Instead, she found Eric standing in the doorway, silently watching her. “How long have you been there?” she asked.
“Not too long,” he said. “When you have a minute, we need to talk.”
Eyes watering, Kara knew better than to touch her fingers to her face. “Let me wash my hands,” she managed, wondering if he could see her heart pounding through her chest. “I just need a second to try and get some of this onion smell off me.”
Edith studied them both silently, saying nothing. She did, however, hand Kara lemon juice to help destroy the pungent odor.
“I’ll wait for you in the living room,” Eric said.
Once Kara had cleaned up, she turned to the other woman. “I can come back and help after, if you’d like.”
Edith shook her head, her gaze sympathetic. “Go talk to Eric. All I have left to do in here is clean up. Maria will take over once she gets back from the store.”
Taking several deep breaths to calm herself, Kara went. Looking devilishly handsome, Eric waited for her where he’d said he would, in the entrance to the living room. Since she knew he’d met with the US Marshals, she immediately zeroed in on the manila folder he held in his hands.
“Well?” she demanded, sounding much braver than she felt. “What’d you find out?”
“Let’s sit.” Clearing his throat, he moved into the living room. “They brought me the rest of the information on your background.”
As she eyed the folder, curiosity warred with the strangest compulsion to run away. Briefly, she wondered if she really wanted to know. Of course she did. This was her life, even if she didn’t remember it. She needed to learn the truth. Especially since her memory had shown very few signs of returning. Who knew, maybe this information would help jar her mind into remembering.
“Let me see.” Though her voice sounded steady, her hand shook slightly as she reached for the paperwork.
Once she had it, she carried it over to the couch and sat down to read.
So much more than she’d expected. Inside she found a dossier, complete with photos.
Kara Sheppard, age 31. She’d been a professional chef. No, she corrected herself. She was a professional executive chef. She had her own kitchen at an upscale surf-and-turf restaurant called Keogas in Lower Manhattan, no less. Which meant she was a very good cook indeed.
Something clicked in her brain. A chef. In fact, she’d graduated at the head of her class from the Institute of Culinary Education in New York City. After that, she’d spent some time in Paris learning more. She was good. Damn good. Her talent stemmed from more than just skill—it was also because she loved to cook. Even as a teenager, she’d turned to cooking as comfort when the drama of life seemed about to overwhelm her.
Suddenly, the dry facts on paper became real. Until she’d witnessed the murder, cooking had been her entire life. She’d devoted every waking second toward work and saving up so one day she could open her own restaurant.
Wait, what? Witnessed a... She’d witnessed a murder. Scanning the papers, she found the reason she’d been taken into the Witness Security Program. Even as she started to read, the memories came flooding back.
Paul Samboliono had been a regular in the restaurant. As a VIP, he even had his own table despite, or maybe because of, his rumored mob connections. Kara had made it her business not to know too much about the customers or their lives. She cooked, they ate and this was her cycle of life. She’d been content, even happy.
Until she’d walked out of the kitchen into the dining room in time to see Paul shoot and kill two men. Later she’d learned they’d been undercover DEA agents.
He’d spotted her, but she’d run away as fast as she could, aware she was running for her life. She’d bypassed the NYPD, going to the FBI building at 26 Federal Plaza. Once she’d reached the twenty-third floor, she’d asked to speak to an agent and told the man everything she’d seen.
After that, her life had completely changed. She hadn’t even been allowed to go back to her apartment.
She inhaled sharply, not daring to look at Eric. Her memory had returned. All of it, and she had no more gaps in her recollection of her life prior to being hit by a car.
Just to be absolutely certain, she continued reading. There, she saw photographs of her apartment, there on East 20th Street in Midtown. It was a nice place, and she’d been lucky to find it. She could afford something that nice because she made a very good living as an executive chef.
As she read, she found herself nodding. True, she was single, with no pets or significant others. Absolutely correct. The US Marshals Service had done their homework.
There was more, and she continued to read even though she already knew the rest. Her parents were deceased, killed in a helicopter crash while on their dream vacation in Hawaii. She had no siblings, though she had a lot of friends, some so close she considered them her sisters.
Tears stung her eyes as she realized how much she’d given up. They’d sent her to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where she’d taken a job as a prep cook in a chain restaurant. How far she’d fallen. Her only consolation had been the fact that she was alive, and that once she testified against Paul Samboliono her life could return to normal.
Or so she’d been promised. Now, she wasn’t so certain. Putting the papers down, she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, hoping to stave off the beginning of what felt like a monster headache.
“Does anything seem familiar?” Eric asked, his voice hopeful.
“Yes.” Opening her eyes, she met and held his gaze. “I remember everything. Everything.” Her voice caught.
At her words, he dropped down on the couch alongside her and wrapped his arms around her. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. She nodded, leaning into his strength as he held on tight.
His masculine scent comforted her. She found herself relaxing against him, relieved to be rid of the distance he’d briefly put between them.
She closed the folder. “I don’t need to read the rest of it, except to check their facts.”
Glad he kept his arms around her, she told him everything, finishing up with the name she’d called out the night she’d been hit by a car. “Walter was the marshal assigned to protect me. I overheard him talking on the phone, telling someone he would hand me over in exchange for money. When I ran, he came after me.”
Eric leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. “Is he the one who tried to run you down?”
“I think so, but I don’t know for sure.”
“The marshals mentioned him. I’ve been told he was killed. Shot dead, execution style in the back.”
Wincing, she closed her eyes. “Probably because he tried to associate with the wrong people. They probably blamed him for my escape.”
“It’s possible.”
She breathed deeply, loving the masculine scent of him. “And that’s how they know where I am.”
“Probably so.” Though he tightened his hold on her, he didn’t sound concerned. “I left the meeting before they were done talking. I wanted to give everyone a little time to cool off.”
Perplexed, she tilted her head back to look up at him. “What do you mean?”
His smile made her curl her toes. “Let’s just say we disagreed on the best way to keep you safe.”
She wanted him to kiss her. Right there, in the middle of his family’s living room, where anyone could walk in on them. Not a good idea, and she tried to suppress the dizzying desire racing through her veins.
Gaze darkening, he leaned in. Her breath caught as she let her eyes drift closed. She wanted another soul-searing, heart-melting, deep and sensuous kiss like the others they’d shared. Instead, Eric delivered a chaste peck on the lips, patting her shoulder as if that was all he could think to do to comfort her.
Her protest died on her
lips as he released her.
“Let me go get cleaned up,” he said, looking past her as he pushed up off the couch. “And then we’ll talk more. I’m waiting for a phone call, either from Ryan or one of the men who attended the meeting today. Once that happens, I’ll have a few things I need to run by you.”
Somehow, she managed to nod.
“Feel free to use that laptop,” he pointed. “It’s the one you used in my town house. I’ve already connected to the Wi-Fi. You can look up anything you want to, in case you want something to do while I’m gone.”
Instantly, she thought of Facebook. “Thanks, I will.”
Eric cut his eyes left. When she looked that way, she noticed Big J standing near the foyer, silently watching them. When his gaze met hers, confusion flickered across his face, making her wonder if he even recognized her. Which didn’t make sense.
“Hi there, Dad,” Eric said, starting to move past him.
“Wait.” Big J grabbed his son’s arm. “I need to talk to you about your mother.”
Eric froze. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, she’s getting stronger every day. But I’m worried about something. I think she might know who attacked her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because every time I ask her about it, she gets scared. I’ve known that woman for half my life, and I recognize fear in her eyes when I see it. She knows, but she doesn’t want to tell me.”
His frustration evident in his tone, Big J stalked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink.
“I’ll be talking to Ryan in a little bit,” Eric said. “I’ll pass that information on to him. Maybe she’ll tell him, since he’s a cop.”
“Maybe so,” Big J allowed. “Maybe so.”
“I’ll be right back,” Eric told him, glancing at Kara and flashing a half smile. She watched as he took the stairs two at a time.
When she looked back in the direction of his father, she realized Big J had left the room.
Immediately, she headed for the laptop. She sat down and turned it on. Once she had it going, she went online, visiting her own Facebook page. Now that she was back to normal, she even managed to remember the password—no small feat. It felt oddly discomforting, reading all the concerned messages posted after her abrupt disappearance by her friends and coworkers, even customers.
She studied the photographs of her—laughing with friends on a night out, cooking some fancy, unpronounceable dish. There were also a lot of pictures of the expensive restaurant where she worked. Keogas appeared to be a popular place.
As she studied all this, her throat ached. After all she’d been through, she felt like the woman she’d once been was a complete stranger. Her life had completely changed.
Worse, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see Eric again once the US Marshals came for her to take her to some other safe place. Heck, the way things had been going, she’d begun to doubt she’d even live long enough to be able to testify.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to see any more. She shut the computer down and headed up the stairs to her room. Once there, she studied herself in the mirror, trying to find some resemblance between the woman staring back at her and the laughing, confident woman she’d seen on the Facebook page.
A light tapping on her door roused her from her reverie.
“May I come in?” Eric asked.
She couldn’t help but give herself one final quick check in the mirror before answering. “Of course.”
When he entered, his rough good looks made her catch her breath. He’d changed into a pair of well-worn jeans and a button-down Western shirt. A rush of desire heated her blood. Right now, he looked more like a cowboy than a surgeon. A sexy-as-hell cowboy. She wanted to jump his bones. Apparently, she would always have this reaction to him, no matter the circumstances or her mood. Her mouth went dry at the realization.
“I have good news,” he said, clearly oblivious. “The US Marshals just called. They’ve agreed to my plan.”
Confused, she frowned. “What plan?”
“I figured out what to do with you.”
His words instantly turned her insides to ice. Steeling herself, she waited for him to continue.
“Yesterday when they learned about all the attempts on your life—the guy running you down, the failed abduction and finally the car bomb—they realized the immediate need to get you someplace safe. That’s what I disagreed with them on. So I came up with my own plan. Today, they called to say they’d considered it and my idea would be a go.”
His idea. What to do with her. She felt as if she had no say, no control, in her own destiny.
And now she felt pretty darn sure Eric was about to wash his hands of her for good. She nodded and braced herself. Would he miss her?
“Don’t look like that.” He cupped her chin. “I promise, it’s not bad news.”
Heaven help her, her knees went weak. “It’s not?”
“No. At least, not as far as I’m concerned. It’s been decided that for now, you can continue to stay with me here at the ranch. The trial is in less than two weeks, so we’re going to keep you safe until you can testify and put the mobster guy behind bars.”
Mobster guy. She winced. “No one has ever successfully testified against Paul Samboliono. Usually, anyone who’s tried in the past has met an accident before the trial.”
“Well, you’ll be the first then. Because I personally am going to make sure you make it to the courthouse alive.”
Hope warred with trepidation. “Why are the Marshals agreeing to this? I would think their first priority would be to keep me safe themselves. That’s what they do, supposedly.”
“They haven’t done a very good job of it so far, now have they?”
She couldn’t argue with that. Best of all, she got to stay with Eric a little longer. “I need to find out if I have access to funds. I’d like to repay you for all the clothing you had Greta purchase for me.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “Don’t sweat the small stuff. We can deal with that in good time.”
“I don’t know how much time I’m going to have left,” she confessed. “Who knows if the bad guys will succeed the next time?”
“They won’t. I told you that I’d protect you,” he reminded her.
“Thank you,” she told him, blinking furiously to keep from crying.
Evidently her effort didn’t fool him. “It’s all right,” he said, and brought her into the circle of his arms.
She moved without thought, stepping right into his embrace. She told herself that all she’d wanted was comfort and reassurance. Instead, wrapped in those muscular arms, pressed against his broad chest, desire once again slammed into her. He smelled like soap and man, an arousing scent. She inhaled, her heart pounding in her chest, afraid to move, afraid to raise her head to look at him in case he read the strength of the need in her eyes.
They stood together, holding on to each other, neither speaking.
“Are you two at it again?” a deep voice boomed, making her jump. Big J.
Eric released her and stepped back. “I’m just comforting her, Dad.”
The older man harrumphed. “Right. I’ve comforted a few women in my younger days, too. Just remember, you’re in our house. And your mother is awake again. Have you been to see her today?”
“Not yet.” Eric’s polite tone came out both grim and cheerful. “I’ll make sure and do that soon.”
Despite the pointed hint to leave, his father stayed put, his gaze flickering back and forth from Eric to Kara.
Eric sighed. “Kara, are you all right now?”
Trying to avoid meeting his gaze, she nodded. “Yes. Go and visit your mother,” she said. “I’ll see if Maria needs any help with anything in the kitchen.” She brushed pas
t both men, forcing herself to walk when all she wanted to do was run out of the room.
* * *
Unable to tear his eyes away, Eric watched Kara go, admiring the gentle sway of her curvy hips, but inwardly wincing. Clearly, her apparent haste was due to the violent physical reaction he’d had when he held her in his arms. He shook his head, wondering why his self-control had deserted him.
Even now, after she’d left the room, he burned hot for her. Sure, he found her attractive—what red-blooded man wouldn’t? Despite that, he hadn’t expected this. In his personal life, just like in his profession, he preferred things neat and orderly. Wanting Kara would only unnecessarily complicate things for both of them. And she had enough on her plate.
“That girl’s a looker,” Big J drawled, reminding Eric of his presence. “Are you going to make an honest woman out of her?”
At a complete loss for words, Eric met his father’s gaze. “You never know,” he answered. “You just never know.”
With that, he headed into his mother’s room.
Latonia had propped Abra into a sitting position by using several pillows. Her unfocused gaze worried him, making his fingers itch for a pin light to check her pupils.
Instead, he reminded himself that as far as his father was concerned, Eric was not his mother’s physician.
“Go ahead,” Latonia prompted. “Visit with her. I know she looks like she’s far away, but she’s been in and out all day. She hears everything you say to her.”
He nodded, curbing the impulse to tell her he already knew that.
“Hey, Mom,” he said softly, approaching the bed. “How are you feeling today?”
Her gaze never wavered, though the beginning of a smile curved her mouth.
“See!” Latonia clapped her hands. “She heard you.”
“Of course I heard him,” Abra snapped, startling them both. This time, her eyes were wide-open and focused on her son.
Eric grinned. “Well, look who’s back.”
Her quick frown told him what she thought of that. “Come over here and give your mother a hug,” she ordered.
The Temptation of Dr. Colton Page 17