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Again he interrupted, this time more harshly. “You thought what the rest of the world thought, what Melanie DuBois wanted the world to think. If you would have had the guts to come to me before my father was killed, before your back was up against the wall, you would have realized that everything in those cheap gossip tabloids was a hoax. A carefully arranged hoax.”

“You never publicly denied it.”

“Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black? Besides, why would I? Any statement or contradiction I might have made would only have worsened an already bad situation. I decided it just wasn’t worth the effort.” Brig read the look of doubt on Becca’s elegant face. “I can’t deny that initially I was attracted to Melanie. Hell, she was a beautiful woman. But it didn’t take me long to figure out what she was really after.”

Brig paused, but Becca didn’t interrupt, afraid to learn more than she wanted to know about the glamorous woman romantically linked to Brig, and yet fascinated with Brig’s denials. A severe smile made him appear older than his thirty-five years.

“Anything you read about Melanie DuBois was precisely engineered by Ms. DuBois and that snake she called an agent.” Brig leaned more closely to Becca. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and captured her shoulders with the warmth of his fingertips. She felt the muscles in her back begin to relax. “Don’t tell me you believe everything you read in the papers.” His gaze was coldly cynical.

Becca cocked her head and eyed him speculatively. Her hair fell over his arm. She knew he was referring to her vehement denouncement of the press coverage of Sentimental Lady’s last race. “Of course not,” she whispered.

“Then trust me. I have never had anything other than a passing interest in Melanie DuBois.”

Her wistful smile trembled. “I’m sorry I made that stupid remark and brought her up. It was . . . unkind.”

Brig recognized the flicker of doubt that darkened Becca’s green eyes. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

“I’m just trying to understand, Brig. If Melanie had no connection with you, why was she in the plane with your father?”

For a moment he returned her confused stare: She seemed so vulnerable, so genuinely perplexed. He brushed aside an errant strand of her blond hair, pausing only slightly to rub it gently between his fingers. “Do you want me to tell you all about Melanie?” he asked softly.

She hesitated only briefly. “No.” It wouldn’t be fair. Hadn’t she just told him that her love life was none of his business? She had no right to his.

“What if I told you it was important to me that you know?” His eyes moved from the lock of hair he had been studying and gazed intently into hers. He pushed the golden strands back into place.

“I’d listen,” she sighed.

His intense gray eyes didn’t leave hers. “I met Melanie at a cocktail party in Manhattan. It was one of those sophisticated affairs that everyone dreads but still attends.”

“Not exactly your cup of tea.”

“That’s right. But I was forced to go. Business. Melanie was there. After I’d made the proper appearance and taken care of the Chambers Oil business, I got ready to leave. Melanie came up to me and asked me to take her home. I complied.”

Becca’s throat became dry, but something in his gaze reassured her. A sick feeling took hold of her as she realized she didn’t want to hear about the other women in Brig’s life. “I understand,” she murmured, hoping to close the subject.

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t want to hear what happened, Brig. It’s your business and I don’t want to know about any of your affairs.”

“Yes, you do,” he persisted. “The business deal had gone sour, and I was dead tired from a flight earlier from the Middle East. That night I had no interest in Melanie.”

“But there were other nights.”

“Not with her.”

Becca shook her head. “Brig, just let it alone. The woman is dead and I don’t want to hear about it. Not this morning.”

“It’s important, Rebecca, because I never did sleep with Melanie.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“That’s understandable. She was a gorgeous woman. . . desirable, I suppose, but I just wasn’t interested.”

“Why not?”

“There wasn’t any chemistry between us. Do you understand that?” His fingers touched her neck, stroking the soft skin familiarly. It was a warm caress shared only by lovers.

“Yes,” she admitted. How many times had she dated wonderful, kind, intelligent men and found that she felt no passion for them. It was as if she was cursed to love only Brig. Only Brig had been able to catch her soul. He looked into her eyes as if he could see into the darkest corners of her mind.