His lower leg, secured in a cast, was propped up on a pillow.
He'd been dressed in a hospital gown that reached only to the middle of his thighs. They looked strong and tan against the white sheets, out of keeping with an infirmary.
A nurse was taking his blood pressure. His dark eyebrows were drawn into a frown beneath the wide gauze bandage encircling his head. His hair was matted with dried blood and an antiseptic solution. A ghastly number of bruises discolored his arms. The features of his face had been distorted by swelling, contusions, and bruises, but he was recognizable by the vertical cleft in his chin and the hard slant of his mouth, from which protruded a thermometer.
Briskly, the doctor moved to the bedside and consulted the blood pressure reading the nurse had noted on the patient's chart. "Looking better all the time." He also murmured approval when the nurse showed him the patient's current body temperature.
Although Kendall still hesitated just outside the door, the patient's eyes instantly homed in on her. They penetrated the shadowed depths of their sockets, which were sunken and dark from blood l oss and pain. But his unflinching stare was as incisive as ever.
The first time she had looked directly into his eyes, she had sensed and respected their keen perception. She had even feared it a little. She still did. He seemed to possess an uncanny ability to see straight into her in a way that was most unsettling.
He had her pegged from their first meeting. He knew a liar when he saw one.
She hoped that his talent for reading her thoughts would serve now to let him know how genuinely sorry she was that he'd been injured. If not for her, the wreck never would have occurred. He had been driving, but it was she who was accountable for the pain and discomfort he was suffering. Realizing this, she was filled with remorse. She was the last person he would want hovering over his hospital bed.
Misreading the cause of her hesitation, the nurse smiled and motioned her forward. "He's decent. You can come in now."
Battling her apprehension, Kendall stepped into the room and gave the patient a faltering smile. "Hi. How do you feel?"
He fixed an unblinking stare on her that lasted for several moments. Finally, he glanced up at the doctor, then at the nurse, before his gaze moved back to Kendall. Then in a weak, hoarse voice, he asked, "Who are you?"
The doctor bent over his patient. "You mean you don't recognize her?"
"No. Am I supposed to? Where am I? Who am I?"
The doctor just gaped at his patient. The nurse stood dumb founded, the hose of the blood pressure gauge dangling from her hand. Kendall appeared stunned, although she felt her emotions rioting. Her mind scurried to assimilate this shocking twist and how she might use it to her advantage.
The doctor was the first to recover. With a bravado belied by his weak smile, he said, "Well, it seems that the concussion has left our patient with amnesia. This frequently happens.
It's temporary, I'm sure. Nothing to worry about. You'll laugh over it m a day or two."
He turned to Kendall. "For now, you're our only source of information. Guess you'd better tell us and tell him who he is."
She hesitated so long that the moment stretched taut. The doctor and nurse looked at her expectantly. The man in the hospital bed seemed both interested in and wary of her answer.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Kendall could tell that, miraculously, he genuinely remembered nothing. Nothing!
This was a blessing unforeseen, an incredibly generous gift of fate. It was almost too good, almost overwhelming, too intricate to handle without having time to prepare. But she knew one thing for certain: She would be a fool not to seize it with both hands.
With remarkable calm, she declared, "He's my husband."
Chapter 1
"By the authority vested in me by Almighty God and the state of South Carolina, I pronounce you husband and wife.
Matthew, you may kiss your bride."
The wedding guests applauded as Matt Burnwood drew Kendall Deaton into his arms. Laughter erupted when his kiss extended beyond a chaste token. He was reluctant to stop.
"That'll have to wait," Kendall whispered against his lips.
"Unfortunately."
Matt gave her a pained look, but, being a good sport, turned to face the several hundred people who had turned out in their Sunday best to attend the affair.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the minister intoned, "may I present, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Burnwood."
Arm in arm, Kendall and Matt faced their smiling guests.
Matt's father was seated alone in the front row. He stood and opened his arms to Kendall.
"Welcome to our family," he said, embracing her. "God sent you to us. We've needed a woman in our family. If Laurelann were alive, she'd love you, Kendall. Just as I do."
Kendall kissed Gibb Burnwood's ruddy cheek. "Thank you, Gibb. That's very sweet of you."
Laurelann Burnwood had passed away when Matt was a youngster, but he and Gibb spoke of her death as though it were recent. The widower cut an impressive figure, with his white crew cut and tall, trim physique. Many widows and divorcees had set their caps for Gibb, but their affections remained unrequited. He'd had his one true love, he Often said. He wasn't looking for another.
Matt placed one arm around his father's broad shoulders'
the other around Kendall. "We needed each other. We're a complete family now."
"I only wish Grandmother could have been here," Kendall remarked sadly.
Matt gave her a sympathetic smile. "I wish she'd felt up to making the trip from Tennessee."
"It would have been too hard on her. She's here in spirit though."
"Let's not get too maudlin," Gibb cut in. "These folks came to eat, drink, and be merry. This is your day. Enjoy it."
Gibb had spared no expense to guarantee that their wedding would be remembered and talked about for years to come.
Kendall had been shocked by his extravagance. Shortly after accepting Matt's proposal, she had suggested that they have a private ceremony, perhaps in a pastor's study.
Gibb wouldn't hear of it.
He held to the tradition of the bride's family financing the wedding and insisted on hosting it himself. Kendall demurred, but Gibb, with his disarming, winning personality, had shot down all her arguments.
"Don't take offense," Matt had told her when she expressed her dismay over Gibbs elaborate plans. "Dad wants to throw a party, the likes of which Prosper has never seen. Since neither you nor your grandmother is financially able to do it, he is pleased to foot the bill. I'm his only child. This is a once-in a-lifetime event for him. So let's give him his head and let him run."
It hadn't taken long for Kendall to be swept up in the excitement. She selected her gown, but Gibb took control of everything else, although he considerately consulted her before any major decisions were finalized.
His strict attention to detail had paid off, because today his house and lawn looked spectacular. Matt and she had exchanged vows beneath a latticed arch bedecked with gardenias, white lilies, and white roses. Inside a large tent was an elaborate buffet of salads, side dishes, and entrees to suit every palate.
The wedding cake was a breathtaking sculpture with several tiers. The creamy frosting was decorated with clusters of fresh rosebuds. There was also a chocolate groom's cake with fudge icing drizzled over strawberries nearly as large as tennis balls.
Magnums of champagne were chilling in tubs of ice. The guests seemed dedicated to drinking every drop of it.
Despite such glamour, the reception was truly a family affair. Children played under the shade trees. After the bride and groom initiated the dancing with a wedding waltz, other couples crowded the floor until everyone was dancing.
It was a fairy tale wedding. Complete with an ogre.
Kendall, unaware of the menace surrounding her, couldn't have imagined being happier. Matt held her close and twirled her about the dance floor. With his tall, slender physique, he seemed
made to wear a tuxedo without looking awkward.
He was incredibly handsome. His evenly defined features and straight hair gave him the aristocratic bearing of a robber baron.
"You have that elegant, aloof air about you. Like Gatsby," Kendall had once told him teasingly.
She wanted to go on dancing with him for hours, but guests were vying for a dance with the bride. Among them was Judge H. W. Fargo. She all but groaned when Matt relinquished her to the judge, who demonstrated no more grace on the dance floor than he did in the courtroom.
"I had my doubts about you," Judge Fargo remarked as he swung her into a turn that almost caused her a whiplash.
"When I heard they were hiring a female to be this county's public defender, I had serious misgivings that you could handle the job."
"Really?" she said coolly.
Fargo was not only a terrible dancer and a lamentable judge but a sexist to boot, Kendall thought. Since her first appearance in his courtroom, he'd made no effort to conceal his "misgivings."
"Why were you apprehensive, Judge?" she asked, struggling to keep her pleasant smile in place.
"Prosper's a conservative county and town," he said expansively. "Damn proud of it, too. Around here, folks have been doing things the same way for generations. We're slow to change and don't like it when we're forced to. A lady lawyer is a novelty."
"You think women should remain at home to cook, clean, and care for children, is that it? They shouldn't aspire to be professionals?"
He harrumphed. "I wouldn't put it like that.
"No, of course you wouldn't."
Such a candid statement might cost him votes. Everything he said in public was self-censored. Judge H. W. Fargo was a consummate politician. If only he were as effective a judge.
"All I'm saying is that Prosper is a clean little town. You don't find the problems here the other cities have. We nip corrupting influences in the bud. myself and other public officials i intend to keep our standards high."
"Do you think I'm a corrupting influence, Judge?"
"Not at all, not at all."
"My job is to provide legal counsel for those who can't afford their own attorney. The Constitution grants every U.S. citizen legal representation."
"I know what the Constitution grants," he said testily.
Kendall smiled to take the sting out of her mild insult.
"Sometimes I must remind myself. My work brings me in close contact with an element of society we all wish weren't there. But as long as there are criminals, they will need some one to plead their cases in court. No matter how unsavory my client, I try to plead every case to the best of my ability."
"No one's questioning your ability. Despite your involvement in that nasty business back in Tennessee . . ." He bro ke off end smiled unctuously. "Well, why bring that up today?"
Why indeed? The judge's reminder of her past difficulties had been deliberate. Kendall resented him for thinking she was stupid enough to believe it had been a blunder.
"You're doing a fine job, a fine job," he said ingratiatingly.
"I'll admit that having a woman arguing points of law with me took some getting used to." His laugh sounded like a bark. "You know, until you showed up for your interview, we thought we were hiring a man."
"My name can be misleading."
The board of directors of the Prosper County Bar Association had decided to form a public defender's office to relieve their membership of handling defense of indigents. Even on a rotating basis, these cases could be costly in time and lost revenue.
The board had been stupefied when Kendall arrived wearing three-inch heels and a dress instead of a suit and tie. Her resume had been so impressive that they had responded promptly to her correspondence and were almost willing to hire her sight unseen. The interview should have been a mere formality.
Instead, she had been placed in the hot seat. Knowing ahead of time that she would be going up against a wall of good ol'-boy mentality, she had carefully rehearsed her sales pitch.
The speech was worded to combat their prejudices and assuage their uncertainties without offending them.
She had desperately wanted the job. She was qualified to do it, and since her future hinged on her getting it, she had pulled out all the stops.
Obviously she had done well, because the board had offered her the job. That one blot on her professional record hadn't factored to their decision nearly as much as her gender. Or perhaps they believed that because of her sex, she should be cut some slack. She had made a mistake, but it was forgivable because she was, after all, only a woman.
It didn't matter to Kendall what they thought or how they had reached their decision. In the eight months that she had been in Prosper, she had proven her capabilities. She had worked hard to earn the respect of her peers and the general public. Her skeptics were eating crow.
Even the publisher of the local newspaper, who, upon the announcement of her placement, had written an editorial questioning if a woman could handle such a difficult job, had undergone a change of heart.
That publisher moved up behind her now, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck. "Judge, you've monopolized the prettiest girl at the party long enough."
Fargo chuckled. "Spoken like a bridegroom."
"Thanks for rescuing me," Kendall said, sighing as Matt danced her away. She laid her cheek against the lapel of his tuxedo jacket and closed her eyes. "It's bad enough that I have to fence with that redneck-in-robes in court. It's above and beyond the call of duty to dance with him at my wedding."
"Be nice," he chided.
"I was. In face, I was so charming I nearly made myself sick."
"The judge can be a pain, but he's an old friend of Dad's."
Matt was right. Besides, she wouldn't give Judge Fargo the satisfaction of blighting her wedding day. She raised her head and smiled up at Matt. "I love you. How long has it been since I told you?"
"Ages. At least ten minutes."
They were nuzzling affectionately when a bellowing voice interrupted them: "Hey, kid, this is quite a bash!"
Kendall turned to see her maid of honor creeping past THE window in the arms of a local pharmacist. The mousy, self-effacing man seemed bewildered to find himself in the embrace of such a vivacious, abundantly endowed woman.
"Hi, Ricki Sue," Kendall said. "Having fun?"
"Do bears shied in the woods?"
Ricki Sue Robb's tall beehive hairdo was bobbing in time to the music. Her face was shiny with sweat above the collar of her pale blue dress. It had been a challenge for Kendall to choose a bride's maid gown that would flatter her friend.
Ricki Sue's complexion was an uneven blend of sallow skin and rusty freckles. Her hair was the color of fresh carrot juice, but, far from downplaying this distinguishing feature, Ricki Sue preferred the most elaborate styles she could devise. Her coiffures were engineering marvels worthy of architectural study.
The wide gap between her front teeth was constantly on display because she was always smiling Her full lips glistened with fire-engine-red lipstick, an unfortunate choice considering the color of her hair.
In a voice with all the subtlety of a reveille trumpet, she blared, "You said your husband vitas a handsome devil, but you didn't tell me he was also rich as sin.
Kendall felt Matt stiffen with disapproval Ricki Sue didn't mean to be offensive. In face, she thought she was paying him a compliment. But in PrOsper, personal wealth wasn't discussed in polite company. Not out loud, anyway.
After Ricki Sue and the dazed pharmacist waltzed out of earshot, Kendall said, "It would be a polite gesture for you to ask her to dance, Matt."
He grimaced. "I'm afraid she'd trample me."
"Matt, please."
"Sorry."
"Are you? At the rehearsal dinner last night you made it glaringly apparent to me that you had formed an instant dislike for Ricki Sue. I hope she didn't notice, but I certainly did."
"She's not at all t
he way you described her to me."
"I told you she was my best friend. That should be description enough."
Since Grandmother's declining health had prevented her from attending the wedding, Ricki Sue was Kendall's only guest. If for no other reason than that, she had hoped Matt would make an effort to be friendly and cordial to her. Instead, Ricki Sue's boisterous conversation had caused him and Gibb to cringe. They'd been embarrassed by her unrestrained, bawdy laugh, which seemed to originate in her massive bosoms.
"I grant you that Ricki Sue isn't a genteel Southern lady."
Matt scoffed at the understatement. "She's coarse, Kendall.
Common. I expected her to be like you. Feminine and soft spoken and beautiful."
"She's very beautiful on the inside."
Ricki Sue was the receptionist at Bristol and Mathers, the law firm where Kendall had previously been an associate. When they'd first met, Kendall had been unable to see beyond the redhead's brashness.
Gradually, however, she came to know and like the sensitive woman beneath the flamboyant exterior. Ricki Sue was unpretentious, practical, tolerant, and trustworthy. Especially trust worthy.
"I'm sure she has some admirable traits," Matt conceded grudgingly. "And maybe she can't help being fat. It's just that she comes on so strong."
Kendall winced over his using the word fat, when other adjectives would have served just as well. Better, he could have refrained from using any derogatory adjectives.
"If you'd give her half a chance"
He laid his finger vertically against her lips. "Are we going to quarrel at our wedding reception in front of all our guests over something so insignificant?"
She could argue that his rudeness to her friend wasn't insignificant, but his point about this not being the time to quarrel was valid. Besides, there were several of his friends she wasn't particularly fond of either.
"All right, truce," she agreed. "But if I were going to pick a quarrel, it would be over all the women here who've glared daggers at me. If looks could kill, I'd be dead a dozen times over."
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