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Authors: Aris Whittier

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She shook her head carelessly, looking
down at the water. “It’s just been a while, that’s
all I meant.”

It was hard to see her face in the
dark, so James took her by the arm and stopped her. He moved her so
the moonlight could bath her features. “Since when?” he
repeated.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

Her voice was low and evasive as she
took a step away from him. “I think it doesn’t.”

She could give him all the dirty looks
she wanted. He wasn’t going to let it rest until he had an
answer. “When was the last time you took a moonlit walk on the
beach?”

“James, don’t.” She
looked around and lifted her hands in the air, expressing her
pleasure. “It’s so beautiful out here. Don’t ruin
it.”

“When Samantha?” His words
were a low growl that rumbled in his chest. She was keeping something
from him. Something personal, something that had to do with the both
of them, and he didn’t like it.

Samantha hesitated briefly before
speaking. “It’s been a long day. Please, let’s end
it with a nice relaxing walk and not an argument.”

James watched her tensely. Something
wasn’t right. “You love the beach, the water, the sand,
the sun.” He added, “You were practically raised on the
beach.”

“I did love it at one time.”

“What do you mean, you did? You
don’t just stop loving all this.” He ran his hand through
his wind-blown hair. “Damn it, answer me.”

“I haven’t been to the
beach since I left you,” she answered blandly.

“That’s been over a year.
What does that have to do with anything?”

Samantha’s eyes turned as dark as
the ocean, which thrashed loudly behind her. Pain and anger swam in
the blue murky depths. Her teeth raked over her bottom lip until it
almost bled. Hair whipped around her face and she did nothing to try
to contain it.

Her expression landed like a blow to
James’s abdomen. He wanted to grab her and pull her to him but
he didn’t dare touch her. “Is it because the last time
we—”

She raised her hand suddenly, almost
frantically.

“—we made love, it was on
the beach?” He finished his sentence.

James stared at her as he remembered
the night. The water had been cool against their warm skin. The sand
had conformed to their bodies as they pressed deep into it. The rough
surface had only added to the magnificent sensations they were
feeling. She had tasted of salt and passion. Their intense lovemaking
had lasted for hours under the soft glow of the moon. Tired, they had
lain in the surf, speaking of their love for one another.

“Do you really hate me that
much?” he said suddenly.

“Hate is a strong word,”
she said quickly. “If I hated you I wouldn’t be here.”

His head cocked to one side, trying to
figure her out. “Then why are you here?”

“To take care of your mom.”

“No, I mean here.” He
pointed toward the ground.

She shook her head. “Don’t
read anything into this, James. I’m living in your house as a
nurse. I’m here,” she pointed to the sand, “because
it’s beautiful and I didn’t realize how much I missed it
until now.”

“Now, with me?”

“No. Now, meaning when I moved in
your home and it became my back yard. I’m not the one who
ruined what we had, James.”

“I didn’t ruin anything.
You were the one who walked out on us.”

“You’re insane, do you know
that?” She pointed her finger at him. “There is no way in
hell that you can turn this around and put the blame on me.”

“You left. You left me.” He
squeezed his eyes shut. “Christ, Samantha, we had just made
mind-boggling love. It was so intense I feared I’d never
recover from it. And you walked away.” He shook his head.
“Don’t you remember what we had?

Don’t you remember what we shared
that night?”

Samantha didn’t move.

He couldn’t have stopped himself
if he wanted to. Moving to her, he pushed the hair away from her face
and with both hands cupped her cheeks. He eased her gently to him.
“You remember our last night here don’t you?”

Her cold eyes never once blinked. Not
even when the wind whipped her hair around them.

James grimaced, but wouldn’t
allow her frosty demeanor to persuade him into believing that she had
forgotten. He would chisel away at it until he broke through and
found what she was really feeling. His thumbs traced over the arch of
her cheeks to the corners of her eyes. “Tell me what you
remember.”

She refused to make eye contact. “Why
are you doing this to me?”

“Look at me, Samantha. Look me in
the eyes and tell me you remember.” He gently turned her head
so her eyes met his.

“Tell—”

Her blue eyes caught his gaze and held
it. “I remember.”

“What? What do you remember?”

Somehow, she mustered up enough
strength to shove his hands away. She fought the tears that stung her
eyes. “I remember.” She was shouting now as she took
several giant steps away from him. “I see us in the water
making love. I feel our bodies pressing in the sand. I feel you on
me, touching me, in me, loving me. But I also see you holding another
woman in your arms only hours after we made love. That’s what I
remember. That’s what I think about when I come to the beach.”
She blinked back the tears that the wind threatened to expose. “Is
that what you wanted to hear?”

“Angel—”

She glared challengingly at him. “Are
you happy now, or do you want to hear more?”

James hung his head and shook it. “No,
I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Because if you don’t
remember I can tell you what color dress she was wearing.” The
tears spilled from her eyes and were spread across her cheeks by the
wind. “It was red.”

“Stop,” he demanded.

“Do you remember the color of her
eyes?” she continued. “I do.”

“I said stop.”

“Green, like jade. I can also
tell you the color of her hair and the scent of her perfume.”
She pushed him hard on the chest with both hands as she gritted the
words out. “You were holding her the way you hold me.”
Her hands turned into fists as she pounded against him again.
“Apparently mind-boggling sex isn’t enough for you.”

“Stop.”

“Apparently, giving you my heart
wasn’t enough either.”

“Samantha.”

She didn’t say anything more. She
couldn’t. She turned and sprinted down the beach.

“Shit,” he shouted into the
wind. God, what had he done to her?

Chapter Twelve

Two weeks later, James sat in his
office high above town. His arms were crossed over his chest as he
leaned back in his chair. He glanced at his watch—twenty more
minutes to kill before his next meeting. As he took a deep breath, he
rotated the chair in a half circle, stopped the motion with his feet,
and stared out the huge window. He didn’t feel up to arguing
over the minor details his client was complaining about. In his
business, details like this inevitably cropped up and would be hashed
out, until an agreeable resolution was reached. But at the moment,
all of it seemed too petty. Trivial. Unimportant.

Normally, he enjoyed negotiating
immensely. It was his specialty. However, his mom’s illness had
put things in perspective in an abrupt, cruel way. The satisfaction
brought on by long hours of hard work, the respect, and the money,
didn’t seem so important anymore. He would give it all up if it
meant his mom would be cancer free. He found it brutally ironic how
one could work one’s entire life for something and in a single
moment it suddenly becomes insignificant.

He drummed his fingers against his chin
as he thought about his mom. He had made it a must to stop in and see
her at least twice a day. If he knew he was going to be home late, he
would run home for a quick lunch. To her surprise, he always managed
to find a different bouquet of roses on the way, too. It was one of
the small pleasures she looked forward to.

Marie didn’t come out of her room
much, especially a day or so after a treatment. The chemo left her
too queasy to navigate the stairs and drained what little strength
she had left. Despite all of it, amazingly her spirits were still up.
Physically she was frail, but mentally she was strong. He smiled
gently. She never stopped surprising him. She was as fearless as a
warrior and as virtuous as an angel. She was his hero.

James rubbed his eyes briskly with the
back of his hands as his thoughts shifted to Samantha. Where did he
start with what was happening between them? She, too, was fighting a
battle, but it wasn’t against some merciless disease; it was
with her feelings for him. She was refusing to accept that she still
cared for him. Refusing? That was putting it mildly—she was
downright in denial. The fact that she wouldn’t acknowledge her
feelings surprised him, because the chemistry between them was
unrelenting. For him, it was undeniable no matter what the
circumstances were.

He stood and began to pace. He couldn’t
even sit still when he thought about her. She got under his skin and
inside of him. She unintentionally overpowered all his senses,
leaving him to muddle through what was happening between them in
complete uncertainty. He was mystified, baffled. He had no idea how
to think about what was happening when it came to their relationship.

To say that things were tense was an
understatement. She hadn’t spoken to him once since the night
on the beach; in fact, that was the last time she had even looked at
him. He knew she was very busy tending to his mother; however, there
were times when she could have spoken to him, if for nothing more
than to touch base on how his mother’s treatment was coming
along. She had left that completely up to his mom.

Moving to the bar, he poured hot coffee
into a white cup that had the company logo in gold wrapped around it.
As he stirred in a teaspoon of sugar, a slow smile formed. Sure, he
was a little confused about what was happening between them; however,
there was no confusion about what he wanted to happen.

His smile grew even bigger. What
Samantha needed wasn’t space or time—he had given her
plenty of that—but a reminder of what they had shared. He
brought the cup to his lips and sipped the warm liquid. She wasn’t
going to like it, and it sure wasn’t going to be easy, but they
weren’t going to be avoiding each other anymore.

He felt a remorseful twinge deep within
him, but didn’t allow any guilt to take hold; he had given her
more than enough time to settle down, he reminded himself. Somehow,
he would find a way to get back into her good graces. And once he
did, she better watch out. He wanted her back and he would get her.
Starting right now he would stop at nothing until he got what he
wanted.

For the moment he was very satisfied.
He had a plan and was now in control of the situation; it was a
position from which he dominated, so his confidence soared. His sheer
conviction was what made him able to return to his desk and prepare
for the client who would be walking through the door any minute.

“Mr. Taylor, Mr. Malone is here
to see you.”

James stared at the speakerphone, lost
in his thoughts.

“Mr.—”

His hand shot out and pressed the bar
at the base of the phone. “Yes, send him in.” He stood
and buttoned his suit, straightened his tie, and moved to the front
of his desk. “Will, it’s a pleasure.” He held out
his hand when a tall, lean man walked through the door. “I hope
your flight was uneventful.”

“Smooth the entire way. Very nice
jet, thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He
gestured to a large wingback chair in front of his desk. “Care
for something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“I can have Shelly order us some
lunch.”

“I ate on the jet.”

James moved to the other side of his
desk, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and sat. Flipping open a file he
said, “Then let’s get down to business.”

It took an exhausting hour of
reassurance and several heavy doses of James’s hard-to-resist
persuasion, but he’d finally managed to satisfy Will Malone.
Their contract was still open and in the negotiations process, but
basically his company had it. He’d even talked Mr. Malone into
having a quick drink before he walked him to the elevator.

Just as the elevator doors closed and
James turn toward his office, his pager went off. Slipping it off his
hip, he glanced at the number. He waited until he was in his office
and the door shut before he reached for his cell phone in his pocket.

“Do you have any information for
me?” he asked, hoping that Al would be able to give him some
good news. Or as good as news could get when there was a snitch
lurking about the company.

“Nothing substantial that’s
going to lead us to who’s leaking information.”

“There’s nothing on the
tapes I had sent over?”

“Nothing.”

James punched the air with his fist as
he began to pace about the room impatiently. “Shit.”

“I hear ya. I was surprised when
all the video checked out clean. I watched every single one of them
and I noticed nothing out of the ordinary or I wouldn’t have
believed it myself. You run a tight ship and that reflects on when
your people are coming and going. I went a step further and took the
liberty of following a few of your managers over the last several
days, and they’re clean, too. If they’re getting
information, I don’t think it’s because one of your
employees is selling out.”

James pressed his hand against his
forehead and pinched his eyes shut for a moment.

“I think you’re right.
Someone has hired an investigator to do the dirty work.”

“Now what?”

“I have to find out how they’re
getting the information. I want to look at your computer systems. I
think that would be the next best step.” Al paused. “Can
that be arranged?”

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