Fangs For The Memories. Kathy Love

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      Rhys sat on the edge of the bed. It would cost a few hundred pounds and likely a house in town to keep her as his mistress. But whatever the price he would keep her. She was first-rate.

      He glanced at the nightstand, looking for his pocket watch. It was not there, but two gold rings and a necklace sat on the dark, polished wood.

      He picked up the small ring, noting that the circle was so tiny it would only fit someone the stature of the little woman in the other room. He picked up the other ring. It was bigger, thicker, more masculine. He vaguely remembered these. Remembered that they had to do with the woman in the other room.

      He twisted it over and over in his palm, trying to remember, when an inscription on the ring caught his eye.

      To R—Yours forever, J.

      His chest tightened. Was this ring intended for him? Slowly, he slid the gold band onto his finger. It was snug, but it fit.

      He stared at the ring for several seconds before he crossed to the closed door and threw it open.

      The woman squealed and tried to cover herself with her hands.

      Rhys ignored her modesty, although he knew her reaction was real. Not even ten minutes ago, he would have thought the behavior was an expensive whore’s trick to entice him. Now he knew different.

      “Are we married?” he demanded, holding up the smaller of the two rings.

      Chapter 5

      Jane’s first thought was to say, no! But then she realized she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t remember, and apparently, neither did he.

      Did New York have those all-night chapels like Las Vegas? She’d never heard of them, but at this point, anything seemed possible.

      “I—I don’t think so.”

      She stared at him. He was still bare-chested, his torso defined with hard muscle. Thankfully, he had pulled on his trousers; otherwise she never would have been able to speak. Although the pants were unfastened, revealing a vee of flat stomach and light whorls of hair trailing downward.

      She dragged her eyes upward to his face. That didn’t help. He was a truly beautiful man. His hair was mussed from sleep, and his eyes were intent, studying her.

      He frowned, even as a look of realization washed over his features. “You are Jane Harrison.” He said it slowly, almost experimentally, as if he was dredging the name up from somewhere way in the back of his mind.

      She nodded. Please don’t tell me he has forgotten even more than I have? What happened to them? How had they both forgotten last night?

      “Yes, I remember those amazing green eyes,” he said resolutely. “You are my betrothed.”

      Jane stared at him. What was he talking about? And why did he suddenly have an English accent? She didn’t remember him having an accent when he’d walked her back to her hotel.

      “Jane Harrison from America?”

      She nodded. She supposed that was true. But where did he think he was from?

      “I should have realized.” He stepped forward and touched her hair, letting the unruly strands slip through his fingers. “Your hair—that smart crop. Is that the fashion in America?”

      She eyed him warily. “Yes?”

      He studied her a moment longer, then gave a decisive nod. “I like it.”

      Before she could respond, he crouched in front of her, and she clapped her hands over her scant undies.

      He noticed, his sculpted lips twisting into a slight smile. She supposed it was a little late to be modest now.

      His smile disappeared into something akin to astonishment as he gently reached out and touched her calf.

      Heat immediately ran through her. Her skin felt electrified where his fingers brushed over her, and she remembered those wonderful long fingers touching other parts of her body. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he slowly ran his hand up to her knee and then back to her ankle.

      He peered up at her, amazement clear on his face. “Americans shave their legs?”

      “Only the women.” Then she amended that. “Well, I guess a few men do, too.”

      He considered that for a moment, then finally nodded with understanding.

      He stood. “I must find Christian and Sebastian. Hopefully they will recall what happened between us last night.” He left the bathroom.

      Oh, dear, was he implying that others might have been involved, too? She really, really hoped not. Although she did hope these men could explain how she got here and why Rhys was acting so strange.

      “Christian!” Rhys bellowed as soon as he stepped out of the bedroom into the hall. “Sebastian!”

      Jane didn’t follow right away, relieved to see her blouse and skirt folded on a chair in the corner of the room. She stopped and pulled them on.

      She heard Rhys shout again and chased after him.

      In the hallway, Jane squealed with surprise as she nearly ran into a blond man who stepped out in front of her from one of the doorways lining the long hallway.

      “What the hell is with all the yelling?” he asked in a raspy, sleep-filled voice.

      Jane didn’t answer, too amazed by the sight of him.

      This man looked younger than Rhys, with shorter hair which stuck out in a wild mess. He had hazel eyes like СКАЧАТЬ