Million-Dollar Amnesia Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page A

was, Warner Bramson was a billionaire and a business genius.”
    She cocked her head to the side. It was a strange way to refer to his father, saying they were the “sons of Warner Bramson.”
    â€œDidn’t you know him?”
    â€œI knew him very well,” he said, voice even. “He spent a lot of time with us.”
    April tapped a finger against the seat belt she held as she watched him. Perhaps she’d be this interested in anyone’s past, now that she’d forgotten her own, but she suspected it was some indefinable quality about Seth Kentrell that was drawing her in.
    She pieced together the information he’d given her so far—and came up with a picture that didn’t gel. “What am I missing?”
    Seth spared her a quick glance, but his expression gave nothing away. “He spent more time with us than he did with his wife and legitimate son.”
    â€œOh,” she said on a long breath, as it all made sense.
    He nodded once.
    â€œDid you know your half brother well?”
    â€œI met him properly for the first time while you were in the hospital. There was a story on it in the papers. Make sure you get your assistant to dig it out for the dossier she’ll make about me.” His tone was an attempt at wry humor, but she wasn’t buying into it. Despite his efforts to play it down, she knew this was important. Her accident had been almost two weeks ago. The accident that had killed Seth’s brother.
    She wet her dry lips. “You met at Jesse’s funeral.”
    â€œYes,” he said as he smoothly took a corner. “And we talked afterward. Have you been to New England before?”
    She tried to remember, but nothing came to mind, and the scenery out the window didn’t look familiar. “I don’t know,” she said, glancing across at Seth. He was eyeing her sharply.
    The question had been a test.
    Her chest deflated. But he had a right to be checking—he had a hotel at stake and absolutely no reason to trust her. She was as much a stranger to him as he was to her, and she’d been involved in his brother’s death. She looked back at the green scenery flashing past the window, but then a thought struck.
    Was she a stranger to him?
    She dragged in a breath. What if the strength of her physical reaction was because she had known him? Her body could have been in his arms before and he wasn’t telling her. Perhaps they’d been involved and he no longer wanted her, so was keeping his distance now. Or their discussions about her ownership of the hotel would be complicated by her knowing they’d been lovers. They could have been lovers.
    She had to ask, had to know. There was no point trying to trick or test him—he wasn’t a man to let go of control enough to be caught napping.
    She ironed down the fabric of the trousers covering her thighs. “You said we’d never met before the day you came to my bedside.”
    â€œThat’s right,” he said, nodding once.
    She watched him for a long moment as he skillfully guided the car around a corner. Then she drew a deep breath and plunged in. “It doesn’t feel like we’ve just met.”
    For a split second his eyes widened, but he covered it so quickly she would have missed it, had she not been watching for a reaction.
    When he replied, his voice was smooth and calm as always. “How does it feel?”
    â€œI don’t know.” She nibbled on her lip. “Like something already exists between us.”
    He slid her a heavy-lidded look before returning his eyes to the road. “Define ‘something.’”
    â€œWhen you look at me, I…” She trailed off, not really sure how to explain, wishing he’d help instead of grilling her. She moved in her seat, as if that could alleviate the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. There was something between them, new or existing. He must know it.
    â€œYou