Secret Vow
“How can I possibly concentrate on this food when you look so enticing?” Leaning in, Ian touched his lips to hers, his hand rising to caress the back of her neck with feather-soft strokes. Brooke let the kiss linger, welcoming the warm stirring of awareness blooming within her, and smoothed her hand over his shoulder. He had left his jacket and tie at home, and through the light fabric of his shirt she molded her palm to the appealing contours of his lean, athletic physique. It was getting so very hard to maintain the limits she’d imposed on their intimacy—even out in the open like this.
Drawing back, Ian studied her face intently for a moment. The tenderness in his deep-green eyes seeped through her, warming her heart.
“Don’t leave,” he said.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I mean stay here in Eastport. I know I said I wouldn’t press you, but I honestly don’t know what I’d do if you were suddenly gone from my life.”
Brooke sat back on her heels, her shoulders sagging. She wanted so badly to assure him she’d stay—if the decision were only as simple as following her heart. “What would I do here, Ian? All I know is banking. And I don’t especially want to work at the local branch. In fact, I don’t think I want to do anything connected to the financial world again.”
He shrugged off her protests. “You can find something else to do.”
“I don’t know what that would be. Do I even belong here anymore?” She thought of Faith, and wondered whether their fractured relationship could ever truly be repaired. But mainly she thought of Ian, whom she adored, making the strain of her secret too much to bear—and how he might not want her once he knew the truth. Her stomach tightened at the thought.
“We could run away together,” he suggested playfully, “maybe rent that little villa in Tuscany that you always dreamed of.” Bending his head, he trailed tantalizing kisses along her neck, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. He couldn’t be serious, but the idea sounded so perfect—too perfect to be possible.
“That was just a fantasy,” she said somberly. “An escape.”
“From what?”
Brooke hesitated. She could tell him now; she only needed to say the words she’d rehearsed a thousand times in her head: Ian, I need to tell you something important. It’s about the night your mother died.
Pulling in a long breath, she held his gaze, hoping to find strength there to draw the words to her lips. But first she wanted to savour this moment, with the sun warm on her back, its radiance gleaming in the depths of his eyes. He looked so contented just to be there with her, each kiss and touch drawing their hearts into closer accord. Brooke let her gaze drift over him, studying the soft, sensual mouth and warm green eyes that met hers with absolute trust, and the strong hands that caressed her with exquisite tenderness. Her heart pounded heavily as she took in every feature of this man, beautiful in body and spirit, who just might be growing to love her.
When she opened her mouth to speak, the words caught in her throat; she simply couldn’t find the resolve to say them, knowing it would sever their deepening connection, perhaps irrevocably. She couldn’t bear to hurt him. Maybe it was better, after all, not to open up old wounds—maybe it was better to keep what she knew to herself and live with her guilt, as she had been all these years.
Finally she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Drawing back, Ian studied her face intently for a moment. The tenderness in his deep-green eyes seeped through her, warming her heart.
“Don’t leave,” he said.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I mean stay here in Eastport. I know I said I wouldn’t press you, but I honestly don’t know what I’d do if you were suddenly gone from my life.”
Brooke sat back on her heels, her shoulders sagging. She wanted so badly to assure him she’d stay—if the decision were only as simple as following her heart. “What would I do here, Ian? All I know is banking. And I don’t especially want to work at the local branch. In fact, I don’t think I want to do anything connected to the financial world again.”
He shrugged off her protests. “You can find something else to do.”
“I don’t know what that would be. Do I even belong here anymore?” She thought of Faith, and wondered whether their fractured relationship could ever truly be repaired. But mainly she thought of Ian, whom she adored, making the strain of her secret too much to bear—and how he might not want her once he knew the truth. Her stomach tightened at the thought.
“We could run away together,” he suggested playfully, “maybe rent that little villa in Tuscany that you always dreamed of.” Bending his head, he trailed tantalizing kisses along her neck, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. He couldn’t be serious, but the idea sounded so perfect—too perfect to be possible.
“That was just a fantasy,” she said somberly. “An escape.”
“From what?”
Brooke hesitated. She could tell him now; she only needed to say the words she’d rehearsed a thousand times in her head: Ian, I need to tell you something important. It’s about the night your mother died.
Pulling in a long breath, she held his gaze, hoping to find strength there to draw the words to her lips. But first she wanted to savour this moment, with the sun warm on her back, its radiance gleaming in the depths of his eyes. He looked so contented just to be there with her, each kiss and touch drawing their hearts into closer accord. Brooke let her gaze drift over him, studying the soft, sensual mouth and warm green eyes that met hers with absolute trust, and the strong hands that caressed her with exquisite tenderness. Her heart pounded heavily as she took in every feature of this man, beautiful in body and spirit, who just might be growing to love her.
When she opened her mouth to speak, the words caught in her throat; she simply couldn’t find the resolve to say them, knowing it would sever their deepening connection, perhaps irrevocably. She couldn’t bear to hurt him. Maybe it was better, after all, not to open up old wounds—maybe it was better to keep what she knew to herself and live with her guilt, as she had been all these years.
Finally she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”