The Rancher And The Amnesiac Bride

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “Josie,” she whispered. “My name is Josie. The doctor called me that. Oh, God, why doesn’t it mean anything to me? Josie? No. No. I don’t know who that is. I don’t know who I am.”

  Max leaned against the kitchen wall out of view of the living room and curled his hands into tight fists.

  Josie’s tear-filled, softly spoken words had reached him, beating against him like physical blows.

  He couldn’t handle much of this, he thought. Josie had to get her memory back fast, because she was ripping him up. Big, tough Max Carter was being cut off at the knees by a sad, frightened and beautiful woman.

  Get it together, Carter, he ordered himself. He would do what he had to do to survive this mess.

  Oh, man, what he wouldn’t give to turn back the clock to dawn of that morning. He’d headed out for hours of hard labor that would push his body to the maximum and beyond. At day’s end he would have fallen into bed, exhausted and aching from head to toe. But he would have accomplished what he’d set out to do.

  He would have had a weary but satisfying sense of accomplishment. But there would have been no one to share it with.

  Max stiffened and planted his hands on his hips, a deep frown on his face.

  Share it with? his mind echoed. Where had that harebrained thought come from? He didn’t want anyone in his life to share with, for cripe’s sake. He was alone by choice, damn it, not from lack of opportunity.

  The unsettling events that had taken place today, the fact that Josie Wentworth was his to look after for heaven only knew how long, was scrambling his beleaguered brain.

  He’d had enough of this. He’d really had enough. But that knot in his gut told him this nightmare was a long way from being over.

  Hell.

  Max strode into the living room and went directly to the sofa. Josie looked up at him questioningly, and he nearly groaned aloud as he saw the pallor of her cheeks, the stricken expression on her face, the fear in her huge eyes. He shifted his gaze to a spot just above her right shoulder.

  “So!” he said, a tad too loudly. “I’m Max Carter, in case you’ve forgotten, and you’re on my sofa.” Lord, Carter, what a lame thing to say. “Anyway, there’s nothing for you to worry about, because Jeff—he’s the doctor who was here—said you’re going to be fine. Soon. Very soon. Are you hungry?”

  “I...I guess so,” Josie said quietly. “Mr. Carter... Max...why did I come here to your ranch?”

  “Don’t strain your brain yet. Okay? The first order of business is to watch that concussion of yours until morning. I’ll have to wake you every hour and ask you dumb questions. If you try to think too hard now, you’ll only make your headache worse.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, so I’ll fix you some dinner and—”

  “Where’s my purse? Surely I had one. It would contain all kinds of identification, along with personal items that might jog my memory.”

  “Josie, you’re pushing yourself. I just said you shouldn’t do that.”

  “I know, but if I could examine the contents of my purse, I—”

  “There is no purse. Nope. You had a suitcase, which I’ve put in the guest room. You...you arrived by taxi, you see, and maybe you left the purse in the cab by mistake.”

  Josie frowned. “A taxi? I wasn’t driving my own car? Somehow that... just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Nothing feels right, because you have a roaring headache. How about some bacon and eggs? How do you like your eggs?”

  “I don’t know, but...yes, I like my bacon very crisp, nearly burned. Oh, Max, why do I know how I like bacon but not eggs?”

  “Beats me,” he said, shrugging. “Amnesia is weird stuff, isn’t it? Yep. Sure is. Well, Josie, eggs and burned bacon coming right up.”

  Max hurried back into the kitchen, where he stopped dead in his tracks and took a deep, steadying breath.

  No doubt about it, he thought gloomily, he wasn’t going to survive this.

  Josie watched Max’s hasty exit from the room, studying the empty space long after he’d disappeared from view.

  That man, she thought, was nervous and edgy, and seemed quite unable to meet her eyes. Why? Was he hiding something? Or was it simply that a woman with no memory perched on his sofa was throwing him off-kilter?

  Oh, she didn’t know. She didn’t know anything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. One thing was clear. Max Carter was an extremely handsome man who just oozed sexuality. Had she come to the Single C at his invitation? For some type of liaison? Would she do something like that? If so, she certainly had good taste in men.

  Oh, Josie, stop, she told herself. You’re getting hysterical. Josie. That name still meant nothing to her, rang no bells. Josie. Was it short for Josephine? That was rather old-fashioned. Had she been named after someone in her family?

  She assumed she wasn’t married, since she wore no wedding ring. But did she have parents? A sister? Brother?

  A chill coursed through her.

  Brother. There was something disturbing about the thought of a brother. But what? Damn it, what?

  Oh, her head hurt.

  Max was right. Straining her brain, as he’d so eloquently put it, was making the pain in her head unbearable. For now, at least, she’d put the subject of a brother on the back burner.

  What she should be concentrating on was herself. Who was she? How old was she? Dear heaven, she didn’t even know what she looked like.

  Josie glanced quickly in the direction of the kitchen, where the sounds of pots and pans and slamming cupboard doors announced that Max was in the process of preparing her burned bacon.

  Slowly, tentatively, she got to her feet, one hand pressed to her aching forehead. On unsteady legs she made her way across the room and down a narrow hallway. Finding a small bathroom, she hesitated, then lifted her chin and stepped in front of the mirror above a rust-stained sink.

  A sob escaped her lips as she stared at her reflection.

  She was looking at a stranger.

  She had never seen the pale, stricken woman in the mirror before in her life.

  Unable to move, hardly breathing, Josie watched two tears slide down the stranger’s cheeks.

  Chapter Five

  Max set two plates of food on the table in the kitchen, then turned with the intention of going into the living room to tell Josie that dinner was ready. He stopped short when he saw her standing in the doorway.

  “Oh,” he said. “There you are. Well, such as it is, our meal is prepared.”

  Josie walked forward slowly. “Thank you. I hope you don’t mind that I wandered through your home. I found my suitcase on a bed in a room down the hall and changed into a fresh blouse and...” She paused and sank onto a chair at the table. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Max settled onto the chair opposite her. “Eat as much as you can. You need to keep your strength up and, who knows, maybe some food in your stomach will make your headache ease a bit. I don’t imagine you recall when you ate last.”

  “No.” Josie spread the paper napkin in her lap. “Except—” she frowned “—doughnut holes. Cinnamon doughnut holes. I seem to remember eating... No, it’s gone. It was just a flash, a picture of doughnut holes sort of floating through the air.”

  Max chuckled. “Too bad you can’t grab a handful of them. You’ll probably wish you had some after you taste my cooking.”

  Josie looked down at the offering on her plate. The bacon was, indeed, burned, but the scrambled eggs were a bit undercooked, the liquid beginning to edge its way around the plate.

  “Try the toast,” Max said, pushing a plate toward her. “I’m a culinary whiz at toast.”

  “I appreciate the effort you went to, Max. I feel like a nuisance, an intruder.”

  “Eat.”

  Josie picked up her fork and took a bit of eggs, forcing herself to chew and swallow. Max concentrated on consuming the food in front of him. Several minutes passed in total silence.

 
; “Max,” Josie said finally, “are you and I having an affair?”

  Max had just taken a mouthful of coffee. He choked on it, coughing so hard he got to his feet and thumped himself on the chest.

  “What kind of question is that?” he said when he could speak again.

  “A perfectly reasonable one,” Josie said, looking up at him. “You’re an extremely handsome man, who obviously isn’t married. I arrived with a suitcase, and you said I came in a taxi, which I apparently sent on its way, indicating I was planning to stay.

  “The condition of my hands and nails, plus the expensive clothes I found in my suitcase suggest that I didn’t come here to fill the position of a cleaning woman or housekeeper.

  “So back to my question. Am I here to be with you? Are we having an affair?”

  Max sank back onto his chair and glowered at Josie.

  “Aren’t you the little detective?” he said gruffly. “You have, I take it, reached the conclusion that you’re wealthy.”

  Josie shrugged. “It would appear so, from the quality of my clothes and the genuine leather suitcase they’re packed in.”

  “And since you tromped through my house, you realize I don’t have money.”

  Josie matched Max’s frown. “I haven’t given it any thought. What is becoming very clear now, however, is that you have a giant chip on your shoulder about it.”

  “Let’s just say that I wouldn’t be having an affair with a woman of your financial standing. Okay?”

  “That’s a ridiculous reason not to become involved with someone,” Josie said, her voice rising. “That’s reverse snobbery.”

  “Whatever,” he said, picking up his fork again. “Eat your dinner.”

  Josie leaned toward him. “You don’t even like me, do you?”

  “I don’t even know you, lady!” Max yelled.

  Oh, hell, he thought, he’d blown it. Josie had pushed, his temper had gotten in the way of his plan to keep his big mouth shut, and now she was staring at him with wide eyes.

  She was no dope, this Ms. Josie Wentworth, and he could virtually see the questions getting ready to tumble, one after the next, from those kissable lips of hers.

  “You don’t know me?” Josie said incredulously. “Then why am I here with a suitcase, giving the distinct impression that I intend to stay?”

  Be careful, Carter, Max warned himself. Maybe he could still pull this out of the fire. He had to tell Josie something, some little nibble to satisfy her for now. It had to sound halfway logical. Think, Carter. Or maybe he could lead Josie down another track altogether. Yeah, that was even better.

  “I hope you realize how fortunate you are that I’m an honorable man,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Honorable? Hell, he was turning into a bold-faced liar six ways to Sunday. “I could have answered that we were most definitely involved in an affair, then hustled you into bed as soon as you finished your lousy eggs.”

  Josie laughed. “Not a chance. I have a headache, remember?”

  Heat coiled so suddenly, so tightly and so painfully in Max’s belly at the sound of Josie’s lilting laughter that his breath caught.

  Look at her eyes, his mind thundered. Her big, fawn eyes were dancing, actually sparkling with merriment. Those lips, which were slowly, but surely, driving him insane with the desire to kiss them, were curved in a beautiful smile.

  The last thing he’d expected was for her to laugh, to fill his shabby little room with a sound like wind chimes. His increased desire knocked him for a loop.

  Josie patted her lips with the napkin and cleared her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, unable to hide the last trace of her smile. “I couldn’t resist.” She paused. “Well, now I know that I have a sense of humor.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” Max said, glaring at her.

  “And you don’t have a sense of humor, Mr. Carter. You may be the sexiest man in these parts, but you’re grumpy more often than not.”

  “I have a lot on my mind,” he muttered.

  Josie sighed. “I wish I did.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “I realize that having amnesia must be frightening, Josie. You just have to relax, allow things to come back to you on their own. You’re trying too hard, attempting to force it, and that obviously isn’t going to work.”

  “We’ll see. Will you at least tell me why I came to the Single C?”

  Back to square one, Max thought. Okay, he’d give her a nibble, just a nibble. Easy does it.

  “Okay, Josie,” he said, “here it is. You got a bee in your bonnet to look up an old friend of yours, who happens to be my cousin. She mentioned me and this ranch at some point, so you started here. As for the taxi...”

  He shrugged.

  “You planned to telephone for another one when you were ready to leave, I guess,” he went on. “You’ve already established the fact that you have plenty of money. You wouldn’t think twice about having a cab drive all the way back out here to pick you up.”

  “I’m looking for your cousin?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sabrina. She obviously isn’t here, though. In fact, I haven’t seen or heard from Sabrina in months.”

  “Sabrina,” Josie said, sinking back in her chair. “That name doesn’t ring any bells at all. She and I are old friends?”

  Max nodded. “You go way back. Old school chums or something. You lost track of her, you were bored or whatever, and you decided to track her down. You of the rich jet set can do that kind of thing when the mood strikes, of course.”

  Josie smacked the table with the palm of one hand, causing her coffee to slosh over the rim of the mug.

  “I’ve had quite enough of your nasty remarks regarding my economic status, Mr. Carter,” she said. “I have no idea why you’re so resentful of people in a higher tax bracket than you are, but I haven’t done anything to offend you. The bottom line? Knock...it...off, mister.”

  Dynamite, Max thought. Josie Wentworth angry was gorgeous beyond belief. Those incredible eyes of hers were now shooting laser beams at him, and her pale cheeks were flushed a pretty pink.

  In the short time since she’d arrived to turn his life upside down, he’d seen her in so many different ways: sleeping like an innocent child, frightened and vulnerable, smiling and laughing, and now angry as a wet hen.

  She was quite a package, all right, layer upon layer. She was obviously intelligent, too, as evidenced by some of the conclusions she’d drawn about herself.

  Oh, yeah, Josie was really something. She also possessed the ability to cause heated desire to rocket through him at every turn.

  Lord, how he wanted this woman.

  He couldn’t remember his body ever being so out of control. Josie was capable of pushing his buttons by doing nothing more than just being herself, just being here.

  Well, forget it. He wasn’t succumbing to the passion she evoked in him. He had no intention of becoming Josie’s lover while she was at the Single C. He was a caregiver, nursing her back to health.

  “Fine,” he said. “I won’t make any more remarks about your money or my lack of it.”

  “Thank you,” Josie said, adding an indignant little sniff for good measure. “That’s only fair, you know. Maybe I earned every dime I have.

  “Let’s see. My parents were poor, struggling to make ends meet, living paycheck to paycheck. I made up my mind early on that I wouldn’t live my entire life that way. I worked hard and became a...an aeronautical engineer.” She smiled. “How’s that?”

  “Oh, okay,” Max said, chuckling. “That’s very impressive.”

  Josie’s smile disappeared. “Oh, Max, you have such a nice smile, you really do. You should use it more often.”

  “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Good.”

  Their eyes met, held, and the room, the burned bacon and runny eggs, faded into oblivion. A strange mist seemed to swirl around them, encasing them in a cocoon tha
t hummed with building, thrumming desire.

  Max, Josie’s mind whispered. Those eyes of his, those dark, compelling eyes, were pinning her in place, making it difficult to breathe.

  Max. He was so big and strong, so powerful. What would it be like to be held in those beautifully muscled arms, then nestled against that rugged, massive body? He’d claim her lips, softly at first, then demanding more, which she’d give in total abandon.

  Max. To make love with a man like him was beyond even her imagination. But...yes, he’d temper his strength with gentleness, put her pleasure before his own. He’d be an exquisite lover like none she’d ever experienced before. Somehow she just knew it.

  Such heat. Dear heaven, the heat within her was like licking flames, consuming her with the want, the need, of Max Carter.

  “Max?” Josie said, her voice trembling.

  “No,” he said, pulling his gaze from hers.

  “What’s happening? What are you doing to me? You felt it, too. I know you did.”

  “Forget it, Josie,” he said, getting to his feet. He planted his hands on the table and leaned toward her. “Yeah, okay, I felt it. I want you. I want to tear off your clothes and make love to you. Is that what you want to hear? Well, there, I’ve said it. But it isn’t going to happen, not a chance.”

  “I—”

  “No.” Max straightened and sliced one hand through the air. “This discussion is over. We’re healthy adults, who are extremely attracted to each other, but we’re not going to do a damn thing about it. I am not going to make love with you, Josie.”

  “Well, who asked you to?” she said, glaring at him.

  A very slow, very male smile crept onto Max’s face and broadened into a grin that sent shivers slithering down Josie’s spine.

  “Darlin’,” he said, “you did. It was there, loud and clear, in those fawn eyes of yours. Don’t ever play poker, Josie, unless you wear mirrored sunglasses.”

  “Oh, you are so arrogant, so cocky, so—”

  “Go for it. Think up a whole list of rotten adjectives that apply to me. It’ll give you something to do until you get your memory back. I’ve got chores to tend to.”