by Sakwa, Kim
“I’m okay,” she said, answering his unspoken question. His eyes softened. “It’s nice to be outside.” She crinkled her nose. “Even with you know who”—Amanda motioned with her head toward Evan, who was sitting at the large table on the terrace—“as my constant shadow.”
“It’s necessary.” He reached out to inspect each of her wrists, his fingers skimming the discoloration, which had lightened to a pale yellow. Then his large hand wrapped around her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Would you care for a reprieve?”
“Oh, yes,” she returned, rather animatedly. “Please.”
“Come.” He led her back inside, nodding to her in-house psychiatrist as they passed him.
“We’ll speak later, Amanda,” Dr. Childress called after them.
“Of course we will, Evan,” she answered back.
Helen was reading quietly on the sofa in the large sitting room adjacent to the kitchen. A Moses basket lay atop the large coffee table in front of her, with Zander sleeping inside. Amanda and Mr. Montgomery reached for the baby at the same time. His long arms beat her to it, but after a quick press of his lips to Zander’s crown, he placed her baby in her arms. Nestling him perfectly in the crook of her neck and at the proper angle for her to wrap her arm about him. Amanda turned to check the time where an oversized clock hung above the fireplace.
“O-seven hundred.”
Amanda grinned. “Thank you, Admiral.” She watched him pour a large mug of coffee, then look over his shoulder at her and raise an eyebrow, gesturing with the mug. At her “Duh,” he chuckled and brought it to her.
Callie came padding into the kitchen then, her favorite stuffed doggy in hand and blanket trailing behind her. “Morning, Mama…morning, Admiral.” Mr. Montgomery picked her up, his lips brushing her forehead. Callie settled her face on his shoulder and added two fingers to her mouth as her eyes closed.
It was the sweetest picture. If Amanda had a penny for each tender moment her house seemed to be filled with of late, she’d be a very wealthy woman. Not that she wasn’t already, she thought, laughing a bit to herself. Her thoughts were interrupted when Sam came in next.
“Morning,” she said, and Mr. Montgomery poured another cup of coffee, added some half-and-half, and held it out as she passed him. “Thanks, Alex.” Sam took a seat in one of the kitchen’s two large overstuffed chairs.
Stephen, finished his morning run on the beach, came in through the French doors and took the coffee his brother held out for him. “Hi, monkey,” he said to Callie, who opened her eyes and smiled.
Rosa bustled in then and got busy making a fresh pot of coffee and breakfast.
“Well, now that the gang’s all here,” Amanda said, smiling brightly.
“Did someone say gang?” Stan made a dramatic entrance from the terrace, doing his best TV cop impression. Callie giggled, which was the whole point, and he reached out and tweaked her nose. “I’m out for the next eight,” he said to Stephen. “Want me to wait ’til you’re showered?”
Stephen peered through the window where two more of their guys were stationed out back. Amanda had seen them earlier. Her estate had become a veritable fortress since the brothers Montgomery took over. Not that she hadn’t felt safe when it was just Stan in charge. She had. She equated the uptick in security these last few weeks quite frankly to Mr. Montgomery. He was, after all, the owner of a company worth hundreds of millions of dollars. She could only imagine what his net worth must be. Of course, the man who offered protection, and the best at that, needed to be protected too.
Stephen shook his head. “We’re good. See you tonight.” He held the door open and they all moved back out to the terrace, giving Rosa room to get breakfast together.
Sam lay down on a chaise and pulled up the throw at the end. It was still a bit chilly, and windier than normal. “Did you see the invite, Ammy?”
Amanda knew she was referring to the Night of the Stars charity event. Art Fisher had founded and chaired the gala for over ten years now, honoring and raising money for retired military personnel, wounded warriors and their families, as well as those who lost someone in service. She’d often performed in the past. This year, however, Amanda was supposed to help with the festivities. Her name wasn’t listed just in case she wasn’t ready to come out of hiding, but Art had been hoping that after the baby was born, she’d start to take her place once again in society. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Amanda breathed on a sigh. “Didn’t it?”
Sam chuckled, “Yeah, at the time it did.”
Mr. Montgomery leaned against the railing as the sun rose behind him. It was quite the picture. Jeans or trousers, a button-down or a T-shirt, the man may as well be perennially stepping off the cover of GQ. “Night of the Stars? I actually have a table for the event,” he told her. Then he smiled and shook his head, his thick dark hair rustling in the wind. “Art made me sign a contract that I would continue to be the benefactor and cochair moving forward, until, of course, he decides to retire. At which point, I’ll likely be the official chair.” His phone rang, then and after taking the call he said, “Seems I’m heading to the office early.”
Amanda frowned, a bit sad that he was leaving already. She watched as he knelt by Callie, who was now resting on the chaise with Sam. He’d taken to dropping her off at school on his ride into town most mornings. Amanda couldn’t say it bothered her—she absolutely hated the chaos of school drop-off—and besides, her daughter couldn’t be in better hands. Callie smiled brightly at something Alex said to her, not that Amanda knew what since they often spoke in another frigging language. Though, it actually was quite comical. Her giggles subsided, and he lay his large hand atop Callie’s head a long moment before coming her way.
“Grab something to eat on the way out,” Amanda said as he stopped to look down at her and gently squeeze her shoulder. He didn’t move and continued to stare. She finally rolled her eyes and smiled again, “I’m fine. Really.” He smiled back, nodded, and went back inside. Stephen walked him out and before she knew it, they were having breakfast and getting Callie ready for school. Then the day passed in a whirlwind.
While Callie was at school, Amanda went down to her dance studio. It was just in the lower level of the house, but it was the first time in the weeks since she’d been home that she’d done something like this. Turning on some music, she smiled as One Republic’s “Secrets” started playing. She hit the auto-repeat button and lost herself in the music for close to an hour, wondering just what her secrets were and when she would remember them.
Later that afternoon, Amanda drove with Stephen to pick up Callie from school, elated to resume some semblance of her routine. Evan’s constant assurance to pick up where she’d left off and continue to let nature take its course helped. They ribbed one another, but she really did like him and knew he wanted only what was best for her. Callie was so happy to see her when her class came outside, she ran the entire way to the car, where Stephen lifted her inside and buckled her in. Amanda wasn’t sure how the name Stephen translated to “Aboon” with Callie’s speech impediment, but it was really cute all the same.
“Can we go swimming after I finish my homework?” Callie asked.
“Of course, sweetie.” Amanda cupped the side of her face. “Now, tell me what you learned today.”
A few hours later, they did just that. Sam joined them, of course, but so did Stephen, and then when Stan came on shift again, and Callie asked him to come in, he didn’t resist. It was a veritable late-afternoon pool party. There was only one person missing. Al—Mr. Montgomery, she self-corrected. Lately, he’d been the one to pick Callie up from school, always just so happening to be on his way back around that time. Callie, Amanda knew, loved it. She had a beaming smile each time he lifted her down from the truck just before she’d run to tell Amanda all about her day. Then Mr. Montgomery and his brother would adjourn to the living room, kitchen, or terrace
to discuss work before they all had dinner together.
Amanda thought back to one of the first times she’d come upon him after he and Stephen had finished one of their afternoon meetings. She’d just come downstairs to find him sitting at the bar, and found she liked that he was so comfortable at her house. Jeez, there were times when she thought he was more comfortable in her home than she was. And again, she’d noted how much she was drawn to him—it was more than just that he was incredibly handsome, but she didn’t know what. Yet. She’d watched him then for a moment before he sensed her standing there. He always caught her when she was looking.
“Rough day at work?” she’d asked casually in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
He’d smiled and fingered the files in front of him. “It’s not the work. It’s the contracts I seem to have a problem with.”
He’d rubbed his eyes and motioned to the stool next to him in invitation. She’d needed no further prodding, happy for his company, and took a look at the documents. She flipped through the first of what had to be twelve three-inch-thick document bundles.
“Alex,” she’d ventured, only the second time she’d called him by his first name, “you have a whole staff of attorneys.”
“I do. But Chris advised me that Montgomery Enterprises should be our parent company and Calder Defense one of our holdings,” he’d said wearily.
That he shared something so significant made her feel a part of it too. Which really was how being under the protection of the brothers Montgomery made her feel anyway.
“And you’re reading these,” she’d said, holding one up to clarify, “from cover to cover?”
“It’s our family business, Amanda. Are you telling me that’s not what I’m supposed to do?”
“I realize you’re British,” she said, patting his hand as she used his heritage as a silly explanation of his behavior, “but do you have a law degree?”
“No.”
“Look,” she’d said, leveling with him. “Anytime I have to sign a legal document, my attorney explains what I’m signing. Informs me if any changes were made to the original contract, and if so, what they were. Then I sign it. That’s why I hire an attorney. They’re liable.”
“Shouldn’t I know exactly what I’m signing my name to?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s why you have Chris and a staff of attorneys. I have to tell you, what’s written in twelve lengthy paragraphs, they can sum up in a sentence or two.”
“You’re remarkably smart,” he’d said, which had made her blush.
“You always surprise me,” she’d said, feeling suddenly self-conscious as his fingers had skimmed the side of her face to move an errant wisp of hair behind her ear.
“How?” he’d asked, his voice quiet, fingers still in her hair.
She’d caught herself a moment too late leaning into the touch. She’d been so comfortable with him in that moment that she’d answered his question honestly. “I expect you to be arrogant. You’re so not.”
Zander’s cry jarred her from her thoughts and Amanda excused herself from the pool party to take him upstairs for an early evening feeding. While he rested, she showered and changed, eager to rejoin everyone for dinner. She smiled as they started back outside, hearing voices, one in particular. She had to admit, she was becoming more than fascinated with the man. Odd that it happened to be another Alexander Montgomery who held her interest.
“I smell meat,” Amanda announced as she walked out onto the stone patio, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. “Mmm.”
Alexander smiled at the display. She was wearing one of her favorite cashmere lounge pants and hoodie sets. Her hair was pulled back, her face freshly scrubbed, and she was barefoot. Helen was on her heels, Zander in her arms. It had been three weeks since he’d brought her home. Between her memory loss, exhaustion, and the rigors of their very demanding son, she seemed to acquiesce to the new order of things without much of a fight.
Just as he’d hoped, she’d accepted his presence easily given that Stephen was assigned as her full-time security detail. Amanda assumed Alexander came over early to go over schedules and paperwork with his brother. By the time Amanda realized he’d been taking Callie to school each morning on his way to the office a week had already passed. He’d started to explain he was just as capable as Stan or Stephen, when she’d actually stopped him midsentence, stood right in front of him, and said, “You travel with fifteen men, a five-truck convoy, you’re all armed, and you”—she’d reached out and touched his arm—“I trust you, Alex.” He knew she’d been about to say “And you brought me home,” but “I trust you, Alex” was better and also the first time she had called him by his name. Most afternoons—at least until today when Amanda resumed fetching their daughter from school—he’d timed his return to pick Callie up on the way home as well. Then a couple hours later he’d come back for dinner. Amanda liked how close he and Stephen were. She actually encouraged him to come and stay. It was brilliant.
“What’s for dinner?” Amanda asked.
He rolled his eyes at her. “Really?” If he was grilling, it was steak and she knew it. Thank God she’d slept through his first attempt a few days after he’d brought her home. He’d nearly lost his hair and blew up the house. Callie thought it was hysterical. Michael and Trevor too. Despite their training and understanding of present-day life and gadgets, there were obviously still some intricacies they had yet to learn.
Amanda smiled at his sarcasm then sat down on the sofa overlooking the pool deck. She held her hands out for Zander. “Hi, baby. Mama’s here.” Helen fussed with the pillows behind her and pushed her down so she was reclining. “Seriously, Helen?” Her nurse only smirked, loving her job—one, Alexander had to admit, she excelled at. He had to keep from laughing when she actually told him so in French, then Stephen joined in their conversation.
Alexander watched as Sam and Callie walked back from the pool and headed toward Amanda on the sofa. Callie ran over, gave her a kiss, and placed a big wet one on her brother before skipping over to Alexander and latching on to his thigh. Out of the corner of his eye, Alexander saw Amanda notice and smile to herself.
Sam gave Amanda a look as she grabbed a drink from the cart. “They are so rude.”
“Tell me about it.”
Probably to show how annoyed she was to be left out of the conversation en français, Amanda took that moment to turn up her music—loud. Alexander bristled. “If I Die Young,” by, if he remembered correctly, The Band Perry. Beautiful music but he hated the lyrics. His wife’s love of music had spurred his own, and a soundtrack of her favorite artists always played in his mind now. One of the first things he’d done in the twenty-first century (after figuring out what a computer even was, let alone how to turn it on and download music) was seek out all the artists he’d remembered her telling him about as they sat by the fire, or that she’d played for him on the piano. He nudged Callie, who was still barnacled to his leg, and motioned with his head. She grinned and skipped over to her mother. Amanda snaked an arm around her as Callie bent to kiss her and snatch her phone at the same time.
“Callesandra Eleanor!” Amanda undoubtedly knew what she was up to, and knew he put her up to it. She faked being angry for a moment before dissolving into laughter. Alexander loved seeing her so happy, so lighthearted. It was like they were a whole family again. Well, almost. He had to admit, life was better here—now—in this time. There was a freedom, a difference on every level of what could be. Simplicity of their former life aside, there was this inexplicable sense of ease. Which may seem ridiculous considering he now ran a multimillion-dollar conglomerate. But where his family was concerned, they were beginning to display a carefree-ness that he’d not experienced before, even when Amanda became his wife in the past. And it was nothing like the grim notion of family he’d been brought up with. Callie trotted over and brought the phone back to him. Rosa came and
grabbed the platter of steaks he finished grilling. As Amanda watched him, he winked at Callie and hit the song he wanted to play. “Anytime” by Journey. Amanda snorted. Loud. Alexander laughed, picked up Callie, and danced her back over to her mother.
“How can you be cross with such an adorable child?”
“Oh, she knows,” Amanda teased. “I’d run if I were you, Callie. You know Mama means business when you break the rules.”
“I think her mama’s the rule breaker,” he muttered in response.
“Oh, tomato…tomahto…” Amanda said with a casual wave of her hand.
“Is that your answer for everything?”
“Listen, Mr. I-Know-What’s-Best-for-You-and-Your-Family…I have a very sound parenting plan.”
Alexander knew the look on his face conveyed just how ridiculous he found that statement. “Just so we’re clear, sweetheart—you think chasing your daughter and tickling her until she cries mercy is a brilliant discipline technique?”
Amanda grinned, obviously ignoring his sarcasm. “Of course.”
“Bloody hell.”
Callie yelled for the swear jar as he put her down. He chased her and tickled her ’til she cried mercy, then nudged her toward the supper table.
“See?” Amanda told him.
He grinned in response and approached her to pluck Zander off her chest so he could help her up. She stepped on his foot and thumped right into him. Brilliant. He wrapped his free arm around her. Pulled her in tight to steady her. “Alright?” he asked.
Amanda nodded, gripping his shirt for balance, but didn’t attempt to move. Her head tilted ever so slightly as her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply. The gesture seemed reflexive on her part. A deep primitive instinct triggered by having your mate in your arms. He felt exactly the same. She remained completely still, making him wonder if there was something there—some memory, perhaps? Bloody hell. His nostrils flared as his body responded to her. She smelled amazing. It felt so good to have her pressed up against him. He was loath to remove his arms from around her back.