by Leanne Banks
He glanced up. “Here they come. Do you want me to give you names or—”
“No! Let me guess. I’m getting more and more of my memory back. Let me see what I remember.” She got out of the car and was immediately greeted by twin boys, pre-school age, and a girl, slightly older, followed by two couples. Her memory creaked like a rusty wheel. “I did some baby-sitting for you,” she said.
The twins gave big nods. “And you let us eat cookies,” one of them said.
“For dinner,” the other one added.
The little girl covered her mouth and made a shushing sound. “You weren’t supposed to tell!”
“Starts with a J,” Alisa murmured.
“Jeremy,” one of the twins said proudly. “I’m Jeremy and I start with a J. Aunt Amy told me.”
Alisa laughed and tried to concentrate. “Emily.”
Emily’s eyes lit up and she nodded with a huge smile. She mouthed the letter N.
The cue did the trick. “Nick,” she said, delighted with herself.
He nodded and stepped closer to her. He pointed his finger at her head. “You bonked your head. Are you all better?”
“Mostly better.”
“Can you still bake cookies?”
She heard Dylan’s muffled chuckle and smiled. “I brought some cookies with me and I need someone to tell me if I baked them correctly.”
The twins jumped up and down. “Me! Me! Me!”
“After dinner,” a red-haired woman said, then turned to Alisa. “No more guessing games. Save your brain strain for something more important. I’m Amy, Justin’s wife.”
Alisa immediately liked the woman all over again. “Thanks,” she said and glanced at Justin. “How’s the market?”
He blinked in surprise. “Hey I saw you in the hospital and you didn’t remember squat. You’re remembering everything.”
“Breakthrough day,” she said, riding the wave. She looked at her hosts. “Michael and Kate, it’s nice of you to invite me.”
Both Michael and Kate embraced her. “We’re so glad you’re okay,” Kate said sincerely.
Overwhelmed with emotion at finding another part of herself that had been lost, Alisa struggled with tears. Floundering, she instinctively looked for Dylan.
Correctly reading her face, he put his arm at her back. “I need some help with these cookies,” he said, taking the pressure off Alisa. “How soon can we have those burgers?”
The kids clamored for the cookies, and the group scattered.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“No problem. Remember, you’re recovering.”
“Nice way of saying I’m difficult?” she asked wryly.
“I did not use the ‘D’ word,” he said firmly.
“You know everything that has happened to me since the accident has been a roller-coaster ride. I don’t understand why you’ve stuck with it.”
His gaze held hers. “I have my reasons.”
She would love to know what those reasons were, but she wouldn’t be finding out tonight, she realized as they neared a long picnic table. Alisa enjoyed a lighthearted hour with the adults and children. Kate and Amy made her feel at ease and brought her up to speed on recent events in their families.
“The adoption has been official for several weeks now,” Amy said. “Justin has been great for all of us.”
“Who would have known,” Kate said, “that our allergic-to-marriage-tightwad-millionaire could be such a great instant dad?”
“He was a good guy when he was a kid,” Alisa said.
Amy raised her eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Kate. “You remember back that far?”
“I remember some,” Alisa said. “I remember my childhood, but it gets sketchy during my teen years. Very recent memories are starting to come back. I wish I remembered more about Dylan. He’s done so much for me since the accident, but I can hardly recall anything about him after I was about twelve years old. I just have all these feelings I can’t explain.”
Turning silent, Kate and Amy looked at her with concern. Kate sat down beside Alisa and gave her a quick squeeze. “You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself time. No matter what you remember or don’t remember, there are people who care for you deeply, and we’re all relieved that you’re getting better. And if you need anything at all, you are to call me.”
“Or me,” Amy said.
Alisa sighed, taking comfort in Kate’s words and the support both women offered her. At the same time, however, she knew she wouldn’t rest until her memory filled in some very important gaps.
Nick and Jeremy raced to stand in front of her. Cookie crumbs dotted their chins. “So far, we think the cookies are good,” Nick said.
“But we need to eat some more to make sure,” Jeremy said with a craftiness beyond his four years.
Amy intervened. “How many cookies have you eaten?”
“Not many,” Jeremy said.
Emily walked up behind them. “Four cookies each,” she said.
The boys glared at her.
“You’ve had enough. I don’t want you getting sick in Justin’s car again.” She winced in Alisa’s direction. “The joys of fatherhood.”
Alisa glanced at Justin. Her attention naturally shifted to the man beside him—Dylan. She wondered what his children would look like. She wondered what kind of father he might be. She wondered what kind of wife he might choose, and immediately felt a twist of something very close to envy. Uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts, she turned her attention to Amy and her children. “Feel free to take some cookies home.”
Dylan strolled to her side and whispered in her ear, “See, I told you all the boys want your cookies.”
His playful, seductive tone heated her blood. “You never answered me. Does that include you?”
Dylan paused. “Sometimes we want what we can’t have.”
She felt a dart of impatience. “Why does this sound like forbidden cookies?”
Later that night Alisa dreamed of Dylan again. He kissed her lips and touched her body. His arousal made her burn. She wanted more, so much more. She wanted him closer than close. He touched her intimately and just as she drew close to ecstasy, his image faded.
“No! Don’t go!” she yelled, waking herself. She sat up breathing heavily, her breasts heavy with arousal, her skin warm, and between her legs she was swollen with need.
Frustrated beyond belief, she tossed off her covers and could not withhold a shriek. She would have preferred to scream at the top of her lungs, but she didn’t want to wake Dylan.
Forgoing the lamp on her bedside table for cool air, she padded across the floor to the balcony and threw open the French doors.
A second passed before Dylan burst into her room. “What’s wrong? Another bad dream?”
She glared at the cause of her restless nights. His bare chest gleamed in the moonlight, his black slacks had been hastily drawn on. They were unbuttoned. She suspected he was naked beneath them. “In a manner of speaking,” she said.
He stepped closer and touched her face. “Your skin is warm. Are you sick?”
“Probably,” Alisa said with irony and tilted her head away from him. “I’m fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from him. “You can go back to bed.”
“What’s going on?”
She was unbearably frustrated. What did she have to lose by telling the truth? “I’ve been having bad dreams about you,” she said.
“Bad? How?”
She paused a second, then shrugged. “Erotic dreams.”
A long, thick silence followed. “Oh.”
“I keep dreaming you’re kissing me and making love to me, and we get closer and closer. Just when I want you most, you fade away.” She took a breath and closed her eyes, willing her heart rate to slow. “Why do I keep dreaming about you? Why are you so important? What were we before my accident?” she asked, opening her eyes and turning to face him.
“Our relationship was comp
licated.”
“How?” she asked, drowning in his dark eyes. “Tell me,” she whispered, moving so close to him she could feel the heat of his body. “Show me.”
His eyes narrowed, then it was as if something inside ripped. He slid his hand through her hair and drew her mouth to his. He devoured her as if he’d wanted her for a very long time, as if she were a need long denied. She felt plundered and seduced, immediately, fully aroused.
“You make it difficult for me to do the right thing,” he muttered against her mouth.
“I’m not sure we agree on what the right thing is,” she said, and pulled his mouth to hers again. She tasted his dark, masculine flavor and was filled with the familiar desire for more.
He pulled back slightly and rubbed his hands over her shoulders, pushing one of the straps of her chemise down over her shoulder. “I saw you when you were naked on the balcony. I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.”
“That’s fair,” she said breathlessly, holding his gaze. “You’ve been keeping me awake.”
A flame lit in his eyes and with one finger, he dragged the other strap of her chemise down. She held her breath as he slid his index finger down over her chest to the swell of her breast, then deliberately lower over her nipple. The silky chemise fell to her waist, baring her breasts to his gaze.
She felt him drink in the sight of her as he slid his finger around her nipple in a circular motion. Alisa inhaled a shaky breath that drew his attention to her face. He backed her against the wall and meshed his chest with her breasts. Alisa sighed at the exquisite sensation.
French kissing her, he slid his hands down to her hips and guided her against his hardness. He stepped between her thighs and rocked intimately against the cradle of her femininity.
He made a low moan of pleasure that vibrated throughout her and dipped his head to taste the hardened tips of her breasts. Leaning her head helplessly back against the wall, Alisa felt the roar of arousal in her blood and let it take her higher and higher.
She felt the cool night air on her bare legs, then his thighs intertwined with hers. His touch felt new and somehow not new. It was as if he knew her body. How? she wondered.
His fingers slid beneath her panties, and she gasped in surprise.
“You feel so good,” he told her, finding her sensitive pleasure point. “Like velvet.”
Alisa wanted more. She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted him as out of control as she felt. She opened her mouth, but his stroking fingers stole her words. Plunging a finger inside her, he rubbed her bead of sensitivity with his thumb. With each stroke, the coil inside her tightened. Heat suffused her, and a spasm of pleasure ripped through her.
She shuddered against him as the aftershocks of his touch shook her. Inhaling deeply, she clung to him, overwhelmingly aware of his unspent passion. His arousal was more than a body part; it was so powerful it permeated the air she breathed. “I didn’t want it to be that way,” she told him in a low voice. “I wanted you—”
“—you’re not ready,” he said flatly. “You’re still recovering.”
On the heels of their intimacy, his tone jarred her. “I think I’m the better judge of that.”
Silence followed, and his disagreement hung between them. It hardly seemed possible, but Alisa felt shut out and rejected, and it hurt. “Why did you kiss me and touch me?”
“You needed the release,” he said in a low voice. “I could give you that.”
“So it was like a favor?” she asked, feeling her heart contract painfully. Humiliation trickled in like acid. She stepped back and pulled her gown up to cover herself.
He reached for her, but she stepped back. “It wasn’t a favor. You could feel my response.”
She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand this.”
“I told you you’re not ready.”
“I don’t buy that,” she said. “I wanted you and you held back. Did I hurt you and I don’t remember it? Did I betray you in some way?”
He stiffened as if she’d struck him. “No, but I know you wouldn’t forgive me for taking advantage of you.”
“You wouldn’t have been taking advantage of me. I made it perfectly clear that I wanted you.” She shook her head again. “The only thing you’ve done is totally confuse me. I didn’t want a favor. I have all these feelings for you and I don’t know where they come from. They’re so strong I don’t know what to do with them. I wanted to make love to you. I wanted to be your lover and for you to be mine. This was about more than release. Don’t do me any more favors. I can turn on the cold water in the shower just as easily as the next person,” she said, and left him on the balcony.
Walking directly to the bathroom, she closed the door behind her and stripped. She turned on the cold water and stepped under the punishing, chilly spray. She needed to wash Dylan out of her head and body. She just wasn’t sure a cold shower would get him out of her soul.
Dylan spent the night restlessly pacing his bedroom. His aroused body quarreled with his sense of honor. Why hadn’t he taken Alisa when he could have? She had wanted him. Why was he denying himself and her?
The answer came immediately. Her memory would return sometime. The impending knowledge hung over his head like the blade of a guillotine, poised to fall at any minute. Alisa would remember the betrayal. Worse for Dylan, she would remember her disillusionment with him.
Even having the certainty of her waning feelings staring him in the face, he hated that his denial had hurt her. Her doctor had told him not to rush any traumatic memories. Alisa had enough to deal with by facing each day, one day at a time.
Dylan knew his purpose was to help her heal. That was where he had to keep his focus.
The following morning Alisa came downstairs, but didn’t sit down to join him for breakfast. Her gaze was tumultuous. Frustration and confusion warred for domination on her features. Dylan stood.
She folded her hands in front of her. “I think it might be best for me to go back to staying at my apartment. I remember French, so I can also go back to work….”
“Your doctor still hasn’t released you,” he told her, feeling his gut twist.
“He will soon, especially if I press him,” she countered.
“One more week,” Dylan suggested. “You can try going to work half days. Stay here and I’ll take you.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel responsible for you,” he told her.
“That’s getting old.”
“Okay, then you owe me,” he said, ruthlessly taking another tack. “I brought you here to take care of you. In exchange I want you to remain here one more week and be hostess when I invite my pseudo siblings for dinner.”
Six
Alisa gaped at Dylan in surprise. She knew he joked about many things, but his sense of humor seemed to abandon him when it came to the subject of family. Despite her humiliation over last night, she couldn’t help feeling strangely honored that he would include her in anything involving his father’s children. “Did I hear you correctly? You want me to stay another week to help plan a dinner with your half brothers and sister? I thought you couldn’t stand them.”
He shook his head. “There’s a difference between active dislike and apathy. Don’t mistake this as an opportunity for a big emotional reunion.”
“Then why are you inviting them?”
He exhaled and hesitated a long moment. “There’s something I want, and it will be easier to get it if I have their cooperation.”
Business, Alisa concluded, and felt a trickle of disappointment. She couldn’t help thinking that if Dylan and his father’s children got acquainted, they would all be the richer for it. She could see, however, from Dylan’s stony expression that he had that door of possibility locked tighter than Fort Knox. Much like his heart.
“You look disappointed,” he said. “You need to get over this notion of happy endings. They just don’t happen every time.”
“I know they don’t happen eve
ry time,” Alisa said. “But if I give up on the possibility, then I’ll be cynical and unhappy like you. It may sound crazy, but I think hope is magic.” She lifted her chin at the glimmer of disbelief in his eyes and pointed her index finger gently at his chest. “Besides, I think you hope for more than you admit. Otherwise, why would you have spent so much time hoping for me to regain consciousness when the doctors said my chances weren’t very good?”
“That was different. It was a matter of life and death.” He closed his hand around her finger and lifted it to his lips. “And I know the world is a better place if you’re here.” He gave a wry smile and gently nipped her fingertip. “I’m not a total heartless cynic.”
Her heart raced at the combination of his touch and the intent expression in his eyes. She knew he wasn’t a total heartless cynic. That was a big part of her problem. He would be so much easier to dismiss if he were. Instead she got glimpses of the heart of Dylan that made her want more and more of him.
“Will you stay?” he asked.
Alisa tried to picture herself refusing Dylan and walking away, but she couldn’t. After all he had done for her, refusing him wasn’t possible.
“One week,” she said, pulling her finger from his lips. She had the strange sensation that she’d just agreed to a week-long emotional roller-coaster ride. How, she wondered, was she going to make herself stop wanting more of him?
The first couple of days, with the exception of riding to work with him in his car, she stayed away from Dylan. She planned the menu for the dinner with the housekeeper and sent written invitations to the addresses Dylan had given her. During the short commute, however, she was sensitive to his closeness. His scent stirred her, and she often felt him watching her. Alisa always had the sense that there was a caldron beneath his seemingly calm surface and that she had something to do with it. Thoughts of the night he’d kissed her heated and haunted her. Restless, she headed out to the horse barn and offered to help Meg with her classes. Looking outside of herself instead of always looking in provided her with a much-needed break.