by Linda Ladd
Chapter Three
Nicholas Black strode swiftly across the vast black-and-gold and crystal-chandeliered lobby of Cedar Bend Lodge, eager to get up to Claire’s room again. Although he had been neglecting his patients to some extent, they had been willing to wait at times and understood that he was preoccupied with Claire Morgan. Stepping onto his private elevator, he nodded at Isaac Ward, the former Marine security guard who kept people out of the penthouse, and rode without a sound up to the top level. He was so eager to see her again. It had taken way too long and was much too awful an ordeal waiting for her to come out of the coma.
When he didn’t find her in the bedroom, he walked down the hallway to his office. He’d told Monica to take her there after lunch. He hoped she hadn’t been waiting very long. He stopped in the threshold. Claire was standing at his desk, a very good sign. A runner and exercise fanatic, she had been in superb physical condition before the accident and that would help her get back on her feet more than anything. She was studying a photograph of them taken at his villa in Bermuda, not long after they’d met. He wondered if it was jogging loose some memories. God, he hoped so.
“You gave that photo to me,” he told her, walking into the room and making his presence known.
Whipping around, the gold-framed picture still in her hand, she stared at him but didn’t say anything. He felt something inside almost tremble at the sight of her standing there before him, alive and well. There was a visceral catch in his gut, to be sure, as beautiful as she looked to him, even now after the worst ordeal imaginable. He hoped to God that she would remember him soon.
Smiling, he moved toward her, and she didn’t back away, just stood there and gazed up at him.
“So, how tall are you, anyway?” she asked.
Thinking it an odd question, he said, “Six-four. Why?”
“Just wondered. I can’t remember a damn thing, remember?”
That was just so Claire that his hopes ignited again. “Do you recall the place in that picture, Claire?”
“Nope.”
“You gave it to me for Christmas.”
“Is that so? And exactly how long have we been together?”
“Just over a year.”
“We’re not married, though? And please say no, this is already weird enough. Not that you’re a bad catch, or anything.”
Black had to smile. “No, we’re not married. Yet.”
“Engaged then?”
“No. But we’re seriously committed.”
“Do we live together?”
“You live here with me unless I have to fly somewhere on business. Then you usually go home to your own house until I get back.”
“So I have my own house, huh? Now that sounds more like it.”
“Yes, you’ve got a cabin on the lake. You love it, so we spend a lot of time out there together. It’s on a nice quiet cove off the main branch of the lake.”
One corner of Claire’s mouth turned up, just a little. “Then I can go back home as soon as you tell me where it is.”
He laughed, but he sobered almost at once. She didn’t laugh. She was serious. She was ready to take off.
“You are home, Claire.”
His eyes held her big blue skeptical ones, but she did not turn away. She was looking him over as if she’d never laid eyes on him before. That dashed his hopes that she’d recovered recollections of their time together. What was more, he wasn’t sure she wanted to. Her next words proved it.
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
“Yes, of course. Once you remember things, no problem. Right now, I suspect it’ll be difficult for you to make good decisions, suffering from retrograde amnesia and perhaps some kind of dissociative recall.”
“Wow, lookee here, psychology mumbo jumbo. That’s what you are, right? A damn shrink.”
At that point, Black realized, with concern, that not only could she not remember their life together, but that she had regressed to the person she had been when they first met. All the defense mechanisms he’d worked so hard to pull down inside her psyche, so damaged from her miserable childhood, were back in place and impenetrable again. God help him, that was the very worst-case scenario that could’ve come out of her awakening from such a deep coma. She had disliked him intensely and unreasonably when they first met, and it had taken him a long time to figure out why. As it turned out, she distrusted the psychiatrists she’d seen in her youth, especially wealthy ones, and nearly everybody else in her life. So here they were again, back to square one, and square one was not a good place. He tried to hide his disappointment. She was observing him closely, with those cop’s analyzing eyes of hers, as she had been trained to do so well in the L.A. police academy. She would brook no nonsense. She would not take to his therapies lying down or cooperatively. And that was a major setback.
“So, why so glum, doc?”
“Claire, why don’t you come over here and sit down so we can talk about all these things.”
Claire eyed him suspiciously and then started a painful wobble toward the couch. Finally, he took pity and supported her arm the rest of the way, not a little surprised she let him.
“So, tell me, you’re quite the moneybags, aren’t you? What do you charge, anyway, a thousand dollars a minute?” Her voice had that old contemptuous tone that he hadn’t heard in a very long time, and his heart fell at the thought of going back over all those old and terrible issues again. But she was worth it. She was worth everything he had, or would ever have.
Actually, he did get a lot of money for his services, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “Not quite that much. But I’ve done well enough, I guess.”
“So you are one of those dastardly shrink types, huh?”
“I’m a forensic and clinical psychiatrist, yes.”
“Well, is this my lucky day, or what? Just don’t expect me to pay you a boatload of money for sitting there and staring at me like I’m some kind of time bomb.”
Black had to chuckle at her attitude. Okay, he found her amusing, and had from the beginning, then and now. She had a quick wit, a strong intuitive intellect, and something else ingrained that drew him to her like a moth to a bonfire. Maybe that’s why he fell in love with her. Now, all the time they’d spent together, all the progress they’d made was for naught. She was the old prickly Claire and didn’t mind showing him that his money or his degrees or anything else about him did not impress her in the least. He watched her sink down onto one of his long white couches, and he sat down very close beside her. Really close, couldn’t help himself. He put his arm around her, resting it on the back of the plush cushion. He wanted to grab her up and hold her like he did last night, but first and foremost, she had to remember him. He had to be patient. Claire did not like to be pushed around, and that was putting it mildly.
“Think you can get any closer to me, doc?” she said, scooting away from him with exaggerated annoyance. “You’re a hot guy, and all, but come on now, give me a break here. I let you help me out last night in bed, but enough’s enough. You smell good, though.”
“So, tell me, babe, how do you feel today?” he asked, changing the subject and deciding to treat her the same way he had before her accident. He’d thought about that all day, which way he should go with her. He’d decided to act like nothing had happened, that things were exactly the same as before. They were together; and they were damn well going to stay together, so she better get used to it. His eyes lingered on her mouth. God, it had been so long since he’d kissed her and made love to her. And now this had to happen. Claire was not going to let him touch her that way unless she wanted to, not in a million years.
“Better,” she said, scooting over some more, putting most of the sofa between them. “Don’t take this wrong, but I don’t like the feeling of being smothered, and you’re invading my personal space. So please lay off. It’s not you, you understand. It’s just a thing with me that I do remember.”
“Sorry. So you don’t feel desperate or
like you’re going to pass out? Any dizziness or nausea?”
“Some, but it’s not going to keep me in that bed anymore.”
“Good for you,” he said, fighting the urge to move closer again. If she didn’t remember him quickly, this was going to be like trudging through a field of sucking mud. “I’m really glad to see you’re feeling better. Sorry to make you wait, but I had to see about a patient that I’ve been neglecting.”
She nodded, carelessly hitched a shoulder, and stood up. Restless, she started moving around the room, so stiff and slow that he had to conquer the urge to get up and help her. She was looking at his personal objects and mementos where they were displayed on bookshelves and reading his framed medical degrees and certificates hanging on the walls. “Don’t get me wrong, doctor, I appreciate the way you comforted me after I had that nightmare, and all. I wasn’t myself or I wouldn’t have acted like a big baby, trust me.”
“I was looking for any excuse to get into that bed with you, trust me. It’s been a long time since we made love.” He smiled, but he was careful that his words were light and didn’t come off like some kind of sleazy come-on. He was pleased and happy she let him hold her at all. What he wanted was to do it again, and sooner rather than later. He changed the subject before she could say it wasn’t going to happen again. “Does your head hurt, Claire?”
“Not really. I’m just grossed out by all this crazy stuff.”
“It’s going to take you some time. Have you remembered anything else?”
“Not much.” She lifted one shoulder again, the same disinterested little shrug, but then she turned and gestured at his desk. “I do know that’s a Picasso hanging on the wall over there. Pretty weird, I think. But to each his own. You might like some kind of Cyclops’ eye staring at your back when you work, but it would freak me out.”
He smiled again, couldn’t help it. God, he was glad she was back and up on her feet.
She was looking at him again. “You’ve got dimples.”
“Yeah. So?”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she said, “Look, Dr. Black, I think I’m a pretty honest person. You seem to be pretty special, I guess, sexy and rich, and all that good stuff. But I happen to have bigger problems than a forgotten love life with a real hunk like you. So, I guess we oughta just keep things platonic, at least for now.” She paused, apparently waiting for his reaction. Since she brought it up again, he deduced the subject was worrying her. He didn’t give her a reaction, his own training kicking in, but she was right on target. She had regressed big-time to the woman he’d first met when he topped her murder suspect list. She had rebuffed him then, as well.
Claire was impatient by nature, he knew that well, and she didn’t give him time to consider the best way to reply. “Okay, doc, then you also ought to know this. I’m just not one of those come-and-get-me-honey-on-the-first-date kinda gals. Therefore, any kind of seduction and all that kinda thing is gonna have to come post–memory recovery, and not before.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh, yes, sir, it sure is. I’m not gonna pussyfoot around with you, doctor. As far as I know, we’re strangers in the night. Don’t think about rushing me into something I’m not ready for.”
“Well, I’m afraid everything you just said is just not going to work for me.”
“What? The rich doctor doesn’t get his way so he’s going to push the issue?”
“I’m not going to push the issue. I’m just going to try to help you remember sooner rather than later so all this will be a moot point.”
A deep frown creased Claire’s forehead. She rubbed her temples with her forefingers. She was getting a headache, all right. She’d get a lot more of those before she got well.
“All right, Dr. Black, I can see your point. I’m not blind, and I’m not insensitive. If all you say is true, then it’s probably gonna be hard for you to back off, I take it? That’s what you’re talking about?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s just not going to happen.”
Openly annoyed, she contemplated him a moment. “Okay, I can see where you’re coming from. It’s gonna be harder for you than for me, if we were a couple. But here’s the deal, as I see it, doctor. I want you to tell me about myself. It’s obvious that we spent time together, I saw those pictures over there, so why don’t I remember you? Why don’t I remember that beautiful lake out there and whatever it was that put me in that coma?”
Black remained calm, and held her gaze. She was extremely grave now. She was reacting to just about every single thing the way she would have done early in their relationship. She would rebel against almost anything he said as she had in the beginning. It would be best to go along with her for the time being, just like he did then. “You don’t recall anything yet because you are experiencing a short-term memory loss, which, actually, is a good thing. It could’ve been a lot worse with two hard, concussive blows to the head as serious as yours were. It’s also good that you can remember some things, including details about your law enforcement career and that you lived in Los Angeles, for example. You’ll remember everything else in time. Sometimes it comes back in a sudden rush when someone or something triggers it. Sometimes it’s in piecemeal fashion, one experience at a time. You need to quit worrying about remembering and about our past relationship, and try to relax, recuperate, and let it happen as it will.”
“Well, that’s easy enough for you to say, now isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not easy for me to say. It’s taking every goddamn ounce of my willpower not to throw you down on this couch and make love to you.”
That caught Claire by surprise. Her face went red, and she turned away from him. He didn’t know if that was caused by anger or embarrassment. Her next words told him.
“Well, now. Wow. You don’t believe in mincing words, do you? That sounds awfully sexy, I declare. Extremely titillating, doctor. If I knew you from Adam.”
“And there lies the problem,” he said, remaining composed, but it was getting harder for him to remain unruffled. She got under his skin, always had, always would, and in more ways than one. “But that doesn’t keep me from wanting the woman I love.”
Claire looked away from his challenging stare. “Okay, I get the picture. But I guarantee I’m not ready to jump in bed with you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Oh, I’m hoping for that, all right. But I do understand how you feel. So don’t worry, Claire, I’m going to give you all the time you need. But know this, too: It’s going to kill me to keep my hands off you. And that’s the truth. It’s as simple as that.”
“Hey, I know, let’s change the subject. Tell me about the accident. What exactly happened? Where and when and why, everything.”
“Do you recall anything about it?”
“Nothing, nada, zip.”
“That’s normal, too. Trauma often causes this kind of memory loss. Some people never recall the traumatic event. The accident, in your case.”
After that, Claire watched him so long that he grew uncomfortable under her steady gaze. She was extremely perceptive and could read people’s feelings and emotions like the crack detective she was. “You’re hedging. You don’t want to tell me what happened. Why not? Just tell me and get it over with. In complete detail, please.”
“This is not a police interview, Claire. Don’t try to sweat it out of me. It’s complicated.”
“Okay. I’ll pay close attention. That suit you better?”
Black didn’t volunteer anything else. So she prodded him some more, just like he knew she would. But he did not want to tell her just how terrible it all had been, couldn’t, wouldn’t, not yet.
“I’m not at LAPD anymore?” she asked suddenly.
“No.” Again, she made a long, suspicious, narrow-eyed scrutiny of his face. Lord have mercy, he was glad to have her back. He had missed this—her, his life with her.
“You’re very reluctant to tell me about this, aren’t you? You are definitely hidin
g something. Why? Was my life that bad?”
“You’ve always been observant.” Black sighed and formulated what he could and could not say. “I’m afraid that you’ve had a lot of trauma and heartbreak in your life.”
“Oh, great, that’s just dandy news. Exactly what I wanted to hear. Maybe I shouldn’t try to remember anymore. Stay right here in this land of the I-Forgot-Everything-But-Oh-Well.” But he was watching her jaw, the way it was working under her skin, the way she’d grown tense as if she knew but her mind couldn’t let go of the details. She frowned, licking her dry lips.
“Are you thirsty?” he inquired. “Would you like a Cherry Coke, something like that?”
“No. I guess it’s all right if you wanna hit me with a sudden and traumatic thumbnail sketch of my horrible life. That ought to be a barrel of laughs, but I can take it.”
“I think it’s better to wait a bit. You’re just now getting used to being up and on your feet.”
She said, “Let’s talk about L.A. later. Start with the accident.”
Black’s eyes dropped to her mouth again. She saw it and turned away. It was going to be another long hellish night, damn it.
“I think it’s too soon to get into every detail, but I’ll give you the basic facts. You were on a case. You got caught up with a serial killer. He abducted you and drove his car off a bridge into a river to evade capture. I happened to be there and was able to pull you out before you drowned.”
Claire swiveled around. “You just happened to be there? That sounds rather convenient, don’t you think? How did that happen?”
“I was concerned about your safety and followed you.”
“I’m a police officer here in this town, I take it?”
“You’re a Canton County homicide detective, yes.”