The Husband She'd Never Met Page 9

  ‘Carrie, sweetheart.’

  She hadn’t expected to be called sweetheart, and she wondered if this man—her father—was going to hug her. But Doug was clearly sensitive to her uncertainty, and he merely kissed her cheek before shaking Max’s hand.

  ‘Good to see you both,’ he said, and Carrie thought she read a special significance in the glance he sent Max.

  His wife, Meredith, was close behind him. ‘Carrie!’ She was smiling as she took Carrie’s hands in her own. ‘It’s wonderful to see you looking like your old self. You poor thing—we’ve been so worried.’

  Meredith had fading red hair which she hadn’t bothered to tint, sparkling grey eyes and fine wrinkles in an open, friendly face.

  ‘Thanks,’ Carrie told her, liking her on sight. ‘But actually I feel perfectly fine.’

  ‘You gave us such a scare,’ Meredith said.

  ‘I guess I must have. I’m sorry.’ Somewhat guiltily, Carrie realised that she’d given very little thought to the worry she’d caused this couple.

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t your fault,’ said Doug. ‘If only that silly horse hadn’t pigrooted...’

  Carrie had no idea what pigrooting was. ‘I brought a cake,’ she said, pointing to the container Max held. ‘Lime and coconut syrup.’

  ‘How lovely!’ Meredith was beaming, her eyes wide with evident pleasure. ‘That’s Doug’s favourite.’

  ‘Yes, Max told me.’

  ‘Oh.’ The other woman’s face sobered. ‘For a moment I thought you might have got your memory back.’

  ‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’ Doug’s wife looked sympathetic, and Carrie found herself saying, ‘It’s really weird to know nothing about the past few years. I’m afraid I still think of myself as a city girl. I’m stunned to know that I was riding a horse at all, let alone riding here at your place. Why was I here?’

  She sensed a sudden stiffening in the others, and a quick, furtive glance passed between them.

  Doug made a deft recovery. ‘You were just visiting your old man,’ he said with a smile. And then, with a gesture to the house, ‘Now, come on inside. Everything’s ready.’

  * * *

  The lunch was very pleasant. Meredith had prepared Tandoori chicken and a delicious salad from freshly picked, home-grown ingredients.

  Doug was a relaxed and charming host, and Carrie found herself often stealing glances in his direction. She fancied that she caught little glimpses of herself in his smile, or in the tilt of his head, or his laugh. She kept waiting to be hit by the emotional slug of a deeper connection. This man was her long-lost father, after all. She knew she should be feeling incredibly emotional.

  But her lost memory was like a barrier, blocking her emotions. She and this man had a history she knew nothing about. No doubt when she remembered the past few years she would relive the impact of meeting him as her father for the very first time, as well as the pain of her mother’s deceit. For now, though, their relationship didn’t quite feel real.

  Her father was a stranger—just as her husband was. Or rather as her husband had been. Before that kiss...

  Throughout the meal Carrie couldn’t help thinking about the kiss, still marvelling at the heat and the heart-stopping power of it. She’d never experienced anything like that before. Well, not that she could remember...

  Now she was intoxicated by the possibility that she and Max had enjoyed a truly fantastic sex life, and it was only with great difficulty that she managed to pay attention to the conversation over lunch.

  Max and Doug were talking about the coming mustering season. Apparently they helped each other to round up their cattle, as well as employing a contract mustering team. The men spent nights out in the bush and slept under the stars, and Carrie found it all rather fascinating.

  ‘Max and I had a camp fire dinner down by the creek the other night,’ she said.

  Doug’s eyebrows rose high. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  She thought this was a strange question. ‘Yes,’ she said stoutly. ‘It was wonderful.’

  He looked mildly amused at this. Meredith, on the other hand, was frowning and looked confused, while Max kept his eyes on the plate in front of him.

  Their reactions were puzzling. Why wouldn’t she have enjoyed such a pleasant experience? She couldn’t have rejected everything about the bush life before her accident, could she? Surely she hadn’t turned into her mother?

  Despite the occasional puzzling moment, the afternoon continued without a major hitch—which was probably a relief for everyone. At least everything went smoothly until Max and Carrie were on the veranda and about to leave.

  ‘Oh, I should get your suitcase for you, Carrie,’ Meredith said. ‘You’ll probably be wanting some of those things.’

  Carrie frowned. ‘My suitcase?’

  Once again she was conscious of tension in the other three. Doug looked awkwardly from his wife to Max. For a split second Meredith looked pained, as if she regretted raising the subject, but she quickly covered this with one of her warm smiles.

  ‘It’s just a few things you brought over here,’ she said lightly. ‘I won’t be a tick.’

  She left quickly, disappearing down the hall to a bedroom. Doug turned his attention to their dogs, giving their ears a scruff and promising them a walk before dinner, while Max stood with his hands jammed in his jeans pockets, not meeting Carrie’s curious gaze.

  ‘Here it is,’ Meredith said, returning with quite a sizeable silver hard-shell suitcase.

  Carrie stared at it, wondering why on earth she’d brought such a large piece of luggage to her father’s place. But she sensed that to ask the question now would be like dropping a hand grenade on their pleasant gathering.

  Max carried the suitcase to the car and everyone else followed. Once it was safely stowed in the back of the vehicle it wasn’t mentioned again. They said their goodbyes, exchanging kisses and hugs and promises to catch up again soon.

  ‘Hopefully I’ll have my memory back by the next time I see you,’ Carrie said.

  Doug and Meredith murmured that they certainly hoped so. But Carrie had the unsettling feeling that they might not have meant it.

  * * *

  She had a lot to think about during the journey home. The mystery of the suitcase. Her growing sense that in the months leading up to the accident something had gone terribly wrong with her life and possibly with her marriage.

  The kiss. And the deep yearning it had stirred in her.

  It was all very unsettling.

  Of course she wanted to question Max, but when it came to the crunch she was afraid to ask. She’d enjoyed the past few days. Very much. She’d discovered that she liked and respected her husband, and—she might as well admit it—she was lusting after him. She’d been turned on before he’d kissed her, but now she was borderline obsessive.

  And her feelings weren’t only centred on Max. She liked the Riverslea homestead, too, and she loved going for walks with Clover. She had enjoyed trying some of the Carrie K recipes, and she’d even started weeding the vegetable garden.

  Life had been good, really, but she was beginning to suspect that her amnesia was little more than an intermission—like a truce in the midst of some kind of war. In all likelihood hostilities would resume as soon as her memory returned.

  Carrie hoped this wasn’t the case. She didn’t want to be told that her marriage was in trouble. So for now it was easier and safer to refrain from asking questions that might force Max to tell her an unpalatable truth. Perhaps it was cowardly, but she decided to keep quiet, to simply close her eyes and sink back against the headrest.

  Max drove in silence and Carrie actually nodded off. It was almost dusk when they pulled up at Riverslea Downs. Long purple shadows stretched across the lawn. Clover greeted Carrie with her customary joy and Max retrieved the s
uitcase without comment, carrying it inside and setting it in a corner of their bedroom.

  The hens had already returned to their roosts for the night so, as had become her habit, Carrie collected any remaining eggs, checked that they had water, and closed the door to their pen.

  When she spoke to Max about supper he agreed that something light would be fine. She suggested scrambled eggs, and he declared this perfect, but despite the superficial air of normality Carrie sensed that something had changed. There was a new tension in the air.

  She suspected that the suitcase was involved, and she knew she couldn’t hold off indefinitely from asking Max about it. But she also felt a strong urge to ignore all the common sense arguments clamouring in her head and to follow her heart—forget the suitcase and explore the deeper ramifications of her husband’s kiss.

  * * *

  Max stayed up late. It was mostly a matter of self-preservation. If he spent too much time in Carrie’s company he would want to follow up on that kiss. He’d been barely able to think of anything else.

  But with each passing hour the point when Carrie’s memory would return drew closer. Any day now, any hour, any minute, everything could change...

  He was in his office, checking the records he’d kept on his computer from the previous year’s muster, when Carrie appeared at the doorway, instantly depriving him of oxygen.

  Her face was freshly scrubbed, her glossy hair hung in loose curls, bouncing around her shoulders She was wearing a demure, long-sleeved nightgown that covered her from neck to ankle. The gown should not have been sexy.

  It was sexy as hell.

  This was Carrie, after all, and Max had intimate knowledge of every sweet dip and curve hidden beneath that soft fabric.

  ‘You’re saying goodnight?’ he asked, in as offhand a tone as he could manage.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she responded enigmatically, and then she came into the room. ‘But I’ve been wondering...’

  She paused, standing a short distance from his desk and rubbing one bare foot against the other.

  Pink bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I was wondering how long you’re going to stay sleeping in the other room.’

  Zap. Every cell in Max’s body caught fire. Carrie had no idea how hard this was for him. ‘I thought we’d agreed it was best to stay apart—until you get your memory back.’

  ‘But there’s no real need for it, is there?’ She looked perfectly innocent as she said this, but the colour in her cheeks deepened to match the rosy trim on her nightgown.

  ‘Carrie, when you woke up in hospital you didn’t even know I was your husband.’

  ‘But I know it now.’ She met his gaze bravely, but her lovely dark eyes shimmered and her teeth worried at her soft lower lip. ‘Max, that kiss today—’

  ‘Was a mistake,’ he retorted, more gruffly than he’d meant to.

  Of course it had been a mistake. He should never have given in to such passion. Yes, he’d adored every second of that mistake. It had been heaven to have Carrie in his arms again, so soft and womanly and willing. But it would only make the inevitable revelations so much harder to face.

  ‘The emotions felt very real,’ Carrie persisted.

  Having no immediate answer for this, Max rose from his seat. ‘Carrie, I don’t think—’

  ‘Oh, I know you’re being cautious,’ she interrupted, giving an impatient toss of her head. ‘But we’re married, Max. We’ve been husband and wife for the past three years and we must have slept together.’ Her lustrous dark eyes were wide. Anxious. Pleading. ‘We did, didn’t we?’

  He nodded, his throat suddenly too tight and raw for speech.

  ‘I’ve been trying to imagine it,’ she said next, dropping her gaze and blushing even more deeply. ‘Imagination doesn’t help. I just drive myself mad.’

  And he’d been driving himself mad by remembering.

  He gripped the back of the chair so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t snap. Surely, having made her point, Carrie would leave now.

  She stayed.

  ‘If today’s kiss was anything to go by,’ she said next, ‘we had something pretty special, Max. Something amazing.’

  Damn right. Hell, yes. But the emphasis should be on had. Past tense.

  Max knew he should tell Carrie the truth now. Get it out in the open and send her scurrying back to her room. It was time she understood that her interest in lovemaking had taken a downward plunge, along with her interest in every other aspect of life out here.

  But she looked so vulnerable, standing there now in her nightdress, more or less offering herself.

  Offering herself to him.

  She moved closer and a lamp in the corner backlit her silhouette, revealing her shape through the thin fabric of her nightgown. He could see the lovely curve of her breasts, the exquisite dip to her waist, the feminine lushness of her hips and thighs. His mind filled in the other details, recalling how smooth and pale and soft her skin was. How responsive she was to his touch. He knew her body as intimately as he knew the back of his own hand.

  And, damn it, he’d never felt so torn, wanting both to protect her and to take her, to recapture what they’d lost.

  He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t let this happen. He’d given Sylvia his word that he wouldn’t seduce her daughter.

  But clearly her daughter had other ideas.

  Unwisely, he said, ‘So you’re still curious about us?’

  ‘Desperately.’

  Carrie’s answer was a breathless whisper and she took another two steps closer, bringing with her a wafting scent of the soap she’d used. She smelled of midnight and roses.

  ‘You know curiosity killed the cat,’ he said now, allowing her a final chance to back away before he gave in to his burning need to touch her, to kiss her, to make wild, mad love to her.

  Carrie smiled, and she stepped closer still. ‘Then it’s lucky I’m not a cat.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  CARRIE HAD BEEN nervous about brazenly sailing into Max’s office, bearding the lion in his den, so to speak. But now, as his blue eyes smouldered with heat, as he reached for her...as he framed her face with his hands and sealed his lips to hers...she felt a rush of relief, swiftly followed by pure elation.

  This devastatingly sexy man was her husband. Her husband, yet also a stranger.

  The combination was heady. Intoxicating. Especially when he pulled her even more closely to him and took the kiss deeper.

  Tonight she sensed an even greater urgency to Max’s kiss, as if he was claiming her, branding her as his own. And leaving her in no doubt about his intentions.

  It was going to happen. This night, at last, would be theirs. A gift from the Fates.

  Another chance for their marriage?

  She had no answer for that, but it hardly mattered now, when she tasted the yearning he could no longer disguise, when his tongue delved deep, sending heat spreading through her belly, making her ache with wanting him.

  Soon their intense and needy kisses were no longer enough. Holding hands, they hurried through the darkened house to Carrie’s bedroom—their bedroom, by rights—now softly lit by shaded lamps.

  The suitcase no longer stood in the corner like a stern reprimand, a symbol of impending doom. Carrie had shoved it, unopened, into the bottom of one of the capacious built-in wardrobes.

  Now the huge king-size bed commanded their attention, luxurious and inviting with its smooth white cover softened by lamplight. Carrie’s heart beat wildly. For a scary moment she wondered if she’d been crazy to take this risk, but her doubts were whisked away when Max pulled her to him once again, melting all chance of rational thought with another deep and soul-searing kiss.

  They didn’t speak. It was almost as if they’d both agreed that words could be dangerous...might break
the spell.

  With no memory of how this had been in the past, Carrie was happy to follow her instincts. Winding her arms around Max’s neck, she pressed close with her breasts against his chest, her hips against his.

  He kissed her eyelids, her brow and then her mouth, ravaging her wonderfully, turning her loose-limbed and wanton. At some point he began to shed his shirt—with a little eager help from her—and a soft gasp broke from her as the shirt slipped away to reveal his big bare shoulders and chest, tapering tantalisingly to lean hips.

  With trembling fingers she reached to touch him. So hard and muscular. So intensely male.

  And he wanted her. Oh, yes.

  Now he kissed her face again, kissed her temple, her cheek, her chin. With an almost lazy lack of haste he opened the top buttons of her nightgown, pulling the neckline slowly apart. Her knees almost gave way as he dipped his head, brushing his warm lips over her bare skin, lavishing intimate kisses on her throat, her neck, her shoulders, sending exquisite thrills trembling through her.

  ‘Carrie...’ His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

  She looked up to find him watching her, searching her face intently, his blue gaze fierce.

  Her only thought was to beg him not to stop now, but she wasn’t quite brave enough to plead.

  ‘Yes?’ she whispered back.

  For answer he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to each knuckle. Such a sweet, touching gesture. Her heart rocked in her chest.

  ‘You’re quite sure you’re OK with this?’ he asked.

  Looking clear into his eyes, Carrie smiled, loving that he cared enough to ask. ‘I’ve never been surer.’

  He gave a shaky laugh. ‘As far as you can remember.’

  Too true.

  ‘What about contraception?’ he asked.

  Oh, Lord. Good question. She should have thought about that. ‘Am I supposed to be taking the pill?’

  ‘Yes, but don’t worry. I can take care of things.’