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didn’t even talk to him and he’s
acting like a complete freak. What’s up with him?”
    “Chris is different than Conner. That’s all I
can say, Brooke.”
    “You’re damn right he is. I don’t even think
he’s sane.” Where Christopher Hunt was concerned, Brooke had lost
the ability to think and analyze rationally. “Listen, I don’t know
why, but Chris…scares me.” Valerie’s face was close to Brooke’s and
she laughed out loud at that piece of information.
    “Oh C’mon, Brooke!” Valerie cried.
    “I’m not kidding. There’s something weird
going on with him. He scares me!”
    Valerie doubled over in hilarity and scanned
the grounds for her fiancé. She didn't want him overhearing the
slander about Chris. “The only thing that’s weird is that anyone
can scare…you! You’re like he most un-scarable person I know.
What’s up with you?”
    “I...” Brooke quieted. Valerie wasn’t getting
the point, but Brooke herself wasn’t sure that she got her
point.
    **
    Brooke tossed and turned in the wide, antique
bed. She was knackered, and her plans for a rest and a break had
been sorely trashed to the ground. After two years of constant work
and no vacation, she had finally viewed Valerie’s wedding as a
reprieve. She had wanted to laugh and joke and have fun.
    Valerie and Brooke had always been close, but
because of Brooke’s fast-paced lifestyle, they had little time to
connect anymore. Bi-monthly phone calls were the sole contact they
had left and Brooke craved the sisterly banter, the closeness.
    She cursed a certain raven-haired,
taller-than-the-devil man who was sleeping in the next bedroom. The
knowledge that he would be sleeping in the room directly next to
hers had been a shock. She had been incredibly drowsy before she
found out the sleeping arrangements.
    Now, she couldn’t even blink an eye. The
right wall, which she knew was the only thing parting her from
Chris, seemed to have developed a life of its own. It was emanating
energy.
    Unbidden, a memory of the way he had explored
her face with his eyes made her tense beneath the covers. His lips
were manly, molded perfectly, and a sudden fantasy of that mouth
caressing her neck made her curl into a fetal position.
    Chris sat on the edge of his bed, facing the
wall that separated him from Brooke. It took every last ounce of
his control to not tear the wall down with his bare hands and get
to her. A memory of her blushing face split through his mind and he
cringed.
    Never again, would he put Brooke in that
situation. She was a proud, spirited woman, and only he would make
her blush, bend to his will, submit to his needs. He was desperate
to curb her spirit.
    **
    The breakfast table was laden with goodies,
and Brook felt slightly better after a few hours of sleep. The
charisma, the magnetism of Christopher Hunt, seemed like a long ago
memory.
    Some of the guests were going horseback
riding along the vast estate that belonged to the Hunts. It was
their family home and personally, Brooke thought it provided the
most pompous and wealthy display.
    Stables packed to the rafters with horses of
magnificent breeds, a tennis-court, an Olympic-sized swimming pool,
and acres of well-tended lawns. Brooke was helped onto a horse by
one of the trainers and she sped off along the sides of the
property.
    The wind in her hair, and the thudding of the
horse’s hooves was exhilarating. To her surprise, she saw a small
lake with a black, iron bridge. The lake was so tiny it didn’t even
need a bridge, but it was ornamental, and Brooke couldn’t help but
stop for a rest.
    Chris watched from afar as Brooke’s black,
corduroy pants stretched taught over her behind. He swallowed. His
mouth was going dry. Brooke bent over the water, gazing into it as
if she was looking for something.
    As Chris neared Brooke, she could hear a
horse’s hooves, but was engrossed in watching a fish that was
jiggling near the edge. She didn’t notice until the horse was