by Ann Major
“No, I’m not pregnant,” she said, determined to talk to the neurologist as soon as possible. “Now, get some rest and I’ll be in a little later to check on you.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Sam said, smiling. “We haven’t been trying that long. I’m sure you’ll be pregnant within another month or so.”
Unsure if she could respond without bursting into tears or reminding him that he would have had to be home more for her to become pregnant again, she simply nodded and turned to leave.
“Aren’t you going to give me a good-night kiss, sweetheart?” he asked, still holding her hand.
“I…uh… They won’t let me take down the bed rail,” she said, thinking fast. Kissing the tip of her index finger, she pressed it to his lips. “You need to get some rest so they’ll let you out of here soon. Try to get some sleep, Sam.”
He gave her a grin that never failed to cause her heart to skip a beat. “It’s going to be damn hard to do without you here beside me.”
She once again had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that sleeping without her hadn’t seemed to be a problem for him when he was traveling from one rodeo to another with his livestock-contracting company. But as she stared down at his handsome face, she decided that now wasn’t the time to get into how lonely she had been without him, how many times she had asked him to cut back on the travel or to remind him that some time ago, he had reached his goal of being independently wealthy and didn’t need to work if he didn’t want to. His smile was playing havoc with her resolve and she needed to put distance between them in order to regain her perspective.
“Good night, Sam.”
Some things never changed, she thought as she walked down the hall to the waiting area. The sun rose in the east each morning. The ocean rushed to shore. And Sam Rafferty could make her knees wobble with nothing more than his sexy-as-sin smile.
* * *
“I really don’t see any other way around it, Bria,” Nate insisted, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to move back into the ranch house with Sam until he regains his memory.”
After finally getting a chance to talk to the doctor the day after the accident, Sam’s brothers and Bria had decided to get a good night’s sleep, then meet in the hospital cafeteria this morning for coffee as they discussed how best to handle Sam’s recovery.
Dr. Bailey had informed them that after staying in the hospital for observation the past forty-eight hours, Sam had been cleared to go home, but that he was suffering from post-concussion syndrome. That was the reason he had forgotten everything that had happened during the past six months. The doctor had assured them that the condition was most likely temporary and would clear up on its own in a few weeks with Sam recovering most, if not all, of his memory. But until then he might suffer with headaches and spells of dizziness and shouldn’t become overly stressed or worried. And that was what brought them together to discuss the current dilemma. It was imperative that someone be with him at all times until he was fully recovered.
“Can’t one of you stay with him?” she asked, looking at each man in turn. “Or maybe hire someone to oversee his care?”
“Hiring a nurse would be out of the question,” T.J. said, adamantly shaking his head. “That would just piss him off and traumatize some poor nurse after she figured out he’s like a grizzly with a sore paw when he can’t do things for himself.”
“Any one of us could arrange to stay with him, but that wouldn’t solve the problem of Sam not getting overly stressed,” Lane said as if weighing his words carefully. “He doesn’t remember that the two of you were in the process of getting a divorce, let alone that you moved out. And right now that’s information he doesn’t need to hear.” Being a professional poker player, the man was a master at strategy and logic. At the moment, he was doing a fine job of using both to wear her down.
“You know we would do it for Sam in a heartbeat, but we aren’t who he’s going to expect—or want—to be with him,” Ryder pointed out.
“But all my things are in Dallas,” she said, feeling trapped. “Don’t you think he’ll notice there are none of my personal effects in the ranch house? No clothes. No pictures of my family.”
She knew it was a weak argument, but how was she supposed to get on with rebuilding her life if she had to go back to Sugar Creek Ranch and all the problems that had caused her to leave in the first place? And especially when the man she would be living with didn’t remember that those problems had become insurmountable.
“We all have trucks and strong backs,” T.J. said, shrugging.
Jaron nodded. “We can have you moved back into the house in nothing flat.”
Sighing, Bria knew what they said made perfect sense, but it still didn’t make it any easier to accept defeat. She had just started to get used to the idea that she wouldn’t be living the life she had planned when she married Sam. For three years, she had envisioned herself as a stay-at-home wife and mother to the big family they had planned to have. Then after making the painful decision to leave him, she had to start thinking about re-entering the workforce and building a career.
“If I do this, it’s only temporary.” She felt as if she was taking a huge step back from the course she had set for herself three months ago.
“Got it,” Nate said.
“I’m starting a new job as a marketing consultant for one of the department stores in Dallas in a few weeks when they start to expand their women’s clothing line, and I can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity,” she stressed. “I’m lucky they allowed me the time to get the divorce finalized and my feet back under me before I start the job. I’m not going to ask for more.”
“I’m certain Sam will have his memory back by then,” Lane assured her.
“And I wouldn’t want everything moved back to the ranch,” she warned them.
“Just tell us what you want out of your apartment and we’ll make sure that it’s in the house by the time you and Sam get home,” Ryder said, smiling.
Nate checked his watch. “We’d better get moving. They’re going to discharge Sam in a couple hours. That doesn’t give us a lot time to get to Dallas and then out to the ranch before you two get there.”
“Just get my clothes and shoes out of the closet,” she said, resigned. “I’ll go into town and buy whatever else I need.”
“Are you sure that’s it?” Ryder asked, frowning. “Won’t you need your under—”
“Positive,” she interrupted. She wasn’t about to have them bring anything else from her apartment. The thought of five men going through her underwear drawer to pack a box of panties, bras and nightgowns to bring to the ranch just wasn’t the least bit appealing.
Giving Nate the address of her apartment in Dallas, she handed him her key. “After you get my clothes, go to the manager’s office and tell her to hold my mail until I can get back up that way in a week or so to pick it up.”
“How are you going to manage getting away from Sam for the hour-and-a-half drive to get up there?” Jaron asked, frowning.
“I’m sure Sam will have a follow-up appointment with the neurologist sometime within the next couple of weeks.” She gave them all a warning look as she started to get up. “If I’m going to stay with him until he’s recovered, one of you will be taking him to the doctor here in Waco while I drive to Dallas to see about my apartment and get my mail.” Before they could come up with an excuse to get out of it, she added, “You owe me that much.”
She wasn’t at all surprised when all five of them rose to their feet as she stood up. She had known them almost as long as she had known Sam, and from the moment they met her, they had all treated her as if she was the sister they never had. Hank Calvert had not only helped them straighten out their youthful problems and set them on a course to become highly successful, extremely wealthy men, he had taught them manners and respect, as well as instilled in them a strong sense of family.
“Thanks for doing this for Sam,” Nate said, givin
g her a brotherly kiss on the cheek. “We really appreciate it, Bria.”
When they walked her to the elevator, each man hugged her and assured her they would see her at the ranch. As Bria watched them walk toward the hospital’s main exit, she couldn’t help dreading the upcoming weeks. How on earth was she going to act as if everything was all right?
Sam was the same man who worked constantly, couldn’t take the time for them as a couple and was never there for her when she needed him most. She had tried to tell him time after time what was wrong with their marriage—the reasons she was so unhappy and why she wanted them to return to the way things had been between them before they married. But all he would say was that everything he did was for her and their future. She finally came to the conclusion that no matter how successful and wealthy he became, it was never going to be enough. When he waited an entire day before he came home to check on her after she lost their baby, she knew she couldn’t go on with the way things were. Even when she needed him, he put his business first. Now, she was going back to the same situation.
Stepping onto the elevator, she pushed the button for the third floor. No, nothing had changed. Sam was still an incurable workaholic and without a doubt her biggest weakness. He always had been and unfortunately for her, she suspected that would never change.
ISBN: 9781459233478
Copyright © 2012 by Ann Major
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com