Make Me Forget (Make Me, #1)(11)

Her heart thumped very loud in her ears for a suspended moment when he didn’t immediately reply. She was so sure she’d made another misstep, saying something so personal to such an aloof, private man.

“Where’s Charger?” she asked, referring to his energetic dog in a desperate attempt to change the subject when he continued not to speak.

“In the house.”

“Oh.”

He glanced away distractedly. An awkward silence ensued. Like she had on the beach, she had the impression he’d discounted her or lost interest. She started to set down her cider, assuming their conversation was coming to an end.

“Do you want to go see him and some of my other dogs?” he asked suddenly.

“You have several?”

He nodded, his expression completely sober.

“Uh . . . sure,” she said, taken off guard. But again, she was curious. Fascinated, in truth.

He nodded and stood smoothly, putting out a hand to help her stand. He headed toward the glass doors. She followed his tall form, feeling a little dazed. She understood how people could find him intimidating. He could be glacial. Impenetrable. Then she’d catch a glimpse of his warmth. His humanity. Raw sexuality twined with something she could only call a sweetness, impossible as that descriptor seemed given the rest of the package. It was the mystery of that paradox that had her tantalized. But she’d have to be careful.

A person could get dizzy and disoriented—maybe even lost—trying to figure out the puzzle of Jacob Latimer.





Chapter Three


He led her through the empty great room back in the direction from which she’d entered the house. When he opened one of the large pine doors, she saw darkness had fallen in the opposite direction from the lake and setting sun.

“How many dogs to you have?” she asked in a hushed tone as she followed his silent, graceful shadow down the front steps. The winding sidewalk ahead was illuminated by lanterns, but the black night sky, towering pines, and landscaped greenery surrounding them seemed to suck up their meager light.

“Sixteen,” he replied.

“What?”

“I know,” he said, and much to her amazement, he sounded a little sheepish. “It seems like a lot, but I like dogs.”

“Apparently,” she said under her breath, smiling. Well, the extremely rich do have their quirks, don’t they?

“Clarence,” she heard Latimer say quietly.

“Mr. Latimer. Nice night, isn’t it?”

Harper let out a stupid little cry at the disembodied, gruff voice that came out of the dark woods to the right of her. She stumbled in her heels. Two hands grasped her shoulders, steadying her.

“Whoa. You okay?” It was Latimer’s mellow voice.

“Yeah, but—” She glanced over to where the unexpected voice had come. A bulky man in his forties with a crew cut stepped out of the trees and into the dim light.

“It’s just Clarence. He works here,” Latimer explained.

Harper looked around, startled. Latimer had sounded close. She realized the tips of her breasts were pressed against the lapels of his jacket. He towered over her. His face was shadowed, but she made out his gaze fixed on her upturned face. She could feel the metal of his belt buckle against her belly. And the fullness beneath it.

It happened in the amount of time it takes electricity to travel. Her blood became the current, turning into the equivalent of jet fuel. It seemed to roar through her veins, sparking her flesh to life. She felt his cock stir against her. His nostrils flared slightly as he stared down at her.

“Sorry for startling you, miss.”

Harper blinked at the sound of Clarence’s rough voice behind her. She stepped back, breaking contact with Latimer. The electrical connection didn’t seem to cut off entirely, though. Her skin still tingled. Her sex felt warm, heavy, and tight, like a pleasant ache.

She glanced over to Clarence, trying to steady herself.

“It’s okay,” she replied shakily.

The man’s sharp gaze ran over her briefly. He’s part of Latimer’s security staff, Harper immediately knew. Apparently, Clarence found nothing alarming about her appearance. He was likely used to seeing Latimer around the property in the presence of a female.

“Off to the doghouse, sir?” Clarence asked pleasantly.

“Yeah,” Latimer replied. Harper jumped slightly when his hand enclosed hers. She gave a disgusted, frustrated sigh at her show of nerves. “Night, Clarence.”

“Good night, sir. Miss.”

“Night,” Harper managed despite her breathlessness. Latimer tugged slightly on her hand and she moved up next to him. As they continued down the dimly lit path, now side by side, she saw that he peered over at her.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked. A feeling of uneasiness went through her that she couldn’t comprehend, a feeling like déjà vu . . . or dreaming of another person’s life.

“Believe it or not, most people aren’t used to having men hiding in the shadows next to where they’re walking,” she said, injecting some humor into her voice to minimize her sense of the surreal and her embarrassment.

“No. I suppose you’re right.”

A building was suddenly in front of them. Latimer released her hand and placed his forefinger on a lit keypad to the right of the door. It appeared to be a fingerprint scanner.