Harvest Moon by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online Page A

Taking purposeful steps, she walked out of the office, her head held high and her back ramrod straight.
    Aaron found himself doing what he had done the night of his arrival—following her lead. He wondered whether she had been the one doing the leading in her marriage. Had she talked Oscar into not contacting him until after his death? Had she feared that his reconciling with his father would leave her with a smaller portion of her husband’s estate?
    Quickening his stride, he caught up with her as she pushed open the door and walked out onto the sidewalk, his fingers tightening around her upper arm. She lost her footing, falling back against his chest. His free arm curved around her waist, pressing her hips to his middle until she regained her balance.
    Turning in his embrace, she stared up at him, her breasts heaving in a measured rising and falling rhythm. The restless energy of Mexico City’s populace crowding the wide avenues, the raucous sounds of honking car horns, and the incessant babble of spoken Spanish along with native Indian dialects faded as Aaron lost himself in the fragrant softness of Regina’s curving body.
    He noted the obsidian darkness of her large eyes for the first time, eyes so black no light would ever penetrate their midnight depths. His gaze lingered leisurely on her lush, succulent mouth—a mouth that begged to be kissed.
    The conflicting emotions of anguish and defeat that had assailed him when he saw Oscar’s body hadn’t faded, and he wanted to ravage Regina’s mouth until she pleaded with him to stop. He wanted to punish her, make her feel pain, and in doing so hopefully eradicate his own. Her eyes filled with tears, turningthem into gems of polished onyx as she struggled valiantly to keep them from overflowing and embarrassing her.
    Aaron held her to his heart, feeling her warmth, the fragility of her slender body, the sweetness clinging to her flesh, and registering the shudders she was helpless to control. Tightening his hold on her waist, he molded her length to his, burying his face against her silken neck.
    “I just want it over, Aaron,” she sobbed softly.
    Inhaling deeply, he enjoyed all that made Regina Spencer who she was. Holding her and reveling in her sensual femininity made him realize that he did not think of her as the woman who had married his father, or as his stepmother.
    She was a temptress who managed to lure him into her web of seduction without saying a word, and he was more like Oscar Spencer than he wanted to admit, because, like his father, he was trapped in a spell from which he did not want to escape. He had known her less than twenty-four hours, yet he wanted to know her in every way possible. She was a woman of mystery, and he wanted to peel away the layers under the overt beauty, to discover the real person who appeared secure and mature beyond her years.
    “It will be over—soon,” he crooned in a deep, comforting voice.
    Nodding, she touched her fingertips to her eyes. “I want to go home.”
    He led her around the building and to the parking lot. Their driver stood beside the car, holding open the rear door. Aaron helped her in, then slid onto the seat beside her. She sat, back pressed to the seat, eyes closed. Reaching over, he took her hand in his, holding it protectively. Her fingers stiffened momentarily, then relaxed in his grip.
    She opened her eyes and smiled at him through a shimmer of sparkling tears. “I’m sorry I fell apart back there.”
    He returned her smile with a wink. “You’re entitled. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”
    “What I had to go through was nothing. It was Oscar who suffered—”
    “You don’t have to talk about it,” he interrupted.
    “Yes, I do. I promised Oscar I would tell you.”
    Vertical lines appeared between his eyes. “Tell me what?”
    She pulled her hand away from his. “Everything. I met Oscar for the first time when I was seventeen….”

Chapter 5
     
    Ten years ago
    A black, stately