by B. J Daniels
“I’d like to think you remembered me. Remembered…us.”
Her gaze flew up to meet his. Heat rushed through her. This man knew her. Intimately. Her face flamed and she dropped her gaze. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said easily, his voice deep and almost familiar.
She felt a chill as something like a memory skittered across her bare skin. Fingers, warm, soothing, searching. Bodies welded together with desire and sweat—She looked away, shocked. It couldn’t have been a memory. Couldn’t have been her.
“How did we meet?” she asked, almost afraid to hear it for fear he’d picked her up in some bar. Or worse.
She stole a glance at him and reminded herself that she’d had a good feeling about the man who’d fathered her baby. Then she listened as he recounted a story about a woman coming out of a storm on Christmas Eve a year ago, how his pickup had almost hit her, and when he’d jumped out of his truck, he’d found her lying in the snow with no knowledge of who she was—just the conviction that someone was trying to kill her.
Holly closed her eyes. How could she have spent all that time with him and not remember? “And I was with you from Christmas Eve through February twenty-sixth?”
“Yes.”
She took a breath. “We slept together.”
“We were lovers,” he said softly.
She opened her eyes. “Then it wasn’t…”
“A one-night stand? Hardly.” His gaze hardened. “We were in love.”
The words reverberated through her. In love? She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said he’d bought her from a wagonload of roving gypsies.
He must have seen her surprise. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing, and she realized she’d hurt him. “I was trying to find out who you were, but you seemed to have been dropped from the sky. Then I turned my back one day and you were gone with two hundred dollars of my money and some files from my office.”
She stared at him, horrified. First she’d fallen into bed with this man, convinced him she loved him, then stolen from him like a common thief? Tears burned her eyes. Maybe Inez was right. Maybe she forgot because of the horrible things she’d done. Or maybe none of this was true. Just as the baby the nurse had handed her at the hospital hadn’t been hers.
“Excuse me if I find this hard to believe….” She wouldn’t have believed anything he’d told her and would have called him a liar to his face, but he knew the exact dates of the days she’d lost. And there was the baby. Not to mention that flash, that image of the two of them, bodies locked in passion. It had felt like more than a memory as if the image was somehow branded not only in her brain, but on her skin. And there was the birthmark, the dimples.
And yet, she trusted none of it. “If we were in love, why would I steal from you and leave?” she challenged.
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving her face. “I was hoping you’d tell me that.”
She heard the bitterness in his voice. It was obvious he didn’t trust her. Why should he? She’d hurt him. No, not her. “I don’t know this other women you say you met this time last year.”
“Unless you have a twin sister…”
“I’m sure you know I don’t,” she said, then continued with her train of thought. “Nor can I imagine doing the things you say I’ve done.”
“Can’t you?” he asked, his gaze refuting her claim. She felt herself blush under the heat of it.
“Then explain why you came to me again on Christmas Eve,” he demanded. “Why you came to me for help a second time.”
“I can’t explain it,” she said. “I just had this feeling I had to hire you. I’m not sure any more what decisions are mine and which are—” She stopped, afraid to voice the fear that had haunted her for so long.
He was watching her, waiting.
She swallowed, realizing she had nothing to lose at this point. “I feel as if someone is…making me do things, things I normally wouldn’t do, things I can’t even imagine doing, and then wiping the memory from my mind.”
“Things you regret?”
“Yes,” she said, then added quickly, “Not everything. Not the baby. Not—” She waved a hand through the air. “I just need to remember, to understand what has been happening to me.” She fought back tears, hating the need to cry. Crying had done nothing to relieve the pain. Or to help.
She rubbed at her eyes and looked away from him, the doubts haunting her. She needed her pill. The thought surprised her. “The thing is, why would anyone go to the trouble of…making me do anything?” she asked, more to herself than him. “What could they possibly have to gain?”
“A baby.”
She turned to blink at him. “All of this for a baby?” she asked, incredulous.
He shrugged. “What else have they gained? It wouldn’t be the first time somebody wanted a baby so desperately that they did something…heinous.”
“Why my…our baby?” Her voice broke.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any more sense to me than it does you. If someone wanted a baby that badly, they could hire a surrogate. Or adopt. Or just steal an infant from a shopping cart at the grocery store.”
She shuddered at the thought. And yet her baby had been stolen by monsters and she’d seen it happen. Or had she?
“You think it’s possible then?” she asked.
“That someone is manipulating you?”
She nodded.
“I think anything is possible at this point.”
She felt a wave of relief wash over her. Followed by a jolt of sudden fear. “But what if—” She stopped, realizing what she was going to say as she remembered the feeling she’d had driving by his office Christmas Eve. She’d felt as if she had to stop and hire him. Did that mean that she trusted him? That subconsciously, she’d known to go to him again because he was the one person who would help her?
Or had the feeling been too strong? Almost as if she didn’t have a mind of her own? Almost as if someone had sent her to him?
The thought hit too close to what she’d come to suspect.
“Did anyone try to kill me while I was with you?” she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
“No.”
“Or try to find me?”
He frowned. “No.”
“Didn’t you find that strange?”
He seemed to study her. “Not at the time. I’m pretty good at what I do.”
She suspected he was. But maybe he didn’t realize who he was dealing with. Possibly, what he was dealing with.
“What if you were set up?” she asked. “We were set up? I could have been sent to you. Just as I might have been again this Christmas Eve.”
“Nice present,” he said with a lift of his brow.
“I’m serious. I felt as if I had to contact you.” She swallowed, the words sounding ludicrous even to her ears and yet they’d been words she’d said over and over again in her mind. “I’m not sure they aren’t controlling me right now and there is nothing I can do to stop them.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” he said, surprising her. “I think you’re starting to remember.” He sounded so calm and rational. “First you remembered our baby. Then that Scotch you served me tonight. You picked the brand I drink. You had no way of knowing that except to have remembered it.”
She stared at him, wanting desperately to grab hold of any line of hope he threw her.
“I think you’re starting to remember me,” he continued, his gaze as soft as his voice. “Remembering us. And that’s why you came to me. Again.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “I like your theory better than mine.”
He returned her smile. He had a nice smile. Oh, how she wished she could remember him. Desperately wished it. Because he was asking her to put her trust in him, to put her life in his hands. And she knew if he was the enemy, then he was the worst possible one she could imagine. The father of her baby. A man who knew her be
tter than she knew herself.
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday who you were?” She hadn’t meant to make it sound so much like an accusation.
“You weren’t ready to hear it yet,” he said matter-of-factly.
She watched him go to the window to pull back the curtain a fraction of an inch and look out, wondering what he was looking for, worse, what he was thinking.
“I hate to imagine what you must think of me,” she said. “I stole from you.” She knew that was the least of it.
“You and I spent over two months together,” he said without turning around. “I got to know you pretty well.”
Even without the flashes of possible memory, she could well imagine, since their liaison had ended in a pregnancy. “How is that possible when I didn’t even know me?”
He turned to look at her, his gaze softening. “The woman I knew was kind, generous, funny, smart, strong, brave, and…very…” The intensity of his gaze could have burned her. “…passionate.”
He’d just described a stranger. In her twenty-eight years, she’d never known passion. And yet when she looked into his eyes, she felt something. Just as she had when she’d thought she’d envisioned the two of them locked in each other’s arms.
She watched his features soften, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of his lips. “I liked you a lot, all things considered,” he said, lightening his tone.
“All things considered?”
“Considering you had no past and thought someone was trying to kill you.”
She let out a rueful laugh, still not sure she dared believe him. “I must have made for a fun date.”
“Yeah, you were,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get your things together. Whatever is going on, I’ll feel a whole lot safer away from here.”
Unsteadily, she got to her feet, avoiding the broken glass and spilled cola. Was he just being protective? Or did he really believe her? “The more I learn, the more I think I am crazy.”
“Well, I’m becoming more convinced that you aren’t,” he said. “Here, let me get that.” He went to the kitchen and came back with a broom, dustpan and towel. “Once we get the blood typing results from the hospital lab—”
“We might not have to exhume the body?” she asked, her voice full of hope.
He nodded as he finished cleaning up her spilled cola.
Then Inez might not have to know. Otherwise…otherwise, what would Inez do? What could she do? And why did the thought scare Holly so much?
“Inez can’t stop the exhumation if it comes to that,” he said, as if reading her mind. “This baby isn’t related to her either way.” He glanced up. “You should know, your sister-in-law has threatened to see you institutionalized again if you don’t drop this.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I warned you about her.”
“Inez doesn’t scare me.”
But she should, Holly thought with a shudder.
“I guess we’ll find out just how powerful your sister-in-law is,” he said. “Hurry and pack. I want to get out of here.”
She went to her bedroom and pulled out her suitcase, her mind racing. Doubts overwhelmed her as she packed. But she thought of her baby. If she hoped to get her little girl back, she knew she needed all the help she could get. And she had to believe in someone. Mostly, she was sick of being scared. She wanted to be that woman Slade had described, strong and brave.
She took a deep breath. Maybe she was starting to remember. Maybe Slade Rawlins was proof of it. He had the same birthmark—and the dimples. He drank Glenlivet and somehow she’d known that. And, more important, he seemed to believe her.
She realized how desperately she wanted to trust him. He gave her hope that they would find their baby and finally still the ache inside her. Hope that they would stop whoever was behind this and end the lapses in her memory, the fear for her sanity.
And yet, she knew it could all be a trap. If she was right, if someone had been messing with her mind—If that were true, couldn’t they have programmed her to do exactly what she was doing at this moment—packing to go with Slade?
She fought that horrible thought. No, she’d started to remember, and that’s why the monsters had had the Santa bell-ringer outside Slade’s office. They were afraid her memory was coming back, and that when that happened, she would go to Slade.
But now the monsters knew she’d done just that. They would try to stop her. And what better way than to use Slade to do it? a voice inside her head taunted. To pretend her baby had been his? To pretend they had been lovers? To pretend he was taking her some place safe?
She froze at the thought, a silk blouse in her hands. She brought the cool cloth to her face, fighting back tears. What if Slade was one of them? Wasn’t that her greatest fear? That he would give her hope, then snatch it away?
“Are you all right?” he asked from the doorway.
She turned, startled, and nodded slowly.
He moved to her in two long strides and, taking the blouse from her fingers, folded it into the suitcase. “We can buy you more clothes if you need them,” he said, snapping the case closed.
She nodded, feeling her eyes burn. She willed herself not to cry. She’d shed a million tears since the “lapses” in memory had begun, all wasted. Another million since the loss of her baby.
He touched her arm and she turned into him, stepping into his arms as naturally as if she’d done it dozens of times before. Maybe she had.
He held her, his arms strong and yet gentle around her. “We’re going to find them,” he breathed against her hair. “Find our baby if she’s out there. And bring down those bastards. I promise.”
The heat in his voice matched the warmth of his body. She leaned into his strength, soaking it in, telling herself she had to trust the instinct that had told her the father of her baby had been a good man.
And if it turned out her instincts were wrong about Slade Rawlins?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Her heart quickened as her body responded to being in his arms, the scent and feel of him teasing her memory. Taunting her with flashes of the two of them, naked as jaybirds, sweating and panting and—
She pulled back, stunned by the images. Even more stunned by the wanton desire she’d felt. But could she trust any of it? She looked at him, intensely aware just how dangerous this man could be if her instincts were wrong about him.
“I’m ready to go,” she said, the break in her voice betraying her.
“Good,” he said, but didn’t move as he reached to thumb a tear from her cheek, the pad of his thumb rough against her skin, both comforting and disturbing.
His look told of an intimacy between them that frightened—and fascinated—her. Her heart drummed, her pulse a roar in her ears as his gaze moved slowly, deliberately to her lips.
He was going to kiss her! The thought sent a bolt of panic through her. Panic. And a stirring inside her that made her weak. She stared, hypnotized as his full, sensual mouth hovered only a breath over hers, afraid he would kiss her, afraid he wouldn’t.
She waited, time suspended, her heart pounding as if to escape her chest. Would his kiss ignite that passion? Would it prove she was the woman he’d told her she’d been? The passionate, loving, blissfully satisfied woman she yearned to be? But mostly, would his kiss prove that he was telling her the truth, not only about him, but them?
Or would it only confirm that it had all been a lie, including a passion they had never shared.
His gaze rose again to her eyes and she knew. He wasn’t going to kiss her. She felt a stab of disappointment and turned away, groping for her suitcase.
His hand brushed hers as he reached around her to take the case from her. She thought she felt a tremor course through him as they touched.
“Come on,” he said, his voice as rough as his thumb had been. He dragged the suitcase from the bed and carried it into the living room.
Shaken and weak, her blood a dull thrum in her ears, she remembered her cosmet
ic case in the bathroom and went to get it, needing a few moments to herself.
When she came back out, he had the suitcase and the painting by the door. The broken glass was all cleared up.
The phone rang. Her gaze sprang to his. “Should I answer it?” she asked in a whisper, the apartment suddenly too quiet, the ringing too loud.
He seemed to hesitate. “Do you have caller ID?”
She nodded and stepped into the studio. “It’s Inez.”
“Wait.” The phone rang again. “Do you have an extension?” he asked so close behind her he startled her.
“In the bedroom.”
She let it ring once more, then picked up, watching through the bedroom door as he did the same. “Hello?” Her voice sounded strange even to her.
“Holly?” Inez demanded in a tone that belied her years. “What’s wrong?”
She wanted to laugh. Everything was wrong. Inez, of all people, should know that. But Inez put anything unpleasant from her mind, ordering the world to be the way she wanted it, come hell or high water.
That rankled Holly and shocked her. She usually had more patience with Inez. And yet part of her wondered why it hadn’t rankled long before now.
“What could be wrong?” she asked unable to hide the sarcasm, which, of course, was wasted on Inez.
“You sound…strange.”
She felt strange.
Slade gave her a warning look.
“I must have dozed off,” she improvised.
He nodded his approval.
“I was worried about you,” Inez said. Holly heard the clear, sharp tap of the elderly woman’s cane on stone. “I was concerned that you might have gone off on another one of your…escapades.”
Escapades? Was she referring to the pregnancy? Or the loss of the baby? Or was the “escapade” the hiring of Slade Rawlins? She felt a hot coal of resentment burning deep in her as she looked over at Slade. Why had she put up with Inez’s interference in her life for so long?
“I want to talk to you about the private detective you hired,” Inez said.
“This really isn’t a good time,” Holly said.