Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  Even as she said it, the idea gained breadth and appeal. Computers were the burgeoning field. Dropping the dish towel she was holding on the table, she took his hand, eager to see if she was right. She crossed to the rear of the house.

  “C’mon, why don’t we find out?”

  He knew his mind was fuzzy and that’s why he wasn’t following her, but he couldn’t help wondering if his mind had ever been able to jump around the way hers did. “If I’m a wizard?”

  “Well, maybe not a wizard, but if you know anything about computers at any rate.”

  Opening the door, she took him into the den. Books and papers were strewn on every available surface. Many had found their way to the rug either by design, or accident. Kevin did his bookkeeping here, and she and Jimmy put in their hours studying here. It looked like a paper war zone.

  Stepping over a sliding mound of books, she reached the desk. An apologetic grin flashed at him over her shoulder. “Sorry about the mess, but we all share Big Al.”

  “Big Al?”

  “The computer.” There was affection in her voice, as if she was talking about a person rather than a collection of slotted cards, semiconductors and massive wires tangled in hopeless knots. She patted the oversize monitor. “I named it.”

  He looked for some indication as to why that and not something else. Like a company logo or an acronym. But there was nothing. He’d bite. “Why Big Al?”

  She shrugged. “It seemed to fit.” Reaching around the side of the minitower, she switched the computer on. Humming began instantly. Within seconds, it was up and running.

  Taking the pile of papers off the chair, she set them on the floor. “Okay, sit down.”

  But he didn’t. Instead, he looked at the icons on the screen. They neither looked familiar, nor strange. They were just there. “And then do what?”

  “Whatever comes naturally.”

  Luc paused for a moment, thinking. Trying to connect what he was feeling with a tangible action.

  “Okay.”

  But instead of sitting down at the computer, he took a very stunned Alison into his arms and kissed her.

  Chapter Five

  Wizard.

  A first-class wizard.

  The thought vibrated through Alison’s brain. If there were such things as wizards, and they could indeed cast spells over unsuspecting mortals, then this man was certainly one of them.

  Because, for one brief moment, Luc had cast a spell over her. That had to be it. Otherwise, why else was she still here, lost in this uncharted region and wanting to embrace it instead of pushing him angrily away, demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing?

  He knew damn well what he was doing.

  But she didn’t.

  Not exactly. And her reaction to it was tearing her in half because part of her wanted to run while the other part wanted to linger. To savor.

  The protest that sprang to her lips on contact died the same moment. Disappearing as if it had never been. Instead of the suffocating fear and driving fury that had always lurked in the shadows whenever Derek had tried to make love to her, something else was going on.

  Something else was happening within her.

  It was almost as frightening as her reaction to anyone’s touch. But at the same time, it was a different kind of frightening. It was softer, a great deal softer. And incredibly seductive. She couldn’t begin to explain it.

  There was a different fear now than what she’d experienced before. Fear of the unknown rather than fear of the known. Because to Alison, Luc represented the unknown.

  He tasted of something dark and exciting, rather than of beer and demanding appetites. There was a gentleness to him that she found captivating. Soothing even while it was arousing. His lips moved over hers slowly, coaxing, drawing her out.

  Her pulse raced, rushing toward some unknown goal line that was never to be reached. But she couldn’t stop the racing, even though she tried.

  She held her body rigid, stiff. But even as she did so, the stiffness was easing away.

  Luc had had no idea, until he was smack-dab in the middle of it, that he was going to kiss her. He wasn’t even sure what had come over him. It was just that, when Alison had told him to do what came naturally, this was all that occurred to him: an overwhelming, sudden desire to kiss her.

  He had no recollection of kissing another woman, no recollection of ever wanting to. So for him, at least at this junction, this was something brand-new.

  And it packed a wallop that nearly knocked him on his butt, igniting other desires rather than satisfying the one he’d had.

  The degree with which he wanted her took him by storm and stunned him.

  It took effort to draw back, to surrender what he’d laid claim to. Her expression when he drew his head away was impassive, but there was something in her eyes. Fear. Guilt kicked him in the ribs, stealing his breath almost as effectively as she had done only a moment ago.

  She’d said he’d come to her aid and now here he was, frightening her. He wasn’t sure just what had come over him.

  “I’m sorry, that’s no way to pay you back for your hospitality.” He wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but knew that would only make things worse. Helpless, he shoved his hands into his pockets and wished himself somewhere else.

  The words, kind, apologetic, were incongruous with the sentiment raised by the kiss that had just passed between them. More than that, they were almost on opposite ends of the spectrum he’d just opened up for her. She didn’t know what to make of him.

  Trying to be blasé, Alison shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. In some books it would have been.”

  He had no gift of gab to fall back on, no charm like…like who? There was someone in his life who could have talked his way out of this, but it wasn’t him, and for now that was all that mattered. Later, maybe it would come to him.

  Luc went with honesty. It was his only weapon. He hoped it was enough. “I just suddenly wanted to kiss you. So I did.”

  Yes, he certainly did. Alison knew that if she’d been anyone else…but she wasn’t. She had a history and she couldn’t escape it or deny it, no matter how desperately she wanted to at times. It haunted her like a smudge made by a laundry marker, a smudge that couldn’t be washed away.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, hating the fact that she felt nervous. “Any more sudden urges I should know about?”

  That look he’d seen in her eyes still bothered him, but he knew any reference to it would only be met with her terse denial—and they’d both feel even more awkward than they did right at this moment. “No, I think I can keep things under control.”

  She wished he’d kept his lips under control, as well. She didn’t like this feeling that was pervading her. Nerves skittered through her like tiny mice running for high ground, away from waters that were rising dangerously.

  The best way to proceed, she decided, was to pretend that she hadn’t been affected. And that she hadn’t come dangerously close to being unraveled.

  Alison indicated the computer. “Do you want to see if you’re as familiar with a computer as you are with raising pulses?”

  Straddling the chair next to the computer, he looked up at her. A grin played along his lips. “Then you felt something, too?”

  Maybe honesty was the best way to go after all. He was making it sound as if he’d been just as stunned by the kiss as she was. No suggestions of continuing, no chest beating like some male gorilla, positive that every woman wanted him.

  She felt a small smile tugging on her lips. “I would have had to have been a stone not to.” She pulled over another chair to the desk, moving aside a pile of papers. “I can’t believe you’re walking around free.”

  He looked down at the mouse pad. It showed an arctic scene. For a fleeing instant he was transported. “There aren’t many women around.” Even as the words came, he had no idea what prompted him to say them.

  Alison looked at him. “Sure there are.” And t
hen she stopped. It was as if part of him wasn’t in the room. Part of him was struggling to grasp another fragment. Compassion nudged out unease. “Did you just remember something?”

  Luc blew out a breath, temporarily surrendering. “I thought I did, but it’s gone now.”

  Luc saw a glimmer of his reflection on the monitor. At this angle, he looked ghostly, just like his thoughts. He kept feeling these surges through his brain, flashes of images, words telegraphing themselves across his mind. It was exhausting. Worse, because he had nothing to show for it. No larger pieces to put together, no memories suddenly returning.

  “It’s a little like being in a storm that’s knocked the power lines out,” he speculated. “Electricity keeps trying to come through, making fitful starts and stops and a lot of crackling noises, but the room doesn’t get lit. I can’t make out any of the shapes—they’re still in the dark.” Just like I am.

  He seemed to know what he was talking about. She tried to build on his imagery. “Maybe it’s stormy where you come from.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I’m not sure.” He glanced out the window. The weather was still dreary, the way it had been when it had accompanied them on the trip to the house. “But I don’t seem to remember constant misting, either.” Not that that meant a lot, he added silently.

  Feeling restless and needing a little space between them, Alison rose and crossed to the same window he’d been looking through. She stared at the beads of moisture on the pane. Rain tears racing one another down to the bottom of the sill. It seemed as if it had rained a little almost every day of her life.

  “There’s something to be said for that. I’m about ready to leave.”

  “The room?”

  “No.” Alison looked at him over her shoulder. “Seattle.”

  Leaving. Everyone’s always leaving, moving somewhere else. But that’s not for me.

  The sound of his own voice echoed in his head. But he hadn’t said that just now. When? When had he said it? Rousing himself, he realized she was looking at him. Waiting. He tried to pick up the thread of the conversation.

  “Where are you moving to?”

  She shrugged, letting the curtain fall back into place. “I don’t know yet.” Alison thought of the letters on her desk in response to her inquires. Letters from all over the country and beyond. She had her choice of places, but none felt exactly right yet. “Some place where I’m needed. Some place where I can make a real difference, not just be one of a crowd.” Crossing back to him, she noticed that he hadn’t even attempted to put his hands on the keyboard. Probably didn’t figure in prominently into his life, then. The computer enthusiasts she knew took their laptops to bed with them and fell asleep typing. “I’ve put in applications to various isolated areas where nurses are really needed.”

  “Isolated?” The word shimmered in front of him, on the verge of triggering something. He could only hang on for the ride if it did.

  “Yes.”

  It was still out of reach. He needed help, a push in the right direction, but he had no idea what that was. He kept her talking. “Like how?”

  She ran the addresses she’d typed through her head. “Like Third World countries, like the Appalachians.” She’d seen brochures that wrenched her heart. “There are places even in this country that desperately need medical professionals.”

  Luc stopped trying to remember. He focused on her. “So you’re volunteering.”

  Volunteers worked without being paid. Well, wouldn’t you almost be doing that? Alison heard Lily’s voice in her head.

  “It amounts to something close to that,” she allowed. The people who answered her letters tried to paint the best pictures they could, but there was no denying that conditions there made the words low pay sound synonymous with affluence because there was really so little that the local residents had. “Room and board, minimum wages, awful conditions.” In some cases, running water was a luxury. She hoped she was up to it.

  She seemed a little uncertain about it, despite her words. The computer and his own mental odyssey were put on hold. “Then why do it?” he asked.

  For a number of reasons. She gave him the most practical one. “To get my credentials.”

  He had no idea what was involved in becoming a nurse, but it didn’t seem to make sense to require this kind of hardship. “Has to be an easier way.”

  There was. She could have applied to work at a local clinic, or with someone in private practice. Jimmy had made the suggestion more than once. “I’m not interested in easier, I’m interested in helping.”

  He smiled. “People in Seattle get sick, too.”

  That was exactly what Kevin had said to her. She gave Luc the same answer she’d given her brother. “People in Seattle have choices as to who they want to go to. Some of the places I applied to don’t even have one medical person to turn to for—”

  “A hundred-mile radius.” Again, he was echoing something he’d heard, something that had hooked up with the words that came before. Something out of a life he still didn’t remember having.

  “I was going to say miles and miles, but yes, for a hundred-mile radius, if not more.” He had that same look again, as if he were existing on two different planes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not just second-guessing me?” She studied his expression, wishing she knew how to help. “Do you know one of these places firsthand?”

  “Maybe.” But if he did, he didn’t know he knew. “Or maybe you’re just making all this so vivid for me, I can see it through your eyes.” He rose from the chair slowly, feeling that same spark again. Wondering why it echoed with loneliness when he did. “You’ve got beautiful eyes, you know that?”

  Lifting her shoulder in a careless shrug, she looked away. Telling herself she wasn’t afraid to look into his eyes. “They serve their function.”

  “They do more than that.” Being very careful to only touch the point of her chin, he drew her eyes back to his. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you before.”

  He seemed so sincere. The fear drifted away. “You didn’t.”

  “Are you sure?” Because he wasn’t.

  She wasn’t eleven anymore. There were times she had to remind herself of that. She’d taken a great many precautions to prevent being in that sort of situation again. She could take care of herself now. Not like then. “If I’d have thought you were trying to take advantage of me, you would have found yourself hermetically imbedded in the floor.”

  The way she’d raised her chin almost made him laugh. Instinctively he knew that would have been the worst thing he could have done. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am more than a little taller than you are. And more than a little bigger.”

  She’d noticed, all right. Noticed far too much about this man she’d taken into her house. Noticed more than made her comfortable. And now that he’d kissed her…

  Nothing. Now that he’d kissed her, there was no change, no impression, no veering off course, she insisted silently. “That can be used against you, you know. Height and weight.”

  “Martial arts?”

  The mind really was a mysterious thing, arbitrarily selecting what it chose to remember and not remember, she thought. “You know about that. Interesting. I feel like I should go trolling through your brain just to find out what else is hidden in the recesses of your mind that you don’t know about.”

  “As long as you promise to be gentle.”

  She laughed and pointed to the computer. “Just see if anything feels familiar to you.” When he merely looked back at the screen, she placed her hands over his and put them on the keyboard.

  The electricity that tiptoed through her was unexpected, waking up every nerve ending in her body from point of origin outward. Rousing something formless and shadowy within her, something she didn’t understand and didn’t want to examine.

  “Maybe touching it will remind you of something,” she coaxed, trying to keep her voice from sounding shaky.

  It reminded him
of nothing. But the feel of her hand on top of his stirred that same bittersweetness inside. And there was more. “What kind of perfume is that?”

  “What?” When she turned her head, she realized that their faces were much too close. That she was much too close.

  “The scent you’re wearing.” He took a breath and let it fill his head. It soothed the dark corners that existed. “It’s been teasing me all day.”

  Without meaning to, she sniffed. Alison couldn’t detect anything unusual. If there was perfume in her clothes or on her skin, she’d long since become oblivious to it. She tried to remember if she’d put any on this morning before dashing out of the house. Nothing gelled. “I don’t think I’m wearing any.”

  Maybe it was her hair that smelled so enticing. Or just her skin. “Then I think maybe you should put a dead bolt on your door because if that’s just you, someone’s going to try to kidnap you for your secret.” The scent was captivating and just the slightest bit distracting. Not unlike the woman herself, he thought.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” Alison murmured. Tapping the monitor, she drew his attention back to the business at hand. “The computer.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He leaned back in the chair, preferring to look at her than the computer. “Why don’t you run a program or a game for me and I’ll see if anything seems familiar.”

  It sounded reasonable enough, she supposed. Bringing up the list of programs, she selected a popular one that was dedicated to word processing, thinking it might be familiar to him.

  “What do you call it?”

  She indicated the top of the screen where the name was written. “That’s—”

  “No, I mean your hair. What do you call it?”

  “Hair?” she suggested innocently.

  His smile was wide and engaging. “No, the color. Is it sable? Chocolate? Chestnut?”

  She pulled a curly strand in front of her, examining it as if she’d never seen it before. “I don’t know, I never gave it much thought. Chestnut, I guess.” Her eyes met his. “You’re not paying attention.”