He nodded cautiously. “Go on.”
“Suppose the killer wanted something of Anne’s but didn’t get it? I inherited her possessions right down to Alex. So maybe now the killer has decided to come after me.”
Jeff considered her line of reasoning without outright rejection. “Who would inherit your estate?”
Chelsea shrugged helplessly, knowing her logic fell apart at this point. “According to Sandy, until I received Classy Creations and this house from my uncle, I didn’t have many assets. As far as I know, I never got around to making a will.”
Jeff’s glance roved down the hall toward the unpacked boxes. “Did Anne leave you anything valuable?”
“I think it’s time to find out. And it might be time to turn this house upside down to search for any potential clues. Maybe I’ll even find my missing gun.”
Jeff opened the boxes in the hall and pawed through baby clothes. “Are there any other possible suspects from work, or someone who knew both you and Anne?”
She groaned but wanted to shout her frustration. “It’s so hard—not remembering. I have trouble judging what I see. The smallest things could mean nothing or everything.”
Jeff set aside the first box and started on another. “For example?”
“Sandy is an odd duck. She’s always cleaning, polishing, scrubbing the office and feeding and watering the plants, but I have to admit she seems on top of everything.”
“Cleaning isn’t a crime.”
“But she’s always watching me, and I don’t know if she normally does that, or if she’s waiting for me to make mistakes or if she’s watching for my memory to return.” Chelsea sighed. “And Vanessa, my copy editor, won’t look at me. But that may not be important.”
“That’s it?”
Chelsea dug into a carton. “There’s the Carpenters, the couple that wants to take Alex from me. But they intend to go to court. Why risk murder if they can take Alex legally?”
Besides an antique set of chipped china, a few sterling pieces that needed polishing and a hand-painted doll in satin, they found nothing of value in the boxes of baby clothes, toys and linens.
And they had no further luck searching Chelsea’s house, either. She found no private letters, no old newspaper clippings. In exhaustion she sat in the kitchen drinking black coffee and puzzling over her personal planner. But the initials swam before her eyes. She shoved it away in frustration and stalked into the den to finish cleaning the broken glass.
She swept angrily, her fingers wrapped tightly around the broom handle, rage fueling her. Why had she lost her memory at the time she needed it most? Damn. Her eyes grew hot with held-back tears. Her life might depend on the answers, and yet her mind refused to cooperate. Her hands trembled as the helplessness of her situation overwhelmed her.
Jeff followed her into the room and took the broom from her. “You’re exhausted. This can wait until morning.”
“I guess.”
She swayed on her feet. Jeff’s arms closed around her. She pressed her ear to his beating heart, wanting to stay exactly where she was—forever.
His voice spoke reassuringly in her ear. “I’m going to sleep beside you tonight. I want to hold you, nothing more, okay?”
Liar. Holding her felt so good, he didn’t ever want to let her go. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, mixed with the subtle smell of jasmine soap. She felt soft, fragile, and yet he’d seen her steely core when she’d refused to panic after almost dying. He wanted to do a lot more than hold her. Yet he’d be a cad to take advantage of her after all she’d been through.
Embracing her made him long to nibble a path along her neck, taste her lips, learn every inch of her flesh. With her breasts pressed tauntingly against him, his fingers hungered to slip beneath her blouse and his tongue yearned to taste her.
He shifted to prevent her feeling the growing hardness in his groin and bit back a groan. Spending the night beside her without making love would be sweet torture. But no matter how much he wanted more, he wouldn’t miss the experience of holding her close. Slinging his arm over her shoulder, he turned out the light and strolled with her toward her bedroom.
“Why are you so good to me?” she murmured. “I don’t deserve you.”
He halted in the hall. When she turned to him, he sensed her puzzlement. Flattening his palms on either side of her head, he backed her against the wall, his tone rough. “Don’t ever say that again. You deserve the best, more than I can give you.”
She raised her hand to trail her fingers along his cheekbone. “What is it you’re afraid you can’t give me?”
The question she’d asked mirrored the multitude of doubts in her eyes, But he didn’t have answers for her. Not then. Maybe not ever.
“Come.” He took her hand and, when she didn’t pull away, took it as a positive sign. “You’re exhausted. We can talk in the morning.”
She didn’t turn on the bedroom light but left him in the moonlit room to enter what he assumed was the bathroom. Returning a few minutes later, she remained fully dressed.
After pulling down the quilt, she lay stiffly on her back, her hands clasped behind her head. He remained at the window, staring out into the endless dark sky, wondering how many nights he was destined to spend alone. God, he wanted her.
“Come to bed and hold me like you promised, Doctor.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. After kicking off his shoes, he joined her, slipping his hand beneath her neck and drawing her against his side. He pressed his lips to her forehead and told himself to be satisfied that she trusted him to hold her. Only he hadn’t known how difficult just holding her would be when his body demanded more.
He could seduce her. But he didn’t want to betray her trust. So, like an idiot, he held her, pretending everything was fine when the sweet scent of her practically had him climbing the walls.
She snuggled with her head to his chest, her arm thrown over his waist. He smoothed her hair along her face, marveling at the silky tresses, the creamy softness of her skin. But as much as he ached to explore her body, from her full lips to her perky breasts to her little toes, he wouldn’t risk her thinking badly of him.
“Jeff?”
“Yes.”
“Earlier I think someone followed me from the office to the restaurant.”
He stiffened, at first angry, then hurt she hadn’t trusted him enough to voice her suspicions. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I had no proof, just like after the attack at the hospital.” He hadn’t believed her then. No wonder she didn’t trust him. “I didn’t want to come off as a nut case.”
“Tomorrow I want you to pack and move into my house.”
“We barely know each other.”
“No strings, Chelsea. You can have a bedroom to yourself and so can Alex. You’ll be safer with me than at a hotel. And I’ll feel better keeping an eye on you. My house is private. Whoever is after you will have trouble finding you there.”
“Am I supposed to hide forever?”
Forever had a nice solid ring to it until he reconsidered. He’d never wanted permanency before, never thought about it. But he forced himself to think, hoping it would curtail his raging desire. With the hectic schedule of a surgeon, there was no place in his life for a wife. He was the child of a surgeon. He knew well the price he and his family, especially his mother, had paid. The life he’d mapped had no room for family.
Yet he’d offered Chelsea his home without considering the future but thinking only of her safety. That was so unlike him he had to wonder why he’d made the offer He tried to convince himself the attempt on her life must have shaken him more than he’d thought. But his excuse was lame.
“Stay, just until the police find this lunatic.”
“I’ll think about it. I do appreciate your offer. I’m just scared they won’t ever make an arrest.”
“They will.”
“I’m scared my memory won’t return—and scared that it will.”
He tried to reassure her with concrete facts. “My property is set behind a fence, so another drive-by shooting will be impossible there. It’s very private, woods surround the house, which backs up to the Chesapeake. Maybe you should take a few days off work.”
Her hand drifted to his chest, the fingertips lightly exploring, and he wondered if she had any idea how her not-so-innocent touching sparked a flame of desire into a white-hot fire.
“I have to go in to work.”
“All the money in the world won’t do you good if you’re six feet under.”
She snuggled closer. “How comforting. You should have been a lawyer. You’re very convincing.”
“I never considered any career other than medicine.” And that was why he couldn’t have her.
“What about your sisters and brothers? Are any of them doctors?”
“Allison has a doctorate in history.”
“And?”
Odd how she could read the pauses at the end of his sentences and urge him to fill the gaps. But at least talking helped take his mind off the fact he was lying in bed with a gorgeous woman and he wasn’t doing anything to sate his needs. “My mother just applied and was accepted to medical school. She wants to work with Dad.”
“That’s terrific.”
“I really admire her. She doesn’t want to miss out on any part of life. She raised her family and now she wants a career.”
“What does your dad think?”
He grinned in the darkness and caressed her hip. “He fusses if dinner isn’t on the table when he comes home.”
“Please don’t tell me your mother is going to quit medical school to stay home and cook his dinner.”
Jeff laughed. “Oh, no. She hired a cook.”
“You sound like you approve.”
“I do. They’re happy.”
She sighed at the pleasant picture he’d created. “I wish I could remember my family.”
“Not every part of life is so good to remember.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t forget the years my mother spent alone. She tried to hide her sadness when Dad didn’t show for things like their fifteenth wedding anniversary. She was brave attending every social function alone. But at night, sometimes I heard her crying.”
“And you vowed not to have any woman crying over you?” she guessed, a small shudder going through her at the implication. He didn’t want a wife in his life.
“Something like that.” His fingers clenched around a lock of her hair.
“Do you think your mother would trade those spilled tears for a life without your father?”
He forced his fingers to uncurl. “I don’t know.”
“And what about you?” she pressed gently, hating the way he’d stiffened beside her but unable to alleviate his sadness. “Would you rather not be here at all? Do you remember your childhood fondly?”
“Of course I’m glad to be alive. Mom did a good job of raising us. We didn’t want for anything, but Dad’s attention. Kids from divorced families could say the same thing. But that doesn’t mean divorce is desirable or it’s fine for children to grow up without their fathers at home,”
Chelsea couldn’t argue with that. Actually she didn’t want to argue at all.
After the long day, exhaustion overtook her. Snuggled with her head against Jeff’s chest, she fell asleep. And dreamed of Anne.
Alex’s mother pleaded with her. “Promise me!”
“I will,” Chelsea replied.
“Promise me you’ll do it for Alex’s sake.”
“It won’t come to that.”
“Do I have your word?” Anne pressed.
Chelsea threw up her hands in surrender. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Chelsea awakened from her dream, her legs twisted in the blankets, her arms sprawled over her pillow. The water ran in the shower, and the phone rang beside her bed.
Sleepily she picked up the receiver.
Her secretary’s crisp voice cut through the fog that seemed to have invaded her brain. “It’s Sandy. Aren’t you coming in today?”
“We work on Saturday?”
“Until one o’clock. You always said it was your most productive day.”
Chelsea rubbed the tiredness from her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat. “I have to move today.”
“Why?”
That someone wanted her dead still seemed unreal to her. Images from last night flashed in her mind, the sound of the shot, the flying glass, Jeff protecting her with his body. “Last night someone shot out my window.”
Sandy gasped. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. But I think it might be better if I don’t spend another night here. I’ll give you my new phone number as soon as I get settled.”
“Martin Tinsdale’s wife has called four times to speak with you. She sounds desperate.”
Of all her acquaintances, her former vice president had the best reason to hate her. Talking to his wife might be a good way to feel out the degree of his anger.
“You told me not to put her calls through,” Sandy continued. “But since you don’t remember…I thought you might want to know.”
“You think I should talk to her?”
“It’s your decision. But what harm can speaking with her do?”
“Okay, set an appointment for his wife next week. Have her bring Martin, too. Anything else?”
“I was saving the best news. Mark Lindstrom is ready to go ahead with the contract.”
Chelsea raised a clenched fist into the air. “Yes!”
“He’s insisting on signing this morning.”
Chelsea rubbed her forehead. “Why the rush?”
Sandy sighed, no doubt tired of reminding her about things. “Benedict Academy’s 150th-anniversary celebration is next weekend. You told Mr. Lindstrom it would be a good idea to invite the press and announce the new policy during the festivities.”
“We’ll need press releases faxed immediately.”
“I’ll take care of that this morning. But what about the contract?”
“Ask Mr. Lindstrom if he can meet me here. Explain that my front window was shot out, and I can’t leave for the office right now. Unless I hear from you, I’ll expect him between nine and ten.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Anything else that can’t wait until Monday?”
“I guess not.”
“Make sure everyone from the firm is notified about the Benedict Academy party.”
“Um.”
“What is it?” Had Chelsea said something out of character again?
“You normally don’t invite us.”
“Everyone worked to land that account. We should all be involved in the celebration.”
“But what if your memory returns before Friday night? People will have bought fancy dresses and made plans….”
“Even if my memory returns, I won’t change my mind.” Chelsea cradled the receiver, wondering what kind of person she’d been before and if she wanted to be that same person again. Cold. Ambitious. Alone, except for Anne.
Perhaps her dreams about Anne were a sign her memory was coming back and her subconscious was nagging her to recall something important. In her dream, Anne’s voice had been fierce, almost hysterical, and yet Chelsea hadn’t seen her friend’s face again. Was Anne’s message important? Or was it just a silly dream?
Padding down the hall to Alex, Chelsea peeked through the open door of his room. His crib was empty.
Jeff must have already changed and fed him. That man seemed to need very little sleep. As she made her way into the den and toward the playpen, she smiled at how easily she’d slept with him—as if they’d been longtime lovers.
Alex wasn’t in the playpen, his high chair or his swing. Concern knit Chelsea’s brows, and she hurried back to her bedroom, following the sound of Jeff’s whistling.
He’d finished his shower and strode out of the b
athroom with Alex wrapped in a towel in his arms. “He got a kick out of his shower.”
Relief washed over her, and she felt a little silly for her concern. She walked to him and took Alex, wanting to reassure herself by holding him. “You took the baby in there with you?”
Jeff grinned, revealing even white teeth. “Sure. Alex didn’t seem to mind the water dripping down his face. Do you think we should teach him to swim?”
Her houseguest wore only a towel wrapped around his waist. She raised her chin, trying not to look at all that bared golden skin on his chest, trying not to let the sight of him set her every nerve ending to tingling. “Alex is only three months old.”
“A baby spends months inside the womb. Being in water is natural to him. I’d bet he’d take to swimming like a duck to water. I’ve got a whirlpool at my place.”
Straightening her spine, she looked him straight in the eye. “Maybe we’ll come visit.”
“I want you to move in.” His voice was husky in the morning. His wet hair glistened, drops of water spiked his long, dark lashes. Standing with nothing more than terry cloth about his lean hips, he looked like a Greek god not a doctor, and his appeal wasn’t just devastating to her senses, but lethal to her heart.
And Lordy, he could be persuasive. “My house is safer than a hotel,” he repeated the point from last night’s argument. “Think of where the little guy will be better off. Besides, you should know by now I won’t press you for intimacy.”
She didn’t fear pressure from him. Last night he’d shown he could be the perfect gentleman. No, she had nothing to fear from him—only herself and her constant attraction to him. She wanted to regain her memories before throwing herself into his arms, and his bed.
She thought about Jeff’s offer while she showered, dressed and ate breakfast. By the time Mark Lindstrom arrived in a red Mustang, she was packed and they’d cleaned up the glass, but she was still undecided about whether to move to Jeff’s house or settle into a hotel.
After answering the door, she led Mark down the hall into the kitchen. Alex sat in his swing, content to play with a large plastic ball. Jeff had gone to buy plywood to board up the window.
“Sorry to make you drive out here, but someone, shot out my front window last night,”
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