that.”
His low chuckles were suddenly brushing against the back of her neck and suddenly the quivering in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with fear.
“You think you need to apologize for hugging me? I just wished you’d hung on longer.”
His suggestive remark had her swallowing, fighting the urge to turn to him once more. “I don’t think … that would be wise,” she said, her voice breathy and broken.
“Why?”
She couldn’t summon an answer and then it didn’t matter as his hand pushed the curtain of her long hair to one side and his lips settled softly on the back of her neck.
“Because I might do this,” he whispered against her skin. “Or this?”
With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward him and all Lass could do was stand motionless and wait for his kiss.
Chapter Six
Since the night Brady had found her in the ditch and propped her limp body in the circle of his arms, he’d wondered how it would feel to hold this woman in a romantic embrace, imagined how her lips would taste. Yet none of those mental images had come close to the actual thing he was experiencing now.
He knew he should be resisting her. He should remember how vulnerable she was, that she looked to him for protection. But she’d made the first move, and he wasn’t the type to refuse a beautiful woman. Especially not this one.
Tucked close against him, her body felt small and soft and incredibly warm, while her lips tasted like sweet fruit. Ripe. Juicy. Delicious. Her hands were planted against his chest and though her fingers were small, they were sending shock waves of heat straight through the fabric of his shirt and onto his skin.
Brady could have stood there kissing her forever if she’d not finally broke the contact of their lips and squirmed her way out of his arms. And even then, as she stood there looking at him with wide, wondrous eyes, he wanted to gather her back against him, to experience the pleasure of her all over again.
“I’m sorry. I … must have sent you the wrong signal,” she finally said in a raw whisper.
He couldn’t stop a grin from lifting one corner of his mouth. “Which time? When you hugged me? Or when you kissed me?”
Groaning with embarrassment, she covered her mouth with her hand. As though he’d just marked her in some way and she didn’t want him or anyone to see the change in her.
“Both times!” she exclaimed, then dropped her hand and stared at him in a beseeching way. “Please forget that. Every bit of it!”
Brady could see she was deadly serious, but still he couldn’t prevent the low chuckles that rippled up in his throat. She was just too precious, too beautiful. “Are you kidding? I’m not about to forget something that wonderful.”
Her nostrils flared and he watched the rapid rise and fall of her bosom as images of her in bed this morning assaulted his already lust-filled brain. The thin red silk had revealed the exact shape of her nipples, the perfect round curves of her breasts. He’d wanted to touch her then. Just as badly as he wanted to touch her now.
“Brady, I need to explain. I—”
“Lass, there’s no need for you to break apart over a little kiss. You’re carrying on as though you’ve never been kissed before,” he teased in an effort to ease the moment. Clearly she was distressed and he didn’t understand exactly why. He knew enough about women to know when one was enjoying being kissed and Lass had clearly been enjoying it.
She grimaced. “I wouldn’t know! I don’t remember what I’ve done in the past! Or who I’ve done it with,” she practically snapped, then shook her head with dismay. “Forgive me, Brady. I … seem to be breaking apart, don’t I? And I’m trying so hard to hold myself together. But this morning—”
She trailed off and Brady stepped forward and reached for her hand. To his relief, she wrapped her fingers around his and held on tightly.
“What about this morning?” he urged. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
Sighing, she closed her eyes. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ve worked myself up over nothing,” she told him. “But whatever I saw in my mind won’t go away. That must mean it happened. Wouldn’t you think?”
Not fully understanding what she was trying to say, he led her to a wicker love seat shaded by a curtain of morning glory vines.
“Okay, Lass, start over. Are you trying to tell me that you’ve remembered something?”
She nodded soberly. “I think so. But I’m not sure. I was with Dallas at her stables this morning. Just sitting there watching the children. And then I saw one of the stable helpers tending to a horse and something happened in my head. All of a sudden images were flashing in front of my eyes.”
“What sort of images?”
“A steel-gray horse was being saddled by someone. I don’t know who. The blanket was bright red and the saddle was the English sort. Then the horse was suddenly gone and a man was standing in front of me. He was gripping my wrist. Really hard. And he kept saying over and over, ‘You’re coming with me.’”
Everything inside Brady went still. “Did you recognize this man?”
“No. It was like a dream where you never see the face. It was someone tall with dark hair.”
“What about the voice? Did you recognize it?”
Shaking her head, she said, “It seemed familiar, but I can’t identify it. To be honest, the voice scares me, Brady. I—” She gripped his hand even tighter. “All day it’s been haunting me. Now, after desperately wishing I could remember something, I’m wishing I could forget this.”
Placing his free hand on top of hers, he said, “I wouldn’t put much stock into the whole thing, Lass. Whatever you saw could be something that happened years ago. Or maybe you had a dream last night and it suddenly came to you.”
She didn’t look at all convinced and to be honest Brady found it hard to dismiss her images as dreams. From the small amount of time he’d been around this woman, she didn’t appear to be an airhead or a drama queen. True, she was a bit upset at the moment, but anyone in her predicament had a right to feel unsettled.
“I don’t think so, Brady. I think those were glimmers of things that happened—before I was injured.”
“Could be, Lass. But we won’t know for certain until you have more of them, or I manage to get a toehold on some relevant information. And I hate to tell you, but that hasn’t happened yet. No one at the track seemed to recognize you. A waitress in the club house restaurant thought she recalled seeing you, but she wasn’t sure. When they see hundreds of faces a day, it’s hard to single out one from the crowd.”
“Oh, well,” she said, trying to put a bit of cheer in her voice, “someone might eventually see my picture and identify me. I mean, I couldn’t have come from Mars. Martians don’t wear cowboy boots and Levi’s, do they?”
Glad
