Unforgettable: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Cajio, Linda

  “Grandmother, I thought you were at one of your meetings,” Anne said, frowning. Her grandmother never came out to the barns.

  “I’ve been to two today.” Lettice put her hands on her hips and glared at her granddaughter. “I just asked James to stay for dinner and he refused. Why is that?”

  Anne wished Lettice had brought this up in private. Or not brought it up at all. Her biorhythms must be in the pits. She shrugged, refusing to be baited. “Maybe he was busy tonight.”

  “In a pig’s eye. What’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing,” Anne muttered. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Lettice was silent, and Anne realized she might have given away more than she meant. Quickly she added, “Nothing is wrong, if that’s what you mean, Grandmother. I’ve told you before your imagination exceeds reality. It’s business between James and me.”

  “So you say.”

  Wonderful, Anne thought. Just what her grandmother needed, more ammunition. Now Lettice would be after her day and night on the subject of James Farraday.

  Fortunately, her grandmother’s attention was drawn to the horse looming in back of Anne. “Is that him? This … War Cry everyone here is so excited about?”

  “Battle Cry.” Anne chuckled at the human snort of indignation behind her. “Yes, it is.”

  Lettice walked past her to the horse. Only her grandmother would have ignored for days the most well-known horse since Man o’War, Anne thought. Until now she hadn’t bothered to come out to see Battle Cry. And it was nosiness, not horses, that had brought her this time.

  “Is he friendly?” Lettice asked.

  “Oh, yes, dear lady,” Mac said. “My boy’s the friendliest horse in any stable.”

  “Grandmother, this is Oliver MacGinley,” Anne said. “Mac, my grandmother, Lettice Kitteridge.”

  “You cannot be young Miss Anne’s grandmother,” Mac said, sketching a bow. “You’re much too young and beautiful yourself.”

  Anne smothered her laughter as Lettice gave Mac the regal nod. Lettice stretched out her hand toward the horse and said, “May I?”

  “Of course, dear lady, of course.”

  Lettice petted the horse’s nose. Battle Cry wickered and butted her hand for more. Another sucker for Lettice, Anne thought.

  “He’s wonderful,” Lettice murmured.

  Mac smiled with pride. “The best horse since his great relation, Man o’War. Better, I like to think.”

  Lettice nodded gravely, then turned to her granddaughter. “Are you coming up to the house for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes.” Anne glanced at her watch and saw it was almost time for the meal. Tonight was safe enough to join the family. They were one guest shy, thank goodness.

  “Good,” Lettice said. “Then you can walk back with me. I’m an old woman and I might slip and fall.”

  “And Roseanne Barr is a size five,” Anne muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ll be glad to walk back with you.” Anne knew she was being manipulated, but it would be silly to walk back separately. And Lettice would never let her forget it.

  After they left the barn to Mac’s flowery farewell, Lettice said, “I don’t like him.”

  “Who? Mac?”

  She nodded. “Yes. He’s too … ingratiating. How can you put up with him?”

  “I have to,” Anne said, gritting her teeth. “He’s James’s employee, remember? Anyway, he’s just a sweet old man who loves that horse so much he’d do anything to be with him. Including fawning a little. I’m sure he’s just trying to be liked.”

  “That doesn’t make him likable in my book. Just devious. It makes me wonder what’s behind that humble facade.”

  “You don’t understand, Grandmother. It’s tough when you get attached to the animals. They become … they are your family.” Anne sighed, thinking of Digby, her retired gelding. She had so loved riding that horse in races that she’d bought him when he was retired. At least she had been lucky enough to be able to afford him. Not all those who loved an animal could—witness Mac. “To have a horse like Battle Cry under your care is … well, it’s the pleasure and pride of a lifetime. Mac has no family other than that horse.”

  “He is a beautiful creature,” Lettice agreed.

  Anne grinned. Lettice had succumbed to Battle Cry’s spell—just as her granddaughter was succumbing to the owner’s spell. Her mirth faded at the thought.

  “Maybe you’re right about James being too busy to stay this evening,” Lettice mused aloud. “I think I’ll ask him to dinner for another night. I bought a pasta maker on the way home. I noticed you didn’t have one.”

  Anne turned and gaped at her grandmother. Considering the way James had stared at her in the stallion barn, and the flood of heat that swept through her whenever she remembered that kiss, she knew she wouldn’t survive sitting across the dinner table from him. “In a pig’s eye!”

  Lettice smiled. “No, dear. That wouldn’t be appetizing.”

  “I mean James coming to dinner.”

  “Ahh,” Lettice said, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. “But it would be only a business dinner between you two. Right?”

  Anne pressed her lips together. “Right.”

  “I didn’t think there would be a problem.”

  Lettice actually giggled. Anne shoved her hands into her pockets and walked ahead of her grandmother, cursing under her breath. She’d been caught in her own trap, like a mouse between a cat’s paws. Thanks to Lettice.

  Leaning back against a fence the next morning, James watched Anne walking along the path between the foaling stable and the stallion barn. Busy consulting the clipboard she held, she hadn’t noticed him yet, and he took the time to indulge in his favorite occupation. Anne-Watching.

  To his disappointment, he couldn’t quite see the face that haunted him night and day. His gaze was drawn to her long legs instead. They were slender and firm from her years of riding. Images flashed through his mind of those legs wrapped around his body as she moved in passion with him. His imagination was so vivid, he could feel the silkiness of her flesh surrounding him. It would be perfection.

  James closed his eyes for a moment. Lord, but he wanted her. The pent-up need had grown nearly uncontrollable since he had kissed her. He wished things could be different between them, but they couldn’t. Still, they couldn’t go on like this, so awkward with each other and barely talking.

  He opened his eyes in time to see her catch sight of him. She hesitated, then continued. He pushed away from the fence and started toward her. His gaffe in the stallion barn the day before was still fresh in his mind. He knew he had picked the wrong time and place to attempt to talk to her. But they had to talk.

  “Good morning, James,” she said in the politest of voices when he reached her.

  “Anne.” He steeled himself to go on. “I owe you an apology for yesterday. It wasn’t the time or place for a discussion.”

  Color tinged her cheeks, and he realized he had used those same words about the kiss.

  “I mean in front of Mac,” he added in a rush. “But this coolness between us is no good, and I’d like to get things settled with you. Please.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she said, tucking her clipboard against her chest. She smiled wryly. “We do have a business relationship—”

  “Exactly,” he broke in, relieved that she understood. Hell, he was damn grateful she was even talking. “I think we both have to get past what happened the other night if we’re going to work together. I’m sure you agree.”

  The words had no sooner left his mouth than he set his jaw, wishing he could call them back. The last thing he wanted was to “get past” their kiss, but he had no choice. After all these years of guarding his secret, he couldn’t risk any more intimacy with her. Could he?

  “Oh, I agree,” she said. “Believe me, I agree.”

  He looked at her thick silky hair, the alluring column of her neck, the curving full
ness of her breasts he knew was hidden behind the clipboard … all denied to him.

  The world dimmed. He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to pull her close.

  She moved back. To his surprise, she looked almost shocked. Dammit, he knew he had to control his reaction to her, but she didn’t have to act so repulsed.

  “Is that it?” she asked, her voice cold.

  He sensed he was making everything worse, yet he had no idea why. He only wanted their relationship to go back to the way it was before. Well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted, he acknowledged, but what had to be. He needed to reassure her, even if he condemned himself with the same words. “The kiss … was a slip on my part. Believe me, it won’t happen again. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Well, that makes me a very happy woman, James,” she said in a tone that could only be called sarcastic.

  “What the hell do you want from me?” he asked, exasperated that she was being so stubborn about accepting his apology.

  “Just what I always get. Nothing.” She glared at him. “Don’t worry, though, I have received your message loud and clear. You want to forget that we kissed each other and remember that we have only a business relationship, and believe me, that’s all I want too. Happy now?”

  She stalked away before he could say another word.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m thrilled,” he muttered, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets and stalking off in the opposite direction.

  Nothing was better. Instead, everything was worse.

  That evening Anne hid behind the newspaper as Lettice dialed James’s number on the family room telephone. There was an unexpected and unwelcomed reprieve.

  “He’s making an emergency business trip,” Lettice said after she hung up.

  Relief and disappointment flooded Anne as she looked up and said, “Oh?”

  “Yes.” Lettice sat down on the couch. “He said something about a gambling resort deal falling through in the Caymans. He has to go and catch it before it does.”

  “If he’s got to go, he’s got to go,” Anne said, disappearing back behind the safety of the obituaries. Her brain tried to sort out the information while pain shot through her heart.

  “That’s in the Caribbean, right?” Philip asked without glancing away from his Nintendo game. “Where Grandpa and Grandma took me to study the turtles last summer.”

  “That’s right,” Lettice said. “My son, your grandfather, would be happy to know that you remembered, Philip.”

  “He and Grandma’d probably shoot me if I didn’t. They have that magazine all about the world. They went to … Boraxo—”

  “Boreno,” Lettice corrected him.

  “Right, Boreno. And …”

  As Anne listened to the conversation, images of palm trees swaying in the evening breeze, a moon-drenched island beach, and a couple embracing passionately in foaming surf ran through her mind. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the female in the picture. She pushed the visions away and set her jaw. If James was on a business trip, that certainly wasn’t her business. And if it wasn’t all business …

  She bet the farm it wasn’t all business. She bet he took one of those silly, fluttery, overage debs with him. Or he’d find some silly, fluttery, overage deb when he got there. All he had to do was smile his famous Farraday smile and crook his finger. And then he’d kiss the life out of them too. And more.

  Logic surfaced from somewhere and pointed out that she was being unfair to him. No matter what sort of image she’d conjured up out of her pain and rejection when she was seventeen, she had never seen him act like a stereotypical playboy. She was jealous and she had no right to be. He was going hundreds of miles away, and the thought of not seeing him hurt, oddly. Still, how many times would she emotionally expose herself to him before she learned her lesson? Twice, she sternly told herself. Once when she’d been seventeen, and once the other night. She had other responsibilities now—like Philip. She wouldn’t be exposing just her feelings in a relationship. She would be exposing him. His emotional well-being was more important than her own.

  And yet she didn’t want James to go. She wanted him here, where she could see him, feel his presence, touch him if possible …

  “Anne.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, ripping the paper apart at the seams in unconscious frustration. She stared at the two halves, shocked at her action.

  “Never mind,” Lettice said, smiling.

  Anne had a feeling she wasn’t fooling her grandmother.

  The next morning she felt as if the only person being fooled was herself. She watched from the portico in disbelief as James’s car pulled up in front of the house.

  “I thought you had an emergency business trip,” she said the moment he got out of the car. She noted the passenger seat was empty.

  He looked at her for a long moment, making her feel foolish for blurting out the first thing that came into her head.

  “I’m on my way to the airport now,” he said, carefully removing his sunglasses. “I wanted to check on Battle Cry, see if there was anything you needed from me, a signature on something …”

  Confusion swept through her. She wouldn’t have expected him to be so thoughtful and concerned. “I see.”

  He reached back into the car and pulled out a bouquet of flowers. “Also, I wanted to deliver these to you … and Lettice … as my apology for not being able to come to dinner.”

  He stepped up onto the portico, and she was instantly aware of her heart beating dangerously fast. His smile was boyish and unsure as he gave her the flowers. She could feel the heat of his hand as it almost touched hers. That hand had caressed her, had cupped …

  White-hot fire flowed through her. He stepped closer. So close, she could nearly feel his chest against her breasts. He stared at her, then lowered his head …

  “Thank you,” she said, gathering the inhuman strength to step back out of reach. Her voice was faint to her ears.

  He looked away. “Well, I’ll go on up to the barn. I—” He shrugged. “I just wanted to say good-bye.”

  Without another word he stepped off the portico and disappeared around the side of the house.

  Anne stared after him, her fingers stroking the soft petals of a rose.

  Days later, Anne had stopped fooling herself. Her morning ride with Digby was fast and furious, an attempt to pound away her growing bewilderment over James.

  She missed him. She wanted him. He was more and more a man, not some slick image she had clung to for years. All the things she was learning about him—his love of horses, his caring for a lonely old man, his interest in a lonely young boy—made him real and human.

  The flowers he had given her that strange morning had wilted and died, but something inside her was growing, trying to force its way to the surface …

  She directed Digby toward the stallion barn. As she got closer, she caught sight of Curtis, her stallion foreman, waving frantically at her. Something was up.

  Frowning, she rode in.

  It was yet another opulent suite in yet another hotel, and he was disgusted with all of them.

  James set aside the paperwork, knowing he was too tired and would need to recheck the figure projections later. He leaned his head back on the white sofa and closed his eyes.

  Two weeks ago a slight hitch had developed in the negotiations between the current owners of a gambling resort in the Caymans and the cartel he’d put together to buy them out. Their respective lawyers could have easily worked it out, but he’d latched onto it like a hungry shark and taken the first plane out of Philadelphia. And he’d been on the road ever since, visiting all his current and prospective ventures, and drumming up more investors for more cartels. He thought he was in Idaho now, but he couldn’t be sure. The days had blurred into jumbo jets and conference rooms. He did know the paperwork he’d just been reading involved a ski resort somewhere in the Rockies.

  A wry smile touched his lips. Business was in great shape, but he wasn’t. Being latitud
es and weeks away from Anne was hardly the cure he’d hoped for. His sleepless nights in his damned empty bed attested to that. There was no denying he wanted her more than ever. She’d been an ideal once. Now she was an obsession. Being away from her hadn’t suppressed the urges to act on that obsession. If anything, they were worse, disrupting him at every turn. So far he had resisted the urge to call and see about Battle Cry. He was sure the horse was enjoying his retirement with great enthusiasm. Truthfully, though, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about sex, even horse sex, with Anne. That was a torture he wouldn’t survive.

  One of the notions that had started going around and around in his head surfaced again. He frowned, wondering if he really ought to examine it. Ignoring it wasn’t giving him any peace.

  Could it be that he was still being victimized by his past years of low self-esteem? Most dyslexics did suffer that, he knew. It might be he wasn’t giving Anne enough credit. She had never shown signs of snobbery, social or physical. She had a son who wore a hearing aid. Philip was a good kid, well-adjusted and responsible, and Anne was a big factor in his shaping. If she wasn’t supportive, it would show in the boy, he was sure. Would that support transfer to an adult?

  He rocked his head from side to side. He didn’t know. He didn’t know if he was crazy. He didn’t know if he could take a chance. He was too old to ride an emotional whirlwind to a bitter ending. He doubted he would ever be prepared for that. He felt so tired, weary of fighting his impulses, fighting himself.

  And yet he wondered …

  The telephone rang, startling him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The room seemed darker than before. He glanced at his watch and realized that somewhere in the midst of his thoughts he’d actually dozed off.

  “Maybe I ought to take that as a sign,” he muttered, reaching for the phone. “Hello?”

  “You better stop traipsing all over the place, young man, and get yourself home.”