a glimpse. In a sea of gingham, he spotted her red dress waving at him like a flag to a bull. He charged after her, nostrils flaring. He wasn’t deterred yet.
She wasn’t running away from him, she was running from herself. For a smart woman, Greta was acting like a scared little girl. She wanted him, she didn’t think she did, but Trey sensed her desire, and he was not going to let her walk away without giving him a chance.
His long legs quickly ate up what little distance she placed between them. “Don’t run,” he said as he caught her by the elbow and turned her around.
Fire burned in her eyes. “Don’t play me for a fool. You were trying to claim me in front of everyone. What, you kiss a woman on the dance floor at the country bumpkin festival and she’s tied to you forever?”
Trey ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Jesus, woman, you drive me crazy. I like you, and I want to know more about you. You, you—aw, hell.” He scooped her close and crushed his lips to hers.
His mouth devoured hers, his tongue plundered. Her body melted against him while his hardened, every muscle growing tight and achy.
When Trey pulled away, he knew he had branded her as his, just as surely as if he had used a hot iron.
Greta blinked up at him, dazed. Her lips parted, the plump little pillows swollen and wet as she tried to smooth out her breathing. The fact he was the one to cause that reaction made him want to bay at the moon. He waited with a patience bred from confidence for her to beg him to take her some place private and properly claim her as his.
A light sparked in her eyes as those juicy lips curved into a smile. Then she laughed.
And kept on laughing.
The tinkling notes rose in the air and danced with the rustling of the trees. She leaned back, one hand at her throat, the other on her belly, while Trey continued to stare at her in confusion.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” she gasped as she struggled to regain her composure. She wiped away a tear, smudging her eyeliner. “I just wasn’t expecting that. Do you practice kissing on those cows of yours?”
Was that an insult? “What do you mean?”
Another giggled escaped. “I find it funny that ‘Love-’em-and-leave-’em’ Trey Armstrong is a piss-poor kisser.”
“Piss—” Oh, now he didn’t know if he wanted to strangle her or take her against the tree just to make her eat her words. “Not so loud, woman.” He took a menacing step closer. “What are you talking about? I’ve never had any complaints before.”
“Maybe they didn’t know any different.” She smirked. “You’re so big and muscle-ly, and hard.” Her eyes burned a trail over his frame, and he saw her suppress a tremble. She blinked and came back from whatever world she went to. “But your kiss was soft, and squishy, and wet. You’re a sloppy kisser, Trey.” She shook her head, the ends of her dark hair swinging around her shoulders like a cape.
“You think you can do better?”
A dainty hand settled on her hip. “Oh, honey, I know I can.”
“Prove it.” His tone was low and dangerous. “Or are you scared?”
The dare hung in the air between them. If she took it, he’d see to it that they both won. But if she ran, they’d both lose.
Thank his lucky stars, she took the bait. Stepping right up to him, she grazed her breasts against his chest as she tilted her chin up. He sucked in a breath and waited for her next move. It was up to her to prove him wrong.
She gazed into his eyes, hypnotizing him with their smoky intent. “Don’t move,” she whispered. Her lips brushed his when she spoke.
Slower than a spring thaw, she pressed her mouth to his in a brief touch. Then she pulled back and tilted her head to fit them perfectly together. Her full lips were surprisingly firm as they massaged his. She didn’t take, she didn’t give. She exchanged pleasure.
Trey stood there helpless, hands limp at his sides, his mind focused on nothing but her texture. Her petal-soft lips eased his open and he wallowed in her mulberry wine flavor. The delicate slide of her tongue glided along his bottom lip before dipping in to tease. She tasted exotic and forbidden.
Her hands gripped the sides of his belt to bring them flush together. His cock grew thick and hard behind the confines of his jeans until the throbbing grew painful. He ground his hips into her, trying to find relief, but all it did was fan his passion.
Greta pulled back to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. All he could do was stand there as his lungs struggled for air. His entire world consisted only of Greta.
Those fantastic lips, now void of all lipstick, curled into a grin and brushed against his once more.
“See you around, cowboy.”
Then she turned and strode away as if they were two strangers on the street exchanging nothing more than a polite nod in passing.
Trey watched her go, her hips rolling under her skirt in an easy glide that said she was in charge of her world. His hand went to adjust his belt buckle and relieve the pressure in his balls that were near to bursting as his lips still tingled.
Despite his discomfort, he smiled.
“Oh, it’s on, Miss Greta O’Neal. You’re mine.”
* * *
“The Harvest Festival. You wore a red dress,” Trey rasped as the kitchen came back into focus.
“Yes.” Greta exhaled, as if she had been holding her breath the entire time he’d been remembering. “Is it all back? Do you remember?” Her entire body was taut, vibrating with expectancy.
“No,” he drew out slowly. “I remember meeting you. Dancing. Kissing.” He chuckled. “That kiss was something else. You were right. I was a horrible kisser.” She swayed, her posture relaxing as she smiled with him. “And then you left me there, aching and lonely.”
“You didn’t stay away for too long.”
“How long after that were we married?”
A blush rose on her pale skin. “Six months.”
Trey laughed at that. “What changed your mind about me?”
Greta eased back against the counter and batted her lashes. “Besides your charm?” she teased. “It was your persistence and willingness to learn.”
>
“No, really. What changed your mind?” The need to know the answer seemed vitally important. He didn’t know why, it just did.
“Well.” She bit her lip as she thought. He liked that she considered her words before she spoke. “It was your persistence and willingness to learn. I’m serious. You listened to me. You let me, encouraged me, to be me. You never asked me to be anyone else. That’s a very attractive trait.”
All teasing aside, the sincere light in her eyes and soft smile told him she meant every word. He leaned closer and braced his hands on the counter, trapping her in the circle of his arms. “You were the prettiest thing I had ever seen.” He lifted his hand to brush his thumb across her cheek. “You still are.”
With a small sigh, she glanced at the floor. Greta was every bit as breathtaking now as she had been then. But now it was different. Where was that fireball who had tempted and drove him crazy with her obstinacy? The woman before him was delicate, almost fragile in her beauty. Strain that had nothing to do with age lined her face.
What had happened to Greta, to him? Trey couldn’t discount what his men had said earlier about his lack of humor, or the older man he had seen in the mirror the day before. Had it been the death of their son that caused the change? The death of a child would take its pound of flesh. Or was there more to their story?
“I guess I’m not so much of a stranger now,” she joked with a slight tremor in her voice.
He cupped her face in his palms. “You’ve never been a stranger to me, Greta. I told you before. My head might not remember, but my body does. My heart does.”
Apprehension clouded her expression. The knowledge that he did something to instill this distrust ate at him.
Anxious to prove he spoke the truth, he pressed his lips to hers. Just a touch. No asking, no demanding, just being. For several long seconds, he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. This was a promise. His vow to protect her, to honor and to cherish her. Somehow, some way, he was going to right whatever wrong he had done.
Of course, if he knew what that was, his task would be that much easier. But Greta was a proud woman. He was going to have to figure out this mystery on his own.
Trey looked down at his wife and felt the first real assurance that this was where he belonged. He remembered her. Not a dream or thought implanted by someone else’s stories. He actually had a memory of her that he could claim as his own.
Greta slid her small hands around his waist and held him tight. Trey sighed, his breath ruffling her hair.
He remembered.
8
Trey buried his nose into Greta’s hair for one last inhale of her fresh scent before reluctantly drawing out of her embrace. “You make it difficult to think of work.”
“You’re not going out in the field, are you? Trey, you’re supposed to rest.” The cutest crinkle formed between her brows as her fingers curled into his shirt.
He dropped a kiss on her forehead and rubbed her tense shoulders. “I’m not gonna take on too much, but I am the boss. I still have to pull my weight.”
Her soft breasts pressed into his chest, drawing his attention to the deep cleavage. “Why don’t you come with me into town? We could stop by the bakery, pick up a slice of your favorite cheesecake, and have a picnic along the river.” She looked up at him, her eyes big with a promise of something sweeter than pastry. “Maybe we can spark some memories together.”
A groan welled up from his throat before he could stop himself. “Lord almighty, woman. How did I ever make this ranch a success with you tempting me with every breath?”
A dimple appeared with her grin. “I told you, you’re very driven when you’re going after something you want.”
“Right now, I want this.” He gathered the hair at her nape in his fist to hold her still for his kiss.
Not that she protested his fierce possession. Greta allowed him in with a sigh, her tongue tangling with his. She tasted sweeter than the berries he had for breakfast and was so intoxicating he swayed on his feet, lost to the fiery woman who burned in his arms. Her whimpers grew louder with each pass of his hands along the curve of her hip, the small of her back, and around to palm her full breast. Her nipple poked through the cotton to scrape against his palm with an enticing rasp. He backed her up against the counter, grinding his shaft into the softness of her belly.
Had they done this before? How many times had they stolen a moment and made mad crazy love on that big kitchen table? Did he ever paint her bouncing breasts with maple syrup and lick her clean as he pounded them both to oblivion? Well, he was going to soon, if he had any say in the matter. Screw work and reacquainting himself with his life. All he needed was right there between his wife’s thighs.
He cupped her ass, giving a squeeze before lifting her up. White-hot pain lanced across his shoulder and down his arm.
“Fuck,” he groaned and jumped back so fast he stumbled on his feet. “Sorry, sorry. Guess I’m not quite ready for strenuous activity.”
“Are you all right?” Greta whispered through swollen lips. A pink flush graced her cheeks, and she sagged against the Sub-Zero refrigerator at her side.
“I’m fine. Just…” he struggled to catch his breath. “Completely out of my head.”
What the hell happened? He had a plan—explore the ranch, examine his surroundings, and regain his memory. Added to that stress was the fact that a few of his men didn’t seem to have the best opinion of him. Getting caught fucking in the kitchen while they were working his land was not going to improve that impression. He needed space. A couple hundred acres of space to reset his priorities.
“Go,” he said as he took two steps back. None of his blood was feeding his big brain and forming a sentence was near to impossible. “Nothing will get done if we stay in touching distance. That’s probably a bad idea, though I can’t think of why right now.”
She nodded but continued to stare up at him with those big doe eyes sparkling with desire.
“Later. I promise.” He stumbled into the humid outdoors and made his way across the driveway to the barn. The sticky heat did nothing to cool his libido.
Man, it was going to be a long day.
The thought made him smile. Torture had never been sweeter.
Sunshine spilled through the entrance of the stable, leaving the rest of the barn in shadows. He waited a second for his eyes adjust to the change in light before strolling down the main aisle and stopping at the second stall from the end.
At over fifteen hands high with golden skin and a pale yellow mane, the quarter horse was already standing by the door waiting for him.
“So, you’re Lucky.” Trey reached out to the stallion. His fingers gently traced the white star on his forehead. “Do I even want to know what happened to Chance?”
There would only be one reason why his favorite horse was not around. Trey closed his eyes with a sigh. Did everything around him die? Yes, he lived on a ranch and he knew all about the circle of life, but damn. How much loss could one man have in his lifetime?
Lucky seemed to sense his heavy heart and butted his nose against Trey’s chest.
Trey rested his cheek alongside Lucky’s neck. “Can you tell me what happened a few days ago? I’ve been riding horses my whole life. Did I fall off?”
He inhaled deep and the scent of horse and hay filled his nostrils. In his mind he imagined it was the day of his accident, he was back on the horse, riding through the field. Scenario after scenario of how he might have become injured flitted behind his closed eyelids. Had Lucky gotten spooked? Had he not paid attention? A fall off the saddle did not seem capable of causing so much damage.
When his head hurt from thinking so hard, he gave the horse one last pat. “We won’t be going riding for a few days, but I’ll take you out later to get some sunshine.”
Toward the back of the barn in what used to be the tack room was his office. At least that was where it was located now. When he was younger, the office had always been in the main house in th
e den, filled with his grandfather’s hunting trophies and mother’s photo albums. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember when the move to the barn had been made or why, but he knew this location was where he did all of the bookwork for the ranch.
The office door opened on well-oiled hinges. Two tiny windows on either side of the room let in some light, but it was still dim in a dark, scary movie kind of way. A flip of the switch turned on the desk lamp.
He looked around, stupefied. “Are you kidding me?”
The desk was what he expected, as were the filing cabinets, but not the overwhelming stockpiles of books. Whatever wall space was available was taken up by floor to ceiling bookcases. Each shelf was filled with neat stacks of hardcover and paperback books, with more piled on the floor.
“These can’t be mine,” he murmured as he twirled in circles and scratched his head.
Between the ranch and his family, where would he have found the time to read all of them? Agriculture, science fiction, mystery. He didn’t read science fiction. Did he?
“Why is it that the more I try to remember, the weirder things get?” He stepped over a set of weights and a medicine ball to get to the desk.
Behind the desk sat a wobbly, leather office chair that had seen better days. Stuffing spilled from the cracks in the fabric around the arms, and the wheels were missing from the metal legs. He slowly eased onto the seat and hoped the chair was strong enough to hold his weight. To his relief, the dark leather molded to his body as if it were made specifically for his ass.
On the scarred surface of the desk sat a desktop computer and several bins of paper stacked neatly with a profusion of colorful Post-it notes sticking out the side like a rainbow.
He opened a drawer and found more file folders, with payables and insurance information listed alphabetically with neat little labels affixed in the corners.
“Huh,” he murmured and shut the drawer with a frown.
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 119