by Jamie Denton
“I have an apartment somewhere.” She opted to keep what could very well be her profession, along with her ill-timed runaway fantasies, to herself for the time being. “Or I did have one. I can’t say for sure.”
“You remembered something.”
She nodded and tried not to wince at the hope tingeing his voice.
The smile that eased across his mouth made her heart stop. Her life, or what was left of it, was nothing but a jumbled mess and here she was lying beside a handsome, virile man, completely turned on because he had a killer smile that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. What kind of lunatic was she?
“Then that’s good news.” His smile widened. “Do you remember anything else?”
She looked away, her gaze zeroing in on his strong hands, his long fingers resting on the dark denim covering his thighs. Rock-hard thighs, too, she thought, remembering the feel of them cushioning her head when she’d been treated following the warehouse explosion.
Foolishly, she didn’t stop there, but allowed her gaze to wander lasciviously.
Breathing suddenly became a concentrated effort as a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated lust crashed into her. Heat uncurled through her body as she devoured the sight of his jeans clinging to his body, leaving no doubt in her mind whatsoever that he was having the same ridiculous and dangerous thoughts as her. Gracious, they hadn’t even touched, or kissed for that matter.
Oh, this is not a good sign.
Yeah, but all the signs say he’ll be really good.
That thought truly shocked her, which only managed to add to her surprise and confusion. Was she a prude? Or was it really like her to be so brazen? Considering that she might be a crook, she couldn’t say whether her train of thought was the status quo or some freaky side trip down the who-am-I? highway. She supposed it didn’t really matter. So long as she refused to act out these wicked and oh-so-lovely fantasies she’d started having, then she had nothing to worry about.
She hoped.
Boy, did she ever have her doubts on that score. Her purgatory points were mounting up against her, in triplicate.
“Maggie?” He sounded concerned.
He should, considering where her mind continued to wander.
She reluctantly dragged her gaze away from forbidden territory. “I think I’d like to get up now.”
He didn’t move. His hip resting against hers reminded her exactly how close they were. Not that she needed a reminder. Her racing pulse was doing a fine job.
“Are you sure everything is all right?”
She pulled in a deep breath and with it, Cale’s scent, a combination of spice and soap and male warmth. “Fine. I could just use a little air is all.” Not exactly a lie, because she not only needed air to clear her mind and start putting all her conflicting emotions and thoughts into some sort of discernable order, but she desperately needed space from Cale. If she didn’t distance herself soon, she’d do something really stupid, like give into that bone-melting kiss fantasy.
“Pearl hasn’t been for her evening walk yet, anyway,” she added lamely.
He looked at her steadily for a minute, but didn’t say a word, just stood and extended his hand to assist her from the sofa. She avoided his gaze—and his hand—swinging her feet to the floor and standing on her own. Maggie knew she was acting strangely, but with any luck, he wouldn’t think her any more bizarre than usual.
Besides, how normal could a woman without a memory behave anyway?
“You sure everything is okay?” he pressed, his voice laced with concern, which only increased her already guilty conscience.
So much for him not noticing her behavior. “I’m fine.” She chanced a quick look in his direction. His dark eyebrows pulled together slightly, his expression telling her loud and clear he wasn’t swallowing the line she’d tried to feed him. “Just a little confused,” she added with a smile. She aimed for bright but ended up with brittle instead.
Cale shrugged. “I guess you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He left the room only to return less than a minute later with a lightweight jacket for her and a black leather lead for Pearl.
How was it possible that someone who didn’t know her, could know her so well? And why did she feel so badly for not being perfectly honest with him? That was hardly a characteristic common to a person who operated on the wrong side of the legal system.
Since quick answers evaded her, she slipped into the jacket and tried on what she hoped was a smile this time rather than a grimace as she rolled back the sleeves. The scent of Cale surrounded her, but she used every ounce of her swiftly decreasing willpower not to bury her face in the lightweight fabric and let her imagination run wild.
She followed Cale and Pearl out the front door, tugged the jacket tighter around her and breathed in anyway.
CALE TURNED Pearl loose to let her run along the shoreline once they reached the beach. Maggie walked silently alongside him, a worried frown marring her delicate features. His intuition that she was keeping something from him mounted. Certainly, if she’d had some clue that could lead them to her identity, she’d share it with him.
Wouldn’t she?
Not only did he dislike the fact that her behavior had started raising doubts in him, but the idea that she’d keep something important from him, or that she felt she couldn’t share with him whatever glimpse of her past she’d had, said a lot about the level of trust between them. And that bothered him. Up until now, she’d trusted him. What had changed in the few hours he’d been away?
She was with him so he could help her. How did she expect him to do so if she wouldn’t let him in and continued to keep things to herself? Maybe, he thought as he walked toward a large piece of driftwood, she just needed time to come to terms with whatever she’d recently discovered before talking it over with him.
Pearl trotted along the edge of the water beneath the moonlight before sprinting toward her favorite sand dune. Cale indicated the driftwood and waited for Maggie to sit before he joined her.
“You learned something, didn’t you?” So much for giving her time to think about whatever information she’d gleaned from her dream, he thought.
She let out a soft sigh and glanced at him. Her troubled gaze locked with his, and his heart squeezed ever so slightly. He tried to ignore the sensation.
“I did,” she finally admitted.
He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle between his thighs. The end of Pearl’s lead teased the ground between his sneakers as he traced a lazy pattern in the sand. “And?”
“I just don’t know if the dream was real or not, but I heard a woman’s voice that sounded familiar.”
The doctors had said her memory would eventually return, but no one had said a word about it coming back to her in her sleep. Still, a lead was a lead, and he wasn’t about to discount any piece of information that could very well help Maggie regain her identity.
“Let’s assume for the moment it was real.” He looked over at her, and his heart twisted again at the worry encompassing her delicate features. He compounded his mistake by allowing his gaze to dip to her mouth, tight with worry. The desire to soften those lips with his own hit him hard in the gut. “Did you see the woman?” he asked, hoping to draw his concentration back to the issues at hand.
Maggie slowly shook her head. “No, I just heard her. You know when you remember something that someone once said to you? It was like that.”
He understood more than she knew, having experienced the same sensation many times over the years since the death of his parents.
“You know who was speaking?”
She let out another sigh. “No.”
“Where were you when you heard the voice? What were you doing?”
“In my apartment. At least I think it was my apartment. I mean, it felt like it was mine. I was in a hurry and the front door was stuck, so I kicked it and swore. That’s when I heard the woman’s voice.”
She looked awa
y again, and Cale had the distinct impression she was still withholding some information. He could either dwell on what she wasn’t telling him, or focus on what she had revealed in an effort to help her discover more about herself. While the former interested him more, he struggled to focus on the latter.
“Tell me about your apartment?” he asked. “Do you know where it was located? Could you see what was inside?”
“Inside?”
“A bookshelf, a stereo, CDs, that fragile stuff women like to collect? What about paintings or posters? What kind of furniture did it have? Can you remember anything distinct?”
He watched as she furrowed her brow, and took on a faraway look. Her frown deepened farther until she finally shook her head. “No, nothing.” Frustration lined her voice.
“Why don’t you try closing your eyes,” he suggested gently. “See if you can recall the smallest detail.”
He knew he wasn’t supposed to pressure her to remember, but whether it was for his own benefit or hers, he couldn’t say. Had it become a simple matter of trust, or was there some other motivation at work he had yet to determine?
Before he could draw a conclusion to his own questions, she sighed and did as he asked. A soft breeze ruffled her cinnamon hair, tossing a few strands across her face. She pushed them away, but kept her eyes closed.
In the distance, a car backfired. Before he could draw his next breath, Maggie moved. She took hold of his arm in an iron-tight grip with her good hand while her cast clunked against the back of his neck. Next thing he knew, he was lying facedown in the sand with her body draped over his, both of them protected by the shadow of the huge piece of driftwood.
“What the—”
“Quiet,” she whispered harshly.
She rose up slightly, her hips pressing seductively against his backside. He attempted to crane his neck so he could see what she was doing, but her cast slammed into the back of his head again, shoving his face into the sand. Vainly, he struggled to decipher her erratic behavior, but the feel of her curves and the way they pressed against his back, the way his body responded with rapt attention, clouded his better judgment. The battle had been lost before it even began.
“Stay down,” she ordered, her voice firm and strangely controlled.
He pulled his arm out from beneath him and wiped the sand from his face. “Uh, Maggie?”
“Shh,” she whispered in a harsh, take-no-prisoners tone.
Her cast landed on the back of his head again, but he quickly rolled until he had her pinned beneath him. Her breathing was ragged, and her breasts brushed against his chest creating one hell of a distraction.
“No,” she said. “It might not be safe yet.”
“What’s going on, Maggie?”
“Someone just took a shot at us. Now stay down before you get us both killed.”
6
IF SHE weren’t so damned serious, he would have burst out laughing. “Maggie, a car backfired. Nothing more.”
Holding her wrist and cast above her head with his hands, he looked down into her eyes. He expected fear. Instead, he discovered something else entirely that sent his heart ricocheting behind his ribs—desire.
Her gaze dipped to his mouth. “Are you absolutely certain?”
Her soft, loverlike voice stroked his already heightened awareness, leaving him to struggle like the devil to concentrate on her strange behavior rather than the way his hips were practically locked against hers.
This was one battle he knew he had little chance of winning.
“Positive,” he told her.
She relaxed, her body melting beneath his. He should let her go to save them both from making a monumental mistake. Except there was no denying he wanted her, and the way her lips parted and her eyes searched his face left little doubt in his mind that her thoughts had taken the same treacherous path as his own.
He didn’t move so much as an inch. There’d be time for explanations later. All his befuddled, lust-controlled mind had the capacity of analyzing was how perfect her body felt against his, how soft her lips would feel, how sweet she’d taste when…
He never had a chance to finish the thought. Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers in a light, tentative kiss. Her sharp intake of breath, followed by a wispy little moan of pleasure, let him know they were thinking alike.
She took the initiative and deepened their kiss. Her luscious curves lifted urgently against him as her body arched into his. Any second thoughts he might have harbored given the chance, evaporated into thin air.
He welcomed her teasing, coaxing tongue to mate with his until his ears buzzed and his body hummed. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest as he lost himself in the taste of her, in her intoxicating scent, a unique, scrumptious blend of woman and misty sea breeze.
Oh, man, was he ever in trouble. Not only did he have a warm and willing woman in his arms, but the temperature of his blood rose to new levels that had his libido taking off like a rocket.
She strained against his light grip so he released her, only to smooth his hands along her body, marveling at every gentle dip and swell. She slipped her leg around his calf, holding him captive against her.
Maggie rocked her hips against his, and he nearly went into cardiac arrest. Her slender fingers boldly explored his shoulders, then ran enticingly from back to buttocks where she urged him tighter against her.
His erection strained against the confining denim to the point of pleasurable pain. Losing control wasn’t something he relished, but he was close to being past the point of caring. If he didn’t have her soon, all of her, he’d go crazy.
Pearl’s cold wet nose nudged hard at the side of his neck.
He gently tried to push the dog away, only to receive a low “woof” next to his ear. When Pearl wanted his attention, she certainly knew how to get it.
Maggie giggled against his mouth.
He made a noise that sounded a whole lot like a growl of frustration, then deepened the kiss again, intending to ignore Pearl for a few more minutes and draw Maggie back into the moment.
He trailed his mouth along the tender flesh just below her ear. She rocked against him again and issued another of her soft, gentle sighs that had his already dangerously high testosterone level simmering.
Pearl, on the other hand, refused to be ignored. The big dog groaned and laid her bulky head on his back before letting out a sigh gusty enough to ruffle the hair on the back of his head.
A guy just couldn’t win. With his own reluctant sigh, he lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at the dog. “What?”
Pearl immediately sat. Her stubby tail swished in the sand and her teeth practically glowed in the moonlight when she showed him her doggie smile. A piece of driftwood lay between her paws.
“It’s not playtime,” he said. Well, maybe it was, but not the kind Pearl wanted.
“Cale?”
He looked down at Maggie, at the desire turning her eyes a deep shade of turquoise, then over at Pearl, tail still wagging, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she waited expectantly for him to pick up the stick and throw it for her.
With a final groan of frustration, he eased himself away from Maggie. His decision wasn’t based entirely on Pearl’s need for her nightly playtime ritual, but more on his own need to regain control. If it hadn’t been for Pearl, he honestly couldn’t say how far he’d have gone, or exactly how far Maggie would have allowed them to travel down the enticing path toward mutual gratification.
Whether that was a good thing or not, he couldn’t say for certain. He was supposed to be helping Maggie, not confusing her even more by his inability to keep his hands, or his lips, to himself.
As much as he hated the pleasure to end, he reluctantly stood and held out his hand for Maggie. She looked at him, and he instantly felt regret. Confusion colored her eyes now, along with the remnants of desire.
Damn.
He helped her up, then stooped to pick up the stick and toss it for Pearl
to retrieve.
“Should I apologize?” he asked.
Maggie remained silent as she brushed the sand from her jeans with her good hand. When she glanced up at him, a hint of a smile curved her mouth. “Not unless you’re sorry you kissed me.”
Pearl brought back the piece of driftwood and dropped it at his feet. He chucked the stick again.
He reached for Maggie and pulled her to his side before he smoothed the back of his hand gently down her smooth-as-satin cheek. “I’m not sorry I kissed you,” he told her softly.
Her smile turned shy. “I’m glad.”
For the next ten minutes, there was silence between them while he played fetch with Pearl. It wasn’t an awkward kind of silence, either, he mused. There was no frantic search for some inane topic for discussion. This was quiet, a companionable silence, the kind he thought he remembered his parents had often shared.
His thoughts reaffirmed his earlier assessment. Maggie was trouble with a capital T, especially if she had him thinking in terms of how compatible they were together. He’d been with his fair share of women, but he honestly couldn’t remember the last time a simple kiss had made him lose his sense of time and place. He’d always been aware of his surroundings, but this time, it’d been different. The thought should’ve spooked him rather than make him smile like a…goofball?
Far from overjoyed with his train of thought, he turned to face Maggie, hoping to find an answer for a question he had earlier. “Do you want to explain what happened before…before we were distracted,” he finished sheepishly.
The smile left her face, and she bit her lower lip again. “An overreaction?”
Now there was an understatement if he’d ever heard one. But that didn’t explain how Maggie knew the sound of a gunshot, or even why she’d mistakenly believed someone would be shooting at her.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “You think?”
She shrugged. The wind gusted and whipped her spicy hair into even more disarray. She turned away from the wind and vainly attempted to finger-comb the strands into a semblance of order. “Maybe we should head back. I think I need to place a call to Detective Villanueva.”