His Forgotten Colton Fiancée

by Bonnie Vanak

  “That’s how you got this,” she said softly. “It happened when they died. Talk to me, West. I loved you enough to agree to marry you. Can you love me enough, and trust me, to share with me what happened to your family?”

  Ever since they’d met, West wanted to erase his past, start over again. Quinn would be his new beginning. But the explosion had sent them both hurling backward—Quinn because she lost her memory, and West because he’d nearly lost her.

  “Not now. Someday, I promise.”

  She gave him a searching look. “Can you tell me how you got that scar?”

  Once she’d asked him the same question and he’d clammed up. Now, here in the wildness and the cool air, he felt ready to share. Maybe because after seeing her lying so pale and still, he didn’t want to spend another minute regretting his choices. If he expected Quinn to be honest with him as she regained all her memories, then he should reciprocate.

  West fisted his hands and slowly forced his fingers to open. He stared at his hands. His mother used to say that he had beautiful hands, like those of a pianist. Or a surgeon. She’d wanted so much more for him, a profession where he wouldn’t walk into danger every day and she’d have to wait up, wondering if he’d survived yet another day. Waiting for the terrible phone call that something happened, that the man you married was never coming home.

  In the end, it wasn’t his mother who got that phone call.

  “Burn. I was trying to get into a house on fire, and burned it.”

  Quinn watched him, but he was no longer with her in the forest, in the clear, crisp South Dakota air. He was seventeen again, arrogant, confident and ready for a night of sex with his girlfriend.

  A night he figured he’d always remember.

  A night, as it turned out, he longed to forget.

  She lifted his hand to her cheek, rubbing against it, catlike. Soothing him. Suddenly he needed her in a way he never had. Telling her had ripped open his heart, and he bled all over again.

  West curled his other arm around her waist and held her tight, resting his cheek upon her head. Inhaling the scent of her, all woman and apples. Quinn smelled like home, cider and pie, where smiling mothers greeted you at day’s end with admonitions to wipe your feet, dinner would be ready soon, Are you going out again tonight, West?

  He’d lost so damn much as a teenager. Turning to a career as an FBI agent fed him purpose, but he hadn’t really lived.

  Not until meeting Quinn, and daring to risk love again.

  West lifted his head, took her face into his hands. “I love you, Quinn Colton. I think I loved you from the moment you sassed me back at your store. I don’t know what will happen to us, to this...but I’m not letting go. Ever.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. West moved his lips over hers, teasing and light, letting her grow accustomed to him. Letting her set the pace. God, he did not want her scared, not of him. He wanted her willing, pliant and eager. To Quinn, he was all but a stranger.

  To him, she was his heart, his reason for breathing and for life to be truly lived. Not living to work, to spend all his time hunting down killers and psychopaths who devalued human life. But to come home each night, knowing she was there, knowing her sparkling gaze would lift his weary spirits, her bubbling laughter would erase the horror of body parts and burns and death, and her warm, soft body would chase away the ice shield he threw up to keep others away.

  Quinn Colton had penetrated his outer armor, and he’d let her. Only Quinn saw him as he really was—not a heroic FBI agent dedicated to the job and catching the bad guys, but a wounded teenager who fought each day to find renewed purpose in his own shattered life.

  Quinn opened her mouth beneath his, darted her tongue out to lick him. She slid her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

  She looked up into his darkened gaze. West’s breath hitched. “You sure about this?”

  Quinn moved West’s hand to cover her right breast. “Absolutely. Make love to me, West. I don’t care about anything else right now.”

  Quinn had never felt more certain of anything in her life. She couldn’t recall much about her time with West, but now that didn’t matter. She only wanted to be with him. She didn’t care that he was an FBI agent.

  They were only a man and a woman, with this burning need between them.

  He took her into the bedroom, snapped on a light. West tugged the shirt over his head and shed his boots and pants. Breath caught in her throat.

  He looked up with a grin as he kicked his clothing aside. Dark hair covered his chest, stretching from nipple to nipple. Muscles layered his flat abdomen, his biceps. She glanced down at his genitals. His thick shaft was long and erect.

  * * *

  The thought of taking his hardness into her body filled her with anticipation. His muscles quivered beneath as she touched him, then he shuddered as she kissed his neck, tasting the salt of his skin.

  Heat smoldered in his gaze. Never had anyone looked at her with such fire, such stark craving.

  “Undress for me,” he said softly.

  Slowly she removed her clothes. Her body tingled with arousal, hungering for the contact between them. She was naked, shivering as cool air caressed her breasts.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  Tremendous heat suffused her beneath the warmth of his gaze. Quinn arched beneath his touch as West thumbed her cresting nipples. When he bent his head and took one into his mouth, she clung to him, dizzy with need, her core growing wet and throbbing. He swirled his tongue over the taut peak, then suckled her. She was growing hotter now, a fire stoking inside her as the sweet tension braced her body.

  They fell onto the bed, as he kept kissing her breasts. She whimpered, her hips rising and falling, driven by instincts of her own.

  “Soon,” he soothed her.

  Gathering her close, he ran a hand over her silky skin, marveling at her softness. West kissed her deeply, his hand drifting over her belly, down to her feminine curls. It felt wonderful and erotic as he kissed her, sliding a finger across her wet cleft.

  Quinn gripped his wide shoulders as he began playing with her. Somewhere in the back of her mind flickered a memory of moments like this—West bringing her to the brink, then easing her back and building the pleasure again. Whispering to her that she was his and his alone, and how very much he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life showing her exactly how much he cared about her.

  His whispers forged a connection between them her mind could not fully recall, but her body did.

  It was consuming, setting her on fire, her body crying out for something more. Quinn strained toward him as he teased and stroked, his hands sure and skillful. The ache between her legs intensified and she pumped her hips upward, desperate for something she didn’t understand. Every stroke and whorl sucked air from her lungs until she gasped for breath, ready to burst out of her skin. Tension heightened, spiraling her upward and upward. And then the feeling between her legs exploded. Quinn screamed, crying out his name as she dug her nails into his wide shoulders.

  Her eyes fluttered as she fell back to the bed, spent and dazed.

  Finally, her breathing eased and she lifted her head. A hint of untamed danger lurked in his eyes. Then he gave a dangerous smile. “Again,” West told her.

  He dropped to his knees as she lay on the bed, breathing heavily. “Now, lie back and just relax.”

  West splayed her thighs wide-open with his hands. Then he put his mouth on her.

  The first touch of his warm tongue made her jerk backward in delighted shock. He slid his tongue between her folds in slow, steady strokes.

  The orgasm slammed into her, making her cry out. West stayed with her, kissing her gently. Then he looked up with a small smile, backhanding his mouth. He opened the drawer and withdrew the condoms he’d placed there and sheathed himself.

&nbs
p; Quinn held out her arms to him.

  “I want to take it slow,” he whispered to her. “I need you to remember this, remember me.”

  He kissed her. Over and over, his tongue stroking her inside, imitating what was to come with his body. Nudging his hips between her legs, he braced himself on his hands.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Slowly he pushed slightly inside her. Trust filled her. She needed this tenderness and loving, but most of all, she needed him.

  She needed to know that he loved her, and this was more than mere sex.

  West laced his fingers through hers. Slowly he pushed into her. He pulled back and began to stroke inside her. His muscles contracted as he thrust, powerful shoulders flexing and back arching.

  Quinn drew him close as they moved together. This was West, who said he cared for her, who wanted her to recover. She needed this, needed him.

  The delicious friction was wonderful, the closeness of his body to hers, his tangy scent filling her nostrils. She pumped her hips, as he taught her the rhythm, feeling the silky slide of the hair on his legs. He began to move faster, his gaze holding hers.

  She could fall in love with him all over again, and that memory would not flee. Emotions crowded her chest as she gripped his hard shoulders. It felt as if he locked her spirit in his.

  His thrusts became more urgent. Close, so close... She writhed and reached for it, the tension growing until she felt ready to explode.

  Screaming his name, she came again, squeezing him tightly as she arched nearly off the bed. He threw his head back with a hoarse shout. Collapsing atop her, he pillowed his head next to hers.

  For a few minutes they lay tangled together, the sheets damp with perspiration, the cool night air sweeping over their bodies. Then he rolled off.

  West gathered her close. It felt right, being with him like this. She wanted to be held by him all night, reassured that he did care.

  He ran a hand through her tousled curls and smiled. West curled his big body next to her and draped a muscled arm about her waist.

  She snuggled against him with a tiny sigh of pure contentment.

  West’s deep voice rumbled into her ear.

  “You’re mine, Quinn. And I always take care of my own.”

  Then his words became a haze as she drifted to sleep.

  “I only wish you would remember how much I love you.”

  Chapter 15

  She woke up the next morning to the sound of birds singing in the trees outside their window. A cool breeze blew into the bedroom, making her snuggle deeper under the covers. Beside her West still slept, one arm flung above his head.

  He looked relaxed in sleep, as if it were the only time he truly could relax.

  Well, maybe not. There was one activity guaranteed to make this man unwind. Quinn traced a line up the ridges of his rippling abdomen, circling one small brown nipple.

  Yawning, he rolled over, faced her. His hand smoothed down her hair.

  “No regrets,” he murmured.

  “None.”

  West found another condom, put it on and kissed her neck. He rolled atop her and they began the rhythm she recognized. Slow and deep, as if they had all the time in the world. She moved with him, smooth as water, and stared up into his face. Fierce passion filled his dark eyes, but he smiled down at her.

  Maybe she had no memory of their romance, their engagement, but her heart assured her that this man was hers, and she belonged to him. He would never do anything to hurt her, and she could trust him. Quinn wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him to go faster.

  His pace increased and she met it as an equal. The feeling blossomed in her loins and they came together in a shattering climax, West groaning her name as she hugged him tightly to her.

  They dozed off, drowsing in each other’s arms. And then West sat up, pushing a hand through his hair.

  “Breakfast, and then I’m taking you on that fishing expedition I promised, before we go to Pine Paradise and then back to town.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Do you mind cleaning the fish I catch?”

  The sexy grin he gave her melted her all over again. “So confident. If you catch one, I’ll clean it and you can cook it.”

  He gave her a quick kiss and then padded naked out of bed to the bathroom. Sounds of the shower soon followed.

  Quinn lay in bed, the bliss from lovemaking fading as the sun crept higher into the sky. Something nagged at her, a faint buzz like the hum of a mosquito. If she loved West and he loved her, and they were engaged, why did she suspect he was investigating her and her family? Was this all a farce so he could get closer to uncloak secrets?

  Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed, she joined him on the porch as they ate oatmeal and fresh fruit.

  “You told me about your family. It’s time I told you about mine. About Demi and our relationship.”

  West stiffened, the coffee mug halfway to his mouth. “Go on.”

  “I wanted to be close to her, but our mothers weren’t exactly friends. Demi was an ideal for me.”

  “Why?” He set down his mug, studied her with his dark, intense gaze. It felt as if he scrutinized her, wanted answers to questions that went far beyond her childhood. Quinn fiddled with her fork.

  “I thought if I had a sister, even a half sister, that my family life would be complete. A sister would keep me company when my mom worked late, or dumped me with my grandparents when she jetted off to Vegas to marry again.

  “Demi really wasn’t interested in being my friend. And that hurt. But I learned to live with it.” She stretched out her hands, studying the bruises and scrapes.

  “I always wanted to have a large family, kids all gathered around the dinner table, around the tree at Christmas. Siblings to play with, fight with, anything to escape the constant fear that I wasn’t good enough for the steps in my life.”

  “Stepfathers,” he said quietly.

  Her childhood hadn’t been rosy, filled with lemonade stands and dolls and playtime. More like loneliness, of waiting for a mother to come home from work, or fearing that the new stepfather would not like her.

  An endless parade of dads, like steps in a ladder, only leading nowhere.

  Quinn stretched out her hands, showing the rough spots, the calluses, the broken nails.

  “Look at me, West. I’m not glamorous. I don’t remember everything about my life, but I know I was poor. I came from the wrong side of the tracks. Everything I have, I’ve worked hard and long to keep. I may not have much, but what little I do have is important to me. It’s not easy being a woman business owner in a man’s world. Even more so being a respectable businesswoman when you’ve been stigmatized for having a father who’s a lowlife.”

  He waited, watching her. She pressed on.

  “I remember this—there were times I wanted to give up because it seemed so overwhelming. It was a dream to own Good Eats, a silly dream when I could have made money working for someone else. But I needed my business, needed to prove to myself and others I could do this. I’m not rich, in fact, I can barely pay the rent. But even though I’ve lost most of my memory, I know who I am.”

  Quinn drew in a breath. “I’m Quinn Colton, a woman who fights to the end and doesn’t surrender. I’m not giving in to this amnesia and I’m not giving in to whoever attacked me. They will not win.”

  West reached over, cupped her cheek. “No, they will not.”

  A fierce pride and longing filled her. “And I’m not losing you, either. You may have secrets a foot deep, but if I cared about you enough to agree to marry you before all this happened, then this Quinn, the new Quinn, accepts that love. Even if she can’t remember it.”

  Her mouth was warm and soft beneath his own as he bent his head and kissed her. West smoothed away an errant curl from her face. “Let’s take a br
eak and go fishing.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “You were serious about that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  West found two fishing poles in the closet and a tackle box filled with lures, and a battered khaki hat with hooks stuck in the band. He plopped it on her curls.

  “Perfect fit,” he teased.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to take me fishing.”

  “Of course. We made a deal about dinner, and I am always serious about fishing.”

  Fishing provided a way to relax and free the mind. West hoped it would help Quinn remember.

  An hour later, both of them wearing waders and flannel shirts, they arrived at the creek he knew to be prime fishing territory.

  Standing at the creek’s edge, he showed her how to fly cast, sending the lure upstream so it floated downward. Fat speckled trout swam lazily in the current, but none bothered to nibble at the lures. Sunshine warmed his face as he reeled in the lure, and the cooling breeze from the canyon made it a perfect August day. Back in Red Ridge, the temps would be climbing past the high eighties, but here was paradise.

  Quinn cast her line, reeling it in too fast. Rex barked at a daring trout that swam close to shore and began frisking in the icy water.

  “Rex! Stop scaring the fish,” West ordered. “Go find. Squirrel!”

  The dog bounded off into the woods. Quinn laughed. “You seriously taught him to hunt squirrels?”

  He grinned. “If we don’t catch dinner, I hope you know how to cook squirrel.”

  “You’re teasing.”

  “Huh.” West dipped his head and gave her a brief, but sizzling kiss. “Maybe we should skip dinner and go to bed early.”

  “Woman cannot live on love alone,” she quipped. “She needs tofu, too.”

  Quinn laughed at his crestfallen expression.

  He showed her how to fly cast once more, and let the lure wriggle to attract the trout. And then her line tugged.

  “I got one!” Quinn spun the reel, her face alight with pleasure.

  “Great job! I’m cooking dinner tonight.” West fetched the net.