More Than Friends (The Warriors) by Laura Taylor Page B

wariness in his voice and decided to pursue it. "But it might help to trigger memories of my own life if you familiarize me with things about yourself that I’ve no doubt heard before."
    "Sounds like a roundabout way of getting to the truth, but I’ll tell you anything I can."
    "Good. We’ll tackle that side of the situation later. Right now, though, I need to know about one of the children in the picture taken at Yellowstone."
    She produced the photograph in question and showed it to him, waiting while he inspected it.
    "Have you remembered something?" he finally asked.
    "Nothing, but the little boy seated beside me in the photo is the one child I keep zeroing in on, despite the fact that there are more than ten children gathered around me. He’s so serious–looking, almost as though he’s worried that I won’t remember him. My heart breaks every time I look at him. The link I feel to this child is just too strong to ignore, Brett, even though I can’t offer a rational explanation of why I feel so connected to him."
    "You know him quite well."
    "I do?"
    "He’s my son, Leah."
    "My God! I should have guessed. He looks like a miniature version of you. He’s a very special little boy, isn’t he?" She smoothed shaking fingertips down the side of the photograph. "Am I close to him?"
    "Extremely."
    "How old is he? What’s his name?"
    "Matthew is going to be six on his next birthday."
    "I keep feeling the need to put my arms around him every time I look at this picture," she confessed. "It’s as if he’s a very important part of me."
    "I’m not at all surprised by your reaction. You’ll understand your feelings about him when your memory returns, which it will."
    "He’s a serious little guy, isn’t he?" She glanced up at Brett and smiled, but her smile faded when she felt the tension tightening his body. "Kind of like his father."
    He nodded, his gaze narrowing. "So I’ve been told."
    "Do I like children in general, or just your son?"
    "You once told me you’d like to have half a dozen."
    "Sounds like a lot of work in the labor room." Returning her gaze to the photo, Leah asked, "Where is he now?"
    "With his grandparents. They’ve taken him to Canada for a week of fishing."
    "He likes to fish?" Her expression brightened. "Brett, I like to fish, too. I’m certain of it."
    He smiled down at her. "You taught him how to bait his first hook, and you gave him his first fishing pole."
    "Do you see him often? Does he live with you?"
    "Unfortunately, I don’t see nearly enough of him. He doesn’t live with me, but I wish he did."
    "He’s with his mother, then." Leah felt his nod when his chin bobbed against the top of her head. "That must be hard for you. Being divorced, I mean."
    "We weren’t married when Matthew was born. Actually, we were never married. It was a complicated situation, and it’s an even more complicated story." He shifted, suggesting, "How about we save this part of my life story for another time."
    She eased free of his encircling arm and turned so that she wound up facing him. When her knee bumped up against his hip, he absently brought his hand down atop it as he stared off into space. She shivered as his fingers drifted up and down the top of her jeans–covered upper leg, and she wondered what he was thinking as he touched her.
    "I didn’t mean to make you feel sad."
    Brett blinked and refocused on her. "You didn’t, although some trips down memory lane tend to remind me of the mistakes I’ve made with my life and with the people I care about."
    "It sounds like you’re still carrying a torch for your son’s mother." Leah felt her heart sink, discovering in the process that she hated the idea that he might be in love with another woman. If Brett still loved little Matthew’s mother, she certainly didn’t want to hear him admit it. At least, not now.
    "I have a lot of mixed feelings where she’s concerned. We parted before I knew about her pregnancy. I found out quite by accident. I was