Million-Dollar Amnesia Scandal (10 page)

Macy Ashley was reputed to be a rising star in the business world. It was enough that Seth had agreed to meet his half brother again to talk about the new claimant to their father's will, he didn't need a “rising star” muddying the waters by trying to impress her fiancé.

The older woman smiled in her sickly sweet way. “Darling, if we leave in the morning, you won't—”

“Mother,
I'm
not leaving. And your pushing isn't helping.” Then, in an elegant motion, April angled around to face him. “I'd love to meet your brother and his fiancée. Call my room when you need me.” Then, head held high, April stood, picked up her shawl and sailed from the room.

Her mother turned to him, eyes blazing like an avenging demon. “I know what you're doing.”

“Do you?” he asked, casually reclining back in his seat.

“You're using my daughter.” She grasped her purse, her spider fingers clutching it tightly on her lap.

He stiffened, but casually cocked his head to one side. “Tell me what you're using your daughter for, Mrs. Fairchild. If she honestly wants this hotel, why are you trying to talk her out of it? How much do you stand to lose if her recording career ends?”

“And how are we different, Mr. Kentrell?” She spat the words at him. “You want the hotel. That's your own self-interest, yet you're pretending to be friendly with her.”

A growl built in his throat but he restrained it, unwilling to lose his temper with anyone, least of all this woman. “April is easy to be friendly with.”

“And if I'm not mistaken, you want something more from her now. Again, it's self-interest, but my daughter is not a loose woman, Mr. Kentrell, and I won't let you take advantage of her.”

“Good to know,” he said, beyond caring that his sarcasm would be lost on her.

She stood, looking down on him, grasping her purse to her chest. “I might want to be comfortably kept, but at least I'm not taking a lecherous route to get there.”

She stalked off, leaving Seth reeling. Her dart had hit its mark.

 

Seth sat at his makeshift desk, returning an email to the Bramson Holdings' head of public relations. No one would be in the PR unit now—it had passed midnight some time ago—but he couldn't sleep. Better to be working than to go to bed and toss and turn, replaying the loop of memories featuring April lying naked under him on the yacht. Of her warm, moist mouth kissing him like there was nothing or
no one in the world she wanted more. Of her breasts filling his hands, their peaks pressing against his palms.

He looked down at the email he'd been typing and couldn't remember what it was about.
Damn,
he had to stop doing this. He squeezed his eyes shut and held the bridge of his nose. After a few minutes of trying to focus, he realized a faint melody floated on the air, lifting his soul.

April.

His legs moved of their own volition, taking him to the connecting door between their suites—the place he listened whenever she played. Tonight, as with most nights, it was a slow, haunting piece of music, unfamiliar and achingly beautiful.

His body tightened and demanded the perfect fit of hers as his hand moved to the doorknob, but he didn't turn the handle. Instead, he leaned his back against the door, lungs laboring, and rested his head on the hardwood behind him. He couldn't risk walking through to her suite—no question it would lead to the out-of-control passion they'd experienced the first time he'd listened to her play in the ballroom. The passion that had finally been consummated on the yacht.

She'd rejected his compromise—the plan he'd devised to suit them both, leaving them free to explore the passion. If she had just agreed, their business dealings would be over now and they'd be just two people with a crazy chemistry. He could walk through this door this minute and bring her back to his bed. But she'd said no, and until the hotel issue was resolved, his career was at stake. It wasn't a time to let down his guard.

The music grew to a crescendo, enveloping him, pulling at him, and although it took every ounce of his willpower to do it, he resisted. Then her voice joined the instrument
and the words were of wanting. Of aching and sadness. And more wanting. A cold sweat broke over his skin and his hands trembled with the effort of restraining them from flinging open the door and going to her, losing himself inside her.

Then an insane thought struck—what if he didn't hold back, just for tonight? Allowed himself to take the woman he craved to his bed? He turned the doorknob a fraction, but the music stopped and the last notes faded away. He paused. Had she seen the handle and known he was there? Or had the piece simply ended?

Insatiable need clawing at him, he waited. The music didn't start again, and after about ten minutes he finally conceded she'd finished for the night. Probably gone to bed. Lying there now, maybe naked, her long limbs sprawled across rumpled sheets, her hair covering the pillow, her curves begging him….

Swearing, he tore his hand away and strode back to his laptop.
Work.
He needed to focus on work and his career. Not on a woman who would be gone from his life soon.

He was playing a long game, and he couldn't afford to take his eyes off the ball.

 

With restless fingers, April smoothed down her dress and knocked on the interconnecting door to Seth's suite. She hadn't been sure what to wear for this meeting with Seth's brother and his fiancée, and had sorted through the clothes that her mother had sent ahead when she left hospital. A soft, flowing, below-the-knee dress in navy blue had seemed best—maybe because the color reminded her of Seth's eyes—and she'd slipped it on with some tan, strappy sandals.

The door swung open and Seth stood there, gorgeous in a white business shirt, the top few buttons undone, and
dark trousers. The dark hair peeping from the V at his neck robbed her mouth of moisture.

He opened his lips to say something but the words didn't come. Instead, his eyes traveled a path, from her loose hair down her length, coming to rest on her toes peeping through the sandals, leaving a trail of fire where his gaze had touched.

Heart thumping an uneven rhythm, she fidgeted with the skirt and looked down at herself. “Is this okay for the meeting? I wasn't sure…” Her voice trailed off. Seth had been helping her since they'd arrived—for his own interests, sure, but he'd still been helping her. This was the first time she would be helping
him
with something, and she wanted to get it right.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “You look good.” He stood back to let her through the doorway.

The simple compliment brought warmth to her face, so she took a breath and focused on her role. “What do I need to know about today?”

His hands reached for his collar, twisting sideways as he fastened the top buttons. “I'd rather you didn't mention the situation with the hotel. Until it's resolved, my half brother doesn't need to know.”

“And if we
resolve
this by you keeping it, he'll never know?” she asked sweetly.

Hands dropping to his sides, he grinned, acknowledging her point. “Something like that.”

“Okay, no mention of the contract.” She relaxed a fraction. Being on the same team as Seth felt…nice. “How do we explain us being here then? And our relationship?”

“I'll tell him you're an old friend of the family, and I'm staying close by during your recuperation.”

“An old friend? Surely he'll realize something is wrong
there. He will never have heard my name associated with yours before.”

He disappeared through a doorway to one of the bedrooms, and part of her wanted to follow, to see the bed she'd been imagining, but then he appeared again, a red tie with a gold pinstripe in hand. “Ryder Bramson knows nothing of my family. Besides, your injuries came from an accident involving Jesse. It's not an illogical leap to us having known each other, as well.”

“Okay, no mention of the hotel, and I'm an old friend of the family.” She watched him tie a Windsor knot, mesmerized by his deft hands, the skin of his throat, wanting to touch both. She shook her head and forced herself to refocus. “What about the amnesia? Will I try to hide it?”

“That one is your call.” He slid the knot into place and straightened the tie while watching her.

Explaining to strangers could make her feel vulnerable—she liked the arrangements Seth had made here at the hotel that meant she didn't have to tell anyone. But then again, if they didn't know, she'd have to bluff any personal questions, which may or may not work.

“I'll play it by ear,” she decided. “Is there anything you want me to specifically do with Ryder's fiancée?”

“Macy.” He grabbed a jacket from the back of a chair and slipped his arms through the sleeves. “She's been working for him and seems to be something of a rising star. She may want to listen in.”

April felt a moment's uncertainty. Macy was a business-woman. With a memory. Ryder would be more ably supported in this meeting. She glanced at Seth, shoulders broad in the jacket, feet shoulder width apart, looking like a victor already—he'd succeed without the extra support, but even so, she'd like to offer what she could.

“Do you mind if Macy wants to listen?”

Seth stopped, resting his hands low on his hips. “It'll depend on how their relationship has settled.”

She replayed his words in her head, but they still didn't make sense. “Settled?”

He shrugged. “I mentioned that when Ryder became engaged to Macy, he acquired her father's ten percent stock in Bramson Holdings. Just when there's going to be a battle for control of the board, he's strengthened his position through a marriage. I don't believe in coincidence. He was marrying her for the stock. Therefore, I don't know what kind of relationship they have, whether he shares anything with her.”

April wrapped a hand around her throat. How sad, to get married for such mercenary reasons. And what did this say about Seth—did the mercenary bent run in the family? His tone hadn't been disapproving over his brother's actions, or troubled at the waste. Would he go as far as Ryder to gain control of their company? She shivered.

But her role here wasn't to judge him. It was to help him. Though she still wasn't sure how, exactly. When he'd invited her, he'd said it was to help Macy stave off boredom. She realized now that the truth was somewhat different—he'd probably been reluctant to talk details in front of her mother.

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “So what do you want me to do?”

“If Ryder lets her listen, then it probably means he would have told her afterward anyway, so it can't hurt. But I don't want her interference in the conversation. This will be the first business discussion I've had with my half brother, and we don't need intrusion.”

“So, again, I'll play it by ear,” she said as he grabbed his wallet, key card and a shiny silver pen.

“Yes.” He walked to the main door. “And, April, thank you for doing this.”

“I just hope I can be of use.”

He paused and put a heavy hand on her shoulder, looking deep into her eyes. “You'll be great.”

She dragged in a breath and nodded, then they walked down the corridor toward the elevator. “I don't need the elevator anymore, if you'd prefer to take the stairs.”

He cast her an assessing gaze. “Are you sure?”

“I'm building my strength.” Taking the advice of the physical therapist at the hospital, she'd purposely been using the stairs and avoiding shortcuts, now that she was up to it.

“Good for you,” he said approvingly, and they headed for the stairs.

As they reached the lobby, she looked around. She'd been so focused on what to say and wear that she hadn't thought about where they were going. “Where are you meeting them?”

Seth smiled at Oscar, the hotel's manager, as he passed them. “I had a marquee put up out on the grass. The staff erects them for events and weddings.”

They stepped out of the lobby and she saw the high canopy in the distance, with food-laden tables and four chairs. A gentle breeze fluttered the edges of the snow-white marquee and the clothes of the two people standing beneath it.

“It's lovely.” She exhaled, imagining a beautiful wedding or joyous celebration held in just that spot. “But you didn't want a formal room?”

He looked down at her, his eyes of darkest blue, hard and unwavering. This was no celebration—he was going to war. “I wanted to guarantee privacy from staff. And I
couldn't bring myself to invite Ryder to my own suite. This seemed like a good compromise.”

“It's perfect.”

They approached, and the couple came to the edge of the shaded area, tightly clasping each other's hands. The man's rugged features were as closed as Seth's, but the woman had warm, hazel eyes and April instantly liked her.

Seth put out his hand to his brother. “Ryder, thanks for traveling out here for our meeting.”

Ryder shook his hand. “No trouble. I've been wanting to take Macy away for a few days, so we'll drive on and head for Cape Cod.”

Seth turned to Macy and smiled with more warmth. “I'm pleased to meet you.” He put a hand to April's back. “This is April Fairchild. I invited her to have brunch with us.”

Without releasing Ryder's fingers, Macy reached for April's hand. “I'm glad you could come along. And I have to say, I was sorry to hear about your accident. Ryder and I both love your music, especially your
Live From London
album.”

Unsure how to respond to such a specific compliment, April hesitated, stomach clenched. Then she felt Seth's hand at the small of her back pull her a little closer and she knew she could face this.

She smiled. “Thank you, Macy. Unfortunately, you're more familiar with my backlist than I am. You see, I lost my memory in the accident.”