Here to Stay (Silhouette Special Edition) (15 page)

Miles gave her a look that could have withered concrete. “Amnesia, damn it! Remember?”

Sasha ignored the sarcasm and shook her head. “You’ve been dealing pretty well with your memory loss. This is something new, something since this afternoon. I’m getting good at reading your moods, you know. I’m sure you think bottling it up is the strong, manly thing to do.” She put her hand on his forearm, absorbing a little sensory shock at the feel of warm skin and silky hairs. His muscles bunched under her touch. A muscle in his jaw clenched. Her pulse pounded in her throat. “But honestly, Miles, it really will help to talk about whatever is troubling you.”

“Damn it, Sasha! You’re worse than a mosquito in a tent!” he growled. He moved quickly, and now it was his large, hard hand wrapped around her upper arm. “You want to know what happened this afternoon? Okay! This afternoon I phoned two of my most recent lovers. I didn’t like what I heard.”

Sasha had suspected that he’d learned something disturbing during his phone calls, but hearing him say the word
lovers
struck her hard. The man she’d come to think of as a hermit had had lovers. She shouldn’t be surprised, but she was. Or maybe she was shaken by the notion that Miles had cared about these women, had had intimate relationships with them. He hadn’t been so closed off from people as she’d believed. Obviously, he was capable of deep feelings. Had he been hurt by one or more of these women from his past?

Sasha searched his hard face for some clue. All she saw was anger, but she knew he used anger to protect himself from other feelings. Most men did. She’d simply have to convince him it was safe to confide in her. “What did they do that upset you, Miles?”

To her surprise, he laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, however, but a bitter laugh of disbelief. “
They
didn’t do anything to upset me.” His fingers tightened on her arm, not enough to hurt but enough to pull her off-balance a little. “Except tell me the truth about myself.”

“And what is that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The man had a head like a brick. “I just asked, didn’t I?”

“No wonder you keep getting kicked by horses. You ask for it.” She opened her mouth to prompt him, but he went on in a grim tone. “I used them, Sasha. I took their company. Their love. Their dreams. And then I dumped them, just when they were sure I was about to propose marriage.”

Sasha shifted so she was kneeling beside him on the sofa, looking him in the eye. He still held her arm. “That’s their story, Miles. Isn’t it possible that you just didn’t feel the same way about them and decided to end the relationships?”

“It’s
possible
that little green men from outer space are taking over the phone company, but it isn’t likely. The facts are in the computer. Every woman I’ve dated has a career that makes a traditional permanent relationship difficult, if not impossible. What does that tell you?”

Sasha considered what he’d said, then drew her conclusion. “It tells me that you’re attracted to independent, dynamic women, but haven’t fallen in love yet.”

Miles made a noise that sounded like teeth gnashing. “It tells me I’m only interested in women I can’t have a normal relationship with. As soon as they get close, I shut them out.”

“Like you’re trying to do to me?” Sasha whispered.

Miles swore and gave her arm a shake. Caught by surprise, she lost her balance and tumbled toward him, landing against his broad chest, his arms around her, her breasts plastered to him, her face pressed to his. Trying to regain her balance, Sasha wiggled around until she ended up straddling his thighs. Under her, Miles seemed to freeze. She couldn’t even feel him breathing. But his heart was pounding so hard that his pulse seemed to beat within her.

Finally Miles groaned. “Sasha, what are you doing to me?”

She turned her head so that her lips could just brush his tense jawline. “I’m trying to get you to consider alternative points of view.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m trying to convince you that the man I see here doesn’t act like the selfish S.O.B. he claims to be, so maybe there’s another explanation.”

“Like what?”

Very slowly she let herself sink down into his lap. Even through their jeans, Sasha felt his heat. She felt him stir to arousal under her. And she felt herself quicken and ache for him.

“Like, maybe you shut people out before they can hurt you, because someone or a number of someones in your past hurt you very much.”

Sasha drew back enough to look into his face. In the flickering firelight she could see the anger struggling with the indecision and something else she couldn’t read. And then one of his hands slid up to cup the back of her head and she drifted forward until his mouth met hers.

Miles’s kiss felt tentative at first, as if he expected her to break away. She couldn’t have even if she’d wanted to. Her bones were turning to liquid and she flowed into his arms, letting him part her lips for his hot, probing tongue. Breathlessly, Sasha clung to him, absorbing the taste of his anger, his hunger, his desperation. With a soft little sound of her own need, she settled deeper into his lap.

And then Miles drew his mouth from hers. “Sasha, I’m trying to be decent and honorable, but you’re not making it very easy for me,” he murmured.

Sasha smiled wickedly, dreamily. “I believe I’m making it hard for you,” she teased, her voice husky.

“Oh, God, are you ever,” he breathed. Then he grasped her hips in his strong hands and lifted her up above his lap. “I don’t want to have sex with you because we’re in the same house and we both feel sorry for me. I owe you more than that, Sasha. So...”

Still shaken by the depths of her own responses, Sasha rested her forehead on Miles’s and tried to get her breathing under control.

“You’re wrong about the reasons, Miles, but I’m not going to beg you to make love to me.” Slowly she eased herself off him. His hands supported her, but they didn’t push her away. She decided that was a small victory.

Miles slid his hands down her arms to clasp her fingers, then released her. There was a lifetime of sadness in his eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Sasha.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” She smiled a little lamely. “There’s some wise advice trainers give riders. Don’t rush your fences. I’m going upstairs to read. When the time is right, we’ll both know.”

“The time may never be right for us,” Miles warned as she walked away.

At the doorway into the hall Sasha turned and met his eyes. Time wasn’t the problem, she knew, but they’d already agreed to disagree about his relationship with his past. With a sigh she turned away and went upstairs to her room.

* * *

The next morning Sasha was gone before Miles got downstairs. He filled the hours working at the computer. Shortly after noon he heard her truck stop in the yard. Copper woofed and trotted out to meet her. Miles followed the dog onto the porch, looking around as he waited for her. It was another sunny day. The breeze smelled sweet, and the sky was full of fluffy white clouds and birds. A new wave of spring flowers had started to bloom, and the lilac bushes were heavy with dark purple buds Sasha had promised would be opening by the end of the week. It felt good to be here, watching spring unfold. Miles wondered if he felt as much at home on Secret Island.

“Hi!” Sasha called. “I picked up some chicken salad and rolls for lunch. Interested?”

His stomach growled at the mention of food. “Is the sky blue?”

“For now,” she answered with a chuckle. “As soon as Copper is ready to come back inside, I’m digging in.” She lifted a full paper bag. “This is strictly self-serve.”

By the time Miles walked into the kitchen, the pups were squealing in protest at their mother’s desertion. They didn’t have a clue how lucky they were, Miles thought. Their mother was devoted to them, and wouldn’t leave them for more than a few minutes at a time. Not like the adults who were neglecting and abusing the kids who had brought Copper to Sasha’s.

Miles crouched beside the box he’d made for the puppies from scrap plywood. They still looked like fat little golden piglets. Carefully he touched several of them, savoring their warmth, their silky coats. They responded by making mewling sounds and rooting blindly toward his hand, making him smile. Cute little devils. It might be nice to have one of Copper’s pups, and maybe a couple of the barn kittens, when he returned to Secret Island. But then, there were probably plenty of abandoned dogs and cats back there, too.

The kitchen door swung open on that grim thought. Copper trotted to the box, stopping to grin and nudge him for a bit of attention. Scratching the dog behind her ears, Miles looked up at Sasha and felt his insides do a slow somersault. Dear God, she was beautiful!

It wasn’t the way her faded jeans hugged her trim figure, or the way her vest opened over a T-shirt that clung to her ribs and outlined her small, round breasts. It wasn’t the slight flush on her high cheek-bones or the sparkle in her dark eyes. It wasn’t even the tempting way her smile parted her soft lips.

It was her energy, her sweetness, her intelligence and unselfconscious sensuality. It was her insistence on thinking the best of him, despite facts to the contrary. It was her determination to heal him with love he didn’t deserve and couldn’t return. It was everything about Sasha that made her so damn beautiful, that made him feel as if he were staring into the sun, awed and blinded.

“What a gorgeous day,” she said brightly, shrugging out of her vest. “I think we’re going to have an early summer. There’s carrot salad in the fridge, to go with the sandwiches.”

Apparently unaware of her ability to reduce him to mush, Sasha scrubbed her hands at the sink, then reached up to take plates and glasses out of the cupboard. She was acting as if nothing had happened between them last night. Tamping down the temptation to make up for his noble intentions of yesterday, resisting the urge to slide between her and the counter and pull her slender body against him, Miles gave Copper a final pat and got up to wash his hands.

“How was your morning? Did you get much work done?” Sasha asked when Miles joined her at the table.

“Yeah. Oh, the manure man came by and hauled away a truckload. He left a basket of mushrooms. Real beauties. I put them in the fridge.”

“Oh, good. Do you like mushroom soup?”

“Probably. But why would the manure man bring mushrooms?”

Sasha chuckled. “Guess!” She laughed at the face he made. “Relax. It’s sterilized first. That’s why I always wash my mushrooms, no matter what the cooking experts say about just brushing them off.”

“That’s a relief,” Miles told her with a quick grin. It seemed as natural as breathing to anticipate she’d need the mustard at that precise moment, and to pass it to her without a word. “How was your morn-ing?”

“Busy enough,” Sasha answered before biting into her sandwich. “There’s a runny nose bug going around some of the stables, and an increase in lameness and pulled tendons. It’s spring, so everyone is training for competition or out riding on uneven terrain. Or the horses go out in the fields feeling so good that they run themselves sore.”

“Any more babies?” Miles bit into his sandwich, then had to force himself to choke it down while the image of Sasha holding his baby flashed into his mind.

“A couple arrived without much fanfare,” she answered, drawing him back to the present. “Experienced mares, experienced owners. I usually just have to check the foals, make sure they’re progressing well and don’t have any problems that require early attention.” A soft light came into her dark eyes. “I love those little ones. Seeing them with their mothers always chokes me up. It’s such a strong, special bond.”

Once again, Miles pushed away the image of Sasha holding his baby. “What about the fathers?”

She shook her head. “It’s unusual for stallions to be buddies with other horses, especially younger males. They see them as rivals, with good reason, and can be pretty brutal. Some studs can be pretty rough with their mares, too. In a well-balanced broodmare band, you’ll see ‘aunting,’ where the mares look out for foals that aren’t their own. The stallions see their jobs as protecting their mares and getting them pregnant.” She grinned. “Not very politically correct.”

At the moment, neither were Miles’s thoughts. He was thinking the impossible.

“T
ime for me to get back to work,” Sasha said. Then she tipped her head as if listening to something in the distance. “Sounds like a fax coming in.”

“Probably,” Miles agreed, reluctant to end the time with her. “I’ll walk you out to the truck. I can use some fresh air before I go back to the computer.”

The smile Sasha gave him could have enticed him to walk barefoot on broken glass, let alone to her truck. Miles held the door for Sasha, stepping back to let her walk out of the house. As she passed, he caught another breath of her scent and marveled that he’d managed not to grab her the entire time she’d been home for lunch. Her hair and skin smelled of horse and fresh air, flowers and woman. His hand, when he let go of the door, shook with suppressed desire.

Now he followed her to the truck, torturing himself with the sight of her slim hips swaying just a little in her well-worn jeans. She was dressed for work, but Miles liked the way she had tied the tails of her chambray work shirt around her waist, over the plain black T-shirt. Even in men’s clothes, she was completely feminine. It was a powerful combination.

Sasha opened the driver’s door of the truck, then turned around. Her dark gaze held Miles’s as her hand rose to touch his face like the brush of a butterfly. Miles wanted to reach up and hold her hand to his heart. He wanted her touch to heal him. But he couldn’t take without giving, and he didn’t have anything to offer besides heartache. So he stood still, forcing himself not to respond, until Sasha lowered her hand and climbed into the truck.

“See you tonight,” she said, her voice a little husky.

Miles waved once, then strolled around the grounds for a while, with Pretty Polly at his heels. He really did need to clear his head. He’d spent a sleepless night pondering Sasha’s words from last night, and he was beginning to think she might be right about some things. Not about the way he’d treated the women in his still unremembered past, because judging by the blistering things Lina and Natalia had said, he’d been a cold, heartless bastard. But Sasha might have been on the right track about the reasons he’d deliberately sought women who were so independent that they were virtually unattainable.

Of course, so was Sasha. She thought she wanted to make love to him, but he knew she was searching for another way to try to heal him. Her compassion made her too easy to exploit, and if Miles was ever going to set his past behind him, he was going to have to stop using women who thought they could be the one to break down the walls around his heart.

Miles was also going to have to find out why he’d built those walls. Why didn’t he let anyone get close to him? Why couldn’t he let himself get close to anyone? The answers were locked in the vault of his memory, but having the answers was no guarantee that he’d be able to put the past behind him.

As he bent to pluck some of the many tulips and daffodils blooming around the side of the house, Pretty Polly rubbed against his ankles. Miles smiled and stroked the silky fur, earning a loud, trilling purr. If only it could be that easy, he thought, he’d let himself fall in love with Sasha in a heartbeat.

* * *

Sasha phoned at five. “Grab something to eat when you get hungry,” she told Miles. “I’ve got a difficult foaling going on, so I have no idea when I’ll be home.”

“Okay. I’ll bring the horses in and feed them.”

“Thanks. Just watch out for Desperado. He’s still not totally reliable, especially around men.” She said goodbye almost abruptly, her voice strained with worry.

Miles called to Copper to follow him outside. The grinning dog dislodged her clinging pups and trotted after him. Whenever she went out with either of them, Miles wondered if the kids who had left her were hiding somewhere, watching to make sure their dog was being treated better than they were. The thought always made him clench his fists in impotent fury. What, if anything, were the police doing? Where were the social workers? Didn’t a teacher or a pediatrician suspect anything? At least a dozen times a day he reached for the phone to call McLeod and demand a progress report. But after the way he’d dusted the guy off, he didn’t think the constable would have much time for him. He didn’t care, as long as McLeod found time to track down those kids.

After trying to calm himself by watching Copper roll in the grass and sniff around for a few minutes, Miles went to the barn. The old horses came in quietly but eagerly, in a group. Miles grinned at the way they sorted themselves into their own stalls and waited for him to bring dinner. After feeding them all, he paused at Houdini’s stall, then, on impulse, let himself inside. The sad-faced old boy lifted his face from his feed bucket and sniffed the front of Miles’s shirt, leaving behind traces of dirt and grain. Miles ran his hand down the horse’s warm neck. Houdini nodded as if to ask for more, and when Miles scratched him around his ears, the horse closed his eyes and sighed.

“Lucky old man, aren’t you?” he muttered to the horse. “You get to stay with Sasha, no matter what.”

With a final pat, Miles went outside to tackle Desperado. He carried the full feed bucket into the paddock, the way Sasha did. The horse raced around, his hooves biting into grass and flinging mud. Miles stood quietly, waiting for the defensive beast to figure out his dinner was being served. When he did, Desperado snorted and tossed his head, approaching as if on his way to the guillotine instead of a meal. Miles extended his arms, showing the grain to the suspicious horse.

“C’mon, buddy. I’m here to feed you, not beat you,” he said in a low voice, hoping he sounded as soothing as Sasha did. “You’ll hurt yourself not trusting the right people,” he added, wondering if he was talking to the horse or himself.

Eventually, Desperado met him halfway. The horse ate from the bucket after Miles set it on the ground several feet away from where he stood. But unlike the old horses, who kept their noses in their buck-ets, munching steadily, Desperado lifted his head with every mouthful, eyeing Miles warily as he chewed. Miles had the strange sensation of gazing into a distorted mirror.

Later, watching the news on TV, Miles picked at leftovers for dinner. Evening turned to night, and still Sasha wasn’t home. He began to worry at ten. At eleven he was pacing the front porch, debating whether to call her pager number. What if she’d fallen asleep at the wheel on her way home? She could be alone and bleeding in a ditch somewhere, the way he had been the night she’d found him.

At eleven-fifteen the lights of Sasha’s truck swept the yard. He was down the steps and ready to grab her tool kit before her feet touched the gravel driveway. Without a word she handed the heavy kit to him and shut the truck door by leaning on it. He slid his arm around her waist and led her to the house.

Earlier, he’d planned to say so many things to her when she came home. He was going to tell her he’d set up meetings with two different companies, to discuss investing in them. He was going to tell her about the fax he’d received from the private investigator in Tampa.

His concerns would wait. Sasha was exhausted, and all Miles wanted to do was take care of her. He could only hope that, unlike stallions, he had some long-buried instinct for nurturing.

Sasha leaned against Miles, grateful for his support. She did so much nurturing she forgot how nice it felt to be taken care of occasionally. Now she absorbed Miles’s warm strength, breathed in his woodsy-musky male scent and allowed herself the luxury of being temporarily depleted of her own strength.

“You look like death warmed over,” he murmured. “I’ve been pacing a trail in your carpets.”

His words warmed her further. “It was a tough delivery. The foal’s neck and one foreleg were bent back, so I had to wrestle with him, the mare and Mother Nature to straighten him.”

“But you did it.”

“Yeah. Poor little guy will be seeing a chiropractor for a while, but he’s up and nursing.”

“Good.” His quick hug as they reached the door made Sasha feel the loss of his embrace even more. She followed him into the house. He paused at the kitchen door, setting her kit down. “Dinner, or just bed?”

Sasha shook her head. “Too tired to eat, too wired to sleep.”

“Go take a hot shower. If that doesn’t relax you, I’ll give you a massage.”

She smiled and nodded. “I better say good-night now, anyway, in case the shower does the job.”

He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. Sasha dragged herself up the stairs, then turned to see Miles watching her. The longing in his eyes made her forget her exhaustion. It mirrored exactly the longing in her soul.

* * *

Miles carried his glass of Scotch into the living room. The fire he’d lit hours ago had died down to embers, but the glow appealed to him. He pried off his boots and sprawled on the sofa, in a strange, restless mood he couldn’t define. But he knew the cause.

From upstairs, Sasha’s shower sounded like muted rain. He sipped his whiskey and imagined her tall, slender body under the hot water. Arousal gripped him, making him ache, making him curse. Not Sasha, but circumstances. The circumstances of the present that had propelled him into her life, and the circumstances of his past that would shut him out of her life.

With his empty glass balanced on his chest, Miles let his eyes drift shut. Now, imagining Sasha in the shower, he pictured himself there with her.

“Miles?”

It was Sasha, her voice slipping into his fantasy so gently it took him a moment to realize she was actually standing beside him, taking the glass from his slack grip. He opened his eyes and found himself looking directly into hers.

“Feel better?” he asked, unable to move, even to look away.

“Some. It’s late. We should go to bed,” Sasha murmured, and then sat beside his hip and put her hand on his chest. Miles’s heart started to pound under the light pressure. Slowly she came closer until he was breathing in the sweet, fresh scent of her skin and feeling awareness pumping through his veins. Then her lips touched his.

Miles tried to stay passive, to simply accept her kiss without making any demands of his own. He tried, but the wet heat of the tip of her tongue on his lips lit a fuse he no longer wanted to control. His hands reached for her, holding her slender ribs with shaking reverence. Sasha’s hair drifted around them like fragrant silk. When Miles arched up under her to press his mouth to hers, Sasha opened her lips to his questing tongue. The taste of her went to his head faster than a double shot of the finest single malt.

Blood surged to his loins, making him hard, making him ache to lose himself in the healing warmth of her body. Miles fought the raw power of his body’s hunger, his soul’s needs, forcing himself to give all choices to her. Easing her away, he sat up and locked his gaze on hers.

“Sasha?” was all he could manage to say.

“Yes, Miles, yes,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

She gave him a hint of a smile. “Very.”

She held out her hand. For the first time, Miles realized she was wearing a thick terry-cloth robe in a deep, forest green. The robe wrapped and tied around her slender body and reached almost to her an-kles. Her feet were bare. Her hair fell around her shoulders like a dark silk cape. He wanted to untie the belt of the robe and slip his hands under the fine strands of her hair until it drifted over his skin.

Miles stood and took her hand in his. Silently they walked upstairs. When they reached her bedroom door, Sasha opened it and drew him inside. His impression was of softness, things that were feminine without being too frilly; old-fashioned with antiques and lace. Her scent filled the room, delicate, womanly. He followed her to the four-poster bed, trembling.

“Sasha, if you change your mind,” he began, praying she wouldn’t.

“Why would I?”

“Do we need—?”

“Under my pillow.” Her smile told him that she knew his nerves were in an uproar. Then she touched his cheek.

It was enough to free Miles from his fog of disbelief. Fighting the urge to crush her to him and sink into her body for frantic release, he cupped her face in his hands and bent to kiss her. Her soft lips parted under his. She opened to his tongue and met his thrusts with parries of her own. Her sweet taste went to his head like fine cognac.

The first touch of her fingers on his chest made Miles start. Breaking the kiss, he watched her unbutton his shirt, smiling as her long, sensitive fingers shook. Then she spread her hands on his bare chest and he felt as if flames were sliding over his skin.

Taking her mouth in another deep, wet kiss, Miles lowered his hands from the delicate curves and bones of her face to trace the lapels of her robe. Down to the simple tie in the belt. One tug and it came open to her waist, freeing her to his touch. Miles wanted to rush, he wanted to take his time. He let his fingertips graze the warm, silky skin of her neck, her collarbone. Slowly he pushed the lapels apart to expose her shoulders. Sasha tipped her head back, breaking the kiss. The robe dropped as Miles’s mouth left hers and found her throat. Her pulse beat under his kiss.

Miles lifted his head and looked down at Sasha’s closed eyes. Her lashes fluttered, her lids opened. She met his gaze with her dark, steady, knowing eyes and smiled dreamily.

“Sasha, I feel as if I’ve never made love before,” he confessed, his voice coming out hoarse.

“You haven’t,” Sasha whispered, still smiling. “Not to me.”

Her easy acceptance touched him and scared him. Miles had no touchstone of reality except her, and he couldn’t bear to let her down. “I want so badly to make this good for you, but I can’t remember what kind of lover I was.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m not someone from your past. It’s only you and me now. Follow your instincts.” Her smile widened. “I plan to follow mine.”

At a loss for words, Miles simply nodded, then brushed her lips with his. His hands encircled her waist, then rose to cover her breasts. They were small, round, firm. The nipples hardened under his palms. Sasha gripped his shoulders and moaned quietly. He bent and replaced one hand with his lips, trailing kisses over warm, fragrant skin. He took her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, alternately suckling and licking at the sweetness of her. Her fingers laced through his hair, encouraging him to continue.