Forbidden Passion

Forbidden Passion
Emilie Rose

Sometimes not even the forbidden can be denied…No sooner had his brother been laid to rest when a moment of grief and confusion exploded into passion for Sawyer Riggan and his newly widowed sister-in-law, Lynn. It was an earthshaking encounter neither could forget, but had it left more than memories behind…?Lynn believed empty bank accounts and cruel jibes in her late husband's diary were his only legacy to her, but there may be another growing in her womb. With the father of her child in question, the marriage of convenience Sawyer suggested might be all too convenient given the fires that still burned between them. For when the true paternity was revealed, what future might they share?

He Collapsed Against Her, Sandwiching Her Body Between The Scorching Heat Of His And The Hardness Of The Staircase.

Floating on a haze of satiation, she pressed her lips to his throat and tasted the salty tang of his skin.

She laid a hand over Sawyer’s pounding heart and struggled for comprehension. What had just happened? And why now with Sawyer? Every cell in her body pulsed with life. Her heart thundered, and the numbness she’d known for years had vanished. Her late husband’s lovemaking—if you could call it that—had never moved her the way his brother’s desperate coupling had. Even in the midst of madness, Sawyer had ensured her pleasure, but even before her body cooled, regrets forced themselves forward.

Dear heavens, what had she done?

Forbidden Passion

Emilie Rose

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

EMILIE ROSE

lives in North Carolina with her college sweetheart husband and four sons. This bestselling author’s love for romance novels developed when she was twelve years old and her mother hid them under sofa cushions each time Emilie entered the room. Emilie grew up riding and showing horses. She’s a devoted baseball mom during the season and can usually be found in the bleachers watching one of her sons play. Her hobbies include quilting, cooking (especially cheesecake) and anything cowboy. Her favorite TV shows include Discovery Channel’s medical programs, ER, CSI and Boston Public. Emilie’s a country music fan because there’s an entire book in nearly every song.

Emilie loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619 or at www.EmilieRose.com.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

One

Her husband. She’d loved him. She’d hated him. And now he was gone. Guilt and pain seeped through Lynn Riggan, chilling her to the bone. She’d wanted to end her marriage, but not this way. Never this way.

Eager to shed her painful four-inch heels and a dress so tight she hadn’t been able to sit down all day, she closed the front door behind the last of the mourners and sagged against it. God, she hated this dress, but it was the only black one she owned that wasn’t cut to reveal more cleavage than she felt comfortable displaying at a funeral, and Brett had liked it. She took comfort in the fact that today was the last time she’d have to dress to impress someone else.

“Are you all right?” Her brother-in-law’s quiet baritone scraped over her raw nerves.

She clenched her teeth, swallowed hard and opened her eyes. Straightening, she folded her hands at her waist and forced a smile she did not feel. Her lips quivered, and she knew she hadn’t fooled Sawyer when his dark brows dipped with concern.

He crossed the cool marble foyer and stopped in front of her. “Lynn?”

“I thought you’d left.” She wished he had because she hated for him to see her this way. Weak. Needy. Her world was falling apart, and she didn’t have the strength to pretend everything would be all right—not even for Sawyer’s sake.

“I stepped out back for a minute.” Losing his beloved baby brother had been hard on him. Grief filled his cobalt-blue eyes and deepened the laugh lines fanning from the corners. A muscle ticked in the tense line of his chiseled jaw. His ruggedly handsome features were drawn and pale, and his shiny dark hair looked as if the late-spring breeze or restless fingers had tumbled it. The rigid set of his broad shoulders beneath his black suit revealed how tightly he held his emotions in check.

“You should go home and rest, Sawyer.” Please leave before I crumble.

“Yeah. Probably. But I feel so damned…empty.” He shoved a hand through his inky hair, mussing it even more. A lock curled over his forehead, making him look more like a college boy than the thirty-two-year-old CEO of a privately owned computer software company. “I keep waiting for Brett to come through that door laughing and shouting, ‘Gotcha.’”

Yes, Brett had liked cruel jokes. She’d been the butt of several. His worst joke yet was the financial mess he’d left for her to unravel. But even he couldn’t have faked the fiery car accident that had taken his life.

Sawyer’s eyes lasered in on hers. “Will you be all right here alone?”

Alone. Already the walls of this mausoleum of a house closed in on her. Right now she needed a hug more than anything, but she’d learned how to survive without that simple comfort a long time ago. She chewed her lip, wrapped her arms around her middle and avoided his probing gaze. “I’ll be fine.”

Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, and her muscles ached from pacing the floor all night. She wished she’d never found that key in the plastic bag of personal effects the hospital personnel had given her. If she hadn’t found the key, she wouldn’t have opened the safe. And if she hadn’t opened the safe… She took one shaky breath and then another trying to ward off panic.

What was she going to do?

She’d been searching for a life insurance policy to cover the funeral costs, and instead she’d discovered statements from empty bank accounts and a private journal in which her husband had written that he’d never loved her, that he found her such a dud in bed that he’d turned to another woman for pleasure. He’d catalogued her faults in excruciating detail.

“Lynn?” Sawyer lifted her chin with the warm tip of his finger. “Do you want me to stay tonight? I could bunk in the guest room.”

No, he couldn’t. She’d moved to the guest room months ago, and if he saw her personal belongings in the room he’d know that all wasn’t right in the Riggan household. She didn’t want to tell Sawyer that she and Brett had been having trouble for months, and she’d suspected her husband might be having an affair. She’d even consulted a lawyer about a divorce, but Brett had blamed their problems on his workload and charmed her into giving him one more chance. Against her better judgment, she’d allowed him to convince her that a baby would bring them closer, and they’d slept together one last time—just moments before she’d found proof of his infidelity, lost her temper and kicked him out of the house. Minutes later he’d died in the car crash.

“No, I’m okay.” Her voice cracked over the last word and a tremor worked through her. She had no money, no job, and no way to pay for this extravagant house Brett had insisted they buy. The house and car payments were due, and she had no idea how she’d make them. As if that weren’t enough…

Her nerves stretched to the breaking point. She pressed a hand to her belly and prayed that the intimacy with her husband three nights ago wouldn’t result in a child. She loved children, and she’d always wanted a large family, but she didn’t know how she’d take care of herself right now, let alone a baby.

Sawyer pulled her into his arms, breaking her train of self-pity. After a stiff moment, she laid her head on his shoulder and selfishly allowed herself to savor the comforting warmth of the strong arms enfolding her and the softness of his suit against her cheek. A sob hiccuped past the knot in her throat. She mashed her lips together, clenched her teeth and stiffened her spine. She was not a quitter. She would survive this.

“Shhh,” he murmured against her temple. The whisper of his breath swept her skin, and his hands chafed her spine. The spicy scent of his cologne invaded her senses. A shiver of another kind worked over her. Appalled, she tried to pull free, but his arms held fast. His chest shuddered against hers, and a warm, wet trail burned down her neck. Sawyer’s tears.

Her throat clogged and her heart squeezed in sympathy. Sawyer had stood beside her through identifying Brett’s body and every step of the funeral arrangements. The fact that he’d hidden his grief and been strong for her up to this point made his loss of control more heart-wrenching. She focused on his pain rather than her own. It was safer that way, because hers was tied up with so many other emotions. Disappointment. Failure. Anger. Betrayal. Guilt.

“It’ll be okay.” She parroted the meaningless words she’d heard a dozen times in the past three days. “We’ll get through this, Sawyer, one day at a time.”

Wanting to offer him the comfort she sorely needed herself, she wrapped her arms around his middle, held him close and patted his back. She whispered soothing nonsense into his ear, but nothing she could say or do would change the past. She couldn’t bring Brett back.

Sawyer’s arms tightened around her and his chest pressed against her breasts in a warm, solid wall. He lowered his head and tucked his face into the side of her neck. His breath heated her skin. A spark flared in her midsection. She tried to ignore it, but it had been years since she’d been held tenderly, and she’d been frozen inside for so long by her husband’s callous treatment. It wasn’t Sawyer’s fault that her needy body misinterpreted his consoling gesture.