Brianna blinked and hesitated, as if not quite sure she was supposed to answer or if she needed to wait on further verbiage from her aunt. “I’m feeling better every day.”
Robyn straightened from greeting Brianna and planted a hand on her hip. She cocked her head to the side and twisted her mouth. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Brianna bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, but...no.”
Aunt Robyn flapped a hand at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you fill in those blanks. I brought pictures and souvenirs to jog your memory, and I can answer all your questions. Hunter, be a dear and put that casserole in the refrigerator, then point me toward my great-nephew. I’m just dying for a peek at him!”
“He’s—”
But Aunt Robyn spotted the bassinet across the room and cooed, “Oh, my! There he is!”
Hunter picked up the pan of food and sent Brianna a glance as her boisterous aunt scuttled across the room to swoon over Ben. Brianna’s amused expression matched his own thoughts. In a word, wow.
* * *
Two hours and many family stories later, Aunt Robyn held Ben as he slept and paused from regaling them with an account of Brianna’s high-school graduation to ask, “Am I helping at all or just confusing you more?”
“Um, you’re helping. I just...” Brianna, whose brain had long ago reached information overload, rubbed her gritty eyes and tried to focus. She knew there were questions she needed to ask, critical pieces of her past she needed her aunt Robyn to fill in for her, but her head was swimming in a soup of teenage proms, family trips to Graceland and the details of the car accident that killed her parents when she was fourteen. According to her aunt, Brianna loved water sports of all kinds, worked as a biomedical researcher at Bancroft Industries and attended the local United Methodist church, where she served on a variety of committees.
Brianna closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on the tidbits her aunt offered. Water sports? While she couldn’t remember specifics about ever swimming, surfing or skiing, she felt a kick of excitement when she pictured herself in the water. That had to be a good sign, right? And biomedical research? An image of a laboratory, of petri dishes, of test tubes in a centrifuge flashed in her mind. She could even see the photo of a bifidobacteria microbe on the back of the laboratory door. Bifidobacteria? That wasn’t a term she figured the average citizen knew. Maybe memories of her research were lurking at the edges of her recollections.
While this was all good information to have, she didn’t feel any resolution to some of the bigger issues facing her.
“Maybe you could help her with some more recent history?” Hunter suggested, as if reading her mind. “What can you tell us about her relationship with Ben’s father?”
Brianna sent him a sharp look. Chris had warned her about letting anyone know about him, and she wanted to keep Ben’s royal heritage a secret until she figured out how she would address that issue.
“She would have been involved with him last winter,” Hunter continued, not catching her warning glance. “From what you said earlier, I take it you didn’t meet him, but do you remember Brianna mentioning a relationship last year? How they met?”
Aunt Robyn dabbed at a bubble of spit Ben blew as he slept. “Let’s see. You weren’t dating anyone steadily last winter locally that I recall. Not that you tell me much about your love life, mind you.” Aunt Robyn smiled at her and patted Ben’s diapered bottom. “As I recall, you went to the house at the Cape after Christmas for a while. You’d just wrapped up a huge project at work and decided to take some accumulated time for R and R.”
Brianna thought about the key chain she’d had with her when her car flipped. I ♥ Cape Cod. “The Cape? Do you mean Cape Cod?”
Her aunt nodded. “Why, yes. The vacation home your parents bought back in the eighties. You inherited it when they died. When you moved in with me, we sold your parents’ house and paid off the mortgage on the vacation home. We both use it as a getaway when it’s not rented to tourists. You get a tidy little income from the rental fees.”
Hunter sat forward on the couch. “So that’s probably where you met Ben’s father. The timing is right.”
“Do you have any other information about who or where this man is? He deserves to know he’s a daddy.” Aunt Robyn divided a look between Hunter and Brianna.
“Not much. He knows about Ben, just not that he’s been born.” Brianna rubbed her temple, just below the cut from the accident.
Aunt Robyn tipped her head and knitted her manicured eyebrows. “Honey, have I worn you out? I can go if you need to rest.”
Brianna jerked her head up. “Go? You’re not staying? But...”
Aunt Robyn pressed a hand to her heart, and the V in her brow deepened. “I’m afraid I can’t stay. If I led you to believe otherwise, I’m sorry. I’m giving the keynote address at a nursing conference in Minneapolis tomorrow night. I’m catching the red-eye from the Lagniappe airport later tonight.” She checked her watch. “In fact, I should probably head on to the airport now.” Aunt Robyn rose from the sofa, kissed Ben’s head and carefully settled the baby in the bassinet set up beside the sofa.
Brianna flashed her an awkward smile, embarrassed that she’d assumed her aunt was here on baby duty. The brevity of her aunt’s visit stung a bit, too. According to Robyn, she was Brianna’s only family—other than some uncommunicative cousins on her father’s side. When Brianna pasted a smile on her face, determined not to show her hurt, an odd déjà vu settled over her. Somehow, being on her own, battling a sense of isolation and disappointment, was familiar. She had a flash of sitting alone in a well-appointed living room with a beagle sleeping on the couch beside her.
Robyn pulled her into a hug as they headed to the front door. “I’ll be tied up next week with work, but I’ve marked off the week after, your original due date, to come back and help you out.”
“Aunt Robyn, did I have a dog as a kid?” she blurted.
Her aunt blinked and tipped her head. “Not as a child. Your father was allergic. But I got you a dog when you came to live with me. To keep you company while I was at work. Barney.”
“A beagle?”
Robyn’s face brightened. “Yes. You remember?”
“Just a flash. An image.”
“Still a good sign,” Hunter said. “Maybe the swelling’s going down.”
Brianna rubbed her hands on her slacks and worked up an optimistic smile for the two anxious pairs of eyes studying her. “Maybe.”
While Hunter walked Robyn out to her car, Brianna checked on Ben, who’d rejected his pacifier in favor of his own thumb. Thumb-sucking might be a habit she’d have to break later, but tonight, he looked too precious for her to dissuade him from the self-comfort. Brianna had bigger issues facing her and years ahead of her to deal with parenting issues—such as, if Ben was forced to claim his royal heritage, how did she protect her son from a life of societal expectation, media scrutiny and dangerous political militants? Should she allow Ben the life of royal privilege and comfort his father’s lineage afforded him? Even as that question niggled, an image of Hunter grinning at Ben worked its way to the front of her thoughts.
Where did Hunter fit into all this? She’d tried to cut him loose, give him her permission to walk away. But he’d stayed. And that loyalty, that commitment, his steadfast friendship, filled her with a warmth and security she treasured more than all the gold in Chris’s royal account.
* * *
After Aunt Robyn left, Brianna wasted no time giving Ben his dinner, changing his diaper, taking a warm shower and tumbling into bed. She’d moved Ben’s bassinet into her bedroom so she’d hear him when he woke for his midnight meal, and Hunter headed off to the guest bedroom for the night.
As tired as she was, Brianna spent long minutes staring at the ceiling and picturing Hunter’s tall, muscular body
squeezing into the small antique bed in the guest room. She made a mental note to ask Aunt Robyn the history on the beautiful bed, tiny as it was, next time she saw her, then her brain returned to Hunter. She imagined his long legs hanging off the end of the mattress, his wide shoulders filling the width of the bed and his chiseled face nestled on the pillow. Did he snore? Did he sleep in the buff? What would it be like to curl against his strength and sleep wrapped in his arms? To kiss him good-night, feel his skin against hers, have his hands—
Brianna scrubbed both hands over her face and stopped the daydream in its erotic tracks. Her skin tingled from her scalp to her toes, and a pleasant heat had curled in her belly. Dream all you want, but don’t get any ideas about acting on the fantasy. Hunter wasn’t hers to claim. And the doctor had specifically said no sex. For six weeks.
At the hospital, with her body still aching from the delivery, she’d thought, No kidding. Like I’ll feel up for that anytime soon! Then she’d cut a side glance to Hunter and seen the rosy flush of awkwardness in his cheeks...and the dark smolder of desire and speculation in his eyes. Longing. Anticipation. The lure of the forbidden. And she’d known she would have tossed the doctor’s instructions aside in a heartbeat, no matter how her body felt, for a few stolen moments of what Hunter’s eyes promised.
Now she groaned, forcing thoughts of Hunter from her mind, and covered her eyes with her arm in search of sleep. Her body needed rest, and her life didn’t need the complication of a relationship while she figured out where she stood with Chris. Had she loved him before the head injury stole her memory? Wouldn’t she remember loving him if she had? So much to think about...
Dear God, she started praying instinctively. And why not? Aunt Robyn had told her she was active in a local United Methodist church. Praying felt natural, felt good. Calmed her mind. Help me figure this all out. Help me get my memory back and do the right thing for everyone involved.
The next morning, Brianna dragged herself out of bed when she heard Ben’s first whimpers. She’d discovered last night that if she didn’t respond to his mewls of hunger or discomfort promptly, he tuned up for a good cry and was all the harder to calm.
She crawled back into her bed to feed him and soon Sorsha had joined them, meowing loudly and asking for her breakfast, as well.
“Wait your turn, Sorsha. I’ll be there in a minute.”
With a twitch of her tail, Sorsha sat down on the end of the bed and glared impatiently at the interloper who’d displaced her as first fed in the morning. Brianna stroked Ben’s cheek as he nursed, then closed her eyes wearily. She’d been up three times overnight to feed, burp and change Ben’s diaper. She’d had maybe four hours of sleep, at best. When Ben drifted to sleep at her breast, she eased him gently back into the bassinet and tiptoed to the bathroom.
She prayed she didn’t look as haggard as she felt, but one peek in the mirror shot that hope down. She snorted derisively. Had she really been fantasizing at bedtime last night about having sex with Hunter? She’d be lucky if he didn’t take one look at her this morning and run for the hills screaming.
She ran a brush through her hair, washed her face and pinched a little color into her cheeks. Pitiful, she thought, studying her reflection. You look like just what you are—a sleep-deprived mother. Shaking her head at herself, she stumbled back into the bedroom, checked on Ben—still sleeping, thank heavens—then crept quietly to the kitchen.
She found Hunter with his head in the pantry, scooping out cat food for Sorsha, who wound around his legs in a dance of anticipation and gratitude.
“Thank you,” she said. “I could have done that.”
He glanced up and grinned. “You had your hands full, and Sorsha claimed she was starving.”
Brianna stooped to stroke her cat’s silky fur. “Silly, impatient girl.”
“I thought maybe if you were up to it we could head over to Bancroft Industries today and visit your office. Maybe seeing the place where your aunt says you work will trigger something for you.”
She nodded. “Good idea. What about your work? Are you going in today?”
“I’ll stop by a couple of work sites for a minute and talk with the crew, make sure everything’s on target. You up to riding with me? I don’t feel right leaving you alone here. Not knowing someone trashed the place yesterday.”
The reminder of the destruction in her house sent a chill to her bones. She didn’t want to be alone, either, not while there was still a threat to Ben’s life. She pressed a hand to her swirling stomach and nodded. “I’m game.”
In the end, the trip to Bancroft Industries didn’t jog loose new memories, but it did confirm the flash of a laboratory she’d had while talking to her aunt had been her workspace at Bancroft. Her coworkers cooed over Ben, promised to bring food later in the week and wished her well for her maternity leave.
After stopping at a few of Hunter’s construction sites, they spent the rest of the day assembling Ben’s crib, a project she’d obviously started at some point and abandoned, based on the parts scattered on the nursery floor.
For dinner, Brianna heated the casserole Aunt Robyn had brought and soon after found she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.
“Don’t think you need to stay up on my account,” Hunter said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. His strong fingers felt heavenly massaging her muscles, which were still stiff and achy from the car accident.
“In that case,” she said, stifling a yawn, “since I know I’ll be up again in a couple of hours with the little prince...”
Hunter’s grin faltered, then quickly recovered, though without the same luster as before. What had she said that bothered him? Perhaps her reference to Ben as royalty reminded him of the danger she was in? She knew the thought of the bullet holes in the back of her car hadn’t been far from her mind all day.
Before turning out her light, as she crawled into bed, she rewatched the video message from Chris. Calling the number the video had been sent from led her to a disconnected number. A dead end. More frustration. Tired as she was, her worries kept her tossing and turning until after Ben had awoken for his midnight meal. Finally, she drifted off around 1:00 a.m.
A few hours later, Brianna was roused from a deep sleep, when something sharp pricked her wrist. She rubbed her arm and rolled over, only to have small feet walk on her.
“Mrow!” Sorsha’s loud plea preceded a determined head butt to her arm.
“What? Sorsha, please. I’m tired.” She cracked her eyes open far enough to see the feline’s dark outline as she pushed her cat off the bed. “Leave me alone.”
But Sorsha hopped back up onto the bed and bit her wrist again. “Mrow.”
“Sorsha!” Groaning, Brianna sat up in bed and tossed back the covers. “Stop.” She hated to shut the cat out of the bedroom, but she needed her sleep.
Then she smelled it. Smoke. She sniffed again, certain her nose was playing tricks. But again an acrid scent of burning greeted her. And suddenly Sorsha’s agitation made sense.
Her house was on fire.
Chapter 8
“Hunter!”
Hunter jerked awake and sent a disoriented glance around the room he was in. Where—
“Hunter! Fire!” Brianna’s cry shot cobweb-clearing adrenaline through him. In the next instant, he recognized the chemical scent of burning carpet and diesel fuel.
As he jammed his feet into his jogging shoes, he snatched his cell phone from the bedside table. He shoved the phone in his back pocket and ran to the hall, which was already filling with rolling clouds of black smoke. He pulled his T-shirt up over his nose, a feeble attempt to filter the toxic smoke, as he sucked in a breath to hold.
The flicker of flames danced on the wall near the living room...and the utility room at the opposite end of the hall. Hell! The fire was creeping toward them from two directions.
Heat roiled through the house, blistering the paint on the walls and slamming into Hunter as he darted across the corridor into Brianna’s room.
She stood over Ben’s bassinet, coughing.
“We have to go out the window.” He closed the door against the encroaching flames and smoke and trotted to the window. “The hall is blocked in both directions by the fire.” He ripped open the blinds and flipped the metal hasp that locked the sliding panes. He grasped the bottom edge of the windowpane and tugged. The window didn’t budge. Gritting his teeth, Hunter tugged harder. Still nothing.
“Damn it! I think the window’s been painted shut. It won’t open.” He tried again, straining his muscles until they quivered. He sucked in a breath, worn out from his efforts, and choked on the smoke filling the room. Brianna held Ben close, blowing near his nose, but even the baby was coughing, gagging, crying. “Keep a blanket over his face!”
Hunter raised his T-shirt over his nose again and hurried into her adjoining bathroom. No windows there. Double damn!
Grabbing washcloths from the shelf, he doused them both in water from the sink, quickly rung them out and pressed one over his nose and mouth as he rushed back out to the bedroom. “Breathe through this!”
Brianna caught the rag he tossed her with one hand while hugging Ben close, cradled in the crook of her other arm.
Hunter glanced around the dark room, which was growing murkier as smoke billowed in and blinded him. He found a hefty lamp and snatched it up. “Stand back!”
As soon as Brianna had moved away from the window, he swung the lamp hard and shattered the windowpanes. With a second whack, he knocked more glass out of the way before pulling Brianna’s bedspread from the bed and laying it over the jagged shards on the bottom rim of the opening. “Give me Ben...” He stopped to cough. Breathing was growing harder by the second. “You climb out!”
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