Secrets by Brenda Joyce Page B

a lump to lodge in her chest.
    There was another knock on the door; Regina’s first thought was that it was Slade and she smiled, her firstgenuine smile that day. She stole another quick glance at herself in the mirror, but every hair was in place. She reached the door before Rick and opened it. A hotel valet stood there holding a breakfast tray. Disappointed, she watched him deposit it on the small table between the two upholstered chairs.
    â€œI know you didn’t eat last night so I ordered you breakfast,” Rick said. “You look like a new person today. How do you feel, Elizabeth?”
    â€œBetter.” Her reply was automatic. She could smell freshly scrambled eggs and warm buns, making her realize that she was ravenous. But she made no move to sit down. “Where is Slade?”
    Rick scowled. “Still in bed. That boy has a tendency to laziness.”
    Regina glanced at Rick in surprise. She did not know Slade well, but she was positive that he didn’t have a lazy bone in his entire body. Quite the opposite, in fact. She didn’t think she had ever met a more restless man.
    â€œGo ahead, Elizabeth. Eat. We’re not much on manners here.”
    Regina was about to sit down when, from the open doorway, Slade said, “You wouldn’t know good manners if a book of them were shoved right in your face.”
    Regina and Rick turned. Slade’s face was red and angry; he’d obviously heard his father’s derogatory remark.
    â€œAnd the apple don’t fall far from the tree,” Rick said. “It’s ten o’clock. She’s got every right to sleep all day. You don’t.”
    Slade stalked in, using the toe of his worn boot to slide the door closed. “You my boss? You feed me, pay me my wages? I don’t recall getting a paycheck from you.”
    â€œCharlie Mann let you sleep till ten in the morning?”
    â€œWhen I’m in Frisco, I’m working,” Slade said.
    Rick hooted. “Like hell! Maybe if you got to bed at a decent hour you could get up in the morning.”
    â€œMaybe what I do—at night or any time—is none of your damn business.”
    The two men glared at each other. Regina was gripping the back of one chair, her eyes wide and riveted upon father and son. She was witnessing what she had no right to witness and she was appalled by the relationship she saw between them. Why had Rick attacked Slade? How could a father do such a thing—and in front of other people? And why had Slade risen so eagerly to do battle? Into the ensuing silence, she said, her smile overly bright, “You’re just in time for breakfast! Come, sit down. We’ll send for more plates.”
    Slade and Rick both turned their attention to her, which had been her intention. “I already ate and there’s plenty of coffee,” Rick said. He pulled up a chair. “Sit down, Elizabeth.”
    Regina didn’t move, regarding Slade, who hadn’t responded to her offer. Now that he was no longer focused on his father, his glance had settled upon her. His gaze was sharp, as she had come to expect, meeting hers. The question was there in his eyes. “Anything?”
    Regina understood what he was asking. She shook her head, unable to look away—and not wanting to. Disappointment showed plainly on his face when he realized that she had not recovered from the amnesia.
    Regina could not help stealing a more thorough glance at him as she sat down. He looked good, and the realization was jarring. His dark thick hair was damp and slicked straight back. He was clean-shaven, and it showed off his perfect features. She really hadn’t realized just how extraordinarily handsome he was until that moment. His cotton shirt was snowy-white and freshly laundered, his denims dark-blue and spanking new. He was not wearing his gun. His boots had been wiped clean of dirt, mud, and dust. And Regina thought she detected a whiff of a