Admit it, Harper.
Why was she having so much difficulty acknowledging her growing, unsettling suspicions to herself?
Because what you’re considering isn’t a remote possibility, that’s why. Because to actually believe you’ve known Jacob Latimer in some other time or place—in some other life—is to admit that you’re losing it.
It was just her confusion and longing making her consider such bizarre possibilities. Everything was blending together: her grief over her parents’ sudden death, her ruminations about her childhood, and Jacob’s inexplicable, powerful effect on her.
The present loss was making her relive the past one.
It hit her then, how odd it was that he’d told her she reminded her of someone else, when she’d been making similar connections, impossible comparisons. For the most part, her musings seemed totally wrong, nonsensical . . . just plain crazy.
She rubbed her cheek against Jacob’s chest and stared out the window, tears filling her eyes. Jacob pulled her closer against him. The pain of what she’d done so long ago had dulled over the years. But at that moment, the memory of that childhood ghost—that beautiful, brave boy—rose and stabbed at her brutally.
He’d vanished from her life. But unlike in the case of her parents, Harper herself had been the one responsible for that loss.
7
make me
REMEMBER
thirty-one
Before he could make good on his compelling promises about taking her to his yacht, spoiling her a little, and making love to her a lot for the rest of the holiday weekend, Jacob had planned ahead to see through another promise he’d made, Harper realized.
Elizabeth was apparently off—or was she still in Napa on the mission Jacob had sent her on to watch over Regina Morrow? Harper didn’t have time to clarify the uncomfortable question, because Lisa—Jacob’s friendly cook—greeted them in the front entryway of his Tahoe mansion instead of Elizabeth.
“Dr. Amorantz is waiting for you in the den,” Lisa told Jacob as she reached for Harper’s duffel with a smile. Harper relinquished her bag dubiously.
“What’s she talking about? Who’s Dr. Amorantz?” Harper whispered to Jacob when he took her hand and led her through the great room.
Jacob explained in a hushed, clipped tone that Amorantz was there to give them exams and draw their blood, all for the purpose of allowing them to have unprotected sex.
“It should only take a few minutes,” he assured as they entered the hallway behind the stairs. “Then we can go and change and get out on the water.”
“I can’t believe you planned all this,” she told him, stunned. Jacob abruptly came to a halt when she spoke.
“I told you I was going to, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but—” A bark of laughter left her throat. “I just meant that I don’t know when you had the time. I’ve been with you all night and all morning.”
He shrugged slightly, as if he thought her concern was inconsequential. “It was easy enough to arrange. Amorantz is my private physician. He often makes house calls.”
His insouciant manner made her suspicion finally take shape.
“Jacob, have you done this before? With other women?”
His relaxed posture vanished. His face went hard and his stare suddenly seemed to bore down into her.
“No,” he said.
“It’s just . . . you make this all seem so routine.”
He grasped her upper arms and pulled her closer.
“There’s nothing routine about you. Nothing routine about us. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Her mouth fell open at his fierceness. “Yes, I just—”