by Metsy Hingle
“Susan Wilkins?” Blake paused a moment. “Wait a minute. The librarian? Cute little redhead, nice body, lousy tast in clothes and afraid of her own shadow? That Susan Wi kins?”
“That Susan Wilkins,” the other man confirmed with chuckle. “But I think the next time you see her, you’ll fin her taste in clothes has improved, and she’s not nearly s shy anymore.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. What’s going on back there? Some body put something in the water at the Cattleman’s Club The next thing I know you’ll be telling me that Forrest i getting married, and that you’re thinking about it, too. couldn’t help but notice how protective you were of Ann and her son.”
“You can scratch any notions about me and Anna. She a friend.”
“Uh huh.”
“Can’t speak for Forrest, but given the herd of women hear you’ve kept company with, I think you’re more likely t make that trip down the aisle than me, little brother.”
Blake sobered. “I almost made that mistake once. I learne my lesson. ”
“Just because Lily—”
“Lily made me realize I have too little to offer a woma I made my choice. I’ll live with it. Listen, the plane’s read to go. I’ll check in with you when I get stateside.”
“Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. Besides the fact that you’re my little brothe and I don’t want anything to happen to you, a lot is ridin on this. You can’t afford to get caught.”
Blake came awake with a start, the words echoing in hi head. “Can’t afford to get caught. Can’t afford to ge caught.” Can’t afford to get caught doing what? Sitting up he shoved a hand through his hair. And what was the choic that he’d made? Whatever he was involved in, would it en danger Josie and the twins? Kicking off the blanket, h walked over to the window and stared outside. It was still ark, but the rain had slacked off to a drizzle.
He couldn’t put it off any longer, Blake decided, regardless of the weather or Josie’s objections. He couldn’t wait for his memory to return. He had to find his way back to where it all began—back to the scene of his accident. A look at his watch told him that in another hour the sun would be up, and thirty minutes later so would Josie and the twins. But by the time daylight arrived, he would be gone. Knowing what needed to be done, he headed to the kitchen to write the note to Josie.
Josie was holding that note in her fist, waving it at him like a gun, when he returned later that morning. “I ought to shove this thing down your throat,” she told him, and then shocked him with her vocabulary—which was extensive he iecided, considering how much she knew about saints. Car cying the duffle bag he’d retrieved from the car, he headed for the laundry room.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
Of course he’d known she would worry. He suspected Josie worried about everyone and everything but herself. He dumped the bag onto the floor and hung his jacket up on the wall hook.
“I was frantic! How could you just take off like that—without telling me?”
He didn’t bother pointing out that he’d left the note. From the way she was strangling the thing in her fist, he didn’t think she would appreciate the reminder. After toeing off his goots and socks, he stripped off his shirt and reached for a owel.
Color bloomed in her cheeks. Her eyes glinted with fury. When she stomped her foot, he bit back a smile. “But forget about me. I don’t matter. Suppose something had happened to you? What about the twins? Who would have taken care of Edward and Miranda? Did you even think about then when you decided to take off?”
Her words hit the mark. Not the part about the twins, h hadn’t worried about them overmuch because he’d known Josie would guard the pair with her life. It was the part about her not mattering. It irritated him no end that she thought she didn’t. She did matter to him—too much.
“Well, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”
He caught her by the shoulders, and because he needed to he kissed her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her mouth Then before he was tempted to kiss her again, he set he away from him.
After a moment the glazed look in her eyes cleared, and the fire snapped to life in them again. “That’s it? You‘ sorry?”
“Very sorry.”
“Of all the arrogant, bullheaded men. You go off in th dead, of night, leave me this note,” she said as she waved the thing in front of his nose again. “And then you walk in here like—What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking off my pants,” he informed her and proceeded to shuck out of his jeans. “I got soaked during my trek to and from the car, and I’m freezing my rear off. I found duffel bag in the trunk of my car with some clothes in it.‘ He looked up, found her gaze locked on the only part of his body still clothed, and his body temperature kicked up a hun dred degrees. ”I also intend to take off my underwear. Sc unless you want to see me in my birthday suit, you migh want to march back out to the kitchen.“ Then he smiled ”Of course, you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.“
Her lips thinned. She folded her arms over her chest, and for a moment he thought Josie would call his bluff. And i she did, he wondered how in the devil he was going to man age to keep his hands off her. He’d soon find out, he decided and hooked his thumbs under the band of his briefs. H started to shove them down.
Josie whipped around quick as a wink. “I’m going to check on the twins, but you still have a lot of explaining to do, Blake. And don’t even think about holding out on me, because I expect you to tell me everything you found out. And I do mean everything.”
Unfortunately, everything Blake found out had only led to more questions. Questions for which he had yet to find answers, Josie concluded, as he slammed the phone down. “Still no luck?” she asked from the doorway of the den, where she stood with a fussy Miranda in her arms.
Tossing down his pencil, Blake rammed both hands through his hair and glared at the six passports spread out on the table in front of him. “Another answering service,” he told her, his voice as angry as his expression. “Even the firm the car’s registered to has a blasted answering service.”
“Blake, maybe you should leave a message—”
“And who do I say is calling?” he shot back. “Do I say this is Blake Adams?” he demanded, picking up one of the passports and reading the name before throwing it down. He reached for another one. “Or maybe I’m Adam Blake. Or how about Hunter Blake? Of course, I could always say that [‘m—”
“Stop it,” Josie cried out, stung by the viciousness of his attack. Hugging Miranda to her, she turned away from him and sucked in an audible breath. She understood his frustrations upon discovering all the passports in the duffle bag with his photo, each bearing a different name and address. But anderstanding did little to ease the bite of his angry outburst.
“Aw, hell! I’m sorry, angel,” he said, regret in his voice. “I had no right to take this out on you. None of this is your fault.”
“It’s no one’s fault,” she informed him. But his silence clearly told her that he did not agree. Based on those flash backs he’d finally told her about, the foolish man was con vinced he was some kind of an outlaw—a robber or mercenary or worse. Of course, it was ridiculous because Blake was one of the good guys. She’d known that the first time she’d seen him interact with the twins. No outlaw turned into a big teddy bear because of a baby. And no outlaw assumed responsibility for two babies that he didn’t remember and tha he wasn’t even sure belonged to him. Surely no outlaw would be plagued by a guilty conscience, either. But the stubborr man had a stickler of a conscience when it came to doing what he thought was right. He also had a real hang-up about feeling responsible for things. Evidently he adhered to that old adage “the buck stops here.” Only Blake thought every thing was his responsibility, and the fool man blamed himself for everything that went wrong—from the accident to his amnesia. It was a wonder he hadn’t tried to lay claim to causing the crazy weather, as w
ell. She could only assume that he’d decided to lay that one at La Nina’s feet instead.
He came up behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you like that.”
“I’ll forget about it, if you will,” she told him. Turning around, she found herself and Miranda in the circle of his arms. “I mean it. Don’t go beating yourself up over nothing I know you’re under a lot of stress, and I know how disap pointed you must be after finding those passports and stil not being sure who you are.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I should look on the bright side. Mosd people don’t get the option of choosing who they want to be when they wake up in the morning. I do.”
Oh, he was really bummed out, more so than she had realized. “There is that. But you know, there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for you having those passports,” she told him. From his skeptical expression, she knew that he didn’t agree. The fact that the telephone listings for each of the persons on the passports led to an answering service only seemed to confirm his belief that he was involved in something illegal. And the idea that he might be was clearly eating him up inside. She didn’t have a clue how o convince him otherwise. Yet, she had to try. “It’s true. There could be any number of legitimate reasons for you having those.”
He flashed her a grin, but the denial in his eyes belied the smile on his lips. “Still determined to see me as a good guy, huh?”
“I’m only seeing what’s there. You are a good guy. Maybe you don’t see it, but I do. And so does Miranda. Don’t you, sweetie?” she asked the squirming baby. As though in answer, Miranda held out her arms for Blake. “See?”
His eyes warmed as he took the baby from her, but he managed to keep his other arm fastened around her shoulder. She almost could believe he wanted to have her close to him, that he needed her. And although she told herself not to read anything into the gesture, she had a difficult time convincing her heart to listen.
“All right, angel. So what’s your theory? Why would I need to travel with a pack of aliases?”
“You could be a private investigator working on a case,” she reasoned, going with the first thought that came to mind. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to come up with another plausible explanation. “Or maybe you’re a government agent who’s working undercover.”
Blake laughed. “An undercover agent?”
“Sure. Why not?” she replied, warming to the idea. After all, Blake certainly fit her image of what an American 007 would look like.
He shook his head. “Honey, you’re really reaching. What do you think, Mandy? Think our Josie’s been sniffing too much baby formula?”
Josie’s throat tightened at the “our Josie” reference. “Actually, it makes perfect sense. And it would even explain why you were carrying a gun.”
Blake kissed the tip of her nose, then leaned his head against hers. “Angel, I’d like to believe that, but—”
“Then believe it,” Josie insisted. She tipped her head back so that she could see his eyes. “Why not believe you’re really a nice guy? Why believe the worst?”
“It’s called being realistic.”
“Horse feathers. You’re being pessimistic because you’re afraid to trust anyone.”
“That’s not true,” he argued. “I trust you.”
“No, you don’t. If you trusted me, you would have told me what you were planning this morning instead of sneaking out of here and leaving me that note.”
“Please, let’s not go there again. I explained my reasons. You wouldn’t have wanted me to go, and you would have badgered me until I agreed to wait for the weather and roads to clear.”
It was true. She wouldn’t have wanted him to go out alone. As it was she’d been terrified something had happened to him and frustrated that she couldn’t leave the babies to g search for him. “And what’s your excuse for not telling me that your memory was starting to come back? Why wait until today to tell me the things you were remembering and worrying about?” she countered.
He sighed. “I told you. I don’t know what I’m involved in, but whatever it is, I don’t want to drag you into it with me. The last thing I want is to put you in danger.”
“That’s bull, and you know it.” After taking the dozing Miranda from him, she placed the baby on the comforter in the playpen next to her sleeping brother. Then she grabbed Blake by the arm and practically dragged him into the den so as not to awaken the twins. “You know what I think?”
“No. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, she said, “I think the reason you never told me is because you’re afraid to trust me. Either that, or you’re wormed that I’ll...that since we kissed a couple of times that I might...”
“Go on,” he coaxed, a glint of amusement in his eyes an her tongue-twisted state. “Since we’ve kissed a couple on times, I’m worried because...”
Josie hiked up her chin. “Because you think that I was offering you more than friendship, and that maybe I was expecting more than friendship from you in return,” she said, finally managing to get the words out. “Well, I’m not.”
“You’re not what? Offering me friendship?”
Josie glared at him for enjoying her discomfort. “I’m of fering you friendship, but that’s all. And I’m not expecting anything more than friendship in return.” Just because she lelt more than friendship for him, didn’t mean he felt the same way. She hadn’t needed him to draw a picture for her—hot last night and not now. He’d made it painfully clear when he’d pretended to be asleep last night that he didn’t want her—not the way she wanted him. The rejection hurt, more han she’d thought it could. But she’d handled it the same way she’d handled rejections in the past. She might be ordinary in a lot of ways, but she had more than her share of ride. She’d gathered her pride around her like a mantle. Only where Blake was concerned, her pride didn’t seem to be much comfort.
“Friendship,” he said as though considering the word. “Is that what you were offering, Josie? Friendship?”
Hugging her arms around herself, she held his gaze. “Yes. Of course, I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy kissing you. We both know that I did. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re a great kisser,” she said, struggling to keep her voice ight when her heart ached.
“And you would know because you’ve had lots of expe-ience kissing,” he mocked.
“I am a- widow,” she reminded him, and she’d married he only man who’d ever kissed her or paid any attention to her.
“Ah, yes. How could I forget? You’re an experienced widow, not some shy, innocent who doesn’t know very much about men.”
“That’s right.”
“And I certainly have no reason to feel guilty for almos taking advantage of you last night.”
His self-mocking tone flustered her. “No, you don’t. Be cause there was never a question that you would take advantage of me, Blake.” She swallowed, knowing she was make ing a mess of this. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you didn’t have to worry. You don’t have to worry, not where I’m concerned. I knew things would never have gone beyone those kisses.”
“You did?”
She nodded.
“You care to explain that logic of yours to me, angel? Because last night before the power went off, I seem to remember moving way beyond a few innocent kisses, and ] have to tell you I don’t remember hearing the word ‘stop’ pass your lips.”
Heat rushed to Josie’s cheeks at the reminder. “Because ] didn’t need to. And even if there hadn’t been a blackout, you would have stopped.”
“I’m not a saint, Josie,” he warned her.
“I never thought for a minute that you were.” A faller angel perhaps, but not a saint.
He moved a step closer, until his thighs nearly bumped hers. “I wanted you last night. I still do.”
Her pulse scrambled. Her romantic heart nearly beat a hole in her chest b
efore she put a skidding halt to her imaginatior and remembered who she was, what she was. Ordinary Josie Walters. Not anyone special. Certainly not a woman for a man like Blake. “And we both know it’s the proximity thing and your amnesia behind those feelings—not me.”
She ignored the swear word he spit out and the comment about mule-headed women. But when he yanked her into his arms, pressed her against him, it was difficult to ignore his arousal pressed against her.
“I want you, angel,” he hissed the words against her lips “And take my word for it, it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with proximity or amnesia.” Then he took her mouth, captured it as surely as he had managed to capture her heart. When he lifted his head, he whispered, “Still think you can rust me to stop?”
Josie nodded because she didn’t think she could speak.
Her response clearly baffled him, angered him. For a moment she thought he was going to shake her. “How in the hell can you say that after the way I just kissed you?”
“Because I know you’d never follow through on it—not as long as you can’t remember. You know as well as I do that it took two people to create Edward and Miranda, and the chances are that the other person in on the project was your wife. You’re not a cheater, Blake. You might kiss me, you might even think you want me, but you would never let it go further as long as there’s a possibility that you’re married. ”
“Well then, angel, I guess you have a problem. Because you see one of the things I did remember is that I’m not married.”
Nine
Josie’s heart slammed against her chest, stopped. “What die you say?”
“I said I’m not married. I don’t have a wife, Josie.”
“But, I thought...” The oxygen flow to her brain seemed to stall. “Then you remember—”
“Not all of it. Not my real name and not the things that need to. But last night when I was checking out the generator I guess it triggered some sort of switch in my brain or some thing, because suddenly I started to remember this phone conversation I had with a guy who’s apparently my brother He was telling me about some people, friends I guess, who‘d just gotten married, and during the course of the conversation it became clear that I wasn’t. Married, I mean. Apparently I’m not married now, never have been, and I’m not en gaged.”