Читать книгу Forbidden Passion - Emilie Rose - Страница 7

“You’re saying the situation is worse than I thought?” Lynn perched on the edge of her chair across from Mr. Allen, the estate lawyer. Her nails dug into her palms, and her stomach clenched into a tight knot. An hour’s worth of legal terminology spun in a confusing mass in her head.

The older gentleman regarded her somberly through his wire-rimmed bifocals from across his wide cherry desk. The richly furnished office smelled like money. Ironically, he’d just told her she had none.

“Your husband’s estate is heavily burdened with debt, Mrs. Riggan. You’ll have to liquidate your assets to cover those debts. As far as I can ascertain the thirty-percent share of Riggan CyberQuest you’ve inherited is your only debt-free asset.”

Lynn gulped her rising panic and stiffened her spine. “So I should sell Brett’s share of the company?”

“Yes, if you hope to have anything to live off, but your brother-in-law has right of first refusal should you choose to sell.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Sawyer will want to buy Brett’s share.”

Mr. Allen shuffled the papers in front of him until she thought her nerves would snap. “You have rights of survivorship on your home which means you can sell it without waiting for the estate to be settled, and I would highly recommend you do so before the bank takes action, since your payments are past due. I’ll have my secretary give you the names of several reputable estate appraisers. You can have your household items assessed and then choose one of the estate men to help you divest yourself of anything of value.”

She clenched her hands to stop their trembling and nodded. The tasks ahead seemed insurmountable, but Brett’s share of the company should give her enough to start over and to get an education so she could support herself.

The attorney continued, “You’ve provided receipts showing you’ve paid for the funeral services, and yet the money wasn’t withdrawn from any of your bank accounts.”

Lynn twisted her plain gold wedding band around her finger. “No, I returned a gift my husband had recently bought…for me and used that money.”

If second thoughts about their reconciliation hadn’t driven her from the bed after their intimate encounter would she have ever known about Brett’s mistress?

She’d picked up her husband’s suit from the floor the way she’d done dozens of times before, but this time a jewelry box had fallen from his coat pocket and sprung open to reveal a huge diamond ring. She’d been touched—not because she’d liked the gaudy ring, but because she’d believed the gift signified a new start to their troubled marriage. The inscription inside the platinum band had crushed her hopes. “To Nina with love, Brett.” At that moment her worst fears had been proven. Her husband had been unfaithful.

Stunned, she’d looked at Brett, and he’d concocted a story—he always had a story—about buying the ring for her and then deciding it wasn’t her style. He’d claimed he planned to return it the next day and had even produced the receipt to prove his point. The worst part was that she probably would have swallowed his lies again if she hadn’t read the inscription. He claimed the jeweler had made a mistake, but she knew better. Finally, the rose-colored glasses had shattered, and she could see the lie in his eyes.

If she hadn’t been so angered by her own gullibility and lashed out at him verbally, egged on by years of broken dreams, would he still be alive? She’d screamed at him to get out of the house, vowing to file the divorce papers the next day. He’d stormed out, and less than an hour later the police had knocked on her door to tell her Brett was dead.

When it had become clear that there wasn’t any money to pay for the funeral, she’d returned the ring to the jeweler’s. His mistress’s ring had cost more than ten thousand dollars. Her own ring, a plain gold band, had cost one hundred, which only went to show how much he valued her.

How had she been so blind? So stupid?

“Mrs. Riggan?” Mr. Allen’s quiet voice interrupted her self-castigation.

She jerked to attention. “Yes?”

“I have one more suggestion. Seek employment as soon as possible.”

Lynn had ducked him for the last time. He would see her today, dammit.

Sawyer ground his teeth and navigated through the congestion in Lynn and Brett’s normally quiet neighborhood on Saturday morning. During the past week he’d left enough messages on Lynn’s answering machine to fill a book. Sure, she’d returned his calls, but she’d left brief messages on his home answering machine when she knew he’d be at work, rather than call him at the office and speak to him directly.

How could he take care of her if he couldn’t even talk to her and find out what she needed?

He’d given her time because the memory of her taste, of the slick heat of her body clenching his and her gasps of passion still haunted his dreams, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with avoiding him any longer.

He turned onto her street, and traffic slowed to a crawl. The For Sale sign by the curb jolted him, but the Yard Sale sign sent his heart slamming against his ribs.

His brother’s belongings lay scattered across the lawn and driveway. Scavengers hunted through the entrails of Brett’s life. Rage boiled in Sawyer’s chest. Brett had only been gone ten days, and Lynn seemed determined to erase his existence.

Pulling into a spot by the curb, Sawyer threw open his car door and stalked toward Lynn. Her pale-yellow shorts and sleeveless sweater skimmed her curves in a way guaranteed to make any red-blooded male stand up and take notice. Her bare arms and legs were sleek, tanned and toned, and the V-neck of her sweater revealed a mouthwatering hint of cleavage. Her hair cascaded down her back like polished gold, and she’d outlined her mouth in deep pink—the same shade he’d kissed off her lips. His libido stirred, but right now his anger edged out his primeval response by a slim margin.

She glanced up from her cash box and their gazes met. Wariness filled her eyes.

“What are you doing?” He managed not to shout, but fury vibrated in his voice.

Her white teeth dug into her bottom lip. “I’m selling items I won’t have room for when I move to a smaller place.”

“Those are Brett’s books, his golf clubs, his clothes.”

“Sawyer, I’m sorry. I should have warned you about the yard sale.”

“Hell, you have everything he owned out here.” He fought the urge to sweep it all up and carry it back into the house.

Lynn winced and glanced over her shoulder, making him aware that several shoppers had stopped to eavesdrop shamelessly. Catching her elbow, he ushered her to the side of the lawn.

She focused soft, sympathetic eyes on him. “I separated out the items I thought you might want, but if you see anything out here that you’d like, then please, take it.”

“That’s not the point. It’s as if you’re trying to erase Brett from your memory.” He wasn’t ready to let go yet, and she shouldn’t be, either. She pulled her arm free, and her silky skin slid against his fingertips, marginally deflating his anger. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts and clenched his teeth on the persistent bite of desire.

“My memories are here, Sawyer.” She tapped her temple and then gestured toward the bounty in her yard. “These are just things.”

He paced to the hedge and back. Was Lynn trying to purge Brett from her life? And what if there were a child? He might have a legal hold on his child, but not on Brett’s. The big aching void where his heart used to be threatened to suck him into a black hole. “Why are you trying so hard to forget him?”

“I’m not,” she fired back defensively and then chewed her lip. She glanced away and then back at him. Resignation settled over her features. “We have a few debts I need to pay.”

He zeroed in on the tension in her voice. “What kinds of debts?”

She stepped from one foot to the other and fingered the lock on the cash box. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Lynn, I can’t help if I don’t know what I’m up against.”

“And I told you I don’t need your help.” She fidgeted when he stared her down and then sighed. “Credit cards, mostly, but as administrator of the estate, I can settle our debts by selling a few items.”

Hadn’t Brett learned anything from the tightly budgeted years after their parents’ deaths? Or was Lynn the one who’d insisted on flashy cars and a luxurious house? Since marrying his brother she’d certainly developed a high-maintenance lifestyle with her flirty body-hugging dresses, long, manicured nails and hair color that changed as frequently as the seasons.

His gut knotted and a sour taste filled his mouth. Brett had bragged that every time Lynn dyed her hair it had been like making love with a different woman, a sexy redhead, a sultry brunette, a tawny-headed temptress. Cheating, but not cheating, he’d said with a wink and a smirk that lit a firestorm in Sawyer every time. He’d once thought he and Lynn had a future together, but that was before she’d ignored his letter and chosen his brother.

Sawyer preferred Lynn’s hair blond—which he now knew was her natural shade, dammit—and he’d liked her back when she’d been a waitress who traded her contradictory uniform for jeans after work. Sure, he appreciated the curvy shape her clothes revealed—what man wouldn’t?—but he preferred a woman to leave a little to the imagination.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with a long fuchsia fingernail, and in the blink of an eye his mind shifted gears again and his blood ignited. The crescent marks on his butt where she’d clutched him and pulled him deeper had barely faded. He cleared his throat and shifted, trying to ease the discomfort behind his zipper. “How much do you owe?”

Her pink lips pressed in a determined line, and she lifted her chin. “I’m busy now. Can we have this discussion later?”

Several couples hovered as if waiting to make purchases, and Lynn’s closed expression made it clear she wasn’t going to talk now. He didn’t have the right to stop the yard sale, but he couldn’t stand around and watch the vultures cart off his brother’s possessions without acid eating a hole through his stomach. “What time will you finish here?”

“The neighbors’ teenage sons will come back at three to help me pack up what I don’t sell.”

“I’ll be back this evening.”

Pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend the man striding up your driveway didn’t give you more physical pleasure in five desperate minutes than your husband did in four years.

Lynn hovered on her side porch with her cheeks on fire and her insides a jumble. Coward that she was, she’d anxiously watched for Sawyer through the windows and then raced out the kitchen door before he could head up the brick walk to her front entrance. She couldn’t face him in the foyer.

Sawyer’s navy-blue polo shirt delineated his muscles to mouthwatering perfection. The short sleeves revealed thick biceps and tanned forearms lightly sprinkled with dark hair—hair that matched the denser whorls at the base of his throat. Her lips tingled with the memory of tasting him there, and a shiver slipped down her spine. His khaki shorts displayed rock-hard thighs and calves. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. She clenched her fingers as she relived the rasp of his chin against her palm.

She’d just lost her husband, and even if she’d quit loving Brett long ago, she shouldn’t be having womb-tightening thoughts about Sawyer or his athletic body. Ashamed, she ducked her chin, thumbed her wedding band and hoped the warmth beneath her skin wasn’t visible.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated without preamble.

Her heart jumped. Guilty as charged. “I’ve been busy for the past week with the estate paperwork, the real estate agent and appraisers.”

His cobalt gaze raked over her from head to toe, stirring up feelings best left undisturbed and leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake, but then concern softened his eyes and the hard planes of his handsome face. “How are you holding up?”

His quiet question put a lump in her throat. “I’m okay. You?”

He shrugged and she nearly rolled her eyes. Typical man, refusing to admit to emotion. Her father, the tough cop, had been the same—especially after her mother died.

“Come in.” She led the way through the garage and into the kitchen. Even though she kept her back to the curved archway leading to the foyer her heart thumped harder, and the sensitive areas of her body tingled with awareness for the man hovering a few feet away.

She concentrated on keeping her hand steady so she wouldn’t scatter the coffee grounds across the granite countertop and then poured water into the coffeemaker and turned it on. Pressing her palm against her nervous stomach, she tried to ignore the tremor running through her. “The coffee should be ready in a few minutes.”

“How much do you owe?” Sawyer’s tone sounded level, almost impersonal, but the way he looked at her wasn’t. His eyes stroked over her, and her skin reacted as if he’d touched her. Intimacy stood between them like a living, breathing being, connecting them in a way they hadn’t been linked before.

Don’t fool yourself, Lynn. The encounter in the foyer ten days ago had nothing to do with making love and everything to do with forgetting. The regret on both sides proved it shouldn’t and wouldn’t be repeated. So why couldn’t she get it out of her mind? And why, when he looked at her in that slow, thorough way did her awakened body hum with the memory of the way he’d caressed her and with the deep-seated need for him to do so again?

My God, what must he think of her? Had she become the clichéd merry widow? Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. She staggered back a step and retreated to the sunny bay window overlooking her tiny backyard in an effort to clear the unsuitable thoughts from her mind. She fussed with her multitude of plants, polishing dust off this one and plucking a dead bud from another, but Sawyer’s spicy scent pursued her relentlessly.

“How much, Lynn?” he repeated.

“Settling the estate really isn’t your problem, Sawyer.”

He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. His biceps bulged and a muscle jerked in the tense line of his jaw. “It’s my problem if you have to sell part of the company to cover your debts.”

“Actually, I want to sell Brett’s share back to you.”

He frowned and shoved a hand through his hair. “I can’t raise the capital to buy Brett’s share right now. The company’s having a few difficulties.”

A chill chased down her spine. Those shares were all she had. If the company folded they’d be worthless. “But I need the money to start over once the house sells.”

“And I need you to be patient. Give me a chance to turn the company around. You’d only get a fraction of the value if you sold now. Where do you plan to move?”

Lynn pressed her fingers against the steady throb building behind her left temple. “My aunt said I could stay with her until I get back on my feet.”

“In Florida? If you’re looking for a rent-free place to stay, then move in with me. I have the space.”

His offer tempted and repelled her simultaneously. She loved this small college town with its steep hills, curvy roads and friendly atmosphere, and Sawyer’s spacious home in the historic section had a character and grace that her newer one lacked. When he finished the renovations his house would be gorgeous. She loved the high-ceilinged rooms and tall windows which overlooked a huge yard.

But Sawyer had made her lose control, and she’d just spent four years of her life in a relationship that rendered her powerless. If she lived with him she ran the risk of repeating her mistakes. “Thanks, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Are you looking for a job?”

“Yes.” She’d been job hunting for the past three days, but the university students had left town for the summer, and the business owners had cut staff to accommodate reduced trade.

“Come to work for me.”

With her stomach churning, she gazed out the window. The last thing she wanted to do was face Sawyer every day and be reminded that she’d thrown herself at him like a woman starved for affection. “I don’t know anything about computer software development.”

Sawyer moved closer until he stood directly behind her, his reflection showing in the glass. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. The heat of his touch permeated her thin sweater, warming her skin. She swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to his. In his eyes she saw sympathy, frustration and heat. He hadn’t forgotten what happened any more than she had. There beneath the civilized veneer lay the awareness of what they’d done. Tension spiraled in her belly.

“Lynn, I can give you enough money to cover your immediate expenses, or I can offer you a job. Your choice. But I don’t want you to leave Chapel Hill until I’m certain you’re not carrying Brett’s child…or mine.”

Sawyer’s baby. Her pulse skipped a beat. She took a calming breath. It would be one thing to move to Florida alone or with Brett’s baby. It would be another to take Sawyer’s baby away from him. She could never be responsible for denying a child its father’s love.

Don’t panic about things that haven’t happened yet. You may not be pregnant. The odds for conceiving the first month after getting off the Pill are slim.

“Thank you, but I’d rather earn the money legitimately.” She forced herself to look into his eyes and stretched her lips into a smile that felt more like a grimace, but she couldn’t do any better with the worry building inside her. Stepping away, she put enough distance between them that she couldn’t feel his body heat and wouldn’t be close enough to give in to the temptation to lean on him and draw from his strength. It was time she stood on her own feet again.

“I want to help.” His voice hardened.

She took a deep breath and faced him. “And I want a real job, not one fabricated out of pity.”

“This is a real job. Opal, my administrative assistant, needs help. Brett’s assistant quit months ago, and Opal’s been juggling her workload and Nina’s, too.”

Lynn’s breath caught and nausea rose in her throat. Nina. Brett’s lover. Her husband went through assistants like most men went through socks. Because he’d instructed her not to call him at work unless there was an emergency, she hadn’t even known his latest assistant’s name. Did Sawyer know about the affair? Would he lie to protect his brother?

With her heart and head reeling she tried to come up with a logical response. “I have no training.”

“You’ll learn.” The set of Sawyer’s jaw promised an argument if she refused his offer—an argument she couldn’t contemplate right now.

“I’ll think about it. Now, please have a seat at the table. I have something to show you. I have to get it from the bedroom upstairs.”

His gaze locked with hers and then shifted to the archway beyond her shoulder—the one leading to the foyer and the stairs. Heat flashed in his eyes.

Her breath caught and her heart pounded. Warmth flushed her skin. She turned away, but not before regret tightened Sawyer’s features. “I’ll get the box.”

After bracing himself, Sawyer lifted the lid of the cheap wooden box on the table in front of him. Gold, silver and other precious metals lay jumbled together without regard for the scratches the heirlooms might receive.

“Did you pack these?”

Lynn hovered near the coffeepot. Her gaze danced to his and then away again, never holding for more than a split second. Pink climbed from her neck to spread across her cheeks. Her nipples peaked, proving she remembered what happened on the other side of that archway, the same way he did. His pulse leaped. Her quick glances told him she wanted to ignore the passion between them, and if he were half as smart as the business magazines said he was, he’d let her.

“I didn’t even know Brett had this treasure chest until I searched for the will. I found the box buried in the back of the closet, but I saw your name on a couple of items and thought you might be interested. I’d hate to sell something that holds sentimental value for you.”

She flitted from one side of the blinding-white kitchen to the other and back again—probably afraid he’d jump her if she remained stationary. She fiddled with her plants and straightened the already straight row of canisters. He cursed himself. His loss of control had made her a nervous wreck.

“You never found a will?”

“No. The attorney checked the courthouse, the bank and every other logical place where a will could be stored, just in case Brett had done one of those home kits. He found nothing, and I’ve already searched the house twice.”

Another detail his brother had neglected. It infuriated Sawyer that Brett had been so careless with Lynn. If a man loved a woman, he looked out for her, provided for her…and any children they might have.

Shutting down the disturbing thought, he carefully withdrew a gold watch and chain from the tangled mess in the box and traced his finger over the name engraved in the metal. Warm memories swamped him—memories of looking at this watch with his own father and anticipating the day when he would be entrusted with the heirloom. “This pocket watch belonged to my great-grandfather, the first Sawyer Riggan.”

She set a mug of steaming coffee in front of him and darted back to the other side of the room. “Why did Brett have it?”

“He asked for it.” And God help him, he’d tried to give Brett everything he wanted after their parents’ deaths.

“But why give it to him if it was intended for you?”

“I owed him.” Owed him a debt he could never repay.

“Owed him what?”

Hadn’t Brett told her? “I killed our parents.”

Her brow pleated. “Your parents died in a car accident.”

“With me at the wheel.”

Sympathy softened her eyes. “I thought a drunk driver ran a stop light.”

“He did, but if I hadn’t shot off as soon as the light turned green, if I’d looked twice before accelerating into the intersection instead of being the lead-foot my dad always accused me of being—”

She returned to the table, slid into the chair at a right angle to his and laid her soft hand over his clenched fist. His words dried up. “Sawyer, the accident wasn’t your fault. Brett showed me the newspaper article. The other driver didn’t have on his headlights. You couldn’t possibly have seen him.”

Her touch burned his skin. He sucked in a deep breath. She snatched her hand back and tucked it into her lap as if she regretted the gesture, but the imprint of her fingers lingered.

Since Brett’s death Lynn had quit wearing her heavy perfume, and God help him, he could smell her. Her light honeysuckle scent was ten times more potent than perfume anyday. She’d also quit teasing her hair into that just-out-of-bed, sex-kitten style. Today she’d brushed it in a satiny wave over her shoulders. His hands itched to tumble her hair into the same disarray it had been when he’d made love to her on the stairs. Not made love, he corrected, had sex. Making love implied he had lingering feelings for Lynn from their earlier relationship, and he didn’t.

Clearing his throat, he refocused on the jewelry box, digging around until he uncovered his mother and father’s wedding bands. He closed his fingers around them, feeling the loss of his parents as if it had been yesterday instead of ten years ago, and then his mother’s last words rang in his ears. Take care of Brett. Whatever you do, don’t let them separate our family.

He opened his hand to study the intricately carved bands and traced the pattern on his mother’s ring.

Lynn leaned closer. “They’re lovely. The engraving is quite unusual.”

“Brett said you refused to wear Mom’s wedding band.”

Lynn’s brows arched in surprise. “I never saw the rings before this week.”

He lifted the smaller band. “He didn’t offer this to you?”

Pain clouded her sky-blue eyes and she looked away. “No. Maybe he wanted to keep the set together. You know Brett chose not to wear a wedding band.”

It didn’t make sense. Brett had begged for the pocket watch and the rings, and yet it would seem his brother had never used any of the pieces.

A delicate silver locket caught Sawyer’s attention. He set the rings back in the box and picked up the locket, flicking it open to reveal two tiny pictures, one of him as an infant and the other of Brett as a three-year-old. “This belonged to my mother. She always planned to give it to her granddaughter, if there was one someday.”

His gaze met hers and then traveled slowly over her breasts to her flat belly. His child—his daughter—could be growing inside Lynn. His chest tightened, and he lifted his gaze to hers once more. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her lipstick was long gone. The need to lean across the distance and touch his mouth to the softness of hers blindsided him. He sucked in a slow breath and sat back in his chair.

Neither of them spoke of the baby she might be carrying, but the knowledge and the tension stretched between them. He couldn’t explain the mixture of emotions clogging his throat. Fear? Excitement? Dread? Anticipation?

Lynn’s fingers curled on the edge of the tabletop until her knuckles turned white, and then she stood and carried her cup to the sink. “If you ever have a daughter, I’m sure she’d be proud to wear the locket. It’s lovely.”

The other items in the box held less value, but Sawyer found a favorite pocket knife he thought he’d lost in high school and the ID bracelet his ex-fiancée had given him. Why did Brett have these? And why had he tossed each piece in a cheap box like yard-sale junk?

Lynn paused behind his shoulder. “These are your memories, Sawyer. They should stay in your family.”

“The Riggan family will end with me—unless you’re carrying the next generation. When will you know if you’re pregnant?”

Eyes wide, she stared at him and then her gaze darted away. Her face paled as quickly as it had flushed. “In a week or so, but let’s not borrow trouble.”

“You’ll tell me as soon as you know.” It wasn’t a question.

She hesitated and his heart stuttered. “Yes.”

“Do you want a baby?”

Worry clouded her eyes. She took a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted children, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And not knowing who—” She bit her lip and tucked her chin.

“I’ll stand by you, Lynn—no matter whose child it is.”

“Um…thank you.” She didn’t look reassured.

The doorbell rang. She frowned and turned.

“That should be dinner. I called the Chinese place while you were upstairs.” Sawyer rose and strode past her to the front door. She remained in the kitchen while he paid and tipped the delivery man and returned. He set the bag on the counter and opened it. Tantalizing aromas filled the room.

“You didn’t have to buy dinner.” Lynn inhaled deeply and then licked her lips.

Hunger for Lynn replaced his need for food. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself why he’d called the restaurant. “You need to eat. You’ve lost weight.”

Her spine stiffened. “That’s not your concern.”

“I’m making it mine.”