Sunset Promises Read online

  “But my sisters—”

  “You’d only place them in danger,” he said, cutting her off. “Colette, you have to understand. The next two weeks are going to be the most dangerous you ever experience. You won’t survive them without me. And I won’t survive them if I have to watch my back with you.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, all innocence that didn’t fool him a bit.

  “To be smarter, better than Collier’s men, I’ll need sleep, and I can’t sleep if I know each time I close my eyes you’ll try to get away. Hell, I can’t even contemplate a nice hot shower unless I take the baby into the bathroom with me as a little insurance.”

  Her face flushed a becoming pink as she placed the baby, who’d fallen asleep, back on the bed. She rubbed her forehead, as if she, too, suffered a tension headache. “I’ll make you a deal,” she finally said. “I promise you I won’t try to escape between here and California.”

  He eyed her skeptically. Could he trust her to keep such a promise? He’d like to think he’d gotten through to her on an intelligent level, but knew Colette was the type of woman who functioned most of the time on emotions.

  Yet, in her eyes he didn’t see a lie, but rather saw the resignation of a woman who knew he’d told her the truth about her situation.

  “Do you ever break your promises, Colette?”

  She smiled. “I can honestly say I can’t remember a single time that I’ve ever broken a promise.”

  “Easy to say when you have amnesia.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the best I can do.” A sigh escaped her. “Hank, I’ve given you my word and I intend to keep it. Besides, it’s been a rather trying day and at the moment I’m just too damned tired to try to escape.” She stood. “In fact, if you aren’t going to use that hot shower, I will.” She grabbed a pair of the jogging pants and one of the T-shirts he’d bought, then with a final check on Brook, disappeared into the bathroom.

  As the sound of the water running echoed from the tiny bathroom, Hank kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed.

  Just a little more than two weeks…sixteen days and he could finally put this case and Colette Connor behind him. A year of his life had been devoted to what should have taken the justice system mere weeks. But the criminal docket had been full, and the judge assigned to the case had been lenient in granting delays and postponements to Collier’s legal eagles.

  Hank had been relieved to hear there would be no more delays. Cameron Collier would have his day in court, and Hank would make certain the star witness was there. Too bad he couldn’t guarantee she’d remember the incriminating conversation she’d overheard. Nor could he guarantee what her life would be like after testifying.

  He closed his eyes, shoving away thoughts of what might happen to her after this was all over. It had nothing to do with him. He’d continue his life… alone, his hard heart unscathed.

  Despite his efforts to the contrary, as the shower continued to run, a mental image of Colette beneath the spray filled his brain. He could easily imagine her head thrown back, her lithe body thrust beneath the spray.

  He knew, from the time they’d spent together before, that she liked her shower hot enough to turn her skin a rosy pink. She’d use the washcloth laden with suds languidly, beginning at her shoulders, then caressing across her full breasts…down the flat of her stomach, across the slight protrusion of her hip bones—

  With a muttered oath, he pulled himself off the bed, fighting against a wave of internal heat so intense it threatened to overwhelm him.

  He opened the motel room door and stepped outside, the cool night air caressing his fevered skin. Not only did he have to worry about Collier’s men finding them before the trial, he also had to worry about himself and maintaining control over the crazy, powerful desire Colette stirred in him.

  He knew Colette didn’t understand his rules, the ones that had kept him sane for the past five years of his life. She wasn’t the type of woman to enjoy their enforced intimacy, indulge in passion without commitment, sex without love. And he wouldn’t have a relationship any other way.

  Pulling his keys from his pocket, he walked to his car. He opened up the trunk and withdrew a duffel bag that held clean clothes and toiletry items. He took a few deep breaths of the cool night air, then went back into their room.

  * * *

  COLETTE RINSED her hair beneath the spray for a second time, wishing she had a bottle of shampoo instead of the tiny bar of soap the motel had provided.

  As she worked to get the last bit of suds out, her mind whirled with suppositions and what-if’s. The initial panic she’d felt, the horror of realizing Hank wasn’t taking her home, had passed, leaving in its wake a dull resignation.

  She intended to keep her promise to Hank. She wouldn’t attempt to run from him between here and California. She didn’t want to put her family at risk by going back to the ranch, and had no money, no place else to go.

  In California perhaps she could connect with Marcia. It had been obvious when she’d spoken to the young woman on the phone that she and Colette had been friends. Surely Marcia could loan her some money, help her disappear from those who wanted to harm her. Perhaps she could even talk to Collier again, explain to him about her amnesia, let him know he had nothing to fear from her. Yeah, right. She frowned, knowing it was those kinds of naive thoughts that would end up getting her killed.

  She shut the water off and grabbed one of the thin, motel-issue towels. As she dried herself off, she thought again of the man who held her captive.

  Initially he’d told her they’d had a one-night stand, then he’d told her that wasn’t true, that he’d lied. And yet she still had a feeling they’d been more than uneasy strangers trapped together by circumstances.

  His kiss had stirred a whisper of memory, a remembered response of passion. Why? Had they been lovers? Then why would he lie? How could she completely trust him when she still saw secrets in his eyes, still sensed lies in his heart?

  Still confused, she yanked on the pair of black sweatpants and the oversize light blue T-shirt. At least she was grateful he’d realized she wouldn’t want to spend the next couple of days in the same clothing.

  Standing in front of the mirror, she did her best to finger-comb her wet hair, wishing for a brush. She stared at her reflection. “Why can’t you remember?” she asked her image.

  What was it that kept her memory firmly hidden behind locked doors in her mind? What event had cast her into the darkness of amnesia? And why…why did she have a feeling Hank was at the heart of it all?

  She didn’t fear him physically. She knew if he’d wanted to harm her, he’d had a dozen chances when they’d been at the ranch. Still, he did inspire something akin to fear, she just couldn’t seem to put her finger on what exactly it was.

  Oh, how she wished she knew who Brook’s father was, where he could be. Was he searching for them? This was one more reason for her to get to California. He had to be there, waiting for her, missing her.

  Surely she’d loved him, had given herself to a man who loved her, a man who’d give his life to protect her and their child.

  Maybe he’d find her, help her out of this entire mess. She closed her eyes, imagining his strong arms enfolding her, his lips whispering a promise of forever in her ear. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed against the sting of tears. Someplace out there was a man, Brook’s father, Colette’s prince and sooner or later they would find each other and live happily ever after. She had to believe that, she had to.

  She turned away from her reflection and grabbed the jeans and blouse she’d had on before her shower. She left the bathroom, surprised to see Hank reentering the room with a duffel bag in his hand.

  Sinking onto the edge of the bed, she tried to ignore how completely he seemed to fill the room. Every movement he made seethed with suppressed energy and overwhelming masculinity.

  She watched as he pulled clean clothes from the duffel bag. “I don’t suppose you’d have a hai
rbrush in there, would you?”

  He frowned, as if irritated at the thought of sharing his personal items. “No brush, but I’ve got a comb.” He pulled it from his back pocket and tossed it to her. He straightened and eyed her in speculation. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  She nodded, uneasy beneath the heat of his gaze. As he continued to look at her, her uneasiness increased and a flush of heat worked its way up her neck to burn her cheeks. The air seemed to thicken, vibrate with a new tension as his gaze lingered.

  Her mouth grew dry and she broke the gaze, focusing instead on pulling the comb through her hair. “Hank, I told you I wouldn’t try to run,” she said, wondering if that’s what was on his mind.

  “So you said.”

  “You can trust me.”

  “Can I?” One of his dark eyebrows rose upward in a gesture of disbelief.

  “Was I in the habit of breaking promises to you before I got amnesia?” she asked.

  He seemed to consider her question thoughtfully. “No, I don’t remember you breaking any promises.”

  She worked the comb through her hair, wincing as she encountered a tangle. “For heaven’s sake, Hank. Go take your shower. I’m not going anywhere.” She just wished he’d go, and take the uncomfortable tension with him.

  “I’d feel better if I had a little insurance,” he returned.

  “You aren’t taking Brook into the shower,” Colette snapped. “She’s a baby, not a bargaining chip.”

  “You’re right. In any case, that wasn’t the kind of insurance I had in mind.”

  “So, what?” she asked impatiently.

  “Take off your pants.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Pardon me?” Her heart leapt into her throat.

  “You heard me. Take your pants off.”

  “If this is some kind of a joke…”

  “It’s no joke, Colette. Running will be a lot less attractive to you if you’re only wearing a T-shirt.” He grabbed the jeans she’d been wearing before she’d showered and looked at her expectantly. “Now please, don’t make me physically remove those pants from you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she exclaimed, rising from the bed to face him.

  He grinned, as always the gesture not quite alleviating the shadows in his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.” He hesitated a moment. “What are you afraid of, Colette?” His voice was as silky smooth as a snake oil salesman’s.

  “Nothing. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of anything,” she countered.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make sure this will be the only time I’ll force you to take your pants off for me.”

  “Oh, honestly.” She quickly removed the sweatpants, grateful for the length of the T-shirt. His gaze swept the length of her bare legs, making her wish the shirt extended to the floor. Beneath the heat of his eyes she felt far too vulnerable, and the vulnerability created anger. “There,” she exclaimed as she threw the pants to him.

  “Thank you,” he returned evenly. “And as I said, I won’t force you to take them off again.” A wicked smile curved his lips and his dark eyes gleamed with a heat that burned her from across the room. “The next time you take them off for me, it will be because you want to.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he picked up the bag of items he’d bought and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Colette fought the impulse to throw something at the door, vent her frustration, the rage his arrogant self-assurance provoked. And the thing that frustrated her most was the possibility that he might be right.

  She finished combing her hair, then settled back against the headboard on the bed where Brook slept. She couldn’t deny that she was sexually attracted to Hank, but that certainly didn’t mean she intended to follow through on the attraction.

  She had to hold on to her belief that before her amnesia, before she’d overheard the dreadful conversation that had placed her in this situation, there had been a man in her life, a special man whom she’d loved. Brook’s father. Whoever he was, she just knew she’d loved him to distraction and she wouldn’t sully that love by indulging herself in a few moments of lust with Hank Cooper.

  The sound of the running shower filled the room. She thought about turning on the television, then decided not to, preferring the relative silence to the sitcom reruns that would be on at this time of the night.

  What were Abby and Belinda doing at this moment? She frowned as she imagined their horror. They’d discover quickly not only that she was missing, but also that her window had been shot out and bullet holes decorated the wall of her room.

  If only she could call them, just let them know she and Brook were all right. She looked at the phone and frowned, remembering Hank had pocketed the cord.

  Frustration built in her. She wouldn’t have to say anything that would put her sisters at risk, wouldn’t have to say anything that would put her and Hank in further danger. All she wanted to do was assure them she was okay.

  On impulse she got up off the bed and approached the bathroom door. It wasn’t closed all the way and steam swirled out like slender ghostly fingers. If she could just get to that cord. In a matter of seconds she could hook it back into the phone and make the call. All she needed was that damned cord.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed the door open an inch, grateful there was no telltale squeak. Gaining courage, she shoved it open another couple of inches and spied Hank’s jeans in a pile on the floor.

  Just beneath the splatter of the water against the tub, she could hear him humming. The scent of soap hung heavy in the air and the steam continued to roll out from above the plastic shower curtain.

  Sinking to her hands and knees, Colette kept her gaze firmly fixed on his jeans as she crawled forward. She could see the end of the phone cord peeking out from the pocket. She couldn’t see anything through the opaque curtain, so assumed he couldn’t see outside the shower.

  She crawled forward another couple of inches, her heart thundering as her fingers closed around the cord. Now if she could just get out of here and use the phone before he finished his shower.

  Scooting back out of the bathroom, she prayed he couldn’t hear the sound of her frantic heartbeat over the sound of the running water. Once outside of the bathroom, she pulled the door closed, then jumped up and raced toward the phone.

  It took her a moment to plug the cord into the wall socket, then into the back of the phone. Her fingers shook as she punched in the number at the ranch.

  She cried out as the phone was yanked out of her hand from behind. She whirled around to see Hank, clad only in a towel draped around his hips, his body still wet and his eyes flashing danger.

  “Dammit, Colette, I thought I could trust you,” he yelled. With one swift tug, he snapped the cord from the wall socket and tossed the phone across his bed.

  “I just wanted to call my sisters, tell them I’m all right.” Hot tears burned at her eyes.

  “And I told you, it’s not safe to call them.”

  Colette sank to her knees on the floor, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. The day’s events were too much, the shooting, the chase, the total isolation from those she loved and trusted.

  The tears that had stung her eyes now trekked down her cheeks unchecked. “I just wanted to hear their voices…I just…I feel so all alone.”

  He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, then held her against his still damp chest. “You aren’t alone. I’m here.”

  His words, softly spoken, combined with the strength of his arms around her back, caused sobs to erupt from deep within her. She leaned into him, needing the warmth of the human connection to battle the chill that had taken residence in her body from the moment she’d realized her memories were gone.

  She mourned now the loss of those memories, cried from fear and frustration, ached with the thought that she might never remember Brook’s father, might never remember love.

  Coiling her arms around Hank’s neck, she gave in to the sobs, letting them
overtake her as she leaned weakly into his strength.

  His hands rubbed up and down her back as he murmured softly, attempting to comfort her. Within minutes her sobs had ceased and she knew she should pull away from him, step out of his warm embrace. But she lingered, reluctant to leave the protective circle of his arms.

  As her tears ceased, she became aware of other sensations. His skin smelled good, so clean and fresh. His chest beneath her cheek was smooth skin over hard muscle. Velvet-covered steel.

  Fear subsided, her loneliness fell away as she realized how intimately they were pressed together. His bare legs against hers, nothing but his towel and her shirt separating them from each other.

  His hands no longer caressed her back in an effort to comfort, but rather languidly worked up and down, evoking fire where they touched. He no longer whispered gentle, comforting words in her ear; his breathing had quickened, just as her own had.

  She raised her head to look at him and gasped as she saw the fire in his eyes creating a flame that ignited deep within her.

  “Colette,” he murmured, then his lips claimed hers in a fiery kiss that stole her breath and banished any rational thoughts.

  She tightened her arms around his neck, rising up on tiptoe to more fully experience the depth of his kiss. The silken strands of his hair curled around her fingers, beckoning her to bury her fingers in their richness.

  Shivers of delight danced up her spine as his tongue deepened the kiss, touching first the edge of her teeth, then swirling deeper.

  All thoughts of danger and uncertainty faded beneath the onslaught of his kiss. Fear fell away as desire swelled, banishing everything else from her mind except the pleasurable sensations soaring through her.