Chasing Memories: The Forevermore Series, Book 2 by Anna James Page A

right?”
    “Yes, fine. Sorry for the interruption.” A thought occurred to her. Maybe he could help her after all. “Did we ever see each other after the night we had dinner at your hotel in San Francisco? I mean other than when you rescued me.” Which she didn’t remember.
    “No. You were upset with me for hitting your brother. Why?”
    Right. Her shoulders sagged. She and Victor could have made up . Like he told her. He’d explained what happened, and the rational part of her mind agreed. So, why did her gut roil every time she considered his version of events? Were her old fears and ingrained distrust of men affecting her ability to see the truth? She didn’t know what to believe. Doesn’t matter. Even if they’d gotten back together for a short time it was over now. “Forget I asked.”
    He nodded.
    Minutes passed, but Lucas didn’t speak and made no move to rise from the chair. The silence stretched on. When she couldn’t take it any longer, India stood. “I’ll go get ready, and I’m sorry I missed our meeting.” She’d returned to the hotel late and had tossed and turned for what remained of the night, finally drifting off just before dawn. “I slept through my alarm. I’ll meet you down in your office in twenty minutes.”
    Lucas rose, took a few steps, then turned back to face her. He grinned and her insides turned to mush. Oh yes, his smile would definitely be her downfall.
    “I brought coffee and pastries. I’ll leave them on the table in the main part of the suite.”
    He’d brought her breakfast? Again? A rush of warmth flooded through her. A girl could get used to such kindness and consideration. She could get used to it. Used to him. No, no, no. The last thing she wanted or needed was another man in her life, even one as sweet, and kind, and thoughtful and sexy as Lucas Morgan.
    Nope, not gonna happen.

Chapter Eight
    Lucas sat behind the big desk in his office staring at a file but not really seeing the words on the page. His mind kept drifting back to the events of the morning. Hearing India’s screams, seeing her abject terror. Shit. It was like getting sucker punched in the gut. Totally unexpected, it took his breath away and left him on edge, waiting for the next blow to come.
    It happened right after he wrapped his arm around her and gave a friendly squeeze. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it. It hadn’t been a conscious decision on his part. One minute he’d been sitting there and the next his arm draped around her. His hand cupped warm, soft, supple skin. A hint of whatever perfume she’d worn the day before had drifted past his nostrils, and hell, if that part of his anatomy he didn’t use to think didn’t go rock hard the instant he made contact.
    But, what she’d done next twisted his gut into knots. She laid her head on his shoulder. A simple gesture, probably a normal response, but something happened to him. His insides had… Well, he wasn’t sure what they’d done, but the urge to scoop her into his arms and hold her tight nearly overwhelmed him.
    He’d panicked. Hell yes. He didn’t get emotionally involved, and to have those sensations suddenly swirling around inside him, worse, wanting to act on them… Damn right, he’d freaked. He’d jerked away from her, needing to put as much space as humanly possible between them. Would have bolted for the door, too, if she hadn’t shocked the hell out of him by saying she planned to stay on as his interior designer.
    Her staying had come with a price. Blow number three came when he’d recounted the events leading up to the accident. Shit. He’d gotten the grief under control. Could say Grams’s name and remember her fondly without the knife-twisting pain in his stomach, but as he spoke, a pressure built inside him. Strong, with the intensity of a tornado, it threatened to obliterate everything it touched and drive him to the edge of sanity. Even now, the remnants of the storm still coursed through his