The Stranger She Married. Crystal Green

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СКАЧАТЬ ones that wouldn’t haunt her eyes or make her keep a safe distance.

      The knife wound between his ribs pulsed again, reminding him of just how right Rachel was to distrust him. After all, Matthew Shane, the man with blood on his hands, could be his wife’s worst nightmare. And did he really want to make her confront that?

      Tamela poked him in the arm. “Hey.”

      “Hey.” He shook off the dark mood and focused on the angel next to him. Maybe Matthew hadn’t been too bad if he helped create something as wonderful as this child.

      “Are you going to tell Mommy to let us stay here? Grandma and Grandpa want us to come back to New York.”

      Matt tried to keep his cool. “She wants to leave Kane’s Crossing?”

      “I love it here.” She spun a finger through a long, brown curl. Maybe it was a habit. “I love my horse, Booberry, and I love the Cutter’s Lake carousel and I love…everything!”

      Matt flicked a spiral of hair from her shoulder. It felt like the thing to do. Natural. Expected. “Now why would you and your mommy leave all that?”

      Tamela sighed, sounding much older than her years. How much stress had his absence put on his daughter?

      “Every time she talks to them on the phone, Mommy cries. Then Mr. Tarkin calls, and she cries even harder.”

      Tarkin. The name sounded familiar for some reason. Matt thought of ice, ambition, money. “Help your pop out, Tam. Can you tell me about Mr. Tarkin?”

      Tamela stuck out her lips and narrowed her eyes, then said, “He’s a mean old man, and when he comes to the farm, the trainer and the grooms and everyone else don’t smile. He killed Suzy Q.”

      A horse. Suzy Q. How could Matt remember this piece of trivia when he couldn’t remember his own damned life?

      “So Mr. Tarkin had Suzy Q put down?” Too late, he wondered if Tamela knew what he meant.

      Sharp as a tack, she did. “I heard Mommy on the phone, saying Mr. Tarkin wanted money. That’s when Mommy cries the most. When people talk about money.”

      Matt would have to ask Rachel about Tarkin. If he wanted to go back to his old life, he’d have to know everything about the farm and how it was running.

      He felt someone hovering over him. When he looked up, Rachel was standing in back of the couch, seeming none too amused.

      “Tam, honey, you want to go upstairs and pick out a nice outfit? Uncle Rick and Aunt Lacey are coming over tonight.”

      Tamela bounced off the couch and out of the room. Her footsteps pounded up the stairway, leaving Rachel and Matt in a staring contest.

      She blinked first. “That was cute. Squeezing information out of a six-year-old.”

      “It’s a hell of a lot easier than talking to you.”

      “Great. You’re back for an hour, and you’re already feeling entitled. Glad to see that, Matthew.”

      Matt stood. “I would’ve liked the chance to talk with you privately before the relatives hit the scene.”

      Rachel came out from behind the couch, lifting her chin to look directly into his eyes. The gesture turned him on like a power switch, electrifying him with her spirit.

      Damn that chemistry.

      She said, “I thought they might want to know that their wayward brother had returned to Kane’s Crossing.”

      He glanced away. “I don’t recall siblings.”

      Silence, unbroken except for the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room. Hell, it could’ve even been his time bomb of a conscience.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Listen, I’m going to be doing a lot of messing up here, so cut me a little slack.”

      “Likewise. I can’t seem to do anything right.”

      “That’s not…” Your fault.

      The rest of her sentence went unspoken. Probably because his amnesia very well could’ve been his fault. And maybe Matthew Shane had brought trouble to the house more than once.

      Would she even be surprised if she knew about the blood on his shirt, on his hands? Or had Matthew shed enough proverbial blood on his wife?

      The air conditioner kicked on. She was so near, he could smell the jasmine, could feel a stray hair from her braid as it blew past his neck. It tickled him, making him shift his stance.

      “I suppose I owe you an explanation about the farm,” she said.

      He didn’t answer, and she didn’t pursue the subject. Instead, a heat-heavy silence pulsed around them, pulling them together while wedging them apart.

      Dammit, he couldn’t stand the small talk, the distance between them. Without thinking of the consequences, Matt reached out and cupped her face between his palms. He caught a glimpse of her stun-parted lips, her wide eyes and flushed skin, before crushing his mouth to hers.

      Soft as a gasp, her lips parted beneath his, melting into the welcome-home greeting he’d been hungering for.

      Damn, her skin was so smooth against his calluses, her scent so inviting. In the back of his mind, Matt knew that he’d missed her touch, the long hair that was even now fluttering against his throat.

      She pressed against him, nudging his lips with hers. Matt’s body reacted instantly, stiffening. He moved his fingers down her face, her jaw, her throat. Her jasmine-mirage perfume teased his senses, filled his mouth with the warm tingle of comfort. Almost like a fine bourbon.

      Suddenly, Rachel pulled back from him, as if realizing she was supposed to be angry with the old Matthew.

      Every inch of skin above her neckline was as red as rage. “Damn you, Matthew,” she said, punctuating the curse by pressing her fingers over her lips.

      Maybe she wanted to stop the throbbing, the pulsing he was feeling, too.

      “That was more of a homecoming than I got earlier.” He tried to keep a straight face, but the very recent memory of the kiss pushed a grin across his mouth.

      She lowered her hand, pointing a finger in his direction. “You think this is funny, don’t you? You find it amusing that I’ve had to endure all of this town’s gossip, that I’ve had to walk down the streets of Kane’s Crossing acting like I still had some damned pride? Do you realize that every time I’d walk into the Mercantile, Darla’s Beauty Shop or even Meg Cassidy’s bakery that someone would smirk or snicker or mutter something outright rude to me?”

      She overimitated a Kane’s Crossing drawl. “‘So, Rachel, ya must’ve driven Matthew away with a cattle prod.’ Or, ‘Say, Rachel, it takes a lot to scare away a Kane’s Crossing boy.’”

      Here she took a deep breath, and Matt’s heart clenched when he realized that she was on the edge of tears.

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