Forgotten Sins
Aline was in bed with a handsome stranger! He claimed she'd made love to him. Her mind couldn't remember a thing, but her body was on fire.Jake accused Aline of conveniently faking her amnesia, of deliberately holding something back. However, his passion for her was undeniable, and if he really believed she was keeping a guilty secret, why did he tell her that he would always be there for her? Did his body know a truth his mind denied?
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“Married?”
His ruthlessly beautiful mouth twisting, he said, “If you’re conscience-stricken because you’ve been unfaithful to the saintly Michael, let me remind you he’s been dead for almost three years. It’s time you let him go.”
She shook her head, searching through her mind for memories of a dead husband and finding only echoing, empty caverns “Who are you?” she asked again, her words strained and desperate.
Contempt gleamed in his half-closed eyes. “Stop it now—it’s not working,” he said softly, lethally. “I’m the only man you made love with last night, the man whose arms you slept in.”
Unable to meet that probing gaze, she dropped her face into her hands. “I don’t know who you are,” she blurted unevenly, trying to flog her aching brain into producing a memory. When it remained obstinately and terrifyingly empty she wailed, “I don’t even know who I am. I don’t know where this is. I don’t know—I don’t know anything!”
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
JAKE saw Aline Connor the moment he walked into the drawing-room. Heat and desire hit him like a blow, bringing his body alive and nearly overpowering his confident self-possession.
How the hell, he thought with savage self-mockery, did she do that to him? Witchcraft?
He’d had a pig of a week, culminating in a delayed, turbulent flight from Canada to New Zealand the previous night, yet one glance and he knew he’d have travelled ten times as far to see her.
‘Ah, there’s the guest of honour,’ cooed Lauren Penn, who’d pulled up outside the old Victorian villa at the same time as Jake, and strolled in with him. ‘She’s such a little darling, isn’t she? Wasn’t she good in the church—not a murmur as the vicar splashed her forehead! I think she’s inherited Keir’s massive self-assurance, lucky little girl.’
An undercurrent in her voice caught Jake’s attention. Meeting his swift scrutiny with a sideways glance and a challenging smile, she used the doorway as an excuse to brush against him. Perfume, overtly erotic, rose in a clinging, cloying cloud; neither it nor the swift friction of skin against skin when she touched his hand affected Jake.
He’d grown cynical since he’d begun to appear in the eligible bachelor lists; certain women—those whose main aim in life was to fascinate a rich man into marriage—had targeted him. Although some had inspired casual desire, it had been nothing like the violent, elemental hunger he felt whenever he looked at Aline—or whenever he thought of her, or heard her, or touched her…
It had to be witchcraft, a spell spun by a black-haired, blue-eyed witch with a voice like cool music and skin so silkily transparent he wondered whether it would show bruises after making love.
His mouth curled sardonically. In spite of her aloofness and reserve, he’d sensed a reluctant, involuntary response, but it clear as hell irked her, and it certainly wasn’t anything as strong as the basic need that clawed through him.
Not that Aline’s aloofness was personal; she didn’t target anyone. Lauren Penn displayed more overt welcome in one smile than Aline showed in her whole graceful, elegant body. Yet from the moment he’d seen her he’d wanted her with a raw, consuming hunger that had nothing to do with logic or intelligence. Until then always able to control his passions, it angered and astonished him that he couldn’t do it now.
Lauren sent him another melting glance and murmured, ‘They look such a happy group, don’t they? Aline cuddling baby Emma while Hope sits proudly by. Hope strikes me as the possessive sort, so all those rumours about Aline being Keir’s lover can’t be true.’
It wasn’t the first time Jake had heard that particular suggestion, although usually as innuendo. It had angered him previously; it enraged him now. He liked Lauren, and if he hadn’t heard a feverish note buried in her brittle words he wouldn’t have bothered to silence his cutting response.
Something was clearly going on. It concerned Aline—and that meant it concerned him.
Lauren’s gaze was fixed on Aline. Without waiting for an answer she drawled, ‘Aline’s cold-blooded enough to swap passion for friendship if it worked to her advantage, but I don’t think Hope would welcome her husband’s discarded lover as a friend.’
One of the reasons Jake hated the insinuation was that he suspected it had some basis; he’d sensed a certain tension between Keir Carmichael and his tall, exquisite executive, but he knew men—whatever had happened in the past, Keir wasn’t interested in Aline now. Although his face made granite look expressive, he couldn’t hide the way he felt about his wife.
Just as well, Jake thought with cold purposefulness. If he’d wanted Aline, Carmichael would have had a fight on his hands.
‘Champagne, madam? Sir?’ a waiter offered smoothly.
‘Oh, lovely—perfect for such a glorious day,’ Lauren accepted eagerly, her hand shaking as she took the glass. She raised it to Jake. ‘I love spring—all those new beginnings make you glad to be alive, don’t they?’
