Free Make Me Remember by Beth Kery

surrounding Regina Morrow bothers me a little.
    Maybe because of her conflicting thoughts, she was overly sensitive about reading Jacob’s mood when he joined her in his suite a while later. If he seemed a little subdued at first, his preoccupation passed quickly enough.
    His attention was all for her.
    He showed her for the first time how a wood-paneled wall in the sitting area of his bedroom opened to an entertainment center. They agreed to be lazy for the rest of the day, watching two of Cyril’s movies, talking . . . making love. They became so involved in the latter that they forgot dinner. When Harper’s stomach rumbled loudly at one point while they were entwined in bed, Jacob rose despite Harper’s protests. They ordered Thai food and ate it in bed naked. She thought it was the most delicious meal she’d ever eaten in her life.
    “Back to work tomorrow,” Harper murmured later against Jacob’s bare chest. She loved to press her lips against the crisp hair there, feeling the heat of his skin and the density of muscle beneath. The lights in his suite were out, but star shine poured through the open, circular bank of windows. She turned her head slightly, brushing her mouth against him and inhaling his scent. “It seems like a month since I was at the newsroom, not three days.”
    He didn’t reply. She rested her cheek on his chest, sensing his preoccupation.
    “Are you thinking about work, too?” she asked him after a pause.
    His hand cupped her shoulder. “No. Harper, there’s something I didn’t tell you about this weekend. I guess I should now.”
    She came up on one elbow, peering into his shadowed face.
    “What’s wrong? It sounds serious.”
    “I wouldn’t say it’s
serious
.” He exhaled and rolled over on the mattress. He switched on a lamp. “Maybe it’d be easier if I just showed you.”
    He rose from the bed. Harper watched him walk over to the sitting area, the dim lamplight gilding his ass and muscular back. He withdrew a newspaper from his briefcase and walked back over to the bed. Harper recalled him looking at what appeared to be the same paper in the back of the limo yesterday morning, when they’d returned from San Francisco. It was a copy of the
Chronicle
, a minor detail she’d noticed, having worked for that paper for a good part of her professional life.
    When she held up her hands to receive the paper, he paused before giving it to her.
    “Don’t be mad at me for not showing you yesterday. It was selfish on my part, but I was mostly thinking of you. I didn’t want anything to come in the way of you enjoying the rest of your holiday. Besides, there was nothing you could have done about it at that point, anyway.” He shrugged and gave her the paper. “There’s nothing you can do now, either, except to be prepared for any flak when you return to the Gazette tomorrow.”
    Her brows creased in concern at his buildup. She sat up in bed, the sheet tucked around her breasts. He came down next to her.
    “Page twenty-three,” he said.
    Harper whipped through the pages. A moment later she was staring openmouthed at a fairly large photo of Jacob and her leaving Geb on Saturday night in San Francisco. They both looked serious. Jacob’s hand was at the small of her back. The caption read, Lattice owner and CEO, Jacob Latimer, and his escort for the evening, former
Chronicle
reporter and current news editor of the
Sierra Tahoe Gazette,
Harper McFadden.
    “
Escort
for the evening. Charlie Nelson.” Her lip curled in bitter disgust when she saw the name of the photographer.
    “You know him?”
    Harper nodded grimly, skimming the rest of the brief article, which was mostly about Jacob. She rolled her eyes and folded the paper with haphazard forcefulness before tossing it aside irritably.
    “I never saw any photographers that night. Makes sense that it was Charlie. That swine makes it a practice to hide behind garbage cans, where he belongs.”
    “Do you think it’ll be a