I love the idea of people who are in love coming back together after a long time apart. I think that even when someone grows, they can still have a deep desire for that special someone. These two characters came to me after I started wondering, “What would happen if two people who were young and in love were forced to leave each other?” Unlike some of my other stories, these two didn’t come to me in full depth. They fleshed out as their story developed inside my head. I hope you enjoy this small unedited excerpt of “Unspoken Sins”.

(Unedited Excerpt)

It had been a sham of a funeral. Cole swirled the alcohol in his glass, watching the amber liquid lap at the heavy crystal. Never second best for the Sinclairs, he thought with a cynical tilt of his lips. His gaze wandered around the house, taking in the plush, unobtrusively expensive furniture, the carefully dusted antiques, and the over polished banister that spoke of years of use. He had a feeling that things rarely changed inside the house, as if the family that lived here defied time to dare to cross the threshold.

He cast a jaundiced eye to the tall oil painting over the fireplace. A larger than life replica of the chillingly haughty Richard Sinclair, stiffly seated in a leather chair as he posed in a dark suit. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought the old man had done the portrait with his memorial in mind. But he’d guess that Sinclair had thought he would live forever. God help the world. Of course, he could very well be a vampire with the way he had sucked the life out of the people that had surrounded him. In that case he might have to think about digging good old Richard up and putting a stake through his heart.

“Wolfe, I’m surprised to see you here.”

Cole shrugged as he turned to the man that had eased up beside him. “I wanted to make sure Sinclair was actually dead. I’m sure that’s why you’re here, too, Archer.”

Will chuckled quietly as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his gray pants. “And they say he was a heartless bastard.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise.”

“And that’s why I work for you.” His green eyes twinkled as he rocked back on his heels. “Have you seen Liz yet?”

Cole felt a jolt at her name. Elizabeth Rose Sinclair, second child of Richard and Diane, only surviving progeny, widowed, and sole heir to the Sinclair fortune. Those were the facts in black and white about the woman he had once thought he’d loved. But he remembered her so much more clearly than any words on paper. He remembered her as a young woman bent on having a good time. A female predator that had used him, gotten what she’d wanted, then flitted away when daddy frowned in disapproval. But what was still painfully clear was the way she’d felt in his arms, the way she’d tasted against his tongue, the way she’d moved and writhed and given herself to him. Even over ten years later he could still feel her underneath him and smell her erotic aroma.

He wondered how a woman so cold could spark so hot.

“So, I’m guessing you haven’t.”

Will’s statement drew him out of his ruminations, bringing the muted noise of the milling crowd back in. “No, I haven’t seen her. There hasn’t been a reason to.”

The dark blond man knit his brow and gave him an odd look. “I thought you were interested in some of Sinclair Holdings’ interests. With Richard dead, she’s the one holding the power.”

“She’ll sell,” Cole predicted lazily. “And when she does, we’ll be there to make her a very generous offer.”

“You’re so sure she’ll sell? After all, it is her family legacy.”

“She’s going to need the money to keep up her lifestyle. Weekends in Rio aren’t cheap.”

He ignored the other man as he took another sip of his whiskey. He sure as hell didn’t need to be reminded that Liz was in this house. He couldn’t stop himself from wanting her even with the pain that she’d caused him. He couldn’t block the memories or the scorching, mercurial images of her wrapped around his body.

Cole ground his teeth together and very gently set his glass on the spindle legged table beside him. It had been insanity to come here today. Hell, she probably wouldn’t remember him. She probably didn’t even realize that Wolfe Enterprises was owned by the same man she’d had a brief affair with when she’d been barely more than a teenager. He was sure she wouldn’t remember his face, if she even remembered those few days they’d had together. He grimaced as he turned away, realizing too late that his being here was a study in self-inflicted pain.

He had himself aimed for the door when he heard her voice. It was soft and husky, the edge of rawness betraying the fact that she’d been crying. He didn’t deliberately seek her out, but it was hard for his gaze to miss her.

She was caught between the archway that led into the formal dinning room and the den, ambushed, it appeared, by a matronly woman draped in black. Her heavy mahogany hair was pulled up into a twist, the sleek style leaving her face completely exposed. Her wide eyes, the same startling turquoise, were slightly puffy, ringed with dark circles her cosmetics couldn’t quite hide. Even that small imperfection didn’t detract from her innate beauty. She was every bit the perfect picture of a graceful aristocrat in black, the soft looking material of her dress molding to her body just enough to give her a feminine air. Her body had matured, the girl turned into the woman, her curves dipping and bending tantalizingly. Her legs, those long limbs that he’d stroked and kissed, were just as svelte and tan as he remembered. His eyes followed the lines back up, taking a slow path of perusal until he found himself gazing at her fine boned face again.

            He studied her, watching her easy movements, the gentle way she gestured, the gracious acceptance of the other woman’s condolences. He was wrong; the girl hadn’t just become the woman, but the princess had become the queen.