You Must Remember This

by Clara Wimberly

  “What?”

  “Just tell him.”

  Sarah shrugged apologetically and repeated Cord’s words.

  “You tell him I can whip his redneck Bulldog ass any day of the year,” Hagan snapped.

  He had said the words without thinking. And now he shook his head and laughed as a look of wonder crossed his handsome face.

  Sarah didn’t have to relay anything to Cord. He had heard it and was laughing aloud. And there was a noted sound of relief in his voice.

  “That’s him, all right,” he declared. “Put him on the phone.”

  Grinning, Sarah handed the phone to Hagan. He had a name. Now she knew what to call him and she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

  At least she didn’t have to worry that he was a criminal. Looking into his dangerous eyes, she thought there might be other things she should be afraid of.

  “Yeah?” Hagan said.

  “Hagan Cantrell, you dog.”

  “Jeez, with all these insults, I’m beginning to wonder about this friendship you say we’re supposed to have,” Hagan drawled.

  Cord laughed, then grew more serious.

  “It’s good to hear your voice. I thought you were a goner for sure. I was afraid they’d dumped your body in the swamp where we’d never find you.”

  “I think that was the plan,” Hagan said. “Not that I can remember it yet. So…we’re partners?”

  “For ten years,” Cord said. “Don’t you remember any of it?”

  “Nothing,” Hagan said. “I feel as if I’ve fallen into a big black hole somewhere. Say, if we’re partners, why weren’t you down here with me on this case?”

  “I was on my honeymoon…a fact I’m sure you’re never going to let me forget when this is all over.”

  Hagan laughed. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners and the sound of his laughter rumbled up from his chest to fill the room with its deep, joyful sound. He bent slightly, holding his bruised side as he laughed.

  Sarah caught her breath and put her hands up to her mouth. It was the first time he’d laughed that way—fully and with no holding back. And the sound, the look on his face, actually took her breath away. Oddly she felt hot tears stinging her eyes.

  Hagan looked into Sarah’s eyes and frowned just as she stood up and began to clean an already spotless counter- top.

  She was aware of Hagan’s conversation with Cord as he told how he hadn’t wanted her to call the sheriff. How Sarah was a nurse.

  When she sensed his gaze on her, she didn’t turn around. There was too much she was feeling at the moment. She was happy for him, of course, but there was a fear in her, too. And she had the oddest feeling of pain and loneli- ness, as if she were about to lose something very precious.

  “Her name is Sarah James,” she heard him say. Then to her, “Sarah…what’s the address here?”

  She turned then and gave him the address. Her hands were behind her as she steadied herself against the kitchen counter.

  He repeated the address to Cord and then hung up the phone.

  “He’ll be here in the morning,” he said.

  “That’s good,” she whispered. “Wonderful…I’m so happy for you.” She chided herself silently when her voice caught and reflected the anguish she felt.

  Hagan stood up and came slowly toward her, not tak- ing his eyes from her face.

  “Sarah…” he murmured. “What’s wrong? I’d have thought this was what you wanted.” He took her shoul- ders, running his hands lightly down her arms as he looked into her eyes.

  “A least you don’t have to be afraid anymore. You know I’m not a criminal. Although quite honestly, you might be in more danger from a federal officer…” His eyes sparkled as he tried to tease her out of her sadness.

  “How do you feel about all this?” she asked lightly. “Are you relieved…did he help you remember anything else?”

  “Don’t change the subject,” he said. “We’re talking about you now. While I was on the phone there were tears in your eyes. And I want to know why.”

  Sarah shook away his words, trying to smile convinc- ingly.

  “I’m just…I’m happy for you, that’s all.”

  She glanced up from beneath her lashes, meeting his eyes and feeling a spark of electricity travel from where his hands touched her, all the way down to her toes.

  It seemed an eternity that they stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. Sarah wasn’t sure how their bodies sud- denly became so close, touching almost. Or when the sparks between them caught and blazed into open sexual awareness.

  But suddenly she was conscious of him as she’d never been of any other man. She was aware of sensations she’d thought were lost to her forever.

  His fingers burned her skin and his dark gaze wouldn’t let her go. And his mouth. The fact that it was only mere inches from capturing hers sent her head reeling.

  She was the one to break that last small boundary be- tween them.

  The one who moved, ever so slightly toward him.

  She heard the whisper of her name, then his muffled groan and the rough, erotic feel of his hands in her hair. His kiss was electric and intense, just the way she had imagined. Her mouth opened for him and she thrilled to the erotic taste of his tongue and the rough texture of his unshaven skin. The kiss seemed to explode between them into a moment of unbearable heated passion, one neither of them could stop or temper. As if they had been waiting for this moment their entire lives.

  Sarah moved against him, moaning as her hands moved inside the robe to the mat of hair on his chest. How could she, in her wildest dreams, have thought she could live without this? Without him?

  She had never been so achingly aware of a man’s body, or so ready for his possession as she was at that moment. She didn’t care about anything except the touch of his hands, his mouth. If he had told her right then and there that he was indeed a criminal, a murderer even, she thought she still couldn’t have made herself stop.

  Hagan’s hands were on her hips, pulling her against him, letting her feel the heat of his hard body against hers. As their mouths clung hungrily, Sarah could feel their bodies shaking. They were so close that she couldn’t tell if the trembling came from her or from him.

  “Sarah,” he whispered. “Sweet little Sarah.” His mouth pulled at her bottom lip, then slipped to the corner of her mouth and the edge of the scar.

  Sarah jerked away, staring up at him and into those dark fathomless eyes. Eyes that urged her to relent, eyes that were tender and sweet. Patient. And as dangerous as any she’d ever looked into.

  When he pulled her toward him again, she didn’t pro- test, but closed her eyes as he kissed the scar. She wasn’t sure how he managed to turn what she expected to be a disturbing moment into something more…into a mov- ing, deeply erotic sensation.

  She felt her knees buckle and she had to hold on to him to keep from falling.

  His hands touched her everywhere, moving over her with an expertise that left her trembling and wanting more. Until she felt herself burning with a passion she knew she’d never experienced before.

  Not even with her lost husband.

  “No,” she managed to say, pulling away from his seek- ing mouth. “Wait…” The horror and deceitfulness of her thoughts struck her like a fist.

  He was staring at her with those mysterious black eyes. Watching her warily with just a touch of humor that never quite reached past the corner of his lips.

  But he relented, stepping back and holding his hands up as one might do when trying to calm a shy colt.

  “I…I can’t do this,” she said, still gasping for air.

  “Why not?” he whispered.

  One hand reached out to cup her face and without thinking she leaned into it, breathing the scent of his skin, reveling in the warmth and strength of his palm.

  “Please,” she pleaded, opening her eyes. “I just can’t.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said. But his
hoarse, emotion-filled voice belied his words. “I thought—”

  “I know,” she said, her eyes filled with apology. “I know what you must think and I’m sorry. I just can’t let myself—”

  “Why, Sarah?” he asked again.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t think when he was so near. And she couldn’t explain how or why she was feel- ing such sorrow…such guilt. Except that this man, this stranger, had made her feel overwhelming emotions in mere minutes, that she had never experienced with Joe in their lifetime.

  “I hardly know you,” she whispered, her stricken eyes staring into his. But it wasn’t that and she knew it. It was Joe…and the terrible guilt she felt. As if he were still alive and right there in the room beside her. Watching her with accusing, pain-filled eyes.

  “You know me,” Hagan said, his voice steady.

  “I…I’m not the kind of woman to…to—”

  “I know you’re not, dammit,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

  He moved only a fraction of an inch toward her and yet even that tiny step closer made her heart beat erratically.

  “Tomorrow you’ll be gone,” she said. “Just like the storm…like the cat.” Sarah waved her hands ineffectu- ally, feeling foolish as she saw the faint smile on his lips and the humorous lift of his brow.

  “The cat?” he asked wryly.

  “A stray tabby who came here a few months ago. Every time I’d begin to get used to him, he’d leave,” she contin- ued, not knowing why. “I would wake up one morning and he’d just be gone. And each time I thought he’d never comeback.”

  He nodded, understanding her comparison now. He was smiling, yet his eyes still stalked her hotly.

  “But he did come back,” he said.

  “Yes…but…”

  “He’s here now, isn’t he?” he said. “The cat?” His voice was completely calm and practical, different than it had been only moments before.

  “But not to stay,” she whispered. “I don’t think he has it in him to stay in one place forever…with one person.”

  “I see,” he said. “And that’s what you think of me. Here today…gone tomorrow?”

  “You can’t deny that.”

  “Only because I don’t remember,” he said.

  Hagan pulled away, putting distance between him and her soft, tempting body. “But you’re right. I don’t know what kind of man I am. But like you I have a feeling I’m probably not the kind to stick around for long.”

  Sarah held herself very still.

  He let his eyes move over her quickly, regretfully.

  “If that’s what you want, darlin’…then I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 8

  Hours later Sarah was lying in bed. Still awake. Still try- ing to keep the images out of her head. Trying to banish the sensations that raced through her when she thought of his mouth on hers, the touch of his body against hers. A man she hardly knew…a stranger who had come to her home without a name and still without a past.

  But he had a name now. Hagan. Hagan Cantrell. She had let the sound of it linger in her mind, had whispered the name aloud to see how it felt on her tongue.

  A stranger no longer. Not after today.

  She had responded to his touch as if she’d known him forever. As if making love to him would be the most nat- ural thing in the world.

  So easy, her mind whispered.

  “And so crazy,” she replied.

  She kicked the sheets restlessly and slid out of bed, go- ing to the window for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

  She was tired and all she really wanted was to sleep.

  But she couldn’t.

  She had thought she would feel such relief if she only knew he wasn’t a criminal. That he wasn’t one of those wild-eyed men’in camouflage, whose minds were filled with paranoia. She hadn’t wanted him to be one of those men.

  Was it any better now that she knew he was a G.B.I. agent? This was a man who lived life on the edge even if he did maintain an outward appearance of cool indifference to life’s horrors.

  He was a loner. A man who probably chose not to have a family because of his work. Or because he didn’t trust the violent world he lived in.

  As foolish as it had sounded, she hadn’t been far from the mark when she compared him to her wandering Tom.

  She shook her head and walked back to the bed, deter- mined to concentrate on sleep. Instead she found her thoughts again straying, wandering to the vision of Ha- gan as he’d been in bed that first night…before she knew him…before she had looked into those mesmerizing eyes.

  And his mouth. Whether he was frowning or smiling, those deep grooves beside his mouth fascinated her.

  How many times during first few hours had she toyed with the idea of kissing him? How many times had she se- cretly wondered how it would feel…how he would taste?

  And now she knew.

  Sarah gasped and sat up in bed. She could feel the elec- tricity tingling in every inch of her body. The mere thought of him lying in the room next door was enough to take her breath away.

  “You have to stop this,” she muttered, shaking her head.

  It was long past midnight before Sarah finally drifted off to sleep. She woke the next morning to the sound of water running and for a moment she couldn’t identify where it was coming from.

  She grabbed a robe and stepped to the door. Looking across the hall she could see the bathroom door open. Only a portion of Hagan’s body was visible as he stood before the small vanity, shaving.

  Sarah stepped quietly across the hall, noting the pleas- ant, self-absorbed look on Hagan’s face. Obviously he hadn’t spent a miserable night as she had, tossing and turning. It seemed obvious that what had happened be- tween them had not disturbed him half as much as it had her.

  That thought irritated her to no end.

  Hagan turned, still holding the razor in his hand as he stared at her. His eyes moved from her tousled hair down over her breasts and hips to where the silky wrap stopped above her knees.

  “I borrowed your granddad’s old razor,” he said, turn- ing it in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” she said. “You must be feel- ing better.”

  “Much better,” he said, bringing his gaze up to her eyes. “How about you?”

  “Me?” she asked, shrugging as if she didn’t know what he meant. “I’m fine. Just fine. Your partner should be here soon, shouldn’t he? Are you nervous?”

  “Anxious,” he murmured, twisting his mouth as he shaved. “I’ve tried to remember what he looks like.” He shrugged his shoulders, his look one of frustration.

  “Sometimes seeing someone or something will trigger a memory,” she said.

  “I know…like seeing your granddad’s shotgun made me remember about guns.”

  “Exactly.” Her eyes touched briefly on his chest, seen through the opening of the robe. She found herself long- ing to know what he would look like in real clothes. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’d love some coffee,” he said.

  “You seem…”

  “What?” he asked.

  After laying down the razor, he took a towel and wiped the rest of the shaving soap off his face.

  He was a beautiful man.

  The clean scent of him seemed to move out and wrap around her as she stood staring at his smooth face. What was it about a man’s freshly shaven face that made a woman want to touch it? To nuzzle against it?

  “Sarah?” he reminded.

  “Oh…sorry. I guess I’m not quite awake this morn- ing. I just thought you seemed happier somehow this morning. Have you remembered anything new?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’m hopeful. And at least now I know who I’m not.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “That must be a relief.”

  Hagan looked into her tired eyes. Where was this small talk going? Was she feeling awkward about what had happened between them la
st night? Was he fighting this tingle of electricity that arced between them even now, just as hard as she was?

  Hagan stepped out into the hallway, noting the look of alarm on Sarah’s face as he came closer to her. Without speaking he reached out and took her left hand, letting his fingers rub the soft flesh of her ring finger.

  “Does this small mark on your finger have something to do with why you’re so reluctant to become involved with a man? Or should I take what happened last night person- ally and consider that I’m the problem?”

  His deep, slow drawl drew her closer. Sarah felt her mouth grow dry and she licked her lips self-consciously.

  “I…I don’t know what you mean,” she answered.

  Hagan held her hand up between them.

  “There was once a ring here,” he said. “Right where the white circle is and this tiny indentation. You must have worn it for a long time.”

  Sarah pulled her hand away and took a step away from him. She might have removed her wedding ring a year ago, but its presence could still be seen, just as it still was felt in her heart. She’d taken off that ring the day of Joe’s fu- neral and placed it on his little finger to be buried with him.

  Her eyes, when they met Hagan’s again, were troubled and filled with a pain that she could not quite manage to hide.

  “You’re very observant,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “I suppose that’s part of your job.”

  “Maybe,” he said, his gaze cutting her no slack.

  “I was married,” she said softly.

  “He left you.” Hagan nodded, with a knowing lift of his brow. “And now you’re afraid to let anyone else get close enough to hurt you again.”

  Sarah’s eyes sparkled and her lips pressed tightly to- gether.

  “Well, you’re quite an armchair psychiatrist, aren’t you? I hate to disappoint you, but I’m afraid you’re way off the mark on your diagnosis, Doctor.”

  Hagan’s lifted his brows and a slight grimace tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “Evidently not too far,” he said. “If what I said upsets you so much.”

  “I’m not upset,” she snapped, turning to go toward the kitchen.

  “Sarah.” Hagan’s hand reached out, catching her arm and turning her back to face him. He held her there, de- termined that this time she wasn’t going to run from him. Or this conversation. “Just tell me what it is.”