by MJ Rodgers
“I want Fay to examine you to determine if you were subjected to any physical harm. I believe there’s a strong possibility that you were abducted during these three missing weeks in your life.”
The implication in Michael’s words sent Briana’s stomach into a full-fledged cartwheel. She supposed she should have thought of that possibility herself, but she hadn’t Moreover, it wasn’t something she wanted to think about
She reminded herself she needed answers. Michael’s suggestion was a sound, logical starting point, no matter how much she loathed it.
She raised no objection when he took the next off-ramp.
Dr. Wynd answered the door in a dressing gown. Briana realized Michael’s call to her from the car phone a moment before must have awakened her. Fay was somewhere in her thirties, blond, with a pretty heart-shaped face and warm gray eyes.
And a houseful of out-of-town relatives.
One youngster was sprawled out on the couch. Three more were in sleeping bags on the floor, crowding the presents under the Christmas tree. Fay led Michael and Briana through the minefield of bodies into the kitchen. Once there she closed the door so that they could talk in privacy.
Michael’s quick explanation about finding Briana at the Institute and her three-week amnesia brought an amazed look to Fay’s face.
She turned to Briana and rested a gentle hand on her arm. Her voice was ultrafeminine, and had care rippling all the way through it. “How do you feel, Briana?”
“Fine. Really. But Michael believes a physical examination is in order.”
“He’s absolutely right. Come on. It won’t take long.”
Fay circled her arm in Briana’s and led her out of the kitchen and down a long hallway.
“How strange it must have been for you, waking up to find yourself dressed as a bride and missing three weeks out of your life. Do you suppose there’s a groom out there somewhere?”
Briana laughed. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.”
Fay stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the hallway to take Briana’s left hand.
“No ring. Still, a lot can happen in three weeks’ time. Briana, are you sure that the thought of a groom brings back no memories?”
“Fay, if I were emotionally involved with someone else, I couldn’t feel—”
Briana halted her sentence when she realized what she had been about to admit—that she was having some very romantic feelings for Michael. She substituted a quick modification. “I couldn’t feel so free and emotionally unencumbered.”
Fay’s returning smile was accompanied by a knowing look in her gray eyes. “I wish I had been there to see the Sandman’s face when he found a sleeping bride under his tree,” she said.
“The Sandman?” Briana repeated.
“It’s what we call Michael at the Institute of Dreams.”
“Why?”
“Michael’s specialty is designing dreams for his clients to enhance their abilities, accomplishments and enjoyment in their waking lives.”
“How is it possible to design a dream?” Briana asked.
“You’ll have to ask Michael that one. None of the rest of us dabble in his particular brand of dream research.”
“The Sandman,” Briana mused. “Like in that fanciful song, ‘Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream’?”
“Yes, although Michael’s a solid scientist and his approach is far from fanciful. His successes are walking around, as famous politicians, movie actors, professional athletes, you name it. Without Michael’s feats with his clients, none of us other doctors would have the funds to pursue our research into dreams.”
Fay opened the door to a tiny back bedroom that had obviously once been a porch. She switched on a dull ceiling light that barely revealed the small single bed, dresser and nightstand now occupying the space.
“With a houseful of guests, this is where I’m sleeping tonight,” Fay explained. “It’s not exactly an examination room, but I’ll bring in a bright spotlight and my medical bag and see if we can make it do.”
“I appreciate your going to this trouble.”
“This is no trouble, Briana. Michael’s my friend, as well as colleague. I’m pleased to help. There are a couple of stray hangers in the closet over there. I know you’ll want to keep that gorgeous wedding gown from getting wrinkled.”
“I rather suspected it must be gorgeous,” Briana said as Fay began to help her unfasten the sleeves.
“Looks like it was made for you, too. It’s a shame this room doesn’t have a mirror so that you can see yourself in it. There, that’s the last button on those killer sleeves. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Briana hung the wedding gown and stepped back to examine it. It was a spectacular peau satin sporting a corsetlike bodice beaded with seed pearls and sequined lace. Its off-the-shoulder neckline was embellished with handmade rum-pink satin roses and celadon leaves. Rosettes and petal-edged satin streamers cascaded down the back onto a sweeping chapellength train.
No wonder Michael had thought her beautiful in it. Even Cruella De Vil would look enchanting in such a dress.
As Briana continued to undress, she discovered that she was wearing fancy silk panties and bra, and a garter belt with silk stockings. She shook her head, thoroughly bemused.
A beautiful formal wedding dress, and sexy silk lingerie. This was definitely not her normal look.
As she bent over to remove her stockings, a long tendril of hair fell in front of her. She was more than startled to discover its gorgeous flame hue.
She was fingering a long curl wonderingly when Fay returned to the bedroom with both a handheld spotlight and her medical bag in tow.
Briana’s face must have shown some of her bewilderment, because Fay’s expression and voice immediately expressed concern. “Is something wrong, Briana?”
“I’m a redhead,” she said on a disbelieving chuckle.
“Are you telling me you weren’t three weeks ago?”
“My hair has always been a mousy brown.”
“Let’s take a look at the rest of you and see if there are any more interesting changes.”
MICHAEL PACED the kitchen floor and drank two cups of coffee while Fay conducted her examination of Briana. When his colleague finally joined him, he was not reassured to see her frown. He schooled his voice into an even tone.
“Well, Fay?”
“This is a very odd case,” Fay said, almost to herself. And then she set her medical bag on the kitchen table and stared at it.
Michael’s patience was fast disappearing. “Fay.”
“Oh, sorry, Michael,” Fay said, seeming to come out of her daze as she looked up at him. “I just keep trying to make sense out of the mental puzzle Briana presents. She has absolutely no sense of lost time at all. But the good news is that she’s in perfect shape physically. No cuts, bruises, or any sign of physical abuse. It’s obvious she hasn’t been sexually active in what appears to be quite some time, so I can safely say she hasn’t been assaulted in that way.”
“Thank you, Fay,” Michael said, feeling an enormous weight shifting off his shoulders.
“As you no doubt also observed, she shows no overt signs of having been drugged,” Fay continued. “However, I took a blood sample just to be sure. I’ll drop it off at the lab for analysis.”
“Still, with the Christmas holidays, I doubt we’ll get an answer anytime soon,” Michael said frowning. He walked over to the sink to rinse out his cup before turning back to her.
“Fay, you did check her over thoroughly? You’re sure she’s not suffering from a head injury?”
“I’m sure. But there is one physically curious thing that she noticed herself. Her hair color appears to have been changed from brown to red.”
“That is…curious.”
“Everything about her situation is most curious, Michael. And rather fascinating. How are you going to handle it?”
“If you’d found any physical injury, I’d have driven right back into Las Ve
gas and called in some favors for a police investigation. But now I have to assume it’s emotional trauma that has caused her to lose her memory. Which means—”
“She needs psychiatric help,” Fay said, completing Michael’s sentence.
“I’d like you to put her up for the night, Fay.”
“Michael, those bodies you stepped over on your way to this kitchen are my brother’s ever-increasing brood. He and his wife and kids have claimed every available bed, couch and sleeping bag in the house. There is no room left at this inn. Surely you have an extra bed for Briana at your place.”
Michael took a deep breath and exhaled it heavily. “I suppose that’s where I’ll have to take her.”
“Why do you look and sound so glum about it? Briana seems sweet, and amazingly cheerful, considering the situation she finds herself in. Not to mention, she’s absolutely stunning.”
“And she’s suffering from an emotional trauma. That puts her out of bounds.”
“Oh, I see. Having a hard time keeping our professional distance, are we?”
“I’m not her doctor, Fay, so ethics don’t enter into it. However, it would be unconscionable of me to pursue someone in her confused mental state.”
Fay’s attempt to stifle a smile failed.
“You find this funny?” Michael said, feeling his frustration at the situation lending an uncharacteristic irritation to his tone.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen the erudite and coolly sophisticated Dr. Michael Sands looking so nonplussed before. It’s oddly comforting.”
“And why is that?”
“Let’s just say that it makes this mere mortal feel a little less flawed. So what are you going to do?”
“Find her competent help.”
“What about Jaron?”
“He left town yesterday to spend the holidays with friends in New York.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. And Nate’s not into the psychological-evaluation end of things, so that lets him out.”
“How about you, Fay?”
“Sorry, Michael, no time. I’m leaving with my brother and his brood at dawn. We’re spending an old-fashioned Christmas at my grandparents’ home up in Reno. I won’t be back for at least two weeks.”
“There has to be someone available.”
“During the Christmas holidays? Good luck. Why don’t you just break down and treat her yourself?”
“That wouldn’t be ethical.”
“Why? Are you already emotionally involved with her?”
“Of course not.”
The moment the words were out of Michael’s mouth, he knew they weren’t true. He had feelings for Briana. And they were definitely not the feelings a doctor should have for a patient.
“Well, then, what’s the problem?” Fay asked him challengingly. “You know it’s not ethical to use that consummate, legendary charm of yours to sweep the lady off her feet. You might as well be useful to her in some way.”
“How pragmatically put.”
Fay chuckled at his sarcasm. “Look, I’ve given Briana some everyday clothes to wear, and some personal items that should get her through the next couple of days. If you decide not to treat her, I’ll by happy to take her case when I get back.”
“I appreciate the offer, Fay, but she needs help now, not in two weeks. You have any suggestions as to where we can get something to eat tonight?”
“Only place I know around here that’s open at this hour on Christmas Eve is a Chinese takeout about a mile up the road. The guy who owns it goes by the name of Uncle Chen. Order his Lake Tung-Tin prawns. They’re out of this world.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Briana walked in. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a sweater, both of which were snug, due to Fay’s shorter stature and smaller bones.
Seeing just how much more snug made Michael swallow hard.
The idea of having to play the role of her doctor instead of her lover was not at all appealing to him. No, not at all.
What rotten luck.
A lovely dream walked into his life, and he was stuck with having to treat her missing reality.
BRIANA FOLLOWED MICHAEL into the guest bedroom of his spacious apartment at the back of the institute. As with the rest of his place, she found its floor mirrored black granite, its walls etched-glass panels that lent a feeling of endless space and time. He set the suitcase full of borrowed things that Fay had packed for her onto a queen-size bed with a cobalt coverlet edged in rich gold.
“Your private bath is through there,” he said, in exactly the same formal tone a hotel bag handler might “You can bolt the bedroom door from the inside. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
Briana didn’t have any doubts. There was a solid ethical sincerity about Michael that she had sensed from the first. He would never take advantage of this situation.
“You must be tired,” he said.
“Considering it’s after one in the morning, I’m sure I should be,” Briana said. “But, oddly, I’m wide awake. Maybe I slept through the past three weeks, and that’s why I feel so refreshed.”
Michael looked at her searchingly, but said nothing.
“It was a joke, Michael.”
“Of course,” he said, an immediate smile drawing back his lips. Briana recognized that smile. It was the kind of reassuring one a doctor gave a patient. Its lack of personal warmth made her heart sink heavily in her chest.
Clearly, Michael’s assessment of her mental state had gone through a radical change.
Great. Just great. She kissed Prince Charming, and she turned into the toad.
Briana knew that she had to accept Michael’s hospitality tonight. She had no money, and no place else to go. But she wished she was somewhere else—anywhere else. She no longer felt beautiful or desirable when he looked at her.
She faced him, holding firmly on to the remnants of her pride. “Michael, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been…wonderful. I just want you to know that tomorrow I’ll call my partner and ask him to wire me some money. Then I’ll be out of your hair and on my way.”
“Aren’t you concerned that Sergeant Vierra wasn’t able to get in touch with your partner?”
“Obviously she dialed a wrong number.”
“The Mirage didn’t show a record of either your reservation or the convention.”
“Of course not. Sergeant Vierra didn’t know to tell them that it had all happened three weeks ago.”
“Even so, it was rather odd of them to just tell the sergeant there was no convention in progress. Why didn’t they mention they had one three weeks ago?”
“Well, busy clerks, like busy police sergeants, don’t always go out of their way to make that extra effort, do they?”
“No. I suppose they don’t.”
He said the words hesitantly, almost as though it were hard for him to accept anything she suggested now. Briana felt a sharp pain of disappointment, even sharper than what she had experienced when the warmth left his smile.
She could accept the distance he had put between them. His personal interest in her had always seemed too good to be true, anyway.
But she could not accept the mental distance that came with his thinking her unbalanced. She might be missing a few weeks, but she was not missing her marbles. And she was thinking just as clearly as he.
“Briana, you must realize that you have to have help in order to recapture those lost weeks.”
She took a deep breath, infusing her tone with a delicate and deliberate lightness. “Don’t worry, Michael. I’ve been looking after myself for quite some time now. I’ve sort of gotten the hang of it.”
He fastened his eyes on her as he unfastened his tie with a quick flip of his wrist. The movement was so smooth, so perfectly executed and so unexpected that Briana felt her pulse leap. Was anything else coming off?
“While we tackle that Chinese food, you can tell me all about yourself.”
The words could have contained a w
arm, personal meaning. But they didn’t Briana was aware of the new air about Michael, the professional air—polished, refined, pleasant, cool. She knew she was no longer facing the man, but rather the psychiatrist.
Clearly, her only allure for him now was her psychologically interesting lapse of memory. It would be betraying both her honesty and her dignity to trade on it
She forced her lips into a polite smile. “Michael, no offense, but I have no intention of spending time on your psychoanalytic couch tonight.”
“I don’t have a psychoanalytic couch. Don’t believe in them. But I do believe in comfortable couches. There’s one in the living room. There’s also a chilled bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. I’ll meet you in the first with the second in five minutes, and we’ll see if Uncle Chen’s special Lake Tung-Tin prawns live up to their reputation.”
He headed out the room, not waiting for a response.
“I’m not big on drinking, Michael,” she called after him.
He flashed her a brief glance over his shoulder, but did not slow his pace. “Good. It’s not that big a bottle.”
Briana watched him walk away, unable to think of one single coherent thing else to say.
Surely his suggestion that she have a drink with him wasn’t the action of a doctor toward a patient? But if it wasn’t, what was it? There had been no personal warmth in his manner.
Michael joined Briana in the living room a few minutes later. He had changed into jeans that hugged his long, lean legs, and a dark blue sweater that matched his midnight eyes. He was carrying the open bottle of champagne. The cartons of Chinese food were already sitting on the coffee table, with chopsticks, forks and napkins beside them.
He flipped a switch, and a glowing fire burst into life in a black diamond hearth. Another flipped switch, and a piano began to play softly. The notes were just loud enough to be a pleasant background to conversation.
Briana had to admit that the setting was one much more conducive to seduction than to analysis. But it didn’t seem that either was on Michael’s mind. He took the chair across from her and raised his glass for a toast, a polite smile on his lips.