Memories: A Husband to RememberNew Year's Daddy (Hqn)

by Lisa Jackson

  “You’re right. But we have to do it at my place.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s not safe here, Nikki.”

  “This is my home and—”

  “For God’s sake!” He whirled and stormed back to her, drawing her to her feet. “Get your things—now! We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “You’re serious about this danger thing?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “And when we get to your place?”

  “You can ask me anything you want. But move it, now, before it’s too late!”

  His harsh countenance convinced her. Swallowing a knot of fear in her throat, she stumbled to the closet and pulled out a couple of pairs of jeans and some sweaters which she stuffed into an empty bag. “Are you going to tell me what we’re running from?” she asked, picking up her makeup case as he grabbed the suitcase she’d dropped on the floor. She struggled into her Reebok sneakers and denim jacket and glared at him. “Because I’m going to remember, damn it, and when I do, there will be hell to pay if I find out you’re a fraud, Trent McKenzie!”

  * * *

  Trent had never been above telling a lie, not if the situation warranted stretching the truth a little, but this time he’d played out his hand and was about to ruin everything. He’d managed to get himself so emotionally tangled in his own web of deceit that he was trapped. Like a damned fly in a spider’s web.

  Mentally abusing himself, he took the corner a little too quickly and the old Jeep slid a bit before the tread-free tires caught hold of the slick street.

  He slid a glance at her, small and huddled against the passenger door. Confused, half her memory gone, the other half distorted by people she couldn’t even remember. He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel until they ached.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He wasn’t supposed to care for her. When he’d met her he’d been attracted to her, of course—hell, what red-blooded American male wouldn’t be? She was put together well, with curves in the right places and a face that could stop traffic. Whether she knew it or not, Nikki was a knockout. Even now, with the remainder of the abrasions from the accident casting parts of her face in pink, she was drop-dead gorgeous, in a way never exploited by fashion magazines.

  Her eyes were clear and could cut to a man’s soul, her hair was thick and wavy and shimmered under any light and her mouth was bowed into a thoughtful little pucker that caused the crotch of his pants to seem suddenly way too tight.

  Her looks had attracted him, and her personality, part pit bull, part banty rooster and another part pure sexy feline, had kept him interested. He’d been around enough good-looking women not to fall into the usual traps, but with Nicole Louise Carrothers he’d swan-dived off a tall precipice and was still falling. Straight into the depths of emotional hell. The woman had a way of getting into a man’s blood and there was no getting her out.

  “Damn,” he swore softly. She cast him a quick glance, then stared steadily ahead, through the rain-peppered windshield to the curving streets that wound along the shore of Lake Washington.

  Tugging on the steering wheel, he pulled out of traffic and into a long drive that wound through tall fir trees and dripping rhododendron bushes no longer in bloom. The drive was lit by small lights. They rounded the bend, and the house, awash in the exterior lamplight, was visible through the trees.

  “This is where you live?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

  “Home sweet home.”

  He cut the engine in front of the garage and she stared up at the house, a long, rambling brick cottage that rose to two stories at one side.

  “Somehow it doesn’t fit with the Jeep.”

  “I just like to keep you guessing.”

  “That much, you do,” she admitted, stepping out of his battered rig and hauling her makeup bag with her. Flipping up the hood of her jacket, she let out a low whistle.

  Trent unlocked the door with a key on his ring.

  Inside, the house smelled of cleaning solvent, wax and oil. As they walked along wood corridors, Trent snapped on the lights unerringly, his hands finding switches in the dark, but still Nikki felt cold as death. Though she couldn’t remember her past, she was certain that she’d never set foot in this house in her life. The living room was situated near the back of the house. Furnished in high-backed chairs, ottomans and a couch in shades of cream and navy, the room offered a panoramic view of the lake, now dark and brooding, only a few lights reflecting on the inky surface.

  Nikki stared out the window and wrapped her arms around herself. Brass lamps pooled soft light over mahogany tables and the smell of pipe tobacco and ash from the fireplace tinged the air in faint scents. “I’ve never been here before,” she said flatly.

  “You’ll remember.”

  “I don’t think so.” A chill skittered up her spine. “I would remember this. I would remember being here with you!” She trailed a finger along the window ledge, then turned tortured eyes up to his, hoping to feel a sense of security, of belonging.

  “You’re just tired.” His voice was rough as sandpaper. Jaw tight, he took her hand and walked along a short, carpeted hall to the bedroom, where he placed her suitcase on the foot of a massive king-size bed with square posts and a carved headboard. The carpet was thick burgundy, the quilt was patterned in tan, burgundy and deep forest green.

  A fireplace filled one corner, and Trent struck a match to the bottom of his boot and lit the dry logs resting on ancient andirons.

  She felt a sudden sense of trepidation as she looked around the room. Something wasn’t right; she could feel it in the very marrow of her bones.

  Flames began to crackle against desert-dry kindling and the moss popped as it was consumed by the hungry fire.

  Trent straightened, rubbing the small of his back, then stretching. Nikki’s heart turned over at the sight of a slice of his skin just above the waistband of his low-slung jeans, visible as his hands reached toward the ceiling. She noticed the smooth muscles of his back and the cleft of his spine. “It’s been a long day,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it carelessly on the foot of the bed. “We should turn in.”

  The room felt suddenly close and she could barely breathe. She’d slept with him while they stayed in the hotel on Salvaje, but she’d salved her guilty conscience with the knowledge that she’d had no choice. She’d made love to him hungrily because she was a willing prisoner and the rest of her life had seemed so far away and remote.

  But now they were back home. Or in a place he claimed belonged to him, and the prospect of falling into bed with him was suddenly terrifying. Now the choice was hers. Or, at least, it should have been. An American woman on American soil in her own hometown. He wasn’t tying her to the bed, nor did he have to drag her here. True, he’d used his considerable powers of persuasion, but she had enough of her mind left to be able to say no if she’d really wanted to.

  Truth to tell, she wanted to be with him. Here. Alone. As dangerous as he sometimes seemed, she couldn’t stop wanting him. Maybe he hadn’t lied. Maybe his story about the two of them held some water. The hot part was right. He yanked off his shirt, and Nikki watched as the firelight played upon tight, dense muscles sprayed with coarse chest hair.

  He lifted a brow in her direction. “You want to take a bath or something?”

  “You said you’d give me answers.”

  “That I did.” He walked slowly to her, took the suitcase from her hand and dropped it onto the floor. With his gaze fastened to hers, he shoved her jacket over her shoulders and it dropped in a denim pool at her feet. “I just thought we should take care of a few more important things first.”

  “You’re stalling,” she said, but her voice was breathless, and she couldn’t break the magnetic pull of his gaze as he searched her face.
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br />   He kissed her, his mouth molding over hers hungrily. Nikki closed her eyes and kissed him back, feeling the rough texture of his chest hair through her blouse, her fingers digging into the sinewy muscles of his shoulders.

  “Nikki, oh, Nikki,” he whispered roughly. Her mind spun backward to another time when she was kissing another man, a man whom she thought she loved. But his kisses held none of the passion of this man’s, and she’d never felt the wild abandon that this man created deep in her soul. Yet they were confused in her mind, the then and now, the here and before. Trent or Dave? Her husband or fiancé? She couldn’t think and she tried to regain her disappearing equilibrium. “Dave?” she whispered as his lips traveled down her neck and touched the sensitive skin below her jaw.

  He froze. His hands dropped. Stumbling backward, Nikki almost fell on the bed. She was dazed, her body still anxious and wanting.

  His face was a mask of fury. “What did you call me?”

  “Oh, God,” she said, her fingers trembling as she grabbed a clump of long hair and held it at the base of her skull. What had she been thinking? “I called you Dave,” she admitted, seeing a streak of pain slash through his eyes. “I...I was confused.”

  He snorted and crossed his arms over the expanse of his chest. “You thought I was Neumann.”

  “No—not really,” she said, shaking. Oh, Lord, why was she so rattled?

  “But you called me—”

  “I know. It’s just that I remembered,” she said, shaking her head as if to clear away the horrid cobwebs that kept wisping through her mind and distorting the past.

  “Remembered what?”

  “Kissing Dave.”

  “Great,” he said, flinty anger sparking in his eyes. “Well, how do I compare?”

  “Compare... No, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Just what the hell did you mean?” he demanded through lips that barely moved. Brow furrowed, deep lines cleaving his forehead, he raked a gaze down her front.

  “You could be happy for me!” she countered, her temper flaring, her chin thrusting forward rebelliously.

  “Happy!”

  “This is a breakthrough.”

  “Wonderful.” He snorted in derision. “And if we make love, are you going to pretend that I’m Neumann? And am I supposed to applaud?”

  “You can do whatever you damned well want!”

  “But it might just happen, right? You confusing the two of us?”

  “Right. It’s a chance we’ll both have to take,” she said, her breasts rising and falling with each uneven, furious breath she drew. Where did he get off, turning this around so that she felt like some cheap tramp? “Maybe you should take me home.”

  “This is home.”

  “Prove it,” she threw out, angling her head up at him, letting her hair fall down one shoulder. “Show me the marriage certificate!”

  The air between them grew still. Aside from the sizzle of the fire and the soft tattoo of rain against the window, there was no noise. Nikki knew she’d thrown her trump card on the table, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move one solitary damn muscle.

  “I don’t have it,” he said, his eyes moving to her lips. She tried not to notice, shifted her gaze downward, to the wide expanse of his chest, then lowered it still farther to rest on the huge silver buckle of his belt. Her throat tightened. This wasn’t working.

  “Where is it?” she asked, forcing her eyes upward to meet the smoky hue of his stare again.

  “At my office.”

  “What?”

  “Downtown. We left it there on our way to the airport.” He stepped a little closer to her, close enough that she fought the urge to retreat. There was nowhere to run. Her calves were already pressed against the footboard of the bed.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He reached for her and she swatted his hand away. “You haven’t believed me from the start.”

  “It matters. Big-time.”

  “We’ll pick up the damned certificate.” He reached forward again, one finger hooking on the V of her blouse. This time she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t.

  “When?” she asked, hoping she wouldn’t stammer, but hardly able to focus on the conversation. The tip of his finger brushed the flesh over her sternum and caused her blood to tingle and heat.

  “Tomorrow. You’ll want to go into the Observer. We’ll stop by my office then.”

  Dear God, if only she could think clearly, but his touch was driving her wild. Standing close enough to feel his breath against her skin, she shivered as he slowly, and oh, so deliberately began working at the buttons of her blouse, his fingers prodding each tiny button free of its bond.

  With all her willpower, she grabbed his wrist. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “There is no subject.” Leaning forward he kissed the shell of her ear and she melted inside.

  “You—you could be lying to me.”

  “I could be.” He nibbled at her neck. The blouse parted and he slid his hands around her. His fingers were warm and familiar against her skin as he pulled her closer.

  “I need to know that you’re telling the truth,” she protested, though her mind was already spinning. “Please...”

  “Later.”

  “Trent, please—” He cut off her pleas with his lips, hot and hard and wanting as they claimed hers. He groaned into her mouth and his tongue sought entrance past the barrier of her teeth.

  “Come on, Nikki,” he murmured, “let yourself go.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Of course you can. You’re as hot and wild as that island we just left.”

  She sighed, and his tongue slid quickly into the wet interior of her mouth. Her knees threatened to buckle and a growing heat spread outward from her center and through her limbs. Her arms encircled his neck and his fingers scaled her ribs to cup her breasts.

  Electricity shot through her bloodstream as he slid the blouse off her shoulders and kissed the swollen mounds above the lace of her bra. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his lips wet and hot against her skin.

  Lolling her head back, she gave him a full view of her neck. He nibbled and licked her flesh before returning to her breasts, which were now much too tight for her bra. With little encouragement, one rosy-tipped globe spilled free of the lavender lace and he eagerly swept the nipple into his mouth.

  Nikki mewed deep in her throat as he tugged and suckled, laving the anxious point until she pressed her hips easily against him. “That’s it, love, let go....” His fingers caught in the silky, honey-colored strands of her hair. His body weight pushed her gently and together they tumbled onto the cool quilt. Trent’s mouth found hers again, his tongue probing, his hands moving to the small of her back to knead the soft flesh.

  Nikki’s thoughts were tangled, her emotions tied up in distant memories that teased the surface of her mind only to disappear again. But she wanted this man. Lust streamed through her bloodstream. She lowered her head and ran her tongue across his jaw and neck. Air whistled through his teeth as he sucked in his abdomen and she moved lower, enjoying the power of her body, watching in fascination as his flat nipples tightened at her touch. She took one tiny button into her mouth and he groaned, his fingers working anxiously in her hair.

  “You’re dangerous,” he growled.

  “So are you.”

  He tasted salty and male as he slipped her bra off her shoulders and pressed his lips to the hollow of her collarbone. “You make me do things I should never even think about,” he said, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed her again. His fingers moved to her breasts and his thumbs grazed her nipples.

  Thrusting her hips to meet his, Nikki was lost, her doubts all fleeing into the dark night. Her fingers dug into the rippling muscles of hi
s back and she closed her mind to all the doubts and fears. She wanted this man, perhaps loved him, needed him as she was certain she’d needed no other. His touch set her ablaze and the drumming passion in her bloodstream refused to be denied.

  Ignoring the future as her mind blacked out her past, she lived for the moment, for the hot-ice touch of his lips that burned against her skin and surrounded her heart.

  She felt her jeans slide over her hips at his insistent tugging, blinked her eyes open long enough to see him kick off his faded Levi’s as well.

  “Tell me you want this,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “I want you.”

  Bracing himself on one hand, he palmed her breast, making the nipple stand erect again. “Tell me again.”

  “I...I want to make love to you,” she whispered as he lowered his head and his lips surrounded her puckering nipple. “Ohhh.”

  “That’s right.” His breath was warm and teasing against the wet little bud, stoking the hungry fire within her. Again she arched up, her naked hips touching his. He held her for a moment, one hand cupping her buttocks. “God, Nikki, I don’t want to ever stop,” he admitted before prodding her knees apart and settling over her.

  “Never,” she murmured.

  As rain slid against the windowpanes and the fire popped and burned, Trent claimed her as his own. He closed his eyes as she gazed up at him, her heart thudding, the tension in her tight as a piano wire. She reached upward and touched the dark strands of his hair, while capturing the sway of his lovemaking and moving her hips in time with his.

  Lying with him felt so right against the soft, down-filled comforter. With firelight playing upon his sleek muscles and throwing red-gold highlights into his dark hair, he looked tough, and strong and male. His face was strained, little beads of sweat dotting his brow as he thrust into her, again and again.