by Linda Turner
Heat flashed in his eyes, warming her inside and out as his hand covered hers, and a grin propped up one corner of his mouth. “Does that mean I have to close my eyes? We’re just getting to the good stuff, you know.”
She grinned and pulled him down for a lingering kiss. When he finally eased back, they were both breathless and needy. “No, you don’t have to close your eyes.” With an easy, incredibly seductive movement of her thumb, she slipped the buttons free.
“There are already enough secrets between us as it is—I don’t want any more. And it’s not as if you haven’t seen me before.”
She was right, but as she sat up and slowly pulled the gown over her head, a pretty blush firing her cheeks, Joe felt as if time was spiraling backwards to when they were first married, when she was shy and eager and sweet and they couldn’t get enough of each other. They’d laughed a lot in bed back then and thoroughly enjoyed each other. The shyness couldn’t last, of course, but she’d never lost her modesty, and somewhere along the way, he’d failed to even notice, let alone appreciate it. They’d both gotten caught up in their own careers, in life itself, and the laughter had died.
He wanted it back, he thought fiercely. He wanted back that wonderful something that they’d once had and let slip away. The Sunday mornings in bed with the comics. The shared bubble baths that had ended up flooding the bathroom floor. The strawberries and champagne at midnight. It was here now, so close it was almost in his grasp. All he had to do was find a way to hang on to it. And her.
Her gown landed on the floor beside his clothes, and his breath hissed out between his teeth. It always amazed him that she’d never thought of herself as pretty when she’d stopped him in his tracks the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Beauty had nothing to do with the world’s definition of classical good looks, but with what came from the soul. And Annie’s every emotion had always been right there in her face. She had a smile that was filled with warmth and laughter and eyes that spoke straight from the heart. She could sass with the best of them and cry over a lost puppy. If she was hurting, you knew it, and if she loved you, you knew that, too. And when she was at her most vulnerable, as she was now, she was breathtaking.
Her skin had always been flawless, but never more so than now, with pregnancy. She didn’t try to hide herself from him, but the blush that slowly stole up from her breasts told him that she was fighting the need to cover herself. Needing to touch her, to hold her, he gently enfolded her in his arms, only to clench his teeth on a moan as her breasts, fuller now than they had been just days ago, settled against the hard wall of his chest.
“Honey, if you had a clue what you did to me, you could make me do anything you wanted,” he groaned. “You’re killing me. You know that, don’t you?”
Her bare hip nudging his, she moved against him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Are your muscles hurting, too?”
“Witch,” he laughed. “I believe you mentioned something earlier about me warming you up.”
“No, I said I’d warm you,” she corrected, grinning. “I believe I’ve done that.”
“Oh, yeah, baby. I’m hot.” And with no more warning than that, he rolled with her in his arms, dragging her under him.
At first, he thought he had gone too far, too fast. She stiffened instantly, her hands gripping at him as if to push him away, and he silently cursed himself for rushing her. But then she dragged in a shuddering breath, and he could almost feel the tension gradually drain out of her.
In the sudden stillness, her eyes lifted to his. “Okay?” he asked huskily.
She nodded, forcing her hands to release him, but only so she could loop her arms around his neck. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “That’s the only memory I want to have when you hold me like this.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. Gathering her close, he kissed her hungrily, the patience he’d been so determined to give her quickly unraveling. “You want memories, sweetheart, I’ll give you memories.”
Giving in to the need that burned like a fire in his belly, he trailed his hands over her bare skin, warming her breasts, her stomach, the inside of her thighs, the very heart of her. Startled, she cried out and bucked against him, but he only recharted the same course with his mouth. She was still shuddering when he worked his way up her body to capture a pouting nipple in his mouth. Suckling her, he nearly lost it when she whimpered and clamped her hands around his head to hold him close.
“Joe!”
“I know, honey,” he said raggedly, blowing softly on her sensitive nipple. “But it gets better.” And to prove it, he twirled his tongue around that same damp nipple as if he was licking an ice-cream cone. Clutching at him, she nearly came up off the bed.
Fantasies. He gave her every fantasy she’d ever had and some she’d never dreamed of, teaching her things about her body that would have shocked her by the light of day. He loved every inch of her and she loved it. She sobbed and cried and wept with the beauty of it, and more often than not, she didn’t know where her body ended and his began. And when she came apart in his arms for the third time before he took his own pleasure, the only memories in her head were those of Joe and his loving.
Chapter 9
Cuddled close in his arms, her head against his chest and the reassuring cadence of his heart pulsing in her ear, Annie stared dreamily out the cabin window and watched dawn slowly crack the darkness of the night. The blue norther that had raced through the previous afternoon was halfway to San Antonio by now and still blowing strong. The rain and sleet were gone, taking the clouds with them, and as she watched the morning sunshine creep across the land, the sky turned a beautiful deep blue.
The fire had long since burned itself out, and the air had a definite chill to it, but with Joe warming her like a blast furnace, she didn’t need any other heat but his. Snuggling against him, she felt his arms tighten around her and smiled. He’d been awake nearly as long as she had and had been content to just hold her.
Dropping a soft kiss to his chest, she could have lain in his arms all morning, but after the night—and the loving— they had shared, she knew they could no longer pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Joe?”
Nuzzling her neck, he buried his face in her hair. “Hmm?”
“We need to talk.”
She felt him smile, then his hands began a slow exploration under the covers, warming her, making her muscles go weak one by one. “You talk and I’ll listen,” he growled. “Damn, you feel good in the morning, sweetheart. I’ve missed waking up with you like this.”
The admission distracted her as nothing else could, and with a murmur of pleasure, she found his mouth and kissed him sweetly. When she would have pulled back, however, he groaned a protest and took the kiss deeper, his mouth avid and hungry on hers. Melting, she clung to him and tried to remember what was so important that she had to talk about it now.
She was breathless when he finally let her up for air, her blood warm in her veins. Her head slowly clearing, she stroked her hand down his back under the covers and said softly, “We have to talk about the baby, Joe.”
He stiffened immediately. “No, we don’t.”
“But we can’t ignore the situation. Not after last night—”
“Do you remember who the father is?”
“No, but—”
“Then there’s nothing to talk about.” Untangling himself from her arms, he slipped out of bed and drew the covers back over her before reaching for his clothes, his aw rigid. “Stay in bed until I get a fire lit. I’ve got to get more wood.”
He was gone before she could protest, shutting the front oor sharply behind him as he stepped out on the porch. When he returned a few minutes later, he didn’t spare her a glance, but strode straight to the fireplace and knelt to rekindle the fire that had burned down to nothing but glowing ashes. His movements stiff and jerky, the set of his broad shoulders unyielding, he shut her out without saying a word.
Huddled a
gainst the headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest and the covers just barely reaching her bare shoulders, she shivered, but not from the cold. Don’t! she wanted to cry. We have to find a way to work this out. To decide what we’re going to do if the baby turns out not to be yours. If last night meant anything at all—
But no words of love had been spoken in the dark. No undying vows of everlasting devotion had been whispered in her ear. He’d promised her memories, nothing else, and he’d delivered. Until she remembered the past, they were likely to be the only ones she had.
In no time at all, he had the fire blazing again, with enough firewood neatly stacked at one end of the hearth to keep it burning for hours. There was no reason for him to go back outside, but when he turned away from the fireplace, he headed for the front door.
Surprised, Annie sat up straighter, clutching the covers to her breasts. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk,” he retorted, jerking open the door. “Don’t wait breakfast for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
He didn’t ask her if she wanted to go with him, or give her time to make the suggestion herself. The door shut with a snap behind him and he was gone. Staring after him, her eyes stinging with unexpected tears, Annie told herself that he just needed some time to himself. And who could blame him? She wasn’t the only one who suffered because of her amnesia. He didn’t know if he was going to be a father or a duped husband, and there was no answer she could give him, nothing she could say that would end the turmoil he had to be feeling. All she could do was leave him alone and let him come to grips with it in his own way.
Determinedly dragging her gaze away from the door, she grabbed her clothes and escaped to the bathroom for a shower. Twenty minutes later, she still had the cabin to herself. Tempted to glance out one of the front windows to see if she could spot Joe, she did no such thing, but started breakfast instead in the hope that he would back any minute. And when he walked through the front door, she didn’t want him to find her pacing the floor and worrying just because they’d had a little disagreement. She did, after all, have some pride.
Whistling with a forced cheerfulness, she laid slab bacon in an iron skillet and set it on the front burner of the stove, then pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. She’d cooked the same breakfast any number of times since she’d come home—the simple chore should have been a snap.
But she was distracted, and twenty minutes later, she had a disaster on her hands. She burned the bacon and kept breaking yolks when she tried to fry eggs over easy, the way Joe liked them. By the time she finally admitted to herself that she was having a bad day, she’d gone through half a dozen eggs and had to end up scrambling them. If Joe had been there, he would have teased her unmercifully. But he was nowhere in sight—she checked.
Frustrated, not sure if she was going to laugh or cry, she set the cooked food on the table and shook her head in disgust. It was a pretty sorry sight. The toast was cold and the eggs runny, but it was all edible, nonetheless. And there was enough for an army. The only problem was there was no one there to eat it but her, and she only had to feel her stomach rumble once to know that she wasn’t going to be able to force down a single bite.
Tossing down a pot holder, she grabbed an old sweater from the closet and headed for the door. She wasn’t chasing after the man, she assured herself. She was just going to tell him breakfast was ready. Then she’d leave him alone.
Calling his name, she struck off into the trees, following his footsteps in the damp ground. Within seconds she’d left the cabin behind, but his tracks were still clear, and she forged ahead. Then his tracks just gave out. Frowning, she was searching the pine needles underfoot for some sign that he had been that way when suddenly the images underfoot and those in her head shifted and changed….
The trees were thick as thieves in the night, surrounding her, hiding her from view, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she was miles from civilization. But there was a small shopping center a mile down the road and Interstate 10 just beyond that. Holding her breath, she listened for the sound of a motor, a car, but it was late—most people were at home in bed by now. And those that weren’t wouldn’t come anywhere near where she was. There was a creek at her back, and it was raging with water from the storm that had flooded the city earlier in the evening.
“Oh, God!”
Recognition hit her then, draining every drop of blood from her face as broken images flashed before her eyes and the pieces fell together like a child’s puzzle. And just that easily, she could see the spot where she’d buried Robert Freeman. It was on the Driscoe Ranch, just north of the city limits, where the new Forest Park subdivision was scheduled to be built next spring.
“No,” she whimpered, burying her face in her hands. But terror, as fresh as when she’d knelt beside the open grave she had dug and covered that poor man’s face with dirt, clawed at her, ripping away chunks of the darkness that shrouded her memory, giving her no choice but to remember. “No!” She didn’t want to remember that—it was just a dream! But the image persisted, as real as her hands in front of her face, and suddenly she was running, screaming for Joe.
Locked in her worst nightmare, her eyes wide and desperate, the thunder of her heart loud in her ears, she never heard him frantically call her name as he searched the woods for her. She burst through the trees into the cabin clearing, and suddenly he was there, reaching for her, and with a sob, she went into his arms. “We have to go back!” she cried, clinging to him as tears streamed down her face. “I remember where I buried the banker.”
Joe took the news like a blow to the chin. No, dammit! They needed more time together before they went back to the real world. Before she remembered everything and he lost her again. Just a few more days, another week, just long enough for her to fall in love with him again, so she wouldn’t just walk out the door when she remembered that he hadn’t wanted her to have a baby right now.
But they’d just run out of time and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. She was right. They had to go back.
Swearing silently, damning the Fates, he murmured soothingly, “It’s okay, honey. Everything’s going to be all right. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
“You have to call Sam.”
“I know. I will,” he promised. “Just as soon as you’re calmer. You’re still shaking like a leaf.”
Her eyes welling with tears all over again, she buried her face against his chest. “It w-was horrible,” she said thickly. “I could see m-myself b-burying him, and suddenly I—I knew where I dug the grave. It wasn’t a dream, Joe. I really did it.”
He winced at the horror in her voice and knew there was nothing he could do to take away her fear. And he hated it. He hated his own helplessness, his inability to do anything when she needed him most.
Tightening his arms around her, wishing he could draw her right inside him and protect her from the world, he said, “We’re not going to jump to any conclusions until we get back to town and get some answers. You hear me? Promise me, Annie. Just because we haven’t thought of a logical explanation for this doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
“But—”
“No buts. Promise me.”
He was whistling in the dark and they both knew it, but she gave him the promise he needed. “All right. I’ll try not to jump to any conclusions.”
“Good.” Turning her toward the cabin, he urged her up on the porch. “Why don’t you start packing while I call Sam? It looks like we’re going home.”
They drove all day, stopping only for gas, a quick bite to eat, and bathroom breaks, but an hour after the sun had set, they were still on the road. It had been a long, exhausting day and it wasn’t even close to being over with. Each dreading what was to come, they stared straight ahead at the dark ribbon of the highway and hardly spoke.
Twenty minutes before they reached the outskirts of San Antonio, Joe called Sam on his cellular to give him their estimated tim
e of arrival Casting a quick frown of concern at Annie, who sat stiffly at his side, her hands tightly gripped in her lap, he told his friend, “We’ll meet you at the entrance to the ranch.”
“I’m already there,” Sam told him. “The evidence boys have been there most of the day, ever since you called. We set up lights when it got dark, but we haven’t found anything yet. I had to bring in the dogs, Joe,” he warned him. “I hate like hell for Annie to see them, but this old ranch is at least three thousand acres and covered with cedar. One part of it looks pretty much like another, and Annie was scared and probably confused the night she buried the body. If she can just get us close to where she thinks she dug the grave, the dogs’ll find it.”
“You’re just doing your job, Sam,” he replied grimly. “Nobody can find fault with you for that. We’ll be there as quick as we can.”
Pushing the end button, he set down the phone and reached over to cover Annie’s hands in the dark. “I know this isn’t going to be easy for you,” he said quietly, “but there’s nothing for you to be frightened of. I’m not leaving your side, and knowing Sam, half the police department will be there to make sure you’re safe and nothing goes wrong. Whatever happens, just remember that you’re the victim in this. You haven’t done anything wrong, honey.”
“Not unless you count burying a dead man without notifying the police.” Her hand turning in his, she grasped at his fingers. “I’m trying to be objective, Joe, but I’ve got to tell you that right now, I’m not getting anything but bad vibes about this.”
“Just hang in there, honey. It will be over soon, and you’ll be fine.”
She wanted desperately to believe him, but as they drew closer and closer to the turnoff that would take them to the old Driscoe Ranch, tension knotted in her stomach like a hot, hard ball. Then they were exiting the interstate, and she thought she was going to be sick. The feeling only got worse when they reached the ranch entrance, where Sam was waiting for them, as promised.