More Than Friends (The Warriors) (10 page)

"I’m not at all surprised by your reaction. You’ll understand your feelings about him when your memory returns, which it will."

"He’s a serious little guy, isn’t he?" She glanced up at Brett and smiled, but her smile faded when she felt the tension tightening his body. "Kind of like his father."

He nodded, his gaze narrowing. "So I’ve been told."

"Do I like children in general, or just your son?"

"You once told me you’d like to have half a dozen."

"Sounds like a lot of work in the labor room." Returning her gaze to the photo, Leah asked, "Where is he now?"

"With his grandparents. They’ve taken him to Canada for a week of fishing."

"He likes to fish?" Her expression brightened. "Brett, I like to fish, too. I’m certain of it."

He smiled down at her. "You taught him how to bait his first hook, and you gave him his first fishing pole."

"Do you see him often? Does he live with you?"

"Unfortunately, I don’t see nearly enough of him. He doesn’t live with me, but I wish he did."

"He’s with his mother, then." Leah felt his nod when his chin bobbed against the top of her head. "That must be hard for you. Being divorced, I mean."

"We weren’t married when Matthew was born. Actually, we were never married. It was a complicated situation, and it’s an even more complicated story." He shifted, suggesting, "How about we save this part of my life story for another time."

She eased free of his encircling arm and turned so that she wound up facing him. When her knee bumped up against his hip, he absently brought his hand down atop it as he stared off into space. She shivered as his fingers drifted up and down the top of her jeans–covered upper leg, and she wondered what he was thinking as he touched her.

"I didn’t mean to make you feel sad."

Brett blinked and refocused on her. "You didn’t, although some trips down memory lane tend to remind me of the mistakes I’ve made with my life and with the people I care about."

"It sounds like you’re still carrying a torch for your son’s mother." Leah felt her heart sink, discovering in the process that she hated the idea that he might be in love with another woman. If Brett still loved little Matthew’s mother, she certainly didn’t want to hear him admit it. At least, not now.

"I have a lot of mixed feelings where she’s concerned. We parted before I knew about her pregnancy. I found out quite by accident. I was almost completely cut out of my son’s life. It took time and patience, but I eventually found a way to be a part of it."

"Didn’t you resent her?"

Brett exhaled, the sound harsh in the quiet of the sitting room. "As I said, my emotions were pretty mixed. A part of me understood her behavior. I’d hurt her very badly, and then I walked out on her. Hell, I hold myself responsible for a lot of the decisions she had to make, but I still wish she’d been willing to tell me the truth when she learned she was pregnant. I would have supported her in any way I could."

"I can’t imagine going off and having a baby on my own. I think she was a fool not to come to you and let you share the experience with her."

"She had her reasons," he remarked, his tone faintly defensive. "At the time, I’m sure she thought she was right. I have no right to find fault with her choices. As I said, I’ve made too many of my own mistakes."

Startled by the array of emotions reflected in his eyes, Leah covered his hand. She bit back a yelp of surprise when she felt his fingers flex and then dig into her thigh. She stroked the back of his hand, trying to help him relax in spite of her desire to simply put her arms around him and hold him.

Searching his troubled gaze, Leah realized how easily she could drown in the shadowed depths of his eyes. She felt that she was finally beginning to grasp the complex nature of this man, and she suspected that the events of the last few days were probably just a ripple in the pond of their shared experiences.

"I know you very well, don’t I, even though you’re an intensely private man?"

He nodded. "Better than anyone ever has."

"You’re like a puzzle," she said.

"You’ve said that to me more times than I can count."

Eager to dispel his melancholy mood, she teased, "Was I laughing or shouting?"

He gave her a wry look. "A little of both, as I recall."

"We must have a real roller–coaster of a relationship."

"I’m sure a lot of people think so."

"Do you?" she asked softly.

Brett cocked his head to one side, peering at her almost speculatively. "We’ve definitely been up and down over the years."

"Does that bother you?"

Easing away from her, he got to his feet. "Some of the time."

Leah caught his hand when he reached out to her. He tugged her to her feet, surprising her when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into the curve of her neck.

Trembling, she slipped her arms around his waist and held on to him. She breathed in his scent, savoring the woodsy cologne and the musky male essence of his skin. Her eyes fell closed. She listened to the steady beat of his heart. When Brett straightened a few minutes later, she reluctantly accepted his withdrawal.

He cupped the side of her face with his hand. "I don’t see myself trading you in on a new model, so I guess you’re stuck with me."

"Does that mean you’ve forgiven me for being lousy company?"

His frown reappeared, his consternation with her obvious. Leaning down, he planted a hard kiss on her lips. "I’ll think about it."

Leah grinned, her lips still tingling from his kiss. "You must have legions of women beating a path to your door."

"Where’d you get a crazy idea like that?"

"Chalk it up to a woman’s intuition," she suggested. "Your bedside manner is splendid, and you’re very attractive, in a rough sort of way."

"That hit you took on your head has distorted your vision and damaged your intellect."

She rolled her eyes, purposely acting silly. "I didn’t say you were pretty. Besides, I don’t like pretty men. They spend too much time in front of the mirror admiring their physical assets. Boring!"

"Any other warped observations before we conclude this topic?"

She grinned. "You’re dangerously sexy. Makes a woman go a little crazy when she’s with that kind of a man."

"Have I just received a warning?"

Leah shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. You’ll just have to stay alert to the… possibilities, won’t you?" She sighed in sudden frustration, all of her humor disappearing like a wisp of smoke. "I wish I could remember you. I wish I could remember us."

"You will. I’m just part of a temporary lapse."

"I want to believe you, but sometimes I wonder if my past is permanently gone."

"Trust me, Leah. You’ll get it all back."

She nodded, even though she didn’t share his optimism. When he tugged her forward, she eagerly moved back into the harbor of his arms. Leah pressed her cheek to his hard chest, realizing with a flash of insight that she was falling in love with him.

Again? she wondered. Or had she always loved Brett Upton?

"I’m feeling really cooped up," Leah confessed several hours later. "Since it’s raining, why don’t we take a cab over to Fisherman’s Wharf? We could have supper at one of the restaurants there and then take a long walk. I might see something familiar that will stimulate my memory. God knows, nothing else has so far."

Brett glanced up from the road map he was studying, his expression a combination of caution and regret. "No can do, I’m afraid. I’m expecting a call from Washington."

"Then use call forwarding and take your cell with you," she suggested.

"That’s one idea."

"I really need a run, but I’m not up to it right now." As she reached for a magazine, she froze and stared at him. "I’m a runner."

"You certainly are. It’s how you start every day."

"I finally remembered something."

He nodded, his expression neutral. "Yes, you did."

"Because…" she began.

"…because you didn’t try to force it. It happened naturally."

She exhaled and pushed up to her feet. "I’m going to take a walk downstairs. The hotel probably has several boutiques. I can window–shop for a while, and you can join me after you’ve finished with your call."

Heading for her bedroom to collect her purse, she hesitated when Brett set aside the map, left his chair, and blocked her path. She thought she saw a flicker of concern in his eyes, although he quickly hid it in favor of a more benign expression.

"You’re not quite ready to declare your independence and go charging off on your own. How about we have a picnic supper on the balcony, instead?"

"A picnic supper on the balcony and then a leisurely stroll around the hotel lobby?" she countered. "I really need to get out of this suite before I start climbing the walls."

"We have a plan." Brett walked to the desk on the opposite side of the room and picked up the room service menu that rested next to the telephone.

"Are you always like this?"

"Like what?" He returned to her side and handed the menu to her.

"So… deliberate. I certainly wouldn’t want to accuse you of manipulation, however subtle it might be at times."

"No." He met her gaze, but he didn’t say anything more.

"That’s it?"

He shrugged. "You asked, I answered."

She smacked his chest with the menu.

He grinned. "Sorry, I couldn’t resist."

"In the future, give it your best effort."

"Nah. You’ve always had the shortest chain in captivity, and I like yanking on it every once in a while."

"So happy I can be a source of amusement for you."

"You are, but in all the right ways. I’ve missed it… and you." He sobered then, as if realizing what he’d just said. He tapped the menu Leah still held. "Why don’t you order for us? You love seafood, and so do I."

She gripped the menu. "I really want to get out of here. I must be mildly claustrophobic, and I’m on edge because of it."

"You have a few reasons to be on edge. Relax. You said it before… right now you’re just feeling cooped up. If you can hang in there, a little patience on your part will go a long way. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. The only reason we’ve stayed this long is because the doctor said the first forty–eight hours were a critical time for you. She’s the expert, so I’d be more comfortable if we bow to her judgment in this situation. Alright?"

Leah nodded reluctantly. She knew Brett was just trying to protect her, but she still chafed at the necessity of such behavior. "Agreed."

Brett smoothed his knuckles down the side of her face. "That’s my girl."

Leah didn’t think. Instead, she instinctively turned her face and pressed her lips to his knuckles. She felt a tremor pass through his fingers. Glancing up at him, she thought she saw hunger and desire flash in his dark eyes. Leah let the menu fall to the floor. She caught his hand, which had become a clenched fist, before he could withdraw it, pried open his fingers one by one, and pressed a gentle kiss into his palm.

"Leah…"

"Don’t say anything. It’s my turn to talk, so just listen to me for a moment." Looking up at him, she searched his face for understanding, but she glimpsed only raw need before he finally nodded. "All I have right now are my instincts. When I touch you, it feels normal and good. Sometimes, almost too good. When I try to restrain myself, it’s as though something has been broken inside of me. You’ve been very understanding and gentle with me," she continued. "You’ve also provided me with a safety net I wouldn’t otherwise have if I tried to deal with my memory loss alone, but I think you’ve discovered feelings in yourself for me that you aren’t sure how to handle, so you’re denying your own emotions in an effort to help and protect me. Please stop doing that. It’s driving me crazy, and it’s not fair to either one of us."

His expression turned bleak. "You don’t understand what you’re saying."

"You’re wrong. I know exactly what I’m saying, so quit being so circumspect about everything you say and do. And stop trying to think for me. There’s no need. I may not have memories, but I have a brain and I know how to use it. I will never criticize you or condemn you or accuse you of taking advantage of me, regardless of what we share or don’t share, and whether or not my memory returns. Clear?"

She didn’t turn away from his gaze. She simply waited for him to accept or reject what she’d just said. She knew she had no other choice. And if there was a woman in his life, she needed to know that, too. He owed her the truth. If not, then he owed them both the honesty of his own emotions. As she watched him, she hoped she’d conveyed the depth of her sincerity.

He said, "I meant it when I told you I didn’t want you ever to reach a point when you considered me a mistake in judgment. I care enough about you to want you to have the happiness you deserve."

"What about you?" she asked. "What would make you happy?"

"You make me happy, Leah. You always have."

She moved forward into his arms, which encompassed her with startling speed. Molding herself to his body, she rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Is there someone else?" She held her breath and waited for his answer.

He gripped her upper arms and gave her a little shake.

Surprised, she glanced up at him. "Can I take that as a negative reply to my question?"

"How can you even ask?"

"Duh! I don’t read minds."

He exhaled his apparent frustration.

"Now, pay attention. Stop shying away from me when I touch you, and stop fighting your feelings, whatever they are," she whispered. "When you push me away, I feel empty inside."

"I’m still not going to take you into my bed for the wrong reasons and under the wrong circumstances," he warned. "There are too many things you don’t remember about me. Things you deserve to know. I’m not such a bastard that I’d deprive you of the right to make an informed decision about the kind of man I am, Leah."

"You’re a man with a conscience."

"I thought so a long time ago, but I know better now."

"You’re way too hard on yourself."

"No," he ground out. "I am not."