Page 27 of Shadow of Doubt

Would she have jumped so suddenly? Her father had said there had been six months since she and Dave had broken up. Would she have been so paranoid, so downright archaic to demand that this man marry her and prove that his intentions were honorable? “And you just happily went along with my idea,” she scoffed, knowing instinctively that Trent McKenzie wasn’t a man to be manipulated.

“I wanted you. Period.” His voice was husky and raw, ringing with a conviction that tore at her soul. “I would have done anything to have you. Anything.”

“Even marry me.”

“Even that.”

Her breath got lost in her lungs, and when his eyes touched hers, they burned with an inner fire that caused the denials to melt on her tongue. There was no doubt of his sexuality or the passion that simmered in his blood.

He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly at first, but with more hunger as each heartbeat passed. As her arms wrapped around his waist, she told herself to remember that this was the man who could not profess to love her, who often seemed cold and distant. So why now would he open his heart to her?

His lips moved over hers and his tongue rimmed her mouth, touching, enticing, prodding her lips apart to slip into the dark, wet recess. She closed her eyes and moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth, dancing and parrying, teasing her own reluctant tongue to life.

Nikki’s knees buckled, and his arms surrounded her, holding her close, pressing her against him, forcing her breasts against his chest. He prodded her legs apart with a knee that deftly cleaved her skirt and shoved her against the palm tree. Her blood was on fire, her breaths short and rapid, and the denials singing through her brain earlier all but silenced.

She knew that becoming intimate with him was taboo, that danger lurked in his dusky kisses, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. Her body screamed for him, her breasts ached for his touch, and deep inside she felt a molten fire, like the boiling lava of a volcano about to erupt.

When he lifted his head, she sagged against him.

“This is how it’s always been with us,” he said, his breathing ragged, his gaze tortured. He smoothed a stray strand of hair from her face. “And that, lady, is why I married you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Now what? Come on, Nikki. You’re a smart woman. Or at least you were once upon a time. So now what’re you going to do?

Trust him. For God’s sake, Nikki, follow your heart and trust him!

She stood on the veranda, her fingers curled around the iron rail, the breeze teasing her hair and brushing softly against her cheeks. From the open door of the hotel room, she heard water running, the sound of Trent in the shower. Trying to come up with a plan, she stared at the winking lights of Santa María. Strung jewel-like along the inlet, the city lights reflected on the water and kept the dark night at bay.

She didn’t have much time. Soon she’d have to sleep with a man who, by casting her a single glance, could set her blood on fire. A mystery man who claimed to be her husband. A man she instinctively felt was dangerous. If only she could trust him. But trust, she knew from some vague experience in her past, was earned, not given casually. She rubbed her arms as if suddenly chilled and thought about the night ahead, sleeping in the same bed with him, feeling him close. Her stomach tightened and she knew she couldn’t make love to him. Husband or no, she didn’t trust him. She decided the best way to avoid making love to him was feigning sleep. Surely he’d understand that, after days of lying in the hospital, the move was hard on her and she was worn-out.

Truth to tell, she knew she’d barely sleep a wink with his body only inches from hers. What a mess, she thought, blowing her bangs from her eyes and glancing down at the garden patio where several people were still gathered, laughing and talking and sipping from island drinks. Older couples laughed over glasses of wine, and a couple in their mid-twenties held hands as they walked by the pool. Lovers, she thought, with just a twinge of envy.

Shaking off her worrisome thoughts, she hurried inside, and as she listened to the water still running in the bathroom, she quickly shed her skirt and blouse and yanked on a pair of satin pajamas. The fabric molded to her breasts and hips, and the deep V of the neckline offered a view of more of her skin than she would have preferred, but the pink pajamas were the most sedate bedroom apparel she’d brought to the island. It made sense, she supposed. A flannel nightgown and robe that would keep her warm through the wet and cold Seattle winters would have no business on a tropical island. Especially on your honeymoon.

The shower spray stopped, and her heart began an erratic tattoo. Oh God, she thought, her throat so tight she could barely swallow.

Quietly, she slipped between the covers, rolled on her side and offered her back to the other side of the bed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she heard him running the water again, probably at the sink, taking his damned sweet time, while she prayed for

sleep. She realized she was acting like a child, a neurotic virgin, but as she was still laid-up and vulnerable, she felt the best course of action was deception. Just until she had her full faculties back. Once her memory returned, she would be able to deal with him more openly.

However, the pretense bothered her more than she expected, and she realized that Nikki Carrothers, in her other lifetime, had never sunk low enough to deal in lies. These are extenuating circumstances, she told herself as she plumped her pillow and tried to relax.

The water at the sink stopped suddenly. Nikki tensed. Through her slitted eyelids she noticed the lightening of the bedroom as he opened the door. Act groggy, she told herself, though she felt a fool.

He didn’t say a word. She heard his keys jangle on the nightstand near his side of the bed, felt the movement of the blankets as he threw back the covers, smelled the scents of soap and shaving cream and musk as he slid between the sheets and the mattress creaked. Her heart was thundering as he turned out the light on his night table and scooted closer.

She stiffened as his arms surrounded her waist with easy familiarity. He pressed his body against hers intimately, his breath warm against her neck, the stiff hairs of his chest brushing against the slick satin covering her back. “You’re not fooling anyone,” he said, his hand splayed possessively across her abdomen. “I know you’re awake.”

She didn’t reply. Fake it, fake it, fake it! Just breathe in and out as naturally as if you don’t feel his warm body cuddling yours!

“But don’t worry. I won’t force you.”

Her muscles relaxed a little, and he took advantage of the moment, drawing her closer still. His legs, bare from what she could feel through her pajamas, tucked against hers and he seemed to fit perfectly, his knees and hips bending at the same angles as hers. She tried to remember this feeling of closeness and intimacy, of sharing a bed with him, but no pleasant, warm memory surfaced. He kissed the back of her neck, and her pulse jumped crazily. “There’s no need to rush, darlin’,” he said in a sexy drawl that caused her stomach to turn over in anticipation. “We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

Oh, God, why couldn’t she remember?

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