Forbidden Passion. Emilie Rose

mistress?

      She’d picked up her husband’s suit from the floor the way she’d done dozens of times before, but this time a jewelry box had fallen from his coat pocket and sprung open to reveal a huge diamond ring. She’d been touched—not because she’d liked the gaudy ring, but because she’d believed the gift signified a new start to their troubled marriage. The inscription inside the platinum band had crushed her hopes. “To Nina with love, Brett.” At that moment her worst fears had been proven. Her husband had been unfaithful.

      Stunned, she’d looked at Brett, and he’d concocted a story—he always had a story—about buying the ring for her and then deciding it wasn’t her style. He’d claimed he planned to return it the next day and had even produced the receipt to prove his point. The worst part was that she probably would have swallowed his lies again if she hadn’t read the inscription. He claimed the jeweler had made a mistake, but she knew better. Finally, the rose-colored glasses had shattered, and she could see the lie in his eyes.

      If she hadn’t been so angered by her own gullibility and lashed out at him verbally, egged on by years of broken dreams, would he still be alive? She’d screamed at him to get out of the house, vowing to file the divorce papers the next day. He’d stormed out, and less than an hour later the police had knocked on her door to tell her Brett was dead.

      When it had become clear that there wasn’t any money to pay for the funeral, she’d returned the ring to the jeweler’s. His mistress’s ring had cost more than ten thousand dollars. Her own ring, a plain gold band, had cost one hundred, which only went to show how much he valued her.

      How had she been so blind? So stupid?

      “Mrs. Riggan?” Mr. Allen’s quiet voice interrupted her self-castigation.

      She jerked to attention. “Yes?”

      “I have one more suggestion. Seek employment as soon as possible.”

      Lynn had ducked him for the last time. He would see her today, dammit.

      Sawyer ground his teeth and navigated through the congestion in Lynn and Brett’s normally quiet neighborhood on Saturday morning. During the past week he’d left enough messages on Lynn’s answering machine to fill a book. Sure, she’d returned his calls, but she’d left brief messages on his home answering machine when she knew he’d be at work, rather than call him at the office and speak to him directly.

      How could he take care of her if he couldn’t even talk to her and find out what she needed?

      He’d given her time because the memory of her taste, of the slick heat of her body clenching his and her gasps of passion still haunted his dreams, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with avoiding him any longer.

      He turned onto her street, and traffic slowed to a crawl. The For Sale sign by the curb jolted him, but the Yard Sale sign sent his heart slamming against his ribs.

      His brother’s belongings lay scattered across the lawn and driveway. Scavengers hunted through the entrails of Brett’s life. Rage boiled in Sawyer’s chest. Brett had only been gone ten days, and Lynn seemed determined to erase his existence.

      Pulling into a spot by the curb, Sawyer threw open his car door and stalked toward Lynn. Her pale-yellow shorts and sleeveless sweater skimmed her curves in a way guaranteed to make any red-blooded male stand up and take notice. Her bare arms and legs were sleek, tanned and toned, and the V-neck of her sweater revealed a mouthwatering hint of cleavage. Her hair cascaded down her back like polished gold, and she’d outlined her mouth in deep pink—the same shade he’d kissed off her lips. His libido stirred, but right now his anger edged out his primeval response by a slim margin.

      She glanced up from her cash box and their gazes met. Wariness filled her eyes.

      “What are you doing?” He managed not to shout, but fury vibrated in his voice.

      Her white teeth dug into her bottom lip. “I’m selling items I won’t have room for when I move to a smaller place.”

      “Those are Brett’s books, his golf clubs, his clothes.”

      “Sawyer, I’m sorry. I should have warned you about the yard sale.”

      “Hell, you have everything he owned out here.” He fought the urge to sweep it all up and carry it back into the house.

      Lynn winced and glanced over her shoulder, making him aware that several shoppers had stopped to eavesdrop shamelessly. Catching her elbow, he ushered her to the side of the lawn.

      She focused soft, sympathetic eyes on him. “I separated out the items I thought you might want, but if you see anything out here that you’d like, then please, take it.”

      “That’s not the point. It’s as if you’re trying to erase Brett from your memory.” He wasn’t ready to let go yet, and she shouldn’t be, either. She pulled her arm free, and her silky skin slid against his fingertips, marginally deflating his anger. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts and clenched his teeth on the persistent bite of desire.

      “My memories are here, Sawyer.” She tapped her temple and then gestured toward the bounty in her yard. “These are just things.”

      He paced to the hedge and back. Was Lynn trying to purge Brett from her life? And what if there were a child? He might have a legal hold on his child, but not on Brett’s. The big aching void where his heart used to be threatened to suck him into a black hole. “Why are you trying so hard to forget him?”

      “I’m not,” she fired back defensively and then chewed her lip. She glanced away and then back at him. Resignation settled over her features. “We have a few debts I need to pay.”

      He zeroed in on the tension in her voice. “What kinds of debts?”

      She stepped from one foot to the other and fingered the lock on the cash box. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

      “Lynn, I can’t help if I don’t know what I’m up against.”

      “And I told you I don’t need your help.” She fidgeted when he stared her down and then sighed. “Credit cards, mostly, but as administrator of the estate, I can settle our debts by selling a few items.”

      Hadn’t Brett learned anything from the tightly budgeted years after their parents’ deaths? Or was Lynn the one who’d insisted on flashy cars and a luxurious house? Since marrying his brother she’d certainly developed a high-maintenance lifestyle with her flirty body-hugging dresses, long, manicured nails and hair color that changed as frequently as the seasons.

      His gut knotted and a sour taste filled his mouth. Brett had bragged that every time Lynn dyed her hair it had been like making love with a different woman, a sexy redhead, a sultry brunette, a tawny-headed temptress. Cheating, but not cheating, he’d said with a wink and a smirk that lit a firestorm in Sawyer every time. He’d once thought he and Lynn had a future together, but that was before she’d ignored his letter and chosen his brother.

      Sawyer preferred Lynn’s hair blond—which he now knew was her natural shade, dammit—and he’d liked her back when she’d been a waitress who traded her contradictory uniform for jeans after work. Sure, he appreciated the curvy shape her clothes revealed—what man wouldn’t?—but he preferred a woman to leave a little to the imagination.

      She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with a long fuchsia fingernail, and in the blink of an eye his mind shifted gears again and his blood ignited. The crescent marks on his butt where she’d clutched him and pulled him deeper had barely faded. He cleared his throat and shifted, trying to ease the discomfort behind his zipper. “How much do you owe?”

      Her pink lips pressed in a determined line, and she lifted her chin. “I’m busy now. Can we have this discussion later?”

      Several couples hovered as if waiting to make purchases, and Lynn’s closed expression made it clear she wasn’t going to talk now. He didn’t have the right to stop the yard sale, but he couldn’t stand around