“Max?” Sam’s gaze had darkened with interest.
“Merv said there was a woman when I was in college.” A need to touch her overwhelming him, he tucked strands of her hair behind her ear. “Her name was Michelle. He didn’t know anything else. From someone, I need to learn about her.”
“Then we will,” she said with a certainty that made him believe she was right.
Another woman would have wanted to know more. Was Michelle that important to him, someone he had loved? “No questions?”
“Why should there be?”
She gave and gave, and never took. Gently he caught her at the curve of her waist and brought her closer so he felt the heat of her against him. “Want to do something?”
A teasing lightness warmed her voice. “Something specific?”
Max buried his face in her hair. “You could say that.”
Ten
She was an angel, his rescuer, his lifeline to sanity.
Her sultry laugh slithered over him. “Think we can make it up those steps this time?”
They kissed, took a few steps, kissed again. He needed some kind of identification, real and tangible. For a while he could find that with her, as her lover.
By the time they reached the bedroom, he was aching for her, longing to make her breathless, make her shudder. Standing in front of him, beside the bed, she stepped back and pulled the shirt up and over her head. With her scent floating over him, Max lowered his mouth to the lacy trim of her bra, to the swell of her breast above it.
Her scent was there, soft and subtle, enticing. Desire coiled tighter within him as the wispy cloth fell away. He closed his mouth over the soft roundness, licked at the erect and hard nipple.
Longing heated his blood. Hearing her murmur his name, he shifted to slip fingers into her jeans, her panties. Pleasing her was his only thought. “You’re so soft,” he whispered when his hand made contact with the delicate, sensitive skin. Against him, he felt her tremble. He wanted to give this time. He wanted to cover her, press down on her, fill her. He wanted to do more than he was able, and he damned the cast as he yearned to move both hands over her.
Instead she unfastened buttons, she pulled down zippers. Her eyes never leaving his, she stripped clothing from them.
He’d give her more. One day he’d make her mindless as he’d toy with buttons, inch clothes from her. One day, he promised, dragging her closer, his mouth on hers again. He curved her into him when they sank to the mattress. He wanted to pleasure her. He wanted a slow pace. But as she moved back, as he stared at the crown of her head, as the heat of her breath closed over him, he couldn’t speak. He was lost to everything else. He pushed his head back, unable to think. All his senses centered on the warmth of her breath on his skin. With a touch, a caress, she rendered him helpless.
He groaned her name. She was driving him mad, giving him strength—weakening him. Eyes squeezed tight, he clutched onto a shred of control. Desire licked at him like fire. Blood pounded through his head. Aching, he tempered his hunger to stretch out the moment. But with the final pleasure almost upon him, he gave up.
Breathing hard, he stared up at her as she shifted, wanting to see her eyes. Fiery-red hair framed her face, and passion softened her eyes. She straddled him, and without a word spoken, as if they were one, her body opened to welcome him.
The heat closed and tightened around him, and all the desire for her rushed him. Slowly she began to move, at first alone, then as one with him. And she rode him until his breath was ragged, until he felt consumed by the need to fill her. Eyes closed, his heart thundering, he knew without doubt that he would have journeyed wherever she led.
Sam had no idea when she’d fallen asleep, but as with last night, contentment cocooned her the next morning. Cuddling against Max, she stared at the bedroom ceiling cast in the gray light of dawn. Closeness. He might not understand his need for it, but she resolved to have it with him. A closeness that went beyond intimacy. Recently he’d begun to trust her with his thoughts, his feelings.
Nothing was easy for him, neither the loss of memories nor the vague, incomplete recollections. And as she longed to be a part of his pain and joy, she wanted to share not only her body but also feelings with him. Angling her face toward his, she was unexpectedly rewarded with a kiss. “Good morning.”
“Want something?” he murmured against her hair.
“More of that.” He kissed her again. I need you to love me, she wanted to say to him even as she tried to remember that these moments might be all they’d have.
Again she rested her head on his shoulder. How would she ever walk away from him? Life would go on, but she knew she would be changed. Tenderly she ran a fingertip along his rib cage. She’d found love. A person changed when it was lost.
“Hear that?”
When he groaned, she laughed. From downstairs came a high-pitched howl. Definitely the puppy planned to not be forgotten. His yipping grew louder, more demanding, more woeful.
“Tell me this isn’t going to go on all the time,” Max grumbled.
“He’s probably scared.” No way could she ignore the puppy’s yipping. “I left a light on, but this was his first night away from the others. I’ll go downstairs.”
Max merely grunted, turning his face into his pillow.
“Now what drawer had those old socks in it?” she said more to herself than him.
“My socks?” He rolled from his side onto his back, and peered at her. “Why my socks?”
Sam scrambled from the bed to his dresser and opened a drawer. “Puppies calm down if they have something with their owner’s scent on it.”
“Then give him your sock.”
She rummaged through the rolled socks for one with material thinning at the heel. “I only have a few with me.” The quickly gathered excuse made sense to her.
“You shouldn’t give him a sock.” His words came out muffled as he resumed his love affair with his pillow. “It’s a bad habit to start.”
“Is it?” A sock dangling from her fingers, Sam shrugged into his terry-cloth robe. “How do you know that?”
“I just know,” he mumbled.
Starting for the door, she rolled up the overlong sleeves into bulky cuffs. “I’ll get a book on dog care later. For now, emergency treatment is a necessity.” When she opened the bedroom door, a high, squealing howl drifted through the downstairs rooms and up the steps to her.
Behind her, Max moaned.
Amused, Sam cast a look over her shoulder to see him bury his head beneath his pillow. “Definitely an emergency.”
“If you need help, don’t call.”
She smiled to herself and left the room. She recalled him holding the puppy the night before and petting it. Mr. Tough Guy had succumbed to the puppy’s charm more than once.
Halfway down the stairs, Sam slowed her pace, aware the puppy’s whining had suddenly stopped. She noticed something else, too. Reaching the foot of the staircase, she inhaled deeply, took in the wonderful smells wafting on the air.
The new cook had arrived, it seemed, and while Sam loved to cook, she never minded the treat of eating someone else’s cooking.
Intrigued by the smell of bacon, she wandered into the room. Standing at the stove, the cook, an ample-figured, tall woman with a lopsided bun, raised her eyes from a bowl of pancake batter. “Good morning, miss.”
“Good morning.” Sam introduced herself, and within minutes she was laughing with Josie, a gregarious and forthright woman.
“I started breakfast, then let the puppy out. Was that okay with you?” she asked.
“It was nice of you to do that.” After Max had fallen asleep last night, Sam had peeked in from the kitchen door to see the whimpering puppy sitting with its rump halfway in the dish of water she’d left him. The water had been dumped, a puddle staining the newspaper. She’d leaned over the makeshift pen of chicken wire that she’d found in the garage and had gathered the dog to her. His whining had stopped immediately. In h
er arms, he’d yawned, then had nuzzled closer and gone to sleep.
Now, happy with company around him, he chased a small, rubber ball that Sam had found in a kitchen drawer before leaving him, a surprise for when he woke up.
“I just love dogs. Now, he’s a real cute one, isn’t he?” Josie, it seemed, was as much a sucker for dogs as she was.
Sam squatted beside the pup and scratched behind its ear. “The neighbors gave me a small bag of food until I could get to the store.”
“If you want, I’ll pick something up.” Josie poured pancake batter into a pan. “I need to buy a few things for meals.”
Sam’s gaze shifted to the doorway and a smiling Max.
“I smell coffee.”
His eyes stayed on her, warming her. If desire was all she felt for him, how simple this time with him might have been. Enjoy the moment, treasure the memory and move on. That used to be her way. But not this time. This time she yearned for more—everything.
“I’m Josie,” the cook was saying. She wiped her hand on her apron and stepped forward.
Max took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Josie. My sister claims you have excellent references.”
She grinned wide. “Thank you, sir. Would you like coffee?”
“I’d love a cup.”
Her jaw dropped as Max sat on a chair at the kitchen table. “Here, sir?”
“Right here.” Max shared an amused exchange with Sam. “So how’s what’s-his-name doing?”
Sam assumed he meant the puppy. “He’s getting used to his new home. He needs a name. Give him one.”
As if warding off evil, he held up a hand. “Not me. You name him.”
Sam sighed, wishing she could shake some good sense into him. A firm connection to the puppy would be good for him. Pets worked wonders at healing invisible wounds.
“Last time I had a dog was when my daughter and I lived in Seattle,” Josie said. “I’m glad you have one, sir.”
Max didn’t bother to argue with the hefty Amazon who’d taken over his kitchen. “Love them.”
“I knew we’d get along. I never believe gossip.”
In the way of people aware of each other’s thoughts, Max exchanged a look with Sam. He assumed she was thinking what he was. As she had, he refrained from asking Josie what she meant. Apparently she’d heard tales about the man who’d existed before the accident.
“Breakfast is ready,” she announced brightly, carrying a platter of food as if she was about to show off the Hope diamond.
The pancakes with blueberries were delicious and filling. “These are wonderful, aren’t they?” Sam poked her fork into another morsel.
Over the rim of his cup, he grinned at her. “They’re good.”
Sam laughed at his understated response. He’d eaten more than his fair share.
“But I can think of something that might be better,” he said low.
No mind-reading ability was needed to guess what he meant. A teasing light shone in his eyes. “I love the way you think.”
In comfortable silence, they finished a last cup of coffee. Through the screen door, a warm breeze flowed in. In nearby trees, several birds serenaded them. Everything seemed perfect to her. If only it could last.
Setting down her empty cup, she considered suggesting a drive. But he looked suddenly preoccupied as if something weighty was on his mind. “You’re off somewhere again.”
He grinned wryly, indicating his thoughts weren’t intense. “I was thinking about Rachel. What’s the story about Alyssa being found? You said something about some woman named Cobbs. Who is she?”
“Winona Cobbs,” Sam told him. “After Christina was found—” She paused. It seemed so insensitive to blurt the word “dead.” “Well…police believed the baby wasn’t alive. But Winona Cobbs assured Rachel that the baby was well.”
“That’s what I thought you’d said.” His fingers moved near her hand resting on the table, stroked the top of her knuckles. “She’s a psychic?”
“She’s a character,” Sam said lightly. “She also runs a junkyard. I know it sounds ridiculous to rely on what she said—”
“She sounds like a kook.”
She’d expected his skepticism. “Whether she is or not, she was right about Alyssa.”
Stuffed from too many pancakes, Sam left him and wandered to her room to dress. While she wiggled into jeans, she swore not to overindulge daily on Josie’s fantastic culinary treats or she’d turn into a blimp.
With the puppy in her arms, she joined Max on the patio. To keep an eye on the pup, she sat on the grass. “Did you know there’s a country music concert a few nights from now in Bozeman?”
Sitting on a nearby patio chair, he set down his newspaper. “Is that important to you?”
Sam saw amusement in his eyes. That he thought she was hinting for a night out stirred her laugh. “No, not to me. Rachel wanted to go. She was thrilled when she and Jack got tickets.” Sam relayed a previous phone conversation she’d had with his sister. “But then she learned that Lesley was going, too. She usually babysits for them,” she explained. “Your sister’s not too big on trusting just anyone to sit with Alyssa. So I suggested we baby-sit.”
Max arched a brow.
Though he’d never actually said to her that he wanted to spend more time with Alyssa, Sam had seen during Rachel’s and Alyssa’s last visit that he’d kept his gaze fixed on the little one. Perhaps he was looking for some resemblance to Christina. “Was I wrong?” She loved babies, kids of any age. “If you don’t want to—”
“I do.”
Sam started to smile, then stopped. For the briefest second, a vacant look returned to his eyes, then he blinked and focused on her. She made a logical guess about where his mind had wandered. “Who will you ask about that woman—Michelle?”
“Rachel,” he said simply. “If she doesn’t have answers, I don’t know who to ask. From what Merv said, she was important to me.”
Sam viewed his answer as progress. At some moment, he’d begun to trust his sister.
“Someone should know something about her. Merv told me that I’d loved her.” A trace of what sounded like disgust and frustration colored his voice. “I loved her but I can’t even remember what she looked like.”
With a look away, Sam inhaled a hard breath. She’d always known there must be a special woman. A woman from Max’s past. Now she had to question if that woman would be part of his future, too. Would he realize he still loved her? Was she the one who’d be like this with him once he got his memory back?
“Hello,” a feminine voice rang out.
Sam snapped a look at the doorway and saw Rachel.
Blossoming with her pregnancy, Rachel manipulated her way through the terrace doors with a sleeping Alyssa in her arms and an oversize diaper bag hanging from a shoulder. In passing, she affectionately patted Max’s cheek.
As though she’d made him aware he needed a shave, Max ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Why isn’t she ever awake?” he said about Alyssa.
“I’ll come by later next time.” She dropped the diaper bag to the flagstone floor, then placed Alyssa on the nearby chaise longue. “I wanted to see if the new cook had arrived.” She sniffed at the air. “What is that she’s cooking?” She plopped onto the closest chair and smoothed the material of her maternity top over her rounded belly.
She glows, Sam thought. “Smells wonderful, doesn’t it? Josie is making crab cakes for lunch. Want to join us?”
“I wish I could. But Alyssa has a doctor’s appointment. O-oh.” Rachel’s expression turned mushy as she spotted the puppy. “What have you got?”
“Max has a puppy,” Sam piped in. If she said it often enough, she believed that he’d stop resisting the idea.
“You have a puppy,” he countered.
She added stubbornness to his personality traits.
Rachel laughed. “So why did you get one?” she asked Max to Sam’s delight.
“I didn’t.” He pointed at Sam.
“She did.”
“He’s so adorable.”
Sam joined forces with Rachel to ignore Max’s protest and steered the conversation in another direction. “I imagine you’re looking forward to having the baby soon.”
Rachel’s face shone with happiness. “It’s only a few months, but I feel as if it’s taking forever. Jack can hardly wait, too,” she admitted. “Having Alyssa has made us aware of how much we wanted a family. And we think of her as our own.”
“She is now, isn’t she?” Max questioned.
Dread crept into his sister’s darkened eyes. “Not really. Alyssa’s real father is near. The note he left indicated that he would be back for her. I’ve always known that might happen.”
Rachel’s attempt to seem accepting of the fact fell flat. Anyone who saw the love in her eyes when she cared for Alyssa could surmise that a separation from the baby would be devastating for her.
“Who’s Alyssa’s doctor?” Sam asked.
“Dr. Carey Hall.”
“Dr. Carey Hall Kincaid?” Sam asked to verify. “She’s a wonderful pediatrician.”
Rachel nodded. “Sometimes I forget. I’m so used to calling her Dr. Hall. She’s married to Wayne Kincaid,” she explained, seeing Max’s frown.
“I don’t know them.” Max gave a self-deprecating laugh. “But that’s not unusual. I don’t know a lot of people. Collin and Garrett Kincaid came by yesterday,” he informed her.
Delight brightened Rachel’s eyes. “That’s wonderful.” Her voice trailed off, along with her pleasure when she noted the grim set of Max’s mouth. “Or wasn’t it?” She regarded him at length. “You look less than pleased.”
“It was okay. After they left, Merv Talbot came.”
“Merv and you used to be good friends,” Rachel said.
“So he said. He mentioned a woman named Michelle. Do you know about her?”
Rachel appeared bewildered. “Michelle?” In what appeared to be avoidance, she dodged his stare and wandered over to check on Alyssa. “Max, I don’t think—”
“Rachel.” An appeal crept into his voice. “If you know something, tell me.”
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