by Metsy Hingle
Ignoring her shy glances and the awareness pulsing be tween them had not been easy. But for the most part, he‘ succeeded. Thanks to fix-up jobs like this one, he had been able to escape for a little while and not think about Josie. He hadn’t thought about the sweetness and passion he’d tasted in her kisses, or about how soft and inviting her body had felt, or about how much he wanted her. He slid the washe into place along the pipe joint and sighed. At least he’d man aged not to think about her all the time, he told himself. Then he remembered the reason he’d gone outside this morning in the first place.
Face it, pal. When you came out of the bathroom and saw Josie with the baby nestled against her breast, the rain and cold temperatures were your only hope of cooling the hunger she set off in you.
Recalling the scene brought back vivid reminders of the previous night—of lying in the dark on the couch unable to deep, seeing Josie slip out of her bedroom and head down he hall to the bathroom. Who’d have thought that beneath he lady’s no-nonsense, practical demeanor lurked the soul of a temptress? Who would have thought that the same Josie who didn’t wear anything but old jeans and drab shirts, would sleep in a long, silky nightgown the color of a summer sky? Or that the body the gown covered would be so ripe with womanly curves? And who’d have thought that the black hair she wore in such a tame braid most of the time ctually hid a mass of thick midnight curls that fell all the way to her waist? He’d been rock hard in an instant, and had pent the rest of the night lying awake, thinking about her in hat bed alone and wishing he could join her there.
Growing aroused all over again, Blake tightened his fin ers on the wrench and concentrated on the task at hand—ixing the blasted pipe. He checked a slip nut, gave the wrench another vicious twist. But try as he might, he couldn’t et the sultry image of Josie out of his head. “Dammit, man, et a grip,” he muttered, and went back to work.
Soon. He said the word to himself over and over like a hant. Soon his memory would come back. Soon the weather would start cooperating. Soon his life would return to nor nal—whatever normal was. “And soon had better hurry up nd get here,” Blake grumbled, or he was going to go stark, aving mad.
He double-checked the pipe fittings and, satisfied with his andyman’s efforts, started to crawl from beneath the sink when he heard Josie scream,. then a crash. Blake jerked up and hit his head on the cabinet. Swearing, he scrambled to is feet. Spots danced before his eyes as he half ran, half taggered out of the bathroom. “Josie,” he yelled, racing down the hall toward the kitchen. “Josie, dammit Where in e hell are you?”
“In the bedroom,” she called out, her voice anxious, cared. “Please, Blake. Hurry!”
The fear in her voice ripped at him. He reached the bedroom on a run, then slapped the door open. And he dam near had a heart attack when he spied Josie dangling from an opening in the ceiling by her fingertips. A rickety ladd lay on the floor with two broken rungs beside it. Swearin again, he was beneath her in an instant, holding on to he calves. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you,” he told her. “Yo can let go now.”
“No! You won’t be able to hold me. I need the ladde Get me the ladder.”
“Forget the damn ladder, Josie. That thing’s about a sturdy as a toothpick. I’ve got you. Let go, and I’ll cat you.”
“I...I can’t,” she said, her voice little more than a whin per.
“Josie, let go,” he commanded.
“I can’t. Blake, I—I’m afraid.”
Great, he thought, his heart chugging like a freight tra since he’d heard her scream. His head felt as if he’d bee kicked by a mule. “I know you’re scared. But you don’t hav to be, because I’ve got you,” he said, trying to keep his voi calm. “Feel my hands on your legs? No way am I going let you fall. You can trust me, angel. I promise, I’m goi to catch you.”
She hesitated another moment. “All right,” she said, h voice shaky. Then she let go, screaming as she fell.
Blake bit back a grunt as she landed in his arms. She clu to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body tren bling violently. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “You’re say now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” A wave of tendernes washed through him as she continued to shudder in his arm He stroked her back, murmured soft words of reassurane against her head, now buried against his neck.
Several seconds ticked by and her shaking subsided. When she finally lifted her head, the eyes that stared at him shin mered with unshed tears. Her face was paper-white. A strea of dirt ran down one cheek, and he longed to wipe the mudge away. Her bottom lip quivered, and his urge to soothe the tremor with his tongue was so strong Blake had to grapple for control.
She was vulnerable now, frightened, he reminded himself. But the adrenaline surge that had sent blood pumping through his system when Josie screamed had shifted direction and aimed for another part of his anatomy—a part decidedly lower than his brain. Having her body plastered against him did little to help his condition.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“No problem,” he said somehow managing to get out the words. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she replied, dropping her gaze to his mouth. The innocent invitation in those green eyes had him breaking out in a sweat. Knowing darn well he would do something insane if he didn’t put some distance between them fast, Blake was trying to talk himself into letting her go when she kissed him.
It was no more than a whisper as far as kisses went, a simple brushing of lips against lips, a gesture of gratitude at his having saved her from a tumble. But at the touch of her mouth desire bit into him with sharp teeth, and before he could stop himself, he was returning the kiss.
Josie parted her lips, and like the outlaw he feared he might be, he slipped his tongue inside to taste her. She tasted soft and warm and vulnerable, and as wild and passionate as he remembered. For several heartbeats he considered giving in to the need clawing at him to take what he wanted, to lose himself in her warmth, in her softness.
When she slid her arms around his neck, sank her fingers in his hair, alarm bells went off in his head. That she would regret making love with him, he had no doubt. And that same sense of honor that had made him resist taking what he had no right to before made him lift his head and end the kiss now.
Her eyelids fluttered, opened, and from her dazed expression, he knew she didn’t have a clue at how close to the edge she’d driven him. Easing his arm from beneath her knees so she could stand, he kept his arm around her back and released her. Slowly, oh, so slowly, she slid down his body until he feet touched the floor.
Before he could say a word, she buried her face agains his shoulder, wrapped her arms tightly around him. Blake sucked in a breath at the feel of her body flush against his own. His fingers flexed at her waist as he struggled to hole on to the last threads of his control, growing more convinced by the second that he was indeed an outlaw, because that sense of honor he’d been determined to uphold was in dange of being kicked aside. Desire licked at him like hungry flames. His throat felt raw as he managed to ground out the word, “Angel?”
“Yes?”
“Unless you want to find yourself naked in that bed ove there with a man who doesn’t even know his last name, I‘ recommend you let me go.”
Seven
Faster than a snap, Josie snatched her hands away from Blake’s chest. She took a hurried step back, then another, putting space between them. Embarrassed, not sure what to say, she hugged her arms around herself. When the ladder had fallen, leaving her suspended like a puppet from the ceiling, suddenly she’d been six years old again and scared witless.
The memory flooded back as though it was only yesterday. Of being goaded by little Tommy Peters to climb to the top of the jungle gym. Pride had spurred her on, given her the courage to make it all the way to the top, even though she’d been petrified. And then her foot had slipped. The fall from the top of those metal bars, to the ground below had seemed endless. To a motherless six-year-old, the sound of the
bone in her leg snapping and the sharp pain that followed had been terrifying. And just now, in those few minutes when her foot had slipped and the ladder crashed to the floor, she’d been sure she was going to fall, too. The terror that had gripped her had been every bit as real as it had been years ago, and even worse because she’d known to anticipate the pain.
And then, as though out of a dream, Blake had been there—rescuing her, chasing away her fears, his voice calm and reassuring as he promised not to let her fall. She’d nearly wept with relief when his arms had closed around her and he’d held her close. He’d been so sweet, so kind, never orice making fun of her, never once raising his voice at her. Kiss ing him had seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. She’d wanted to thank him, to show him how much his kindness had meant to her. Only what had started out as a friendly kiss of thanks had linked into another and then another, each kiss hotter, darker and more dangerous than the next.
She could have resisted the skilled kisses of a man inten on seducing her. But she had been unable to resist the need the loneliness she’d tasted in Blake. She knew all about lone. liness, all about the need to be held close, the desire to be loved. She could no more stop herself from responding to that need and loneliness in him than she would have been able to stop herself from drawing breath. Suddenly she‘d been all over him, wanting to ease that need inside him, wanting to banish that loneliness. And she’d made a fool of herself. Would have made an even greater fool of herself, she realized, if Blake hadn’t put a halt to things.
“Angel, do you even have a clue what you were inviting just now?” he demanded.
She had a pretty good idea, and some reckless part of her soul wished he hadn’t stopped. She cleared her throat, forced her gaze up to meet his. ‘“I just wanted to thank you. Heights scare me silly, have since I was a kid. And I thought for sure I was going to go splat all over the floor. Then you were here, and I was so relieved, and I...I wanted to show you how grateful I was.”
“Yeah, well, next time try a simple thank-you.” He let out a breath. Some of the stiffness in his body seemed to ease. “Listen, I’m trying really hard to do the right thing here, and I’m not sure that doing what’s right comes naturally to me.”
“It does,” she assured him. Watching him with the twins had told her as much. “I may not know who you are or even your last name, but I do know what you are. You’re a good man, Blake.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, because I’m sure as hell not. In fact, I’m beginning to think that I may not be a nice guy at all.”
Narrowing her eyes, she studied him more closely. “Why? Have you remembered something? Has your memory started to come back?”
“I don’t know if you would call it memories. It’s more like flashbacks. I’d swear it was just a bad dream, only I’ve been awake when I get these...these glimpses.”
“Glimpses?”
“Of me, other people, places. Faces and places I don’t recognize. Doing and saying strange things that make no sense to me.”
“What kind of strange things?”
His expression grew hard, bleak. “Strange things that your everyday nice guy wouldn’t do. You’d be wise to remember that and not be so damn trusting,” he warned. He moved a fraction closer, stared at her from eyes that had gone dark and dangerous. “Don’t count on me being a nice guy, Josie, because chances are I’m not. Understand?”
“All right,” she told him, positive he wanted to scare her, and just as determined that she wouldn’t let him do so.
He scowled at her, obviously not satisfied by her response. “I mean it. You keep looking at me through those rose-colored glasses of yours, and you’ll end up being disappointed.”
And hurt when you leave? One thing was sure, she wouldn’t forget him. How could she? No man had ever kissed her the way Blake had, as though he thought she was
beautiful. As though he wanted to devour her inch by inch. Her toes curled inside her boots again now at the memory of that kiss. But, judging from the way he stalked across the room to inspect her crippled ladder, Josie decided it might be best to keep that bit of information to herself. “Can it be fixed?” she asked.
“I don’t recommend it. The thing’s rotten. I’m surprised you even made it up to the attic,” he said, frowning. “Speaking of which, what were you doing up there in the first place?”
“Since the last tenants of the house left the crib, I thought they might have left some other baby things up there that we could use. I thought I remembered seeing a playpen up there when I first moved in, and it would be nice if Edward and Miranda could use it. You know, so that they’d have a place besides their car seats or the floor where we could let them play.”
“We’re not going to be here that much longer. As soon as this weather clears, we’ll get out of your hair.”
“You heard the radio. They’re predicting more rain. Anyway, the playpen seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He sighed. “It still is. But you should have asked me to get it for you.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been trying to conquer my fear of heights. I thought I could handle this.” And she’d nearly succeeded, too. She’d only had to stop a half-dozen times, sucking in air, talking herself into climbing up the rest of the way.
“Considering the shape this thing’s in,” he said, pushing to his feet, “it’s a wonder you didn’t fall and break your neck the first time you used it.”
Josie shuddered at the vision of herself sprawled on the floor, her bones broken. At his questioning look, she explained, “I took a tumble as a kid, and it left a lasting impression.”
“I’ll bet.”
But his expression softened, and for a moment Josie thought he was going to fold his arms around her. When he shoved his hands into his pockets instead, she told herself she had no right to feel disappointed. What did she expect? Besides, she was an idiot to invite that kind of trouble. The man had heartbreaker written all over him, and she’d do well to remember that.
“Falling can be scary stuff for‘ a kid.”
He didn’t know the half of it, Josie thought, remembering how she’d longed to have a mother’s arms around her to soothe her fears. “It can be scary stuff when you’re a big person, too,” she reminded him, poking fun at herself. “I’d say from that bump on your nose that you’ve taken a few tumbles yourself.”
Suddenly that shuttered look came over his face again. “I guess I won’t know until my memory comes back.”
Josie wanted to bite off her tongue. “I’m sorry. That was terribly insensitive of me.”
He shrugged. “No big deal.”
But she suspected it was a big deal. “Give yourself time. You’ll remember soon enough. And when the phone lines are working again, we’ll call the sheriffs in Midland and Royal. They’re the two nearest towns. Someone’s bound to be looking for you and the twins there, and will be able to identify you.”
“Sure,” he said, but somehow she didn’t think he believed her. Worse, she had the strongest feeling that it wasn’t just his inability to remember that was bothering him.
Had he remembered more than he’d told her? Like who the mysterious Lily was? Whether or not she was his wife? The idea hit Josie’s stomach like a lead balloon.
“Don’t worry about the playpen. I’ll get it down for you.”
“But the ladder—”
“There’s another one out in the toolshed. It looked in better shape than this one. I’ll check it out and then get the playpen down.”
A soft cry came from down the hall, and within moments a second wail joined in the fray. “All right,” she told him and started for the door. She paused a second and looked back at him. “Thanks again for coming to my rescue.”
“No problem.”
“And, Blake?”
He shifted his attention from the broken ladder he was lifting. “Yeah?”
“I meant what I said. Give yourself time. Your memory will come back soon. Those flashbac
ks you’re having are probably a good sign.”
He didn’t think the flashbacks were a good sign, Blake decided, several hours later as he tightened the last bolt on the playpen. He stared at the guard rail and tried to make sense out of the lightning-fast picture that had sliced into his consciousness earlier. Squeezing his eyes shut, he could almost see the scene again.
“Hurry, mon ami. The guards will be here any minute!”
“Go back to the boat,” Blake ordered as he strapped two packs to the other man’s back and urged him to the end of the balcony.
The man swung one leg over the balcony’s rail and hesitated. “What about you?” he asked, his French accent pronounced.
A sliver of moonlight cut through the canopy of tree branches to illuminate the man’s face. It was streaked with black that blended with the night and the dark camouflage garb he wore. Blake would easily have missed him were it not for the blue of his eyes and the flash of white teeth. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll try to delay the guards. When you reach the boat, give me ten minutes. If I’m not there by then, leave without me. Use the number I gave you and contact Greg.”
“But, mon ami—”
“Do it, ” Blake commanded.
The other man didn’t argue. Within seconds he disappeared over the side of the balcony, and Blake returned to the room and went to work. He didn’t turn on any lights, but somehow managed to see in the darkness to turn over chairs, drag an urn out to the center of the floor, scatter heavy books and art objects along the path that led to the balcony doors. Footsteps sounded down the hall from the opulent bedroom. He could hear doors bursting open nearby, orders clipped out in that strange tongue. Blake slipped outside onto the balcony, and shut the doors behind him. Quickly he inserted a device where the doors met and set a timing mechanism.