Remember Me

by Laura Browning

Genres: Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

The plane went down. . .and took their love with it. All Brandon Barlow-Barrett wants is a week away from his family's newspaper empire, time on the slopes to relax and refocus. What he gets is Lucy Cameron, the most extraordinary woman he's ever met. Lucy Cameron doesn't take vacations. Not until now. Her very first vacation is full of highs--falling in love with Brandon Barrett--and lows--realizing she has to tell him she earns her living as a stripper. But there's no time to reveal her secret. On the way back from a day trip to a neighboring Colorado town, their plane's engine sputters and stops. All they have left is the dangerous peaks of the mountains, a nearby lake for a crash-landing, and Brandon's last-minute declaration of love. CONTENT WARNING: This is not an easy road to Happily Ever After. Some readers may be disturbed by the detailed description of the plane crash. Also, explicit language. 71,000 Words

Release date: January 7, 2013

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 198

Sample

 

Chapter 1

 

“I didn’t dump the proposal on your desk and take off. Jesus, Dad,” Brandon Barlow-Barrett growled into his Droid as he waited to check his luggage. His gaze wandered to the check-in line next to him while he continued to listen to his father’s biting tones on the opposite end. “I’d like to remind you I’ve had this vacation scheduled for more than two months. On top of that, I gave you the proposal two weeks early, so you would have time at your leisure to go over it in its entirety.”

A curtain of long, blond hair several people ahead in the row next to him caught his eye. The owner towered above the people surrounding her. His gaze traveled from the hair to the ass, outlined in a pair of snug, faded jeans, and he smiled in appreciation. Long, long legs ended in high-heeled cowboy boots that just added to the woman’s already considerable height.

“I won’t listen to your response right now. You’ve had the proposal on your desk for all of one hour, and it’s three hundred pages. I don’t want you to flip through it. I want you to read it. You aren’t Congress, and this isn’t health reform.”

Brandon ground his teeth as his father continued to insist he’d already seen what he needed to.

“Dad! Times are changing. If we don’t change with them, there will be no Barrett Newspapers to pass along to anyone.” He reached the counter and slapped his suitcase in the space next to the ticket agent. “Look, gotta go. I’ll be back in a week. We can talk about the proposal then—once you’ve had the chance to read it.”

Brandon clipped the phone to his belt. He knew better than to allow Alexander Barlow-Barrett time to respond. He handed the suitcase to the airline agent, got his baggage claim receipt and his boarding pass, then glanced around in a casual way to see if he could locate “Legs” anywhere, but she was already gone. Damn. Flirting with her could have made for an interesting flight. After locating his gate, he discovered the plane was on time and already boarding. Great. If there was one thing he hated, it was spending any more time than he had to aboard a commercial flight. Even in first class, he found the seats didn’t have the leg room he needed. But, since stepping into his elder brother’s role, he’d become a lot more conservative with the company’s cash, so no taking the private jet for vacation.

A gate agent and a flight steward stood at the open door to the boarding ramp. When he approached he caught the tail-end of their conversation.

“God, what I wouldn’t give for one night with a woman like her.”

“You got that right, dude. Can you imagine those legs wrapped around you?”

“Shit, yeah!”

Brandon arched a brow. The two men grinned at him. After checking his boarding pass, the steward’s demeanor became deferential. “Thank you for flying National, Mr. Barrett. Linda will be your flight attendant. Just let her know what you need.”

Brandon nodded. Laid would be nice. Sex hadn’t happened in months, but he doubted it was one of the choices on Linda’s menu. It turned out she was younger than his mother by only a few years, so he settled for a shot of bourbon on the rocks.

* * * *

Lucy looked out the window, watching with interest the luggage being loaded aboard the jet. It might have been mundane to most travelers, but then she wasn’t most travelers. In fact, this was the first flight she’d ever been on. Little Lucy Cameron was getting a vacation at long last. For a week, she would be able to leave behind Jasmine LeFleur, the name she used as one of the top dancers at Flamingo Road. The high-end strip club catered to well-heeled clients around the Washington, DC area. It also paid extremely well.

Reflected in the glass next to her, her smile gleamed. She’d earned enough dancing at the club to pay off her college loans—even the ones for her masters—in less than five years. So traveling to Colorado to go skiing was a treat she was giving herself. Sure, she would have to stick to the easiest slopes since she didn’t have experience, but her primary purpose in flying there was to see the Rockies.

The baggage handlers had finished their task and were moving the ramp away from the body of the jet. The engines picked up RPMs, and Lucy looked around at her fellow passengers. Most of them looked bored or were already plugged into laptops, iPods or whatever was their technology drug of choice. No one seemed to share the excitement she experienced just being onboard. Okay, maybe she needed to dial down her enthusiasm a couple of notches so she wouldn’t come off like an unsophisticated goofball.

Nevertheless, she paid close attention while the flight attendant went through all the pre-flight instructions about fastening seatbelts, getting emergency oxygen and using her seat cushion as a floatation device. Since they were going from DC to Denver, Lucy had serious doubts a floatation device would be necessary. At least she hoped not.

They roared down the runway, engines whining, and the pressure of take-off weighed on her. The whole time, she watched everything grow smaller and smaller on the ground below until it resembled the patchwork quilt at the foot of her bed, one of the few things she could say had belonged to her real family.

Once they landed in Denver, Lucy checked her schedule. She would be taking a commuter flight from there. The itinerary said it was a propjet, whatever that was. As she made her way to the correct gate, she began to suspect propjet was simply a synonym for small. Her musings about the plane ended when she reached the gate area and saw the other passengers, one in particular.

He stood out from the skiers and vacationers, his expensive suit making him look like he’d just stepped out of a boardroom, and had in all likelihood. Lucy glanced at him from the corner of her eye. In general, she avoided staring at men because they were usually staring at her. It made her uncomfortable—and wouldn’t that make everyone laugh. Who’d ever heard of an exotic dancer who didn’t want people watching her?

The man’s gaze swung her way, so Lucy averted her eyes, studying the resort poster hanging on the wall to his left. Not very smooth, but the best she could come up with, short of spinning away from him. She’d gotten enough of a glimpse of his face to know he wasn’t the type to have any trouble getting women to fall at his feet. Hazel eyes, more a combination of topaz and green, sun-streaked hair that glinted gold in the light, and a wide mouth with a full lower lip—yeah, he would make most girls’ hearts throb.

“Flight 780 to Falcon’s Head is now ready for boarding. Please use the door for gate 74A and follow the steps.” The disembodied voice came through the public address system. This time there was no ramp. They exited the building straight onto the tarmac, then climbed the short flight of steps into the commuter plane. Propjet not only meant small—it didn’t even mean a jet.

Lucy felt someone’s gaze on her, so when she reached the top step and ducked through the door, she glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Boardroom was right behind her. He smiled. Lucy swallowed and turned away, almost bonking her head as she straightened. Wow! His smile was devastating. Forget other women falling at his feet, she was about to join them.

* * * *

Brandon kept his expression neutral when Legs, as he’d come to think of her, sat in the window seat next to him. The flight from Denver to Falcon’s Head wasn’t long, but he began to wish it was a little longer. He had every intention of leaving with Legs’s name, phone and where she was staying, especially since her finger was bare of rings.

After securing his briefcase beneath his seat, he took off his suitcoat.

“Would you like me to hang your coat?” the young flight attendant asked.

“Thanks.” Brandon settled his big frame into the cramped seat. There was no first class here. His long legs almost bumped the wall in front of him.

“You can angle your legs this way, if you’d like.”

Brandon shifted at his seatmate’s invitation, stretched and then allowed himself to meet Legs’s gaze. Beautiful was all he could think, looking into a face with the most arresting dark gray eyes dominating it. Gazing into their depths was like staring into the ocean on a storm-tossed day.

“Thanks.”

One corner of her mouth curved upward and a dimple appeared. “That seems to be a favorite word of yours.”

Brandon blinked. Was she cracking on him? He held out his hand and grinned. “I have others. I’m Brandon Barrett.”

When she slipped her hand in his, he sensed several things at once. First and foremost, he felt like he’d just received an electric shock. From the slight widening of her eyes, he guessed the feeling was mutual. The second thing that struck him was the strength of her grip. So many women shook hands like they were holding out a limp rag, but this woman’s hands held power.

She smiled. Her hands weren’t the only power she possessed. Her smile must have belonged to a model, but damned if he could place her anywhere—and he knew plenty of models, some in the biblical sense.

“I’m Lucy Cameron.”

“Well, Lucy. Are you here to work or play?”

She chuckled. It was a rich, seductive sound that sent a shiver of pleasure along his spine. “I’m going to play.” She eyed his attire. “Business?”

Now he grinned. “No. Vacation too. But I had a breakfast meeting and then had to race to make the flight out of Dulles.” He wanted to keep her talking. “I noticed you in line there. Are you from DC?”

“I work there.”

“Modeling?”

She shook her head with a smile, but didn’t enlighten him. There were definite keep-out vibes coming off her now, increasing his curiosity, but he held it in and changed the subject.

“Have you been to Falcon’s Head before?”

“No. In fact, this is the first time I’ve been to Colorado.”

“Are you here for the skiing, or just sightseeing?”

“I’m going to ski, which is another thing I’ve never done. What about you?”

“Major vice, I’m afraid. Most of the time I ski back East because it’s easier to get away for a weekend.” No need to tell her he’d once been shortlisted for the Olympics, but maybe this could work to his advantage. “Have you set up lessons?”

She shook her head. “I figured I would handle instruction when I did the whole ski rental.”

“I can walk you through it all. Even get you started, if you’d like.”

She tucked a strand of her shiny golden hair behind her ear. It was straight, but not thin and wispy like so many blondes. “I don’t know. I don’t want to impose…”

Hell, maybe she was here with someone, or meeting someone. “No problem. No doubt you and your friends already have plans, and here I am trying to barge in on them.”

“Oh, I’m not…” She faltered to a stop, before appearing to come to a decision. “I’m on my own.”

“Then let me show you around, get you skiing.”

Her smile showed gratitude, but still a little caution. “I can’t imagine it would be much fun for you. You must be pretty good.”

Yeah. He was, but if he could arrange to spend a day with her, he’d ski backward down the bunny slopes the entire time and grin like a kid in a candy store while he did it. However, looking at her, he didn’t think it would take all day. She looked like an athlete.

“I am, but I’m also here on my own to relax. Look, I taught two of my younger siblings to ski. Up to you.”

She smiled, glancing at him from the corner of those long-lashed gray peepers of hers. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” The tenor of the engines shifted. “We must be getting ready to descend.” Brandon pulled out his phone. “What’s your cell number?”

She blushed. It was just a faint rose tint to her golden skin. “I don’t have a cell.”

He couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. Even if they didn’t use it, he wasn’t sure he knew anyone anymore who didn’t at least carry a prepaid phone for emergencies. “No big deal. Sometimes I’d like to be a little less plugged in. Where are you staying?”

“At the lodge at Falcon Summit Resort.”

He grinned. “Me too.” He leaned across her a bit to peer out the window. “If you look, you’ll be able to see some of the slopes from here.”

He was rewarded when she laughed in that husky voice of hers. “Oh look, Brandon! It’s like looking at a line of ants.”

His laughter joined hers. “It is. Never thought of it that way. Tomorrow and Sunday will be even busier, but if we get out there early, we can get ahead of the crowds. Can you stand getting up at dawn on your vacation?” And, boy, wouldn’t he love to see what she looked like when she woke up in the mornings.

“Sure. I’m an early riser most of the time.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the captain coming over the speaker with details of their arrival and the weather forecast. Though it was late in the season, it sounded like conditions for the upcoming week would be ideal. Brandon glanced at Lucy’s profile. Since she’d returned to looking out the window, her face was averted a bit. Damn, but it was almost like she’d never seen the world from this view. On first acquaintance, she appeared to be an odd mixture of sophistication and naivete. Whichever was real, it was damned intriguing.

* * * *

Lucy accepted the ride Brandon offered in his rental car. It would save her from squeezing into the resort’s hospitality car—at least she kept telling herself that was the reason she’d accepted his offer. The truth was, she wasn’t sure she’d ever met a man as handsome as him. If he was hitting on her, it was with a whole lot more class than the usual crowd of men who patronized Flamingo Road. And for the last couple years, those were the only men she had encountered.

When they reached the lodge, he turned to her before they got out. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

Lucy’s natural caution reared up. Maybe the invitation was him looking for company, but she wanted to keep things casual as a precaution because of the way her body responded to him. She shook her head. “No. I don’t think I’d be very good company tonight. Can we meet in the morning?”

He nodded. “Six thirty in the front lobby.”

“I thought they didn’t open ’til nine?”

“They don’t, but I figured we could get some breakfast first, and I have an in with the owner.” His grin was so disarming, all Lucy could do was nod.

“Let’s get our bags in, and you can take it easy.” When he cupped her elbow with his palm, Lucy discovered she liked the casual touch. It was a courtesy he didn’t have to think about, he simply did it.

While she checked in, another clerk was helping him a few feet away. Lucy handled the registration and credit card information, overhearing the way the clerk said Mr. Barrett, as if he were a valued guest. He probably was. From years of counting on tips to help her make her living, Lucy had come to recognize the difference between off-the-rack clothing and clothing that was hand-tailored. There was nothing even resembling department store about anything touching Brandon’s skin.

“Are you set?” He waited for her to get her bag on her shoulder. When she nodded, he took her free hand and held it for a moment. Once again, a shock of heat and awareness zinged through her at the touch of his hand. “Have a good evening, Lucy. I’ll see you here. Six thirty. Be ready to ski, okay?”

“I will.” He started to turn away, and she added, “Thanks for the invitation, Brandon.”

His grin was lopsided. “We’ll see if you still feel the same way tomorrow afternoon.”

* * * *

At loose ends, Brandon called Matt Petersohn, Falcon Summit’s owner, right after he’d settled in his suite.

“Hey, Matt.”

“Bran!” His friend’s voice was warm over the phone line. “They told me you’d checked in. Everything good, dude?”

“Perfect, as always. You free for dinner?”

“Yeah. Why don’t I have it delivered to your suite around seven? We can chow down then sit and scratch while we talk about why you don’t come out here to ski much.”

Brandon laughed, agreed and hung up. At last, some of the tension from his work at Barrett Newspapers drained out of him. God only knew, he’d wanted to take over Seth’s position, had been overjoyed when his elder brother had put his foot down and walked out the door. But in the last few months, he’d also come to realize how much of a buffer Seth had been between Alexander Barlow-Barrett and the rest of them.

Now Brandon was the one juggling his father’s rigid personality against what he knew was the best interest of the company. The industry was changing at a pace far beyond what anyone could have predicted when Brandon had graduated from business school ten years ago. Seth had been quiet and dogged, but he’d been making changes during that whole time.

The problem was everything had to be ramped up big time if they were going to keep their flagship national daily a household fixture. And, damn it, he needed his father to realize the only way it would happen was without the smell of ink or the feel of newsprint. Those days were gone, but they could still compete. There was another market out there between fancy phones and e-readers, but they needed to tap into it now. The whole world was plugged in. It was time Barrett Newspapers lived the same way.

By the time Matt showed up at his door with a couple waiters pushing carts with covered trays trailing him, Brandon had showered and exchanged the suit for a pair of well-worn jeans and a thick Nationals sweatshirt. His feet were bare and he had a bourbon in his hand. He set the glass aside so he and Matt could do the back-slapping guy hug thing.

“Damn, Matt,” Brandon said, eyeing his friend’s thick black braid and close-cropped beard, “you’re taking this mountain man thing to heart.”

Matt flicked a finger at Brandon’s conservative haircut. “You’re the one to talk, Mr. Powerbroker. How’s it feel to be heir to the throne?”

Brandon shook his head. “Some days, not a whole lot different than stepping into a pile of horse shit.”

“Papa Barrett snarling again?”

“It’s not the snarling. It’s the rigid immobility.” Brandon stared around him. “You’ve made changes here.”

Matt laughed. “Had to. Too much competition from other places. We’ve added some glitz and enough luxury to make Grossvater Petersohn flip over in his grave, but the bookings are up—and not just during ski season. We’ve added guided hiking and fishing trips during the summer.” Matt uncovered a couple plates and Brandon smelled the rich aromas of wine sauce and butter.

“Damn. Let’s eat. I am freaking starved.”

They were almost finished when Matt looked across the table with a grin. “So my concierge tells me you came in with a drop-dead-gorgeous blonde. Keeping her all to yourself?”

Brandon stiffened for a moment, then laughed. “Not sure yet. I met her on the plane. She’s here on vacation. Turned me down flat for dinner tonight, but I’m hooked up with her to teach her how to ski.”

“Good work.”

“Can you get one of your guys to outfit us around seven thirty? I’ll pay them extra.”

“No problem. Scott’s been looking for some OT. You sure you want to teach her yourself? I could have him give her an hour private lesson, then you could hold her hand down a couple of beginner slopes before you hit the expert runs.”

Brandon le. . .