by Edie Claire
“Don’t keep us waiting too long,” Eric responded, his voice artificially cheerful. “If dessert is up to Sheryl’s usual standard, I may have to come in after it.” Teagan tried to catch her husband’s eye as he spoke, but he wouldn’t look at her, either. His attention had turned to the salt shaker.
She turned and followed her mother into the kitchen.
***
Jamie stared at the empty chair across the table from her. Eric was seated to her right. Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. But if he did, he gave no indication. In fact, he said nothing at all.
She raised her chin and turned her head, forcing herself to look at him again. She had to settle this. She had to know whether she was imagining things. Or not.
His profile was beguiling. Maddening. The thick, wavy short hair. The set of his shoulders, his arms. Teagan had said he was a lawyer.
A table, glasses clinking. Jamie could see the other room as clear as crystal. Her feet hurt. She was waiting tables. Picking up glasses, picking up tips. The lighting was dim; the air smelled of cigarettes and beer. Mostly, it smelled of men. Attractive, available, educated men.
She tried to picture the faces around the table in that other room, make out their masculine voices. But all she saw in her head were the glasses. The trays. The greenbacks. The occasional quarter.
The image left her. The man at her side still didn’t look at her, but gazed straight ahead. His jaw muscles were clenched. He looked miserable.
Another wave of heat flushed Jamie’s cheeks. She forced herself to speak. Loudly. Clearly.
“Eric?”
“Yes.” The answer was immediate, deadpan.
“Do you know me?”
His next reply took a few seconds in coming. But his voice was just as flat.
“Yes.”
Jamie drew in a breath with a shudder. Her damned hands were shaking again. “And how do you know me?” she asked, her voice back to a stammer.
He stood up and took a step away from the table. He ran his hands over his face, expelling a heavy breath. “What do you remember?”
She remained in her chair. “Just that you look familiar to me,” she answered, lying a little. “You seem to remind me of a restaurant.”
He lowered his hands. This time his blue-gray eyes pierced right through her, opening up a door in her brain like a battering ram. She could see him standing close to her, his face bending toward hers. Her arms were around his neck. She could feel his lips, his hands…
The next word out of her mouth wasn’t fit for mixed company. She shot up out of her own chair and paced behind it. “Dammit!” she whispered harshly, staring at him. “You more than know me, don’t you?”
He shot an anxious glance toward the kitchen serving window, but Sheryl had closed its shutters. Sounds from the dining room could still be heard through the doorway, if the women in the kitchen had been listening. But they were not; they were talking animatedly to each other.
Eric’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We dated for a while, yes. But it was a long time ago. I—” he broke off. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”
“Well, I do,” she whispered back, her voice still harsh. “Dammit!” she repeated.
His eyes hardened. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.” Then he studied her, puzzled. “Why are you so angry?”
Jamie closed her eyes. She was angry. Very angry. She wasn’t sure of the reason. Maybe because yet another person had more knowledge about her own life than she did. Maybe because she had been angry with him back then, and she felt it still, even though she couldn’t recall the circumstances.
Or maybe because the one and only thing that actually meant something to her in the present—Teagan’s friendship—had in one fell swoop been cut off at the knees. And all because of some stupid-ass roll in the hay she didn’t even have the pleasure of fully remembering!
What were the odds? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t.
“You cannot tell her about this,” Jamie ordered, her tone as adamant as a whisper could be. “Please, Eric. I’m begging you. Just let it rest. I barely remember you, anyway. Really.”
He looked at her with surprise. His own whisper was equally firm. “I’m not going to lie to her, Jamie.”
“You don’t have to,” she protested. “Just don’t say anything. What does it matter, anyway? The two of you are happy, right?”
“If it doesn’t matter,” he answered, “then there’s no need to keep it a secret.”
“There is a need!” Jamie hissed. Her eyes were misting again. “Teagan is my only friend in the world right now. And if she knows, it will ruin everything between us!”
He shook his head. “She’s not like that. What happened between you and me happened years before Teagan and I even met. She’ll understand—”
“No, she won’t!” A tear escaped one eye, and Jamie swiped at it viciously. “Don’t be stupid. No woman can stand to think about the man she loves being with—” She cut off her own speech. How the hell did she know all this? She rubbed at her face with her good hand and collected herself as best she could. “Things would never be the same between Teagan and me. Never. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”
He turned his face to the side. He blew out a breath. Was he wavering?
“She doesn’t have to know,” Jamie reiterated. “I don’t know whether you ever cared about me or not, but if you do care about her, please don’t hurt her. Just forget it ever happened.” She surprised herself with a sound that seemed half chuckle, half sob. “I’ve done my part at the forgetting, haven't I?”
He looked back at her. Then, for the first time since he had introduced himself, he offered a genuine smile. “I did care about you, Jamie,” he said softly.
“Specialty of the house!” Sheryl screamed. “Flaming cherries jubilee!”
Jamie looked toward the doorway as Teagan and her mother made their grand entrance with the fiery dishes. Jamie scanned their faces frantically. Had they seen anything that looked suspicious? Could they tell she’d been crying? Teagan was so blasted perceptive—would one glance at the two of them tell her everything?
Jamie watched as Teagan looked from her to Eric, then back. Teagan's smile remained perfectly pleasant. But her brown eyes swam with angst.
Chapter Nine
“I’m telling you, honey—if you don’t listen to anything else I say all year, you’d better listen to this. That woman is trouble. Do not trust her with him.”
“Mom,” Teagan said impatiently, pulling her coat tighter against the relentless wind. “Stop it. I don’t know why Jamie was acting so strange tonight—maybe she was overwhelmed. But I’m not going to get paranoid about it. The woman needs help and I intend to help her. As for Eric, something’s obviously bothering him too, but that’s another issue.”
Sheryl lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Is it?”
Teagan growled under her breath. She had never had any confidence in her mother’s opinions when it came to relationships, and at the moment, she was in an even less receptive mood than usual. Jamie had picked at her dessert as if it were poison, then excused herself to her apartment, claiming exhaustion. Sheryl had chosen the same moment to leave, though Teagan suspected that her offer to accompany them both to the garage was a ruse to get Teagan alone again. “Enough, Mom,” Teagan said firmly. “I can manage. Thanks for coming over, and for bringing dessert—”
“That’s another thing,” Sheryl proceeded, pointing with a gloved finger. “When have you ever known your husband not to wolf down one of my creations? You saw the way they were looking at each other when we came back in the room. I’m telling you—that woman tried something. She made a pass.”
Teagan stepped backward toward the house. “Goodbye, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”
Sheryl opened her mouth to say something, but evidently thought better of it. She popped open the door of her PT cruiser with a sigh. “We will talk later,” she agreed. “I’ll call y
ou tomorrow.”
“Goodbye,” Teagan repeated, turning back toward her front door in earnest. If listening to another person voice her own darkest concerns wasn’t bad enough, she was freezing her tail off. She jogged up the front steps, yanked open the door, and moved into the warmth of her living room in double time.
Eric appeared in the doorway. She had barely managed to remove her coat before his arms were around her.
She held on to him with equal earnestness, though she was aware, even as the strong feel of him buoyed her spirits, that he had sought the embrace for his own comfort as much as hers. The thought of why chilled her insides.
When at last he released her, she stepped back to face him. “All right,” she commanded. “Tell me. What’s been bothering you all night?”
He had kept hold of one of her hands. At the question, he picked up the other one. His eyes brewed with two emotions she had no desire to see: dread and guilt. A tremor threatened to rock her shoulders, but she refused to give in to it. Whatever was wrong, it couldn’t be that bad. She would not let her mother’s passion for drama override her own common sense.
“Come and sit down,” he urged.
Teagan shook her head. “Just tell me.”
Eric paused and took a breath. He swung his arms a bit, pulling hers with them. Then he faced her squarely and began. “It’s Jamie. Tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve met her. I know her from somewhere else.”
Teagan’s heart began to thump with excitement. Such an announcement was hardly what she expected. This was good news. “You do? From where? Do you know where she’s living now?”
Eric shook his head. “Sorry. No. I don’t think I know anything helpful; I haven’t seen her in years.”
Teagan was disappointed, but her intrigue remained high. She waited for Eric to say more, and when he didn’t, she squeezed his hands with impatience, prompting him. “Well? What do you know about her? Where did you meet?”
He didn’t say anything else. He seemed like he might for a moment, but the words never made it to his lips. He simply stood, looking at her with an expression that, in one horrible instant, brought her racing heart to a standstill.
He didn’t need to say the words. She could read the message loud and clear.
She dropped his hands. She turned her head to the side and focused on the couch. The cold that had been gnawing away at her gut all evening exploded into a full blown ache, complete with a heaviness that made her want to flop down on the couch like a rag doll.
But she didn’t. Instead she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. She forced her eyes back to his. “I see,” she said quietly. “Which one was she?”
When it came to past relationships, they had long ago decided to clear the decks, sparing the other any unpleasant surprises. She had asked him point blank about the other women he’d been with, and he had told her. The list had been mercifully short, and she had been grateful. Particularly since her own list had been nonexistent.
He answered with a steady voice. “The waitress at Vermelli’s.”
Teagan sucked in a breath. She stepped away from him and sat down on the couch. The waitress at Vermelli’s. The incredibly sexy, flirtatious blonde who had picked him out of a crowd of adoring freshman law students and promptly become a fixture in his apartment. A short-lived affair, he had claimed. The feelings weren’t strong either way.
Not an emotional relationship, she had interpreted. Which meant it had been a purely physical thing.
Her stomach roiled.
Eric dropped down beside her. “I’m sorry, Teagan,” he said softly. “I know this is the last thing you wanted to hear. But—”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she snapped. “I told you her name was Jamie. I told you about her eyes! How could you not know?”
Eric bristled at the accusation, but his voice remained calm. “I never even thought about it. There are lots of Jamies in the world. And when I knew her, she had blue eyes.”
Teagan stared at him incredulously, but her skepticism soon gave way to the more rational thinking she prided herself on. What reason could he possibly have for lying about the exact point at which he had recognized Jamie? He didn’t have to tell her any of this.
“She wore colored contacts,” Teagan muttered. “Evidently you didn’t notice.”
Eric, wisely, didn’t comment.
Teagan’s limbs itched to move. She stood up again and began to pace. “Does she remember you?” she asked.
Eric rose as well, but remained by the couch. “She said I looked familiar, and that I reminded her of a restaurant. She seemed to know we’d been involved, but I’m not sure what else she remembers.”
“And that’s what the two of you were talking about when we came back in with the dessert?”
“Yes.”
Teagan blew out a breath. She paced a few more times, saying nothing.
“I wasn’t sure whether I should tell you,” he admitted. “I don’t want this to ruin whatever friendship there is between the two of you. And it shouldn’t. What happened between Jamie and me was over with years before you and I even met. It’s ancient history.”
Teagan stopped and stared. “Why did you tell me?”
Eric seemed taken aback. “Because,” he stammered, “the woman is right here under our noses, and I know you. You would have realized something was up. You suspected as much at dinner already, and I didn’t want you to think there was something between us now. Besides,” his tone dropped lower. “I know how I would feel if our roles were reversed. I would hate like hell to hear it, but if you had been involved with someone I knew, someone I had to face on a daily basis, I would want to know that. And I’d be furious with you if you kept it from me.”
The heat of anger that had been pulsing through Teagan’s veins, filling her head with images too horrifying to acknowledge, began slowly to abate. What was she so upset about? It had all happened years ago, hadn’t it? She had known about the waitress at Vermelli’s all along and been fine with it. Why should putting a real face on the abstract character make a difference?
Eric was devoted to her. Had he not shown as much, just now, by being honest with her? She loved him for that. Hang the rest of it.
Teagan closed the distance between them in two strides and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “I’m sorry. I’ve got no business being angry with you. The whole thing just messes with my head a little, that’s all.”
He returned her embrace, ending it with a kiss. “I understand. Don’t apologize. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just damned bad luck.”
Teagan wiped her eyes. Not that she was crying. She never cried.
She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. This was okay. Everything would be fine. She had known that something big was bothering him—were there not plenty of worse things he could have told her?
“Maybe it’s not all bad luck,” she said, attempting to add some pluck to her still unsteady voice. “You may be just the link to Jamie that the police need to solve her case. You knew her your first year of law school, so that’s been what—five, six years ago?”
That’s it, woman. Stick to business.
He nodded. “But back then she was living in some dive basement apartment with four other people. There’s no way she’d still be living there now, especially if, as she says, she went to college.”
“But you know her last name,” Teagan insisted. “Don’t you?”
He started. “Of course. Jamie Meadows.”
Teagan forced a smile. “See there? That’s more than the detective or I have managed to come up with so far. Meadows should be the name on her birth certificate, then, unless she was adopted.” She looked back at her husband. The ache in her middle still nagged. “Or unless, when you met her, she had been married before.”
Eric’s eyes widened. The thought seemed to strike him as preposterous. “Um… no,” he said cryptically. “I doubt that.”
What does that m
ean?
Teagan wanted to ask. But she didn’t. She wanted to ask many things. A part of her wanted a play-by-play account of every single second that had ever transpired between her husband and Jamie; another part of her couldn’t bear to think of them together at all. For the moment, the latter part won out.
She launched herself back into his arms again, relishing the comfort she always found there, even now. She would not act like some insecure, jealous idiot. She was Teagan Raye Hansen, and there wasn’t a damn insecure thing about her. She would handle this nightmare with aplomb, just like she handled everything else.
She knew she had no reason to worry. Eric loved her. They were blissfully happy together. Maybe other women had no faith in their marriages, but she wasn’t other women.
And she would prove it.
She released him, reluctantly, and forced another smile. It was obvious, really, what she needed to do. A relatively simple way both to show confidence in her marriage and to get Jamie out of danger and—of sudden importance—out of the garage apartment, as quickly as possible.
Just do it.
Teagan cleared her throat. “You know I have to work tomorrow,” she reminded. “I really can’t get out of that; there’s no one to cover for me.”
“I remember,” he answered. “I was thinking I would go into the office, too. It’s quiet on Saturdays, at least. Maybe I can get caught up.”
She took his hands in her own. “I was kind of hoping you could do me a favor.”
His eyebrows rose. “What’s that?”
“Jamie really shouldn’t be alone all day. I was going to ask you to check on her anyway, but now I’m thinking—”
“You want me to babysit her?” Eric interrupted sharply.
Teagan grinned. He made the prospect sound horrifying, which pleased her. “I know it’s an awkward thing to ask, but the reality is that you’re in a unique position to help her get her memory back quicker.”