Her Man To Remember

by Suzanne McMinn

  “We have all night,” he breathed against her lips, then trailed lower, farther, until his tongue entered that sweetest core. He coaxed and tormented the swollen, aching heat of her until she burned white-hot.

  “Please, Roman, now.” And then her voice no longer worked. If this was torment, it was the most wonderful she’d ever known. A whirlwind of emotions and heightened sensations flooded her. He stripped her bare of any inhibition, leaving her ruled by only passion and his amazing touch. It was primitive and real, like nothing else had been for eighteen months.

  His hands were everywhere, his mouth everywhere.

  “Yes, yes.” And it was all she could do to moan that one word over and over as his tongue dipped within her again. Then she splintered from the inside out.

  She arched, then fell back on the bed, shattered and dizzied. Slowly, so slowly, he raised himself over her. Almost unable to lift her bone-melted hand, she reached for his hardness, and his instinct reflexive response shot a thrill through her, and the heat that had spun her apart a moment before rose again to fever pitch.

  With impossible deliberation, he lowered himself onto her. She gripped his buttocks, guiding him as he entered her. The muscles in his powerful arms tautened and his eyes glistened as they held on to hers. Still, he was barely inside her, the intimate tip of him parting her.

  A fraction at a time, he slid deeper, staring into her eyes all the while. And he covered his mouth with hers, swallowing her moan of pleasure as he sheathed himself fully inside her. Leah moved with him as he set an excruciatingly languorous pace accompanied by more of his penetrating, heart-searing kisses.

  Then he increased the pace and she tore her mouth away to fling her head back, eyes closed, her hair flying wildly around her. The sound she heard herself make was almost inhuman, then she was deafened by the passionate rush of her blood as sweet arrows shot through her, exploding in little stars of fire. She became aware then of his release and she opened her eyes. He went over that tender-furious edge with his gaze on her, her name on his lips before he sank down over her.

  She could feel his heart thundering in time with her own, feel his breaths against her cheek, his arms tightly wound around her. Then he lowered beside her, pulling her snug in the crook of his strong shoulder, no sound but their pulse beats and the tap of rain on the bungalow roof and the plaintive slap of palm fronds in the wind outside.

  She slept without a single dream.

  Morning came in a fearful rush. Leah opened her eyes, saw Roman beside her, heard the rain still splashing down on the terrace and blinked back a sudden sting of tears.

  He would go to New York today. He would find out the truth, whatever it was.

  And they might never share a night like that again.

  But Leah knew that even if they didn’t, she had not one regret for the past two nights in his arms. Making love with Roman had been the most powerful experience of her life. He made her feel cherished. He swept her away with his sourcerous mouth and hands. And she knew it wasn’t just Thunder Key that was her home. It was Roman. He was her home, her haven, her sweetest dream.

  Today it might all be over if her greatest dread about her past turned out to be true. But she would always have these two nights with Roman.

  Sleeping, he looked so at peace she hated to wake him. His dark hair was tousled, his chin rough with a night’s beard growth. He was dangerously sexy without doing a thing. Her heart flipped as she remembered how he’d held her gaze while he’d exploded with passion. As she watched him, he opened his eyes and met hers again.

  There was heat in his ocean-storm depths.

  But he was leaving, and she suddenly couldn’t bear it.

  “I’ll drive you to the airport in Key West,” she said, and started to turn away, determined to get into the shower before she could cry.

  “Not yet.” He pulled her back, and she saw the emotion lurking in his amazing depths. “We still have time.”

  “Not much time.”

  “Enough.”

  His tortured gaze seared her and she closed her eyes, unable to endure the pain of knowing, seeing, how much he felt for her. Their relationship stood on such uncertain ground, and they both knew it.

  What if she was wanted for some crime she couldn’t remember? Would he come back—to turn her in or to take her on the run? Could she let him run away with her? She had run away once already. Why? She had gone alone then. Even if she wasn’t on the run, wasn’t wanted by the law, he might be repulsed by what he would learn about her today.

  And despite his words to the contrary, her actions of the past could change his feelings for her entirely.

  Thinking hurt so much, and when she felt his mouth brush her lips, she choked back a sob as she tangled her arms around his neck and pulled him close. There was nothing slow about their lovemaking now, not when he was on the verge of leaving her. It was reckless and fast and so intense, it was like hurtling away on a shooting star—blinding.

  When it was over, he held on to her as if he’d never let go.

  Later, the drive to Key West was quiet. When they arrived at the small airport, Roman didn’t get out right away.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. “I should have told you before. You have a right to know.”

  Leah waited, her throat filling with something ominous.

  His eyes bored into hers, somehow hollow. “When they found your car, there were divorce papers inside a briefcase. You were planning to leave me.”

  She felt sick. “Why?”

  He shook his head. “That’s a question only you can answer, Leah.”

  The Shark and Fin was nearly empty. The storm kept even the regulars at bay as the TV over the bar blared out a flash-flood warning. The tropical storm—now an official hurricane—was still traveling an unpredictable path, and whether or not it would miss the Keys remained in question. But as it picked up speed and pummeled toward the coast, it was drenching everything for hundreds of miles in all directions.

  Stress made Leah’s shoulders tight, but it wasn’t the storm she feared. It was the thought of Roman, right now, flying toward Miami where he’d pick up a connection to New York. She’d stood on the rain-soaked airport tarmac, watched the small plane take off in the soggy sky, waving at the tiny piece of his face she could pick out in the plane window. He’d disappeared into the stormy clouds. Even if he wanted to, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to make good on his promise to be back that night or even the next morning. Weather could easily shut the Key West airport down by then if the flash-flood warnings held true.

  He’d made her promise that if things changed, if the hurricane threatened Thunder Key, she would head for the mainland. Before leaving the White Seas, he’d made reservations at the Grand Palm Hotel in Miami for the next two nights.

  “Just in case you have to evacuate,” he’d told her. “The room is in both our names. I’ll meet you there.”

  He had thought of everything, but she knew he couldn’t plan for what he’d find out in New York about her past. And as for the divorce, she was still in shock. She could see now why he’d held back. He was afraid that when she remembered everything, she would leave him. And all she longed to do was tell him there was no way that would happen, but neither of them knew what he would find out in New York.

  The hours passed in anxious beats. She sent Shanna home halfway through the day, leaving just herself and Joey to run the bar. By early evening she sent Joey home. He helped her board up the windows before he left.

  “You never know what’ll happen during the night,” he said. “The hurricane is turning southward. Keep your radio on. You have batteries, right?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she told him. She turned the bar’s sign to Closed and locked up. Morrie’s pickup was gassed up. If she had to evacuate before morning, she was ready. Carrying her battery-powered radio, she headed up the stairs to the apartment where she hadn’t slept in two nights.

  Wind whistled outside and
rain slapped down on the rooftop. She was halfway up the stairs before she stopped, realized the pounding she heard wasn’t part of the storm.

  Someone was knocking on the door of the bar.

  Chapter 13

  It was the longest day of Roman’s life. He barely made his connection in Miami. Making last-minute flight arrangements, he’d been routed through Atlanta and landed with a thirty-minute layover. Just enough time to find a phone. He wouldn’t have a second to spare once he hit New York, especially if he wanted to get back to Florida tonight. And even one night away from Leah was too much.

  While he had no intention of getting into the discussion about Robertson on the phone, he needed to make sure his parents knew he was coming. Of course, if Robertson had been in contact with them, they wouldn’t be surprised by his arrival.

  “Mr. Bradshaw isn’t in today,” came the clipped voice of Rita, his father’s secretary.

  Walter Bradshaw never took a day off.

  “Is he sick?” And Roman knew it would have to be really sick, like having-a-heart-attack sick. Despite the anger simmering in his blood over the private investigator, the idea of something being terribly wrong with his father gave him an immediate stone-sinking sensation in his gut.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Is Gen there?” he asked

  “She’s not in today, either,” Rita told him.

  Roman called the house. Barbara Bradshaw picked up.

  “Roman!” Her cultured voice cracked oddly. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at Hartsfield in Atlanta. I’m on my way to New York.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Is Dad all right?”

  “Dad? Yes, of course, he’s fine. I’m so glad you’re coming home. We need you here. It’s Roman,” he heard her telling someone. People streamed around him where he stood in the airport terminal. He missed his mother’s next words.

  “What?”

  “Did Gen call you?”

  “No. Why would Gen call me?” He felt his blood pressure going up. He wondered if his parents had roped Gen into mediating with him over the Robertson fiasco. That wouldn’t surprise him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Leah, back in Thunder Key, and the lonely figure she’d made on the tarmac as his plane had rolled away.

  His mother said something but he missed it as the announcement blared that his plane was boarding passengers.

  “My flight’s boarding,” he said. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours. I need to talk to you and Dad. I need both of you to be there. I won’t have much time. I’m flying back to Thunder Key tonight.”

  He hung up and raced for the gate.

  The Bradshaws’ sleek high-rise towered between Madison and Park in a tony Upper East Side neighborhood with double-wide tree-lined streets and money-scented air. The prewar building’s marble lobby was as cold as the sprawling apartments housed inside it. Roman had grown up in the four-bedroom penthouse, with its fabulous views of the bustling city stretching in every direction.

  He missed Thunder Key, the laidback sense of sea and sun. And Leah.

  His mother opened the apartment door. As ever, she appeared the tastefully coiffed Manhattan woman, agelessly elegant. Even at home, she wore a tailored designer suit and was perfectly made up. She was always prepared for company or shopping.

  “Roman, you look like you’ve been in a fight,” Barbara said, offering a brittle hug before stepping back to reach her manicured hand for his cheek.

  He was in a fight—a fight for his future with Leah. But he knew that wasn’t what his mother was referring to.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, moving past her through the terrazzo-tiled foyer. “We need to talk.”

  “Roman.”

  Her voice stopped him. There was emotion, thick, in his name, and it surprised him. His mother rarely showed emotion. He’d never seen his parents argue. He’d had big, juicy, incredible arguments with Leah—and every one of them had ended in even more incredible sex. It was a big part of what had scared him about her, all that unshuttered emotion—it had just taken him a long time to realize it. Here, in his parents’ austere home again, it hit him harder than ever.

  Why hadn’t he told her that he loved her before he left Thunder Key? But he knew the answer. He had been afraid. He had lost Leah once, and after he found her, he had shielded himself from the possible pain of losing her again. He had kept his emotions in check. He was as much a fool as he had ever been. Life was too precarious to let fear rule.

  But he couldn’t think of that now. The look on his mother’s face threw him—it was almost panicky. And he realized she was pale beneath that perfect makeup.

  “Gen needs you,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  Barbara put shaking fingers to her mouth, didn’t speak. Roman closed the distance between them, put his hands on her frail-feeling arms. “What’s going on?”

  “Thank God you’ve come to your senses and come back to New York, son.”

  Roman pivoted. Walter Bradshaw, in his customary dark suit and power tie, filled the opening between the living room and foyer.

  “I’m leaving soon,” Roman said succinctly. “I only came here to tell you to get the hell out of my life. You and your private investigator.”

  “What private investigator?” Barbara asked.

  Roman spun on her. “The one you hired to follow Leah around, find out about her past.” He turned back to his father. “You told me you didn’t find out anything about Leah’s past, but you also told me you never had her investigated. Now I want the truth. I want to know what you found out about Leah.”

  “It’s history, son,” Walter said. “There’s no point.”

  “I need to know.” Roman steeled himself.

  His father shook his head. “You wouldn’t listen,” he said insistently. “We told you there was something not right about her. She came to the city like she had no past. Everyone has a past, son. She would have ruined you.”

  “What did you find out about Leah?”

  “She was involved in a murder when she was seventeen years old,” Barbara broke in. “The circumstances were sketchy so she was never officially charged, but she spent time in a juvenile facility afterward.”

  “For all we knew,” his father added after a tense moment, “you were married to a murderer.”

  Roman felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. His mind reeled with the tangled memories of all the things Leah had told him about her past. Her mixed-up nightmares.

  “You honestly think Leah could kill someone?” The look on his parents’ faces was all the answer he needed. “Did she know you knew about it?” Was that why she’d left him that night eighteen months ago? Was she trying to save him from her past? Had his parents convinced her that she was going to ruin his life, his political future that he’d never even wanted? So many questions tore at his mind.

  What about the man in the white lab coat she’d dreamed of running away from? How did that fit in? Was he connected to the juvenile facility? He felt as if he had too many puzzle pieces and they weren’t making a complete picture. A part of him wanted to sag in relief that the terrible thing in her past was at least over—she wasn’t still wanted for a crime. But something nipped at his gut. The puzzle pieces weren’t right.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Walter said. “She’s dead—”

  “You know damn well she’s not dead,” Roman cut in, his voice low and his temper spiking. He wanted them to stop lying. About all of it. “I’m sure Robertson has already told you that she’s alive, if Mark hasn’t.”

  “What?” Barbara looked like she was about to faint. “That girl is alive?”

  Roman stared his mother down. “That girl is my wife.” He turned back to Walter. “You sent Robertson down there—”

  “Who?” Walter asked.

  “Norman Robertson. Florida licensed private detective, out of Miami,” Roman bit out. He pulled the P.I. license out of his pocket and shoved it into Walter’s hand. �
��Don’t lie to me anymore. You had her investigated when we got married, and you lied about it. You admitted that much the other day on the phone. Then you had me followed down to Thunder Key. I want the truth now.”

  Walter’s face turned red. “I didn’t have you followed to Thunder Key!”

  “Leah’s alive?” Barbara repeated.

  “She lost her memory after the crash, and she went to the one place she knew—where we spent our honeymoon.” Roman looked at his father again. “There’s a lot to work out, but I hope—” his chest tightened “—I hope we can have a future again.”

  The words tore out of his mouth, his heart. He ached inside, and all he wanted was to be finished with this confrontation and get back to Leah. He wanted to say those words to her, not his parents.

  He took a steadying breath. “I don’t care what you claim she’s done in the past. It doesn’t matter to me. If she’ll have me, I want to rebuild what we had, our marriage. And if you want to have any relationship with me at all in the future,” he said succinctly, “you’ll stay out of it.”

  “I have no idea who the hell this Robertson is, but I didn’t send anyone to Thunder Key,” Walter said, his hand holding the P.I. license shaking. “I had Leah investigated after you married her, that’s true and I’ve admitted that. But it wasn’t this Norman Robertson character. I’ve never heard of him. I swear on everything I hold dear that I didn’t hire anyone to follow you to Thunder Key. I didn’t know she was alive.”

  His father’s denial hung thick in the foyer. Roman looked at his mother, took in again the shocked blankness in her eyes, and a sense of dread rocked him. He faced his father again, saw the cold snap of truth in Walter’s eyes.