Only A Memory Away
Page 4
“I see that. It must be like riding a bicycle—physical acts are things you never forget how to do.” Her own words formed a question in her mind of what other physical acts this virile stranger might instinctively remember. She blushed, and was glad when he didn’t look at her or seem to catch the double meaning.
As she watched, she became mesmerized by the rhythmic stroking of Judd’s fingers through the bird’s soft gray feathers. His tanned hands were large, the fingers blunt-tipped but not at all coarse. She pictured the wide, warm palms deeply kneading her own shoulders…the strong thumbs deftly easing the tension from her neck…one hand moving to her face to trace a lingering line along her jaw.
“That’s enough,” Judd said.
Karen’s dreamily narrowed eyes snapped open as Judd kissed the bird’s head and returned it to its cage. She coughed. A warmth that had nothing to do with the outside temperature was simmering inside her; she shifted her weight to the other foot to squelch the erotic sensation.
Judd crossed one arm over his chest and with the other hand squeezed his forehead.
“Are you remembering something?”
“No, darn it. I get this feeling every once in a while. It’s like there’s a…a bubble in my head. It expands, and I’m sure it’s about to burst and I’ll remember something, and then it just recedes and disappears. I had the same premonition when we first walked into the apartment, and again just now, but nothing came of it. One thing I am almost sure of, some item, an important one, is missing.”
Karen glanced about. “There’s no sign you had a burglar while you were in the hospital. Could it just be part of an overall apprehension you feel, caused by the amnesia?”
“No,” he said decisively, “it’s not that.” He paced the length of the room, slicing with his hand. “Some thing that should be here is missing. And I’ve got a feeling if I only knew what it was, everything else would come back.”
IT’S JUST ANOTHER Wednesday morning, Karen told herself, so why do I feel, so…different?
She set the plate of cat food on the paper next to the refrigerator, gave her cat, Toby, a stroke, then poured her first cup of coffee. Yesterday she’d wondered how it must be for Judd to see familiar places through strange eyes; now she felt a bit as if she knew. She carried her cup out to the living room and tucked her legs under her on the sofa. Staring out at the back garden through the sunporch, she reflected that everything looked just a little different since her completely out of the ordinary experience of the day before.
She’d lain awake a long time last night, thinking of ways to get Judd back into a psychiatrist’s office, pondering how she could help him locate friends and family who might help bring his memory back.
She always enjoyed mapping out strategies to aid her clients, but last night she’d been charged with an unusual exhilaration, and her thoughts about Judd Maxwell had threatened to veer from the strictly professional. Knowing so little about him, and faced with the possibility that he might have a wife or lover somewhere, she had restrained herself from picturing him in any kind of romantic context But just barely.
Karen had thought that in the sobering light of a new day her client would seem less fascinating, but the enigma he presented continued to intrigue her. Though he obviously had a taste for the finer things in life, he’d chosen to rent an apartment with fake wood furnishings. Why? Had he grown up in a rich family, or worked as a lawyer or in some other high-paying profession before suffering a reversal of fortune?
Karen reminded herself she’d better eat some breakfast, and got up with a sigh to fix it. Such fanciful possibilities about Judd’s life were fun to consider, but not realistic. The answer had to be much more mundane. He probably had champagne tastes and a beer budget, and when he could afford it, he bought a luxury item here and there.
Still, as she ate her cereal at the dining table, she decided she had not imagined his compelling masculine aura. Unbidden, her mind kept conjuring up a picture of him, white shirt spread taut against the muscles of his back as he bent over his dresser. Then the thrust of his hip as he rested his weight on one leg, his bronze arms braced like pillars on the desktop. The suggestive gleam in his pewter eyes as he studied her in the diner—that she would not let herself remember. The episode had not been repeated after dinner, and she’d probably read more interest into the look than truly existed on Judd’s part. Remembering it brought a guilty flush of desire to her cheeks, and it was best forgotten if she and the troubled man were to work together to get him back on his feet.
She checked the wall clock—seven-thirty. He was probably up by now. She glanced at the phone. No, calling to arrange her next appointment with him wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t want him to race to the ringing telephone, hoping it was his mother or best friend or someone who could tell him about his past, only to find it was that social worker woman, the one who was so sure she was being helpful and really only getting in his way.
It was clear that the thornily independent man had warmed somewhat toward her yesterday, but he still wasn’t ready to acknowledge he needed her assistance. Well, he needed to pick up his car, and the impound yard was several miles from his apartment. Her only appointment in Granite City wasn’t until this afternoon, so she had plenty of time. If she casually dropped by and offered Judd a ride, it would be the perfect excuse to talk to him. She’d better hurry, though, or he might strike out on his own. Forgoing a second cup of coffee, Karen headed for her bedroom to dress.
She was on her way out to the car when a big blue Mercedes pulled up to the curb and a woman in a brightly colored caftan popped out Karen groaned. She was always happy to see her landlady and friend, Mrs. Cohen. Except when she was in a rush.
“Hello, dear,” the heavyset, fiftyish woman called. “I was driving by and wanted to tell you I’m going to bring Truman by tomorrow, to help us with the color scheme for the new paint job. How are you this morning?”
“Fine, Mrs. Cohen.” Karen noted she was wearing the flaming orange wig this morning. “I’m off to an appointment with a client”
“In town?”
“Yes.” Because she lived in the northern end of Granite County, Karen was often assigned clients in the Silver Creek area.
“How interesting. It’s not old Morris, is it? He’s been doddering around the last five years, Lord love him.”
Mrs. Cohen always spoke with volume; from twenty paces she was shouting. Karen reluctantly came down the driveway to set her gossipy friend straight. “No, it’s not Mr. Morris, nothing like that.”
Mrs. Cohen raised her eyebrows. “A younger man, then? Are you sure you’re meeting a client? You’re looking particularly fetching this morning, my dear. And I must confess, I saw you driving through town with a young fellow yesterday, though I wasn’t close enough to see who it was.”
Karen tugged at her above-knee skirt. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cohen, I really can’t discuss my cases.”
Mrs. Cohen patted her arm. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed about your boyfriends, Karen—every woman needs a life apart from her work. I’m sure your own mother, God rest her soul, would say the same thing. If you’re always thinking about the needs of others, your own life will pass you by.” She beetled her brows, which were an incongruous black beneath the fiery wig. “You know I’d never tell you what to do, Karen, but since I’m admonishing you to have a good time, the only thing I wouldn’t recommend is sleeping with some man before you’re married.”
Karen blinked. She’d received her friend’s favorite motherly lecture more than once, always unnecessarily, but this morning it caught her by surprise. “You don’t have to worry, Mrs. Cohen. I have neither the inclination nor the opportunity for such a thing.”
“Don’t worry about the opportunity, Karen. You can’t attract a man without eliciting propositions. Most of them are always ready for it, whether you are or not.” She clucked knowingly at the younger woman, “Remember, it’s your own inclination that can get you in trouble.”
By the time she reached the door of Judd Maxwell’s apartment, Karen had convinced herself she had her emotions under control, and there was no reason to feel awkward with him.
Then Judd answered the door dressed only in worn jeans that barely clung to his hips.
Karen nearly dropped to the pavement. From his tousled hair to his bare feet, he looked disheveled, and sexy as the devil. Karen coughed and kept her gaze on his face. His eyes above the brown beard were tired but not bloodshot, so he probably wasn’t hungover, just hadn’t slept much.
He inhaled loudly, and his zombielike expression metamorphosed into disapproval. “I should have known it was you.” He leaned one bare arm up along the door frame. “You must be crazy, spending all your time running after a psycho like me, or are you just nosey?”
The words stung, but she’d prepared herself this time for his initial rejection. She scowled fiercely and set her hands on her hips. “You’ve forgotten your manners, along with your past life, Maxwell.” Illustrating her point, she looked his naked chest up and down with an expression of disgust.
Masses of dark hair swirled around his abdomen. The hairs fanned up and across his flat stomach and over the slightly rounded and hard muscles of his chest. More fine hair tufted beneath the junction of his muscular arm and molded shoulder. A tightening in her belly almost wiped the mock frown from her face, but she kept it pasted on.
Judd’s expression was less belligerent as her eyes returned to his.
In a more reasonable tone of voice, he said, “If you knew what kind of night I had, I don’t think you’d be beating down my door.”
“Don’t worry. I’m tougher than I look.”
Judd’s lips quirked in something like approval. “I believe that.” He paused a beat, seemed to be considering something. “I’m sorry.” He stood up straight. “When you knocked, I was still in bed.” He reached out tentatively and lightly touched her cheek.
Karen gasped.
He ran his fingers down to her chin. “I’m not usually rude to lovely women,” he said wistfully. His lids lowered as his gaze held hers, his lashes long and dusky.
When his hand slowly dropped back to his side, Karen felt disconcerted. She swallowed. His touch was so tender, his gaze almost longing, contradicting the harshness of the words he had spoken a moment before.
Judd stepped back and opened the door wide. As he allowed her to pass, he cursed himself, both for upsetting her and for letting her talk her way into his apartment again. He waved her toward a chair and mumbled something about would she wait a minute, then went to dress.
Since leaving the hospital, he’d had the chilling feeling he was being pursued, or at least being watched. In an effort to alter his appearance, he’d had his hair restyled and refused the barber’s offer to shave his rapidly growing beard. When Karen drove him to his apartment, he’d more than half expected to find either a detective or a thug lying in wait for him. He couldn’t tell which.
Late into the night, he’d lain awake, trying with all his might to bring his fears into focus, to remember the source of them and recall exactly what kind of danger he was in. But the apprehension, though strong, remained nebulous. His greatest fear was that on meeting his enemy he would fail to recognize the man, giving the other a deadly advantage. And if his premonitions were more than dark fantasy, he didn’t want Karen Thomas anywhere near when the confrontation came.
Karen sat at the dinette table while Judd dressed in the bathroom. The cockatiel preened in its cage as Karen’s pulse slowly returned to normal. The effect her client’s touch had had on her was powerful and disconcerting, and she carefully kept her eyes averted from his rumpled bed. Being secretly attracted to Judd was one thing; having him respond as he had in her fantasies was another! Things were clearly getting out of hand.
While she waited, she had a stern, reassuring talk with herself. When Judd reappeared, she refused to feel any sense of pleasure that he’d shaved his neck but left the becoming beard and mustache. And the fact he was wearing stiff new jeans and a crisp white polo shirt surely didn’t mean he wanted to impress her.
“I came by to give you a ride to the highway patrol to pick up your car,” she explained.
Judd frowned as he pulled his work boots out from under the bed and sat down in a vinyl easy chair to put them on. “Thanks,” he said, “but I don’t want to keep you from your other clients.” His demeanor was firm, polite, detached.
So, apparently he, too, had thought better of getting too close. She shut away the whisper of disappointment and told herself this was progress. “It’s no trouble.” Seeing he was about to refuse her offer, she added, “I’ve got an awfully light caseload this week, and if I don’t put in some time with you, my boss is going to think I’ve been goofing off.”
She crossed her fingers hoping he would weaken, but he still looked remote and disinterested. Then the phone rang.
As the peal rent the air, Judd’s eyes flew to hers and they shared an electrifying moment of suspense and fear shot through with hope. Then he was out of his chair and in two long strides grabbed the phone off the kitchen wall behind her.
“Hello.”
Karen clasped her hands tight in her lap.
“This is Maxwell…Yes.” Judd’s voice came down an octave in disappointment. “I see…I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He didn’t make her wait or ask who it was. “That was Howie Summers,” he said almost apologetically. “There’s an automotive computer down at the shop he can’t figure out. He wants me to stop by and see if I can get it working.”
Karen sighed, then forced a smile. “We can stop by there on the way to get your car.”
At least the disappointment of the call had distracted him from refusing her ride.
As they drove out of the complex in Karen’s car, she started down the mental list of things she needed to discuss with him. “Did you get to talk to the apartment manager last night?”
“No, he was out all evening. I spent a few minutes chatting with one of my neighbors, but apparently he only knew me by sight.”
“I was talking with someone from the hospital last night,” Karen said carefully. Vivian had called her right after she got home, and they’d discussed Judd for some time. “They say that dreams can be a window of the subconscious. Do you remember anything you dreamed last night?”
Judd turned his face to the window. “No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“I said no!” Then, almost immediately, “I’m sorry. I warned you I got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
She returned his weak smile, but she wondered. He slid his eyes away, and for the first time, Karen had the distinct feeling Judd Maxwell wasn’t telling her the truth.
Chapter Four
Karen waited in the car while Judd went into the station to find his former employer.
She fidgeted in her seat. She didn’t want to crowd her client; given Judd’s vulnerable position, she felt he needed her to engender self-confidence, not smother him. But she couldn’t help wishing she was a fly on the wall in the station. She almost expected the two men to stumble out the door, locked in a fistfight, because of the way they’d bristled at one another last evening. But several minutes passed, and there were no shouts or curses from within.
A car pulled in, and a skinny young man emerged from the office to man the full-service pump. It was undoubtedly Summers’ nephew, Karen thought, the one he’d hired in Judd’s place. The boy looked bored, and didn’t make eye contact with his customer. Karen thought of the favor Judd was doing this very moment for his ex-employer, and wondered if Summers might be persuaded to give Judd his job back. Perhaps, as Judd’s social worker, she could help facilitate that, if she got a chance.
After a q
uarter of an hour, she decided it would be natural and acceptable to check on Judd. She eased out of the car, made sure her dress was straight, and avoided sticking her high heels in the oily patches on the blacktop.
She found the men in the back of the shop, their heads together as they studied an LCD readout on a piece of machinery. “I see,” Howie was saying. “Yeah, I think I got it now.”
Karen cleared her throat. “Excuse me, are you about finished, Judd?” As the two men looked up, she suddenly remembered how Howie Summers had referred to her as a floozy the day before.
“Yes, I think we’re finished here,” Judd said. “Summers, this is a friend of mine, Karen Thomas.”
Howie fell in with him, nodding politely to Karen as though he’d never seen her before. Well, Karen thought, if Summers was going to be on his good behavior, maybe now was the time to see if he could help her client. If she knew anything about male pride, Judd probably needed her to break the ice.
“How do you do, Mr. Summers.” She pulled one of her business cards from her purse and handed it to him. “Mr. Maxwell and I are just on our way to pick up his car at the highway-patrol office. Has Judd had time to tell you about his unfortunate accident last Friday night?”
Howie was staring in bemusement at her card. “Accident?” He glanced up at the taller man, who sent a darted glance at Karen. “No, Judd, ah, didn’t mention any accident.”
Karen raised her eyebrows a fraction at Judd, offering him a chance to jump in. He cleared his throat, then gave Howie a sketchy summary of how he’d been picked up by the highway patrol following an apparent robbery and was having trouble remembering the details. Karen noticed he didn’t use the a word, but Howie did it for him.
“You mean you got amnesia? Gosh a’mighty, I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you say so?” He stared at Judd in open wonder. “Does that mean you don’t remember our fight, or nothin’? Golly, I thought something was wrong, with you actin’ so funny last night. I couldn’t figure you out, calling me ‘Mr. Summers’ and all. I thought you were making fun of me or something.”