Tell Me Your Secrets.... Cara Summers
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better ice it tonight.”
I looked at him then, but his expression was unreadable. I wished that I could figure him out. Then maybe I could control my reaction to him. One minute, I was sure he was mocking me or testing me. The next he was kind and thinking of something like an Ace bandage.
Or kissing me. I was trying very hard not to think of that kiss.
An ancient-looking man, who had the slight build of a jockey, and the wrinkled face of Rumplestiltskin had followed us up the path and now took the rope from Sloan.
“Make sure you walk him in one of the rings and cool him down, Gus.”
The old man snorted. “You’re telling me how to handle a horse? I was working them before you were born.”
Sloan laughed as he turned to me. “Ms. Cameron’s back, but she doesn’t recognize you because she’s lost her memory.”
Gus shifted his gaze to me and nodded. “Welcome back, Ms. Cameron.” His eyes were nearly as penetrating as Sloan’s, but I saw a twinkle in them. “Lace Ribbons will be happy to see you. I’ve seen that she’s been exercised regularly while you’ve been gone.” Then with another nod, he turned and led Saturn away.
“He likes me,” I said.
The look Sloan gave me was enigmatic. “He’s known you since you were able to get down to the stables on your own.” Taking my arm, Sloan urged me onto the patio where I’d had tea earlier with Cole and Beatrice and then into the house.
“Now that Gus is spreading the word of your return, I want to be the first to let James know. I’ll help him get settled in his rooms, and then I’ll send for you. It might be too much of a shock if you just walk in.”
“Fine.” I watched him head toward the main foyer. That would give me a reprieve—and a little time out of Sloan Campbell’s disturbing presence.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I heard Elena welcoming James—my father. I was going to have to start thinking of him that way, I reminded myself.
In the meantime, I really needed to figure Sloan out. The fact that I was attracted to him—and there was no use denying that anymore—meant that I wasn’t thinking clearly about him. But I knew enough from creating characters that most people were defined by their motivations—the whys. What were Sloan’s? My instinct told me that he was not buying my story entirely. But why wasn’t he?
Did he have some reason to know for certain that I was not Cameron suffering from amnesia? I stopped short in the middle of the kitchen as I realized one reason he might have for seeing right through my little masquerade. Was Sloan Campbell responsible for my sister’s disappearance?
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