by Paula Roe
She didn’t want to think about that.
He reached out, gently tugged the useless band from her hair and retied it back. A small shot of panic hit her low and hard. She vigorously upped the pace on her brushing.
After a while he said, “You should go to bed.”
“I’m okay,” she lied, rinsing her mouth and spitting into the sink.
“You look tired. Go. This can wait until morning. I’ll go get my stuff from the hotel.”
Without an argument, she nodded. “Okay. The couch pulls out into a bed. I’ll get you some sheets.”
When Finn returned, she’d pulled out the couch and fixed up the sheets. “It may not be five-star, but it’s comfortable. Well—” Ally shoved her hair behind her ears. “—sleep well.”
As she turned to leave, his soft question stopped her in her tracks.
“No goodnight kiss?”
She threw a look over her shoulder. “You’re deluded.”
“Just a little one?” He grinned.
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
The look of heated mischief in his eyes was one she hadn’t seen in a long time, but still, oh, so familiar. “What I’m sure of is our attraction, elskat. If you weren’t trying so hard to fight it, you’d see it, too.”
The next morning they reviewed every minute detail again, from Ally’s time line to the last of the letters and notes, until Ally was numb with the constant battering of her sagging defenses.
Her control and objectivity began to slip. An annoying little voice inside had taken up residence, demanding to know what had happened to the kissing bit. She tried to ignore it but it only got louder. It was absolutely no help that Finn sat within touchable distance, looking better than any guy had a right to.
Her restraint was treading a precarious tightrope over a river of lust and she wasn’t entirely sure she could stay focused.
With their wedding photos spread before them and a black lump of sadness in her heart, she leaned forward to ease the kink in her back.
“Maybe we’re concentrating too hard.” She rolled her neck and sighed.
Finn’s eagle gaze picked up that movement. “How are you feeling?”
“Nothing that a massage couldn’t fix,” she joked. But when he stood and reached down for her hand, she shook her head in alarm.
“Yes,” he argued and nudged her. “Sit on the footstool and I’ll give you a massage.”
Reluctantly she sat and leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees. With a feeling half of trepidation, half of anticipation, Finn sat on the chair behind her and slowly peeled up her tank to reveal the smooth skin of her lower back.
He gritted his teeth. Focus on something else. Projected business plans. Profit and loss reports. The annual general meeting. And he pretended not to notice the way she nearly jumped a foot in the air when he touched her.
Two minutes later he was mentally reciting the World Cup winners from present to past when she groaned. If that wasn’t enough to gnaw at his thin control, she had to go and sigh, then rotate her neck and drop her head back.
The tempting smell of her hair, the satin curls as they swished at him—back and forth as she rolled her neck—grabbed hold of his libido and squeezed.
His body’s response was electric, as though all the elements had gathered together and were now warring beneath his skin. His groin hardened with sudden painful intensity and his breath snagged, throat dry with desire and heat.
She suddenly twisted, eyes wide, and a small squeak—suspiciously like another groan—escaped.
He stared at her profile, then her lips. And stayed there.
He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt this content to just be with someone.
His hands paused then slowly began to creep around to her stomach.
She jumped as if he’d burnt her, frantically pulling down her shirt as she put distance between them.
The lust in his brain crashed to the floor. She didn’t want him. Her response was evidence enough.
Again, he’d forced her into a situation. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, the emotional push-pull sending a sharp pain to the back of his eyes.
“Finn…” she whispered.
“Mmmm.”
“I do feel it.”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He looked up at her, standing alone and vulnerable beside the couch. It wrenched his heart. Mutely he nodded.
The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease off a bare inch. “It’s just…I’m…”
“What?”
“I’m so—”
“Hot?”
“Conflicted.”
“I know.”
“And aroused.”
Now with his full attention, she gave him a weary smile. “But as much as I’m attracted, I can’t let myself get hurt again. You understand?”
He nodded. “Maybe we’re trying too hard. On my memory, that is.”
Was it his imagination or did she look relieved? “That…sounds logical.”
“So we should…I’ll…” Dammit, why was it so hard to say? He scowled, stuck his hands in his pockets.
As if sensing his awkwardness, she came to his rescue. “Take the car for a few hours. I need to do some work here anyway.”
He gave a curt nod and without another word, turned for the door.
Fifteen
Two weeks later, on Saturday night, Ally eyed her reflection in the mirror with annoyance. The Boobs From Hell, that’s what she was. What had once been a perfectly good after-five dress had turned into a prop from a Fellini film. No matter which way she turned, they were there. Straining at the seams. Looking…well…huge.
The soft knock on her bedroom door stopped Ally mid-adjustment. “Come in.”
Finn walked in with a shopping bag, then abruptly stopped. He cleared his throat.
“Are you actually going to wear that?”
She put her hands on her hips and scowled, daring him to comment.
“You have a problem with my dress?”
Finn let his gaze roam leisurely over her curves poured into a cherry-red sheath that, given another time and place, he would have been more than happy to see her in. Or out of. Creamy breasts straining against satin material, barely keeping themselves decent. A come-hither figure more compelling than a takeover bid.
He tore his fascinated gaze from the glorious sight, slowly dragging his eyes up to her face. Her chin shot up, along with her eyebrows, and she looked so indignant he couldn’t resist.
“Elskat, every man in the room will have a problem once they see you.”
She struggled to remain offended but he detected a glimmer of a smile tugging her lips.
The moment spun out, seemed to lengthen.
In the last couple of weeks he’d discovered depths to Ally that he hadn’t foreseen. Her undeniable passion and the intimacy they shared was a constant wonder to him, as if their darkest times together had somehow brought a new understanding, a new facet to their relationship. She no longer flinched when he took her hand. No longer balked at his gentle touch on her arm or her back as he guided her through a crowd.
Yet he also knew she was confused with the changes she saw in him. The Finn of the past would never have done half the things they’d done.
Especially not suggesting that they use sex to get his memory back.
Yet she was frustrating him because he saw right through her I-know-what-I-want declaration. Like claiming aloofness but letting her eyes linger when she thought he wasn’t looking. Saying she was happy with her life when it was so clearly a mess. Telling him she wasn’t physically interested, then agreeing to his wild theory—a theory that had only gone as far as a few mind-blowing kisses.
She’d let him into her home and he’d moved his meager belongings into the space as if he’d been there for months. And gradually, with every hour he spent with her, the person he was supposed to be—the rich businessman who was hell-bent on finding the truth no matte
r what—was sliding further and further from his memory.
His headaches were less frequent, the unyielding tension in his muscles easing off for hours at a time. And the bliss of sleep…
It was like some relaxant seeping into his bones, calming him.
He didn’t have the energy to miss the old Finn. That man had felt all wrong, as if he’d known all along who he was inside, yet was forced to conform to expectations on the outside. Ally had played a major part in that realization with her passion and attitude and come-to-bed body. She’d pushed all his buttons, made him question his purpose.
He’d love nothing better than to be right here. With Ally. Living together as man and wife.
Astonished, he let that revelation wash over him. Wishful thinking or distinct possibility? And what would Ally say? Do? Plus, there was the small matter of that codicil….
At her questioning gaze, he held out the bag he was carrying. “I bought you something. A good-luck present.”
Eyeing the bag with suspicion, she finally pulled out the box. And when she lifted the lid, reverently lifted out the blue dress she’d tried on two weeks ago, and raised her eyes to his, he released the breath he’d been holding.
“Finn,” she said softly, his name wondrous delight on her lips. “You shouldn’t—”
“I wanted to.” He took a step closer as she held it up and studied herself in the full-length mirror. “I also want to give you this.”
He produced a long velvet box. She stared at it, dumbfounded.
“Open it,” he urged.
Slowly she eased back the lid, then gasped. On a bed of navy velvet lay a delicate silver and blue sapphire necklace. The blue stones were square cut, tinier than her pinky fingernail, alternating between links of polished silver. In the middle, a single round blue teardrop sapphire dangled, winking in the light.
“Louisa designed it for next season’s collection. I had it couriered.”
He took it from her, gently placed it around her neck and fastened the clip.
Speechless, she stared at the necklace in the mirror, fingering the stones, the graceful sweep of the links as they lay against her skin. Then she looked up at him and his hand went to her cheek, stroking the soft curve.
He heard the breath catch in her throat. “I don’t deserve…”
“You deserve to be dressed in silks, to be treated like royalty. You deserve to feel good about yourself, especially tonight.” His hand dropped to her shoulder, stroking the warm flesh under his fingers. “Let me make you feel good, kæreste. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
True to his word he’d made Ally feel good all the way to Fox Studios. He’d actually hired a stretch limousine and spent the journey leisurely licking fizzy lemonade from her lips every time she took a sip from the champagne flute.
Her mouth still tingled from his particular brand of “feel good.” Her skin, however, itched as if she’d scrubbed it within an inch of its life, her breasts ached and her stomach was queasy.
When the chauffeur opened her door, Ally froze. The sudden whir and flash of cameras smacked her in the face, the roar of the crowd rising to a deafening pitch. A roped-off red carpet lay dead ahead, flanked by reporters. Behind them a sea of onlookers strained at the barriers, desperate to catch a glimpse of the limo’s occupants.
As quickly as the déjà vu moment came, it disappeared when Finn leaned down and took her hand. “Smile, elskat. It’s your night.”
He helped her out and guided her down the carpet, smiling and waving as if it were a natural part of breathing.
It is, she thought. She, meanwhile, couldn’t get over the fact that she was in the company of celebrities, would be rubbing shoulders with TV stars, movie directors, newspaper moguls and models.
Security ushered them through the heavy double doors of the Hall of Industries, into a huge room decorated like the heavens above. Walls of sky blue depicted dozens of floating clouds, tiny star lights wound around tall marble columns and the waiters were all dressed in togas and sandals, complete with halos and wings.
“Wow.” Ally absorbed the scenery with an awe-filled gasp as Finn squeezed her hand. A gasp that was cut short when she spotted Simon, who, in turn, spotted them.
“Ally! PR told me you were coming. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He turned to Finn who was standing silently by her side. “We weren’t properly introduced last time. Simon Carter. Ally’s boss.”
“Ex-boss,” Ally amended tightly as they shook hands.
“Finn Sørensen,” Finn said.
Ally could see Simon’s brain working overtime. “You related to that Danish jewelry designer?”
“He was my father.”
Simon nodded, turned to Ally to kiss her cheek in greeting, but she moved backward into the warm strength of Finn. She was shaking inside, hating Simon for lying to her and cornering them so publicly, hating the fact that Finn was a witness to the results of her own naïveté.
“Sørensen Silver makes classy stuff.” He eyeballed her necklace appreciatively. “Which reminds me—” there was an unflattering gleam in his eye “—how come you don’t wear a ring?”
“It’s being custom-made,” she answered quickly before Finn could turn his dark frown into something more verbal. Everything inside revolted at this confrontation, refused to accept Simon’s false politeness in any shape or form. Disgust was a bitter taste on the tip of her tongue.
As Finn turned and smiled to someone who called a passing greeting, Simon bent low so only she could hear.
“Great to see you here, Ally.”
“And you lied.”
He smiled humourlessly and shrugged. “Desperate measures.”
“And lucky you—I’ve saved you from the wrath of Max. Certainly wasn’t my intention, but…”
He took a step forward, way inside her comfort zone. “For the sake of your career, I’d advise you to play nice, Ally.”
“It seems you have a problem with bullying women, Carter. Or is it just my wife?”
Finn looked dangerous, like an avenging angel swooping in to her rescue as he pulled her back, shielding her with his muscular shoulder. His eyes promised bodily harm and his fists clenched by his sides. As the strobe light spliced across his face, his body tensed, ready for action.
His sheer physical presence took Ally’s breath away.
Simon stepped back and opened his mouth to say something more.
Finn made a sound low in his throat, moving closer so that his meaning could not be misinterpreted. “Is this worth more than your pretty face, Carter? I will flatten you if you persist in hounding my wife. Try explaining a bloody nose to the cameras.”
Simon’s eyes widened and he hastily took another step backward. He seemed to pull himself together, swallowed whatever he was about to say and retreated behind that polished veneer Ally knew so well.
“We’re done here,” Simon muttered and turned on his heel.
Ally tugged on Finn’s arm and when he looked down, his eyes still full of fury, she astounded him with a soft kiss. “Thank you.”
No one had come to her defense before, she thought with a little inner glow. She’d always been the one to take care of herself. The strong one, the take-charge girl.
As if he understood that, he swept the back of his hand over her cheek, so gently that her breath caught painfully in her chest. She laced her fingers through his.
“He knows who you are,” she stated unnecessarily.
“That does not matter.”
“But—”
“It feels good that you worry for me, elskat—” he smiled down at her “—but I cannot hide forever. Better it be on my terms than someone else’s.”
She felt the tension seep from her body as he brought his lips to hers in a tender kiss. “I’m here, that’s all that matters. Now enjoy your night.”
Ally prayed her nausea would stay away and she’d make it through the ceremony without throwing up on anyone important. To her amazement her pra
yers were answered. She even managed a joke or two with the young, hunky presenter and made a thank-you speech she distinctly remembered only as, “mmmrrrggrrrrpp. Thanks!”
Now, with the celebrations well underway, the warmth of the packed room began to press urgently around, the thumping beat of the dance-floor music pounding heavily in her throat.
Shifting from foot to foot, she leaned up against a cloud-covered wall as she waited in line to use the bathroom. She was so tired, even her bones ached. All that smiling and socializing had really taken it out of her, not to mention avoiding Simon all night. She absently ran a palm over her stomach just as the snap and flash of cameras went off in her face.
She turned to give the photographer a mouthful but Finn appeared beside her. “Smile, skat. The cameras are watching. Again.”
“This was a dumb idea,” she said through a wide smile and clenched teeth as another guy took her picture.
“No, it wasn’t. You got this—” he waved the elegant crystal award he held “—and had a great time. They all loved you.”
“I suppose they did,” she said grudgingly. “Dammit, what takes women so long in the bathroom?” She quickly glanced around. “Wait here, I’ll be just a sec.” She marched over to the men’s room.
After she’d used the facilities, she swung open the stall door to find a man washing his hands at the sink.
“Oh! I’m sorry, but the line outside was—”
The man grabbed a towel and turned. “Miss McKnight.” To her mortification, she realized it was Max Bowman, Bliss’s editor-in-chief. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you all night.”
She stepped back, blushing furiously. “About?”
He smiled, threw the towel into the basket and readjusted his sleeves. “Your job. Let’s go outside.”
Ally’s head spun with incredulity as she finally made her way back to Finn. Max had just offered her her old position back with a hefty increase in salary. And heaven help her, she was seriously thinking about taking it. I need a job. I can’t live on my savings forever.
