Million-Dollar Amnesia Scandal (7 page)

Oh, the lure of him, enticing her into a state of breathless abandon. It would be so easy to let go. But she summoned the strength to deny him. To deny herself. “We can't, Seth. I've remembered those reasons.”

“Are they strong enough to withstand this?” His mouth claimed hers with a possession that made her sway on her feet. Fortunately, one of his hands cradled her head and the other pressed her flush against him, securely holding her. His lips moved confidently, his tongue exquisitely possessive, tormenting her. Inside she was melting into a delirium of desire.

Then he pulled back bare inches, leaving them both
panting into the night air. “So tell me—can you remember those reasons?”

Reasons?
The fog in her brain gradually cleared and she recalled what they'd been talking about. And her decision not to get involved with the man she was locked in a battle with over the hotel. Or
anyone
until she remembered who she was.

Though that had been a dream of a kiss….

She sighed, then reluctantly replied, “Only just. But yes.”

“Tell me,” he said, voice seductive. “Prove to me that you remember.”

She took a moment trying to form words around the thoughts in her mind. “All I know about myself is from some reports you had made, and a couple of weeks of memories. How can I take this step, get physically involved with someone, when I don't know who I am?”

“Fair enough.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Okay then. Just give me a moment to catch my breath. To convince my body that we're stopping.”

His chest pressed against hers every time he drew in lungfuls of air. Then he stepped back in slow, deliberate movements and leaned against a thick wire that led to the mast. “What other food did Jai pack?”

She almost took a step to follow him, to stay in the circle of his heat, but caught herself in time. She could do this. Summoning a tremulous smile, she knelt to the picnic basket. “There are some sandwiches,” she said as she pulled the gourmet creations out, “and some salad sticks.” She retrieved the skewers threaded through cherry tomatoes, olives, cubes of cucumber and capsicum.

Still breathing unevenly, he said, “We need to talk about something neutral for a moment. I'd ask you about your
childhood or places you've visited on tour, but you haven't remembered anything along those lines, have you?”

There was no baiting in his eyes, no test, and it was as if the moon and stars suddenly shone brighter. “You believe me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I have a fairly good idea of your character now. You wouldn't lie about something like this.”

She didn't reply. Couldn't. This small gesture of approval and respect shouldn't matter so much, shouldn't make her heart take wing, but it did, and in that moment she didn't try to examine why, she just smiled and basked in the feeling.

Seth lowered himself to the rug, with an arm's distance between them. “So I guess that rules out you entertaining me with stories and anecdotes.”

Her smile faded. “I'm starting to worry my memory will never come back.” It was a fear she hadn't let herself form into words before.

“It will,” he said simply.

“But what if it doesn't?” She lay back on the rug, looking at the stars above, as if they could give guidance. “Can I go through the rest of my life not remembering? Relying on media reports and my mother's descriptions of everything I've been through, everything I've experienced?”

“If that happened, we'd find more information.” He stretched out beside her, mirroring her pose, and laced his fingers behind his head. “You wouldn't have to rely on one person's account.”

The way he so smoothly inserted himself into her future, making contingency plans for her benefit, made her want to smile, but she restrained it. Being pleased by his respect was one thing, factoring him into her future was another.
As soon as the hotel issue was sorted, they'd be going their separate ways.

Instead, she let her mind drift along a path she'd mentally traversed often during her walks on the grounds. She turned her head to see him watching the stars. “Don't you think memories are part of what makes us who we are? What if our personalities, our
selves
are the sum total of everything that's happened to us, how we've reacted, the choices we've made?”

When he didn't reply, she listened to the sounds of a never-silent ocean until he spoke, lulled by the gentle rocking of the creaking boat.

He drew up one knee, the rug beneath them snagging with the motion. “There might be some truth in that, but I believe we're born with certain characteristics, perhaps inherited, perhaps our own. I know that in personality, I seem to have more in common with my half brother, Ryder, than I did with Jesse. Yet Jesse and I had more experiences in common.”

She considered this, mentally tested it against her theory, exhilarated to be discussing something real, something conceptual. She rolled on her side to face him. “You and Ryder are both an eldest or an only child. Jesse was a youngest, and that would probably affect his experiences more.”

“True,” he said, still staring above. “You know, I've never thought about Ryder and I having anything in common, besides our father, before. But we're both determined, both competitive.”

“Both leaders,” she added. “Both men of action and honor.”

Tilting his head toward her, he quirked an eyebrow. “You know this
how?
”

“I know you fairly well now,” she said, repeating his
words from earlier. “And I've been reading the papers in the past few days. There's been quite a bit of discussion about your family and its history.” Which she'd devoured with an eager curiosity. “Ryder's been there a lot. Most stories are covering his engagement to Macy Ashley and buying her father's company.”

“And her father's company's stock in our company,” he said with a knowing glint in his eye.

The instinct to tread warily warred with a burning desire to know, to understand this man and what drove him a little better. She drew a breath then took a chance. “What does that mean for you?”

He neither shrugged off her question nor bristled at her interest, but seemed to take it seriously. “Ryder and I both have equal shares in Bramson Holdings, with the balance held by several others.”

She remembered the name from the report he'd given her a few days ago at breakfast, and from the frequent mentions in the media. “That's the company that owns the hotels.”

He nodded. “It's a parent company. Our father inherited it from his father and spent most of his life building it up. It was a food conglomerate when he inherited it, made up of smaller companies manufacturing products such as frozen meals, sauces and the like.”

She tapped an index finger against her lips. “So why go into hotels? That's quite a leap.”

“When Jesse and I were young, I think he realized he wouldn't be able to train us in the same business he was training Ryder in. So he diversified. He wanted something very different.”

The idea surprised her. From what Seth had told her about his father and his two families, and from what she'd gleaned from the papers about the man and his lifestyle, she hadn't formed a favorable opinion of Warner Bramson. But
having the two companies, wanting to do the right thing by all three sons, was unexpectedly sensitive.

She reached for the Champagne glasses they'd put aside earlier and passed one to him. “But why not have completely separate companies? Then he could have left the food businesses to Ryder and the hotels to you and Jesse.”

“Good question.” He sat up a little to take a sip of his Champagne. “I'd always assumed he would. But instead, his will split his majority share in the entire company between us. Ryder got half, and Jesse and I shared the other half.”

So the father hadn't split it evenly between all three sons? Instead, he'd pitted Ryder and Seth against each other with his will—not quite as sensitive. “Did Jesse leave his shares to you?”

“Jesse didn't have a will,” he said, voice solemn. “He was never very organized. But since we owned the shares jointly, they automatically came to me. Everything else he had—which wasn't much—went to our mother. Which means Ryder and I then had equal shares. But without a majority, neither of us can take control of the board of directors.”

Still on her side and resting up on one elbow, she took a mouthful of the sweet Champagne, finding herself intrigued by the story. And the man telling it. “And now he has more shares than you, after buying his fiancée's family business?”

“Yes,” he said with a slight grimace.

“Enough to have a majority in his own right?”

A trace of a satisfied smile danced at the edges of his mouth. “Still not quite enough. But I'm sure he's working on purchasing more stock as we lie here.”

“And you're not?” She took the last mouthful of
the Champagne and set her glass down near the picnic basket.

His shoulders squared. “I've chosen a different path.”

“You've been building alliances,” she said in a moment of insight.

“Yes.” He finished his glass as well, but instead of putting it down, he turned it by the stem, examining it from all angles, before finally setting it aside. “Ryder won't get a majority share—the other shareholders won't sell. I'm planning that they'll vote in a block with me when it comes time.”

And she didn't for a second doubt he'd achieve it. “But you'll always have a hostile brother on the board. He'll be furious that you won, and constantly trying to undermine you.”

His chin lifted to a dignified angle. “Nothing I can't handle.”

“Will it be worth it?” She could think of nothing worse than being locked into a situation of conflict with no way out.

Seth rolled over onto his back and laced his hands behind his head again. “It will be worth it.”

That sounded like Seth—his eye was on the goal, knowing that he'd be able to handle whatever came afterward.

“Perhaps it was good there were only three of you,” she murmured.

“According to
some,
there were only three of us,” he said, then after a moment he added, “A man called JT Hartley has crawled out of the woodwork, claiming to also be Warner's son.”

She watched him carefully for signs of what this meant to him. “You might have another half brother.”

“A claimant to the will,” he corrected. “I'll handle that, too.”

She lay on her back again, and looked up at the same stars, listening to the water lapping against the hull, the occasional little splash of a fish in the distance.

Seth pointed up into the black sky. “When I was a child, I used to wish on that star at night.”

As she turned to look at him, the picture before her of his masculine beauty against the majestic night sky backdrop was so perfect it almost hurt her eyes. She looked away. “What did you wish for?”

“The usual. A bike or new baseball glove. That my mother wouldn't cry when my father visited his other family.” His voice turned hard, betraying an age of pain, and her heart cracked open for the little boy he'd been.

“She did that in front of you?” she asked in a rough whisper.

A smile that didn't reach his eyes slid across his face, as if to downplay the effects of his childhood. “She'd probably be horrified if she realized I'd known. Jesse was oblivious, but I always knew. It was a good lesson, though. One I'll never forget.”

“Lesson?” She had to stop herself from drawing back, almost afraid to hear the answer.

His gaze remained on the stars as he spoke. “Nothing good ever comes from love or commitment.”

She studied his tense profile. Such a cold worldview. Then one thought leapt out at her—Seth had never been someone's first choice. His father had chosen Ryder to be the publicly acknowledged son. His mother had chosen to wait around for his father over finding a more emotionally secure environment for her sons. How had that damaged him deep down?

“Surely,” she gently challenged, “sometimes, love and commitment can work?”

“It doesn't make people happy.” His voice was flat, almost as if this was a mantra he'd said to himself before. “It doesn't add anything to their lives. I've always wondered why people are so desperate for it.”

She swallowed the gasp back before it escaped her throat. “You really believe that?”

“I've never seen any evidence to prove otherwise.”

Not knowing what else to say or do to ease the pain of the child still living in his heart, she scooted a bit closer. “Show me which star.”

He pointed again and she followed the direction. “That's Vega,” she said.

Eyes trained on her face, he rolled on his side, bringing him within inches. “You
know
that?”

“Yes. I'm not sure how, but yes, I
do
know.” A thrill of discovery raced through her bloodstream and she pointed to another one. “And that's Altair, and Deneb over there. They form a triangle with Vega.” Her heart lifted, began to sing at finding another part of herself.

Ignoring the path her finger traced over the constellation, he watched her—she knew it by the gooseflesh that erupted across her skin.

“Which other stars do you know?” he asked, voice deep.

“That's Venus over there,” she rushed to say, pretending it was only the revelations of her memory that were heating her skin. “Which, of course, isn't a star, but it's sometimes been called the evening star, or morning star, depending on where it's at in its cycle.”

Strands of hair that had escaped her braid danced around her face and he smoothed them back and tucked them behind her ear. “What else, star girl?”

Cheek still tingling from the touch of his hand, she looked up into his eyes, sparkling and intense, and so much more beautiful than stars in the sky. “I don't know any others,” she lied.