His hands had resumed their mesmerizing massage, but stilled when she spoke, and his chest deflated with a small sigh. But before she could ponder the unusual reaction, he suddenly framed her face once more and kissed her so deeply, so thoroughly, it drove everything save him out of her mind.
* * *
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Lex carefully—regretfully—disentangled himself from Faith's sleeping form. Though he hadn't set the clock last night—he'd been too busy making love—his internal alarm had nonetheless gone off shortly after dawn this morning. Sleeping in was a luxury those in his profession simply didn't enjoy. Guests needed to check out, to have their luggage brought down. They needed breakfast, coffee, directions. Lex sighed. Always something. No matter how much he wanted to linger in bed with his lover, it simply wasn't an option. His lover.
Lex mentally reviewed every single second of last night. Soft sighs, little mewls, wicked groans of pleasure, the feel of him plunging in and out of her tight heat … and hard, earth-shattering, soul-shaping orgasms. Contentment sprang inside him from some hidden well previously unplumbed.
His gaze drifted over her woefully familiar face, the smooth brow, sloping curve of her cheek, the small yet determined chin, those lush, plum-soft lips. A band tightened around his chest, momentarily preventing him from drawing a breath.
God, she was perfect. Utterly, completely perfect, and though he knew that today was the last day he would share with her, though he knew that she'd leave—and at some point remember her identity and the part he'd played in this weekend—though he knew she'd feel betrayed, he couldn't for the life of him change a single thing that had happened last night.
Even when she'd unwittingly broken his heart.
I love you, too, Nash.
And she did. She loved Nash Austin. She didn't love him, and no matter how hard he'd tried to make her see him—make her see Lex Ellenburg—she hadn't.
Last night she'd made love to her fantasy hero—one she'd created, for pity's sake—and he'd made love to the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. A bitter smile shaped his lips. Appropriate punishment, he supposed, for going along with this ill-conceived farce.
Lex didn't care what Trudy said, how well she thought she knew her friend. Faith would feel betrayed. He had tried to soften the damage by pouring out his heart to her last night—it had been imperative that she understood, that she didn't doubt how he felt about her. She would doubt, he knew, but hopefully there would be just enough sincerity behind the memory to make way for forgiveness.
That's what he was banking on, the only thing that kept him from absolutely losing his mind.
Today she would leave—he supposed Trudy would have Larson fake a call and send Nash to some remote outpost of civilization until her memory came back—and Lex didn't have any way to prevent that from happening.
Furthermore, though the time would come, he didn't know what sort of apology he could offer for making love to her, knowing that she thought he was someone else. What penance could be paid to make something like that right?
Whatever it was, he'd gladly pay it. Yes, she would leave here today, and a little part of him would leave right along with her, but when her memory returned, he would follow her to the ends of the earth if need be to make her come back.
He wanted to go to bed with her each night and wake up with her in the morning. He wanted her to burn meals in his kitchen, accidentally ruin his favorite shirt, hold his hand during an afternoon walk. He wanted her to scream at him when he was foolish, praise him for small victories and comfort him when he grieved. He wanted to watch her belly swell with his child, to wipe her brow when she gave birth. He wanted to make love to her on rainy days, on the braided rug in front of the fireplace. He wanted to surprise her with gifts, to be her friend and confidant, her partner.
In short, he wanted to spend his life with her. Everything. The good, the bad and the ugly. It didn't matter, so long as she was with him.
A smile tinged his lips. Didn't want much, did he?
The trick would be making her want it as much, showing her that while her fictional hero might be able to kick ass across every continent, he couldn't love her back.
Lex could, and would, given the opportunity.
Zoe shifted, but didn't open her eyes. She'd been having the most delicious dream. She and Nash had made love all night, and he'd told her that he loved her, and then he'd put his money where his mouth was by making sure that she believed it.
He hadn't just made love to her—he'd worshipped her.
He'd washed kisses all over her body, he'd inspected every inch of her, measured each part with his mouth and hands. He'd pumped in and out of her, punctuating each powerful thrust with an I then love then you until she'd laughed and then cried, because she'd felt her foolish heart begin to soften and truly believe him. His love felt real now, not just assumed or taken for granted. He'd chiseled it into her heart, much as a sculptor hammered away at the piece of stone. He hadn't stopped until he'd been certain that she believed him.
In the wee hours of the morning, when he'd wrung the last ounce of energy from her listless, totally satiated body, he'd rolled her with him onto her side, then pressed a reverent kiss to her temple, and murmured, "Please remember."
She'd drifted off to sleep, cocooned in the warmth and happiness of knowing that she was loved without reservation, without reason, and completely without condition.
She slid a hand over to Nash's side of the bed and frowned when she found it empty.
She'd woken up alone…
The noise from the shower suddenly drifted toward her, accounting for her lonely state. She glanced at the clock and winced. She should probably take a shower as well, Zoe thought with a pang of regret. She'd really rather stay in bed, then have Nash join her in it when he came out. But the To Catch a Thief party concluded this morning, so she really couldn't spare the time.
Which reminded her. She'd need to get together with Melanie and see if Larson had turned up any possible leads on the true thief. She was honestly at a loss. Didn't know what to do. It was beginning to look as if she'd have her first unsuccessful mission, and the idea galled her to no end. She'd had a perfect record, and some two-bit thief was going to ruin it.
Damn.
She simply couldn't let that happen. The bastard was here, and she'd catch him. She had to.
But first she had to have a shower. A vision of Nash's naked form suddenly loomed to life in her mind and her insides instantly simmered with warmth. Perhaps a little multitasking was in order, Zoe thought, as a wicked grin slid across her lips. If she wanted sex and needed a shower, then if she simply joined Nash, she could have both.
She opened the bedside drawer for the necessary protection and was just about to slide it shut when a flash of poison green caught her attention.
A funny feeling inexplicably camped in her neck.
Zoe stilled. It was a book, she realized, one that, for reasons that escaped her, seemed oddly familiar. Her insides knotted with anxiety and her hands shook, and she seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. The title—Murder and Mayhem—drew her attention, but it was the author's name that made her heart pound in her chest, made her mouth grow parched. Made a wild buzzing noise blare through her head.
Faith Bonner.
She didn't know what made her do it, where the notion came from or what intuitive little voice whispered the command, but she turned the book over…
…and stared at her own reflection. A picture of herself smiled up from the back jacket.
The anxiety in her gut continued to twist mercilessly, her hands trembled violently and a band of tension tightened around her head. Then the buzzing abruptly stopped, followed by a rapid-fire stream of images and sounds, ideas and perceptions, truths and lies, the last of which made a sob form in the back of her throat.
Oh, God. The impact of what this meant struck her hard, like a simultaneous blow to the head and a dropkick
to the gut. It had been lies. All lies. A part he'd played…
I'm in love with you. Please remember.
She remembered all right. Everything. Every sordid detail. Humiliation and regret burned through her, followed immediately by a pain so intense she could barely keep from doubling over, so intense tears wouldn't come and would never suffice, would never wash away the hurt.
You're beautiful. I'm in love with you. I look at you and I melt.
He'd been playing the part of Nash, Faith realized, utterly wretched, and he'd done it quite well. Everyone had been playing a part, Trudy included. Somehow they'd convinced the guests to play along, as well. Trudy, Faith was sure, had gone along with the ruse because of the professional and financial aspects that ultimately had to be considered. As Faith's assistant, she had to look out for her boss's best interests. The guests had played along because they didn't know any better.
The question was, what had propelled Lex Ellenburg to play along?
He chose that moment to come out of the bathroom. He was completely naked. Little droplets of water clung to his shoulders and chest, and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. She fought the need that instantly bombarded her, focused on the hurt instead, though it was hard. So much harder than it had any right to be.
"Ah. You're up." He smiled at her and for a moment she believed the warmth and affection she saw shining in that too gorgeous, cruelly deceptive gaze. Then that gaze dropped to the book in her hand. He stilled and the smile slowly faded. He looked back at her once more and the gaze was shuttered this time, as though a shadow had moved into place to hide his emotions.
"Why did you do it?" she asked, and congratulated herself for sounding somewhat normal, considering she felt like one of those cartoon characters that had been blown to smithereens by a truckload of TNT, but didn't readily fall apart.
His shoulders slumped, then he hurriedly secured around his hips the towel he'd been drying his hair with.
Faith smirked. "Little late for propriety, wouldn't you say?"
She, too, was naked, but she refused to cover herself. There hadn't been a single part of her this man hadn't intimately acquainted himself with. She'd obviously been suffering from some sort of crazy delusion or amnesia. That she clearly hadn't realized what she'd been doing was the only comfort she could call her own out of this damn charade.
He flushed guiltily. "Faith—"
"Why did you do it?" she repeated. She didn't know why it mattered, but it did.
It mattered a lot.
He frowned. "Do you remember going to Doc Givens?"
Her lips twisted. "I remember everything."
He shot her a look. "Er … okay. Doc met with Trudy and me in the hallway while you were getting dressed. He told us that you had amnesia."
"From the blow to the head?" Faith asked skeptically. It had only been a scratch. Nothing that should have put her into that sort of state.
He winced. "Not exactly. He said that the blow was most likely the catalyst from your subconscious that had propelled the switch. You'd been preparing for the role, you knew the character as well as yourself, that Zoe was most likely merely an extension of you."
Faith rolled her eyes. "Hardly."
He looked up at her. "I've read the books and I see many similarities. At any rate, he said to play along, that you would come back when you were ready. So that's what we did." He shrugged lightly, but then his gaze drifted off, no longer able to hold hers. And, in that instant, she knew. Faith fought down the nausea clawing the back of her throat.
She closed her eyes. Opened them. "She's paying you, isn't she?"
"She offered a bonus, yes," he finally admitted. "But you don't understand—"
Faith snorted bitterly. "Oh, I understand. How much?" Though every instinct told her to flee, Faith couldn't until she knew precisely how much of her hard-earned money had gone to this man to sleep with her.
"Look. It's not as simple as it sounds. You have to listen to me—"
"How much?"
A beat slid to three before he reluctantly told her. She whistled low. No wonder he'd done such a good job playing his part, Faith thought bitterly. She could have hired an entire host of men and had a weeklong orgy in Greece for that price. She bit her lip and cursed the moisture that pricked her lids.
She would not cry.
She wouldn't cry over this opportunistic son of a bitch.
"Oh, Christ," Lex swore. "I knew you would feel this way. I tried to tell Trudy, but she wouldn't listen. I don't give a damn about the money. Keep it. I don't care."
He dropped to his knees before her and tried to take her hand, but Faith jerked away to avoid the touch. He looked as though she'd slapped him, but considering his extensive acting skills, she didn't trust the sentiment. "Don't touch me," she said, in a voice so low and hard she didn't recognize it as her own. "Don't ever touch me again." She enunciated each word with careful deliberation.
"Do you remember what I told you last night?"
She looked away. "I've already told you that I remember everything."
"Then you have to remember that I love you." A desperate, quiet urgency laced his voice and it rang with sincerity. But it couldn't be true. It couldn't. Even if he did fancy himself in love with someone, it wasn't her—it was Zoe.
She shattered inside.
"Please, Faith," he implored. "I told you it was important that you remembered. Please," he whispered softly.
From the corner of her eye, she let her gaze linger on the familiar planes of his face, those firm lips, pale blue eyes, the scar at his temple. So like Nash … but not, she realized, and the most horrible, awful, heart-wrenching thing occurred to her.
She'd fallen in love with the bastard.
"I love you," he repeated, his haunted gaze glued to her profile.
Though it hurt more than she could have ever imagined, Faith finally forced herself to look at him. Her eyes watered. "No you don't, Mr. Ellenburg," she said, her mouth curving into a sad smile. "You love a character I've been playing. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I should find Trudy and finish up this To Catch a Thief event."
"I'm not in love with a damn character," he retorted hotly. "I'm in love with you."
Faith stood and, with as much dignity as she could muster, put on her robe. She could feel little pieces of her heart breaking in her chest, sharp, jagged chunks that tore at her emotions. "I know I should probably tell you that I appreciate everything you've done to make this run smoothly, but I hope you'll understand if I'm not up to the required pleasantries. I'll let Trudy take care of that."
"Dammit, Faith." He shoved a hand through his hair. "Please listen to me. Don't do this."
She belatedly noticed her clothes and toiletries littered about the room. "I'll have Trudy collect my things, as well."
Then, without a backward glance, and though she had to force herself to move, she let herself out of the room.
Out of his life.
The house was silent, utterly quiet, and she needed a place to grieve alone, at least for a few minutes. She needed time to regroup. To put herself back together before she had to face Trudy or anybody else. A sob wrenched out of her throat, quickly followed by a wave of nausea so strong she hurried into the kitchen and retched into the sink. She'd just finished wiping her mouth when she realized that she wasn't alone.
Faith slowly straightened and turned around.
The Millers stood frozen, Mrs. Miller at the fridge and Mr. Miller at the counter. It took a full five seconds to absorb what she saw, and yet she still couldn't make sense of it. Mrs. Miller had been in the act of pouring one box of salt into the milk, and from the looks of things, Mr. Miller had been contaminating the sugar and flour canisters with the other one.
"What the hell are you doing?" Faith demanded. Why would they—
"Nothing," Mrs. Miller said guiltily. "We're, uh… We're going to fix breakfast."
"Right," Mr. Miller confirmed. The man was an abysmal liar.
<
br /> Faith quickly dialed through her fractured memory and tried to recall what else she'd seen in their room—other than the S&M toys—and instantly remembered the many photos of the lodge, the notes about square footage. A frown wrinkled her brow, and though she had absolutely no desire to see Lex again, she knew she had to let him know about this. Something was up. She had a strong suspicion—her gaze bounced between the two guilty looking faces—but she'd need to see what he thought.
Rather than risk leaving them alone, she walked to the door and bellowed down the hall for him. Seconds later, he rushed into the kitchen—and drew up short at the scene that greeted him. He looked at her, then to the Millers. The salt registered and she watched comprehension dawn on his woefully familiar face. Pain clogged her throat, swelled in her chest.
"What's going on here?" he asked, disbelief still edging out the anger she knew would come. "Margie? James?"
"They were pouring the salt I found in their briefcase into your milk, sugar and flour. They're sabotaging you," Faith told him, her tone flat and emotionless. Would that she could feel that way, as well. "They're regulars, right?"
He nodded, his face a thunderstruck mask. A flash of pity for him surfaced, but she ruthlessly beat it down.
"Now wait just a minute," Margie exclaimed. "It's not—"
Faith shot her a glance that quelled the rest of what Margie had intended to say. "Then I imagine that they've been doing it all along. You might want to go back and cross-reference any repairs you've had to make with their visits." She paused. "It hadn't seemed important at the time, but they also have many pictures of the lodge, along with notes about square footage and other facts about your place in that briefcase."
Lex's gaze swung from her to them. His face was a pale mask of hurt and anger. "My central AC unit. My computer." His eyes widened. "Those goddamn bugs!"
James and Margie ducked their heads, unable to meet his gaze. "It wouldn't have come to this if you'd just taken our offer," Margie finally said. "It was a generous one. You'd have been better off."
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