Книга - Midnight Bride

Midnight Bride
Barbara McCauley


HALF-DROWNED. HALF-NAKED. NO MEMORY. That's how Agent Caleb hunter found the woman known to him only as Sarah. But he had reason to believe she didn't truly have amnesia and was not what she appeared. To test his theory, he hopped into bed with her, claiming to be her husband, wanting to exercise his conjugal rights. But his response was unexpected and shocking. This loner had been too long without a woman's caress… .Secluded in his remote mountain cabin, the two explored each other's bodies and hearts, knowing they only had a few days together. For beyond the cabin door, the real world - and their past secrets - beckoned, and threatened their passionate paradise… preventing them from truly becoming husband and wife.









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u5d63234a-76c5-561c-9fe3-bc9bc1aec795)

Excerpt (#u7a33550b-87e5-585f-9553-5a4022a14b96)

Dear Reader (#u3188bfd8-0252-54cb-bbbc-dc08b371d494)

Title Page (#u375e891b-f0bd-578b-bc7a-7eb78667a414)

About the Author (#u699b91d2-6abd-5924-92d9-0bad54bb83ed)

Chapter One (#u967deeec-f80e-5ba0-9c93-84fb89c999a4)

Chapter Two (#ud71f9384-45a0-5382-b140-7b0706348c9b)

Chapter Three (#u3a138758-d0f2-57e5-8bea-63ad72b6830c)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




“Certainly You Remember Your Husband.”


Husband? How could she not know her own name? Her own husband? “You can’t be my—What are you doing?” Sarah gasped, struggling to move away.

“Refreshing your memory,” Caleb said. “Is this familiar?” He slid one hand over her hip, while his arm pinned her against the mattress.



“No!” she cried out and moved his hand away. But somehow the touch was familiar.



He hesitated a moment, and she felt as if he were looking into her very soul, reading her deepest, darkest secrets. Secrets she didn’t even know.

“Do you remember this?” he asked as his hand very slowly unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast, but his dark gaze never left hers. Heat coursed through her.



She couldn’t possibly desire a man she didn’t even know. Could she?


Dear Reader,



This month, we begin HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS, a wonderful new cross-line continuity series written by two of your favorites—Merline Lovelace and Carole Buck. The series begins in October with Merline’s Halloween Honeymoon. Then, once a month right through February, look for holiday love stories by Merline and Carole—in Desire for November, Intimate Moments for December, back to Desire in January and concluding in Intimate Moments for Valentine’s Day. Sound confusing? It’s not—we’ll keep you posted as the series continues…and I personally guarantee that these books are keepers!

And there are other goodies in store for you. Don’t miss the fun as Cathie Linz’s delightful series THREE WEDDINGS AND A GIFT continues with Seducing Hunter. And Lass Small’s MAN OF THE MONTH, The Texas Blue Norther, is simply scrumptious.

Those of you who want an ultrasensuous love story need look no further than The Sex Test by Patty Salier. She’s part of our WOMEN TO WATCH program highlighting brand-new writers. Warning: this book is HOT!

Readers who can’t get enough of cowboys shouldn’t miss Anne Marie Winston’s Rancher’s Baby. And if you’re partial to a classic amnesia story (as I certainly am!), be sure to read Barbara McCauley’s delectable Midnight Bride.

And, as always, I’m here to listen to you—so don’t be afraid to write and tell me your thoughts about Desire!



Until next month.








Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




Midnight Bride

Barbara McCauley











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Books by Barbara McCauley

Silhouette Desire



Woman Tamer #621

Man from Cougar Pass #698

Her Kind of Man #771

Whitehorn’s Woman #803

A Man Like Cade #832

Nightfire #875

*Texas Heat #917

Texas Temptation #948

Texas Pride #971

Midnight Bride #1028

*Hearts of Stone




BARBARA McCAULEY


was bom and raised in California and has spent a good portion of her life exploring the mountains, beaches and deserts so abundant there. The youngest of five children, she grew up in a small house, and her only chance for a moment alone was to sneak into the backyard with a book and quietly hide away.



With two children of her own now and a busy house hold, she still finds herself slipping away to enjoy a good novel. A daydreamer and incurable romantic, she says writing has fulfilled her most incredible dream of all: breathing life into the people in her mind and making them real. She has one loud and demanding Amazon parrot named Fred and a German shepherd named Max. When she can manage the time, she loves to sink her hands into fresh-turned soil and make things grow.




One (#ulink_f54d7bec-be5d-5389-a1ca-cb5a4082e5b7)


The wolf paced, his massive black head slung low, his long, lean legs moving soundlessly over the cabin’s hardwood floor. Flames crackled in the fireplace, reflecting in the animal’s golden eyes. Eyes that were alert, watching. Waiting.

Caleb Hunter regarded the wolf’s movements, tempted, for some strange reason, to follow suit. Outside the small cabin the wind howled and rain pummeled the A-frame roof. Inside, the scent of the storm mingled with smoke and filled the room.

But there was another scent. One that Caleb couldn’t identify, but recognized instinctively.

Danger.

The wolf recognized it, too. He lifted his nose and sniffed, straightened his ears, then whined softly. Caleb set down the book he’d been reading.

“You, too, Wolf?” Caleb asked. Though hardly an original name, it suited the beast. Caleb had found the animal several months ago, half-dead, shortly after he’d come to the San Gabriel mountains outside of Los Angeles for a “much-needed rest and recuperation.” Or so his superiors had said, shortly after he’d punched two of the bastards out.

Wolf whined again and stared at the cabin door. Lightning flashed, then thunder shook the walls. The animal’s thick black fur lifted at his nape.

His own body tense, Caleb rose from his armchair by the fire and moved beside Wolf. The animal kept his gaze fixed on the door.

“I agree,” Caleb said tightly. “What do you think we ought to do about it?”

A deep growl rumbled in Wolf’s throat, then he padded to the door and stared at the knob.

“I thought you were going to say that,” Caleb said with a sigh. He reached for the revolver he kept on the mantel, felt the weight of the cold steel on his palm. His grip tightened when the wind slammed against the doors and windows, then he slipped the weapon into the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed a flashlight, slipped on his heavy woolen jacket, then dropped a hat on his head.

Wolf bounded outside when Caleb opened the door. The wind sprayed the rain inside, and with a curse Caleb quickly closed the door behind him.

“Not a night fit for man or beast,” he grumbled, pulling his jacket up tightly around his neck. Yet here they were, two misfits that belonged nowhere. To no one. Not even each other. Caleb may have pulled a hunter’s bullet out of Wolf’s shoulder and nursed him back to health, but they both knew the time here was temporary. But then, time anywhere was temporary, Caleb thought.

Even with the flashlight it was nearly impossible to see. Lightning lit the blackness, and through the pounding storm Caleb caught a glimpse of Wolf heading through the woods toward the creek bed.

Caleb followed. The drenched ground sucked at his boots. Water sluiced off the brim of his hat. His intellect told him that he was a complete fool to be out here, an observation he decidedly agreed with. No one ever came out this way, and certainly not in this weather. The closest neighbors, who lived in a cabin two miles away, were gone for the month, and the town of Pinewood was three miles away. It was only April, too early for campers.

But still, he felt it. In the wind, on the air. It was impossible to analyze, nothing that could be explained, but it was there nonetheless. Call it instinct, gut feeling, even extrasensory. He couldn’t ignore it, he’d have been dead several times over if he had. It was the only thing he trusted blindly.

Something was out here that didn’t belong. Something or someone.

An icy blast of wind struck him full force, sending a shiver clear through to his bones. Wolf’s sharp bark several yards ahead brought Caleb’s head up. “All right, boy, all right.” He moved toward the sound. “I hear you.”

He approached the edge of the creek. Normally the water was no more than a couple of feet deep and a gentle flow, but the violent storm had created a raging current. He heard Wolf’s bark again, no more than a few feet away now. Caleb whistled shrilly, but the animal merely barked again, more insistently this time.

“It better not be a rabbit,” Caleb muttered through clenched teeth, “or so help me you’re stew.”

Caleb swung the flashlight around, and the beam of light reflected off the beating rain. Wolf’s bark turned to a growl. Caleb’s fingers tightened on the flashlight. They weren’t alone, and it sure wasn’t any rabbit.

Caleb moved warily, closer to the edge of the creek; the barrel of his gun pressed into his waist. A chill slithered up his spine, but it had nothing to do with the cold. Wolf brushed against his leg, whined, then barked again. Jaw tight, Caleb turned, intending to move farther down the bank.

What he didn’t intend was to fall over a tree limb.

The flashlight tumbled from his hands as he landed hard on his knees; mud oozed through his spread fingers. Barking, Wolf danced around him. “Son of a—”

He froze when the branch under his legs moved, then moaned.

“What the hell…?”

The dim glow of the flashlight a few feet away did little more than outline the figure he’d stumbled over. Caleb knelt beside the body and ran his hands over the limp form.

Female.

Lightning split the black sky, illuminating the woman lying on her back. She was slender, not too tall, and her clothes, a heavy sweater and thin skirt, clung to her like wet towels.

What in hell was a woman, alone, doing in the mountains at this time of year, in this kind of weather? It was suicidal or downright idiotic. And while he hadn’t the patience for either reason, he certainly couldn’t leave her here.

As if to punctuate his thought, lightning and thunder struck simultaneously. He watched the woman’s eyes fly open, and she attempted to sit. The weight of the mud held her like flypaper. He reached for the flashlight and tucked it under his arm, then took hold of her shoulders and pulled her up.

“What are you doing out here?” he yelled over the pounding rain.

Her answer was no more than a whimper. He tightened his grip on her and shook her lightly. “Are you hurt?”

Her hair hung like wet strings across her face. She blinked several times, then lifted her gaze to him. Her eyes widened in horror.

“No-o-o-o!”

She swung a fist at him and struck him on the chin, though the mud covering her hand carried more weight behind it than her punch. She struggled weakly, frantic to get away, but hadn’t the strength of a wet leaf.

“Calm down,” Caleb shouted, then lifted her in his arms and stood. He felt her resistance, heard her cry of protest. The fool woman didn’t even want to be rescued, he thought with annoyance.

Even soaking wet, she weighed no more than a feather. He balanced the flashlight under his arm and started back toward the cabin, bending his head down when a stiff gust of wind pelted them. The woman trembled in his arms and huddled against him, muttering incoherently. Her shivering was a good sign. If hypothermia had taken hold, she would have shown no reaction to the cold. He pulled her closer to him, trying to shield her drenched body, but there was little he could do in a storm this violent.

Wolf ran ahead, barking sharply if Caleb fell too far behind. By the time they reached the cabin, the temperature had dropped and the rain had turned to sleet.

“You’re one lucky lady,” he muttered roughly as he yanked open the front door. “A few more minutes out in that and you would have been a Popsicle.”

As if understanding his words, the woman groaned, a soft, low sound of anguish. He cradled her against him and moved inside the cabin, then kicked the door shut after Wolf ran inside. Caleb moved straight to the fire and sat on the stone hearth, shifting his cargo so her head lay back against his arm.

“Well, now,” he said, taking the woman’s chin in his hand, “let’s have a look at you.”

She was young, in her twenties, he guessed. Her bone structure was small, and she had a fragile quality about her. Mud streaked her high cheeks and forehead, and her hair lay plastered in flat curls against her pale skin. He saw blood on his fingers and gently turned her head until he saw the gash behind her left ear.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Looks like we’re going to have to get you to a doctor, darlin’.”

“No.”

The word was barely audible. Surprised, Caleb glanced back to her face. Her eyes fluttered open. They were blue…a soft, baby blue, rimmed by dark, thick lashes. For one split second, in the space between heartbeats, Caleb felt as if the floor had dropped out beneath him. Stunned, he quickly shook the feeling off.

“No doctor,” she said hoarsely, staring at him through a glaze of pain. She lifted one hand and wrapped her slender fingers around the lapel of his jacket. “No doctor, no police.” Shivering, she squeezed her eyes shut. “They’ll find me…please…don’t let them find me…please… no one…”

“Who?” Caleb asked. “Who will find you?”

“Please.” Her whispered plea faded, but the urgency in her voice and bottomless eyes echoed in Caleb’s mind. Her head rolled back, and her hand slipped from his jacket.

He ran his hands under her sweater and down her skirt; she recoiled instinctively at the intimate intrusion. No ID, no purse or wallet, he noted. A chain around her neck sparkled in the firelight. Caleb lifted the necklace and fingered the letters engraved in gold: Sarah.

Had someone sent her? he wondered. He’d been careful, but it was possible they’d managed to find him here after six months. He knew that sooner or later they would make an attempt to get to him, but would they send a woman in after him, especially one so young and obviously inexperienced? It was hard to imagine, which made him all the more suspicious.

Thunder shook the walls again. She’d have her wish tonight, anyway, he thought with a frown. He had no phone to call anyone, and even if he had, no one was getting in or out on the main road now.

He looked at the woman in his arms. Sarah.

“Well, Sarah, darlin’, looks like you’re staying here with Wolf and me for now.” He sighed, then gathered her close and stood. “Let’s say we get you out of those wet things, shall we?”



* * *



A marching band pounded in her head. The trumpets wailed and the trombones blared. She tried to move, but the effort set off the drum section. Lie still, she told herself, not understanding the origin of her pain, but fully understanding the sensation. Breath held, she waited until the first sharp wave of agony passed through her.

The beating in her head slowed and settled into a dull ache. The marching band moved on, replaced by silence. No, not quite silence, she decided. She heard the drumming of rain now, the howl of wind. And breathing. The sound of deep, steady breaths.

Whose breathing?

She fought back the unreasonable panic that rose suddenly in her. Stay calm, she repeated over and over until her heart slowed its thunderous pace. Logic told her that control was important, composure essential. She counted to ten, willing her nerves to be still.

She lay on her back, on a soft mattress; a pillow cradled her head. She moved her fingers, felt the smooth warmth of the blanket covering her. I’m in a bed, she realized, but knew it wasn’t her own.

The scent of wood smoke seemed to surround her. Camping? The mountains? Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes.

It was like looking through a lens out of focus. There were shapes and color, but everything was blurred. She blinked several times, waiting for the images to take form.

The ceiling was open beam. Dark, heavy boards, rough-hewn. The walls were logs. A cabin? She glanced to her left. A small lamp glowed on a pine dresser, filling the room with a soft yellow light. Rain beat against a window over the dresser. It was dark out. She shivered involuntarily and closed her eyes again, not understanding her sudden and intense fear. She waited, letting the emotion pass.

She heard the breathing again. Deep, slow. Steady. She opened her eyes and glanced to the right.

A man. Sitting in a rocker beside the bed. His head hung forward, and she couldn’t see his face. But his hair was black as the night, his hands large, his chest and shoulders broad. He wore a blue flannel shirt and faded jeans. He was sound asleep.

She tried to sit, but the movement was like swinging a hammer inside her head. She drew in a breath, waiting for the pain to subside.

A strange bed. A strange place. A strange man.

She opened her eyes again, and this time he was staring right at her. Her breath caught.

Shadows hid half of his face, giving the illusion of a mask. A phantom. He said nothing, just looked at her, his expression as dark as his hair. She felt as if she’d stepped into a stage play and he would rip the mask away to reveal his horrible disfigurement. A scream bubbled deep in her throat, but she hadn’t the strength to release it. Her heart raced as he stood and moved closer.

Other than a scar over his left eyebrow, there was no disfigurement, she realized with intense relief. In fact, he was rather good-looking, in a rugged, masculine way. A face that appealed not on an aesthetic level, but a primitive one.

He stood over her, and she lifted her gaze to his. He was tall, much too tall, she decided, hating the way he towered over her.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

His voice was deep, husky. She’d heard it somewhere before, but it hurt too much to try to think of where. “Who—”

Her throat felt like sandpaper. The bed dipped low as the man sat beside her and slipped his hand behind her neck. He carefully lifted her head and offered her a drink of water from a glass on the nightstand. The cool liquid eased the tightness in her throat.

“Who are you?” she asked hoarsely. The room was in focus now, and the persistent throb in her head quieted. “Where am I?”

“Why, Sarah, darlin’,” the man said, “after all we’ve meant to each other, you don’t remember me?”

Confused, she stared at the man. Was that sarcasm she heard in his voice? “Why…why did you call me Sarah?”

He lifted one dark brow. “What should I call you?”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

What should I call you?

The pounding in her head increased. Her name.

What was her name?

“I—I don’t know,” she said weakly.

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t remember your name?”

She closed her eyes against the encroaching pain. “No.”

The weight on the bed shifted, and her eyes flew open again as the man climbed under the covers beside her.

That’s when she realized what she was wearing. An oversize white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of thermal underwear.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, struggling to move away. The man draped an arm around her waist and held her still.

“Refreshing your memory,” he said. “Is this familiar?”

He slid a hand over her hip.

“No!” she cried out and moved his hand away. But somehow, the touch was familiar. Yet not.

He raised himself on one elbow and stared down at her. “It’s me, Sarah. Caleb. Certainly you remember your husband.”

Her eyes widened. Husband?

“You can’t be my—I can’t be your—”

She bit her lip. How could she not know her own name? Her own husband?

“That’s not possible,” she whispered. “I—I don’t remember you…or us…”

He hesitated a moment, and she felt as if he were looking into her very soul, reading her deepest, darkest secrets. Secrets she didn’t even know.

“Do you remember this?” he asked, and ran his hand up her arm, then traced her collarbone with his fingers. Her heart began to race, and her breathing came in short, quick gasps. “Or maybe you remember this?”

His hand dropped lower, very slowly unbuttoning the top button of the shirt she wore. His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast, but his dark gaze never left hers. Her skin tightened, her body came alive with a mind all of its own. Heat coursed through her, a mixture of embarrassment and—what? Desire?

No, she didn’t remember him, and this most certainly was not familiar. She couldn’t speak, all she could do was shake her head.

He stopped. So did her breathing. He watched her for a long moment, then refastened the button and inched away. Reluctantly, she thought.

“I don’t understand,” she muttered. “What’s happened to me?”

“You hit your head,” he said. “You were…out in the storm and fell.”

The storm. She looked toward the window, stared at the rain beating against the panes…

She was falling…falling. River. Cold.

She sat up quickly, then squeezed her eyes shut and gasped at the pain that shot through her head.

“Lie back,” the man—Caleb—said. “Here, take these.” He reached toward the nightstand, then pressed something into her mouth. Aspirin. His touch was gentle, and she didn’t resist when he held the glass to her lips. She swallowed, coughing as the tablets went down her throat.

“Get some rest now.” Caleb slipped out from under the covers. She almost reached for him, felt frightened and cold with him gone. She clutched the blankets to her instead, wishing the blasted pounding in her head would stop.

And as the medication slowly took effect, she slipped into blessed sleep with a strange image. Her bare skin, wet and slick, against Caleb’s.



Caleb stared out the kitchen window, listening to the coffee percolate as the sky transformed from inky black to dusty gray. Rain fell steadily, alternating between hail and sleet, though not with the intensity of the night before. The thunder had moved north and was no more than an occasional distant rumble. He knew from experience the storm wasn’t finished just yet. Before the day was through, there would undoubtedly be another assault.

And before the day was through, he also intended to have some answers.

Sarah. He glanced at the wall separating the kitchen from the bedroom. He wasn’t even sure that was her name, but for now it would have to do.

A scratch at the back door caught Caleb’s attention, and he let a soggy Wolf inside. The animal gave himself a shake, then padded across the kitchen into the living room. Caleb frowned at the paw prints on the hardwood floor. They had an understanding, he and Wolf. Caleb kept his food bowl filled, and the animal in turn kept unwanted visitors, human or otherwise, at bay.

Until last night.

With a sigh, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat at the kitchen table and ran a hand over the beginning stubble of a beard. So what did he know about his midnight intruder? She was probably in her midtwenties, approximately five foot three, maybe 110 pounds dripping wet, shoulder-length pale blond hair. Blue eyes. He remembered his initial reaction to those eyes, then frowned and continued his evaluation. Identifying marks: one small scar on her inside right elbow, approximately two and a half centimeters, and a small, heart-shaped mole on her left thigh. Caleb smiled. A very nicely shaped thigh at that, but he doubted that his mystery woman would appreciate that opinion.

She hadn’t been dressed for a hike in the mountains, carried no identification, wore no wedding band. Her hands and legs were badly scratched, and she had a minor laceration behind her left ear.

And no memory.

He leaned back in his chair and took a swallow of the strong coffee. She was either telling the truth about not knowing who she was or was one hell of a good liar. He’d made up the story about being her husband and climbed into bed with her just to rattle her. Instead, he’d been the one rattled. The innocence that had shimmered from her was like a punch in the gut.

True, he’d been without female companionship for a long time, but he’d never remembered any woman being so soft, so delicate, or smelling so sweet. No woman had ever looked at him with such complete trust. Or made him feel like such a complete heel. He’d spent the rest of the night on the couch, alternating between sleep and listening for any sounds from the bedroom, but there’d been nothing.

If she hadn’t been sent here to find him, then who the hell was she? Beautiful women didn’t just fall out of the sky. He was more than a mile in from the main road, and the closest rental cabin was more than two miles away. She couldn’t have walked. Not in this storm. She had to have a car somewhere. Or be with someone who had a car.

Please don’t let them find me, she’d said.

Don’t let who find her? And why had she begged him not to call the police or a doctor? Caleb narrowed his eyes as he stared at the steam rising from his coffee. If he was being set up, she was doing one hell of a job.

Which gave him all the more reason not to trust her.

He shoved his cup aside. He’d go back down to the creek later when the storm eased and check out the area. But right now he had lots of questions and no patience. It was time for Sleeping Beauty to wake up. He rose and headed for the bedroom.

Her scream stopped him halfway.




Two (#ulink_b421dd29-2c46-5fd2-99bb-89cc44778e07)


Sarah threw the covers over her head and attempted to burrow herself into the bed. When she felt the mattress dip, she screamed again.

“Sarah!” Strong, large hands grabbed her shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

“An animal!” She buried herself as deeply under the blankets as possible. “There’s a wild animal in your bedroom!”

The hands stilled, then she heard a deep chuckle. “It’s only Wolf.”

“A wolf!” She huddled closer to Caleb. “Shootit!”

Caleb tugged at the blankets. “Come out from under there.”

And be eaten alive? Was he crazy? She hugged the covers tighter.

Caleb yanked the covers off.

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. When the beast barked, she hollered and launched herself at Caleb, which sent them both sprawling on the floor. Caleb landed on his back, with Sarah on top of him.

“Sarah!” He rolled her underneath him. “For God’s sake, will you stop!”

At the sound of a deep growl inches away from her ear, Sarah went completely still. Her heart stopped, she couldn’t breathe. And with Caleb’s body on top of hers, she couldn’t move. Slowly she opened her eyes.

Golden wolf eyes stared back.

With a whimper, Sarah turned her head. The cold hardwood floor pressed against her cheek. Caleb’s hands circled her wrists and held them firmly to her sides. She felt herself go limp, heard the animal bark again, but it sounded far away this time, as if she were in a metal drum…

Don’t let her get away, dammit! Kill her if you have to, but don’t let her get away!

Kill her…kill her…kill her…

“Sarah.”

She heard someone calling gently. Sarah? Was that her name? The man, Caleb, had told her it was. He called to her again, and her eyelids fluttered open.

“Sarah,” he said again, “this is Wolf. He won’t hurt you.”

She turned her head slowly toward the animal. It cocked its massive black head as it stared down curiously at her. Panic washed through her, and she struggled to free her arms.

“He won’t hurt you,” Caleb reassured her, holding her tightly. “He thinks we’re playing, and he wants to join in. He’s just a big baby.”

“Playing?” Sarah croaked out. “Big baby?”

Caleb grinned down at her. “Sure. He’s hardly more than a pup.”

“A pup?” Sarah eyed the wolf warily. Its tongue hung sideways from its huge jaw, and its tail wagged furiously. “That’s like saying Moby Dick was a fish.”

With a bark, the beast lunged at her. Sarah’s scream lodged in her throat as a long, wet tongue washed over her cheek.

“Wolf!” Caleb said sternly. “Back!”

Reluctantly the animal backed up and sat on his haunches.

Though it was only seconds, it seemed like hours until Sarah could breathe again. Concern filled Caleb’s eyes as he looked down at her. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly, then drew in a calming breath.

And just as she felt herself relax, Sarah became fully aware of Caleb’s body stretched over her own. Her senses sharpened with razor precision. Every hard muscle of his lower body pressed intimately against her. His legs against hers, his thighs, the bulge of his manhood. A bulge that seemed to suddenly be growing….

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. He gazed at her with a dark intensity that made her heart race and her stomach turn inside out. Heat radiated from his skin, burning through fabric and skin…down to her very soul. She caught the scent of coffee and soap, felt the rough texture of his callused hands on her wrists.

Her husband?

Was it truly possible she could forget a man like this? A man who turned her brain to mush and set her insides on fire? She searched the rugged lines of his face, the strong set of his jaw, the hard, sensuous mouth.

Her skin tightened, and a warm, pleasurable flush filled her. The cotton shirt she wore rubbed almost painfully against the hardened nipples of her breasts, and she became exceedingly aware of her nakedness underneath. She wanted him to touch her, to feel his skin on hers, and that realization brought a hot blush to her cheeks.

Her husband?

Could it really be? Could a woman such as herself possibly be married to a man like this? Yet that thought unto itself confused her. She hadn’t any idea what kind of woman she was.

He watched her; she saw the same primitive fierceness in his eyes that she’d seen in the wolf. She thought to use the same command on him that he’d used on the animal, but somehow she doubted that yelling back at the man would have any effect.

“Caleb,” she whispered, “let me up.”

He didn’t move.

A pulse throbbed deep in her throat, and a wild excitement swirled low in her belly. She looked at Caleb, felt the current of tension course from his body into hers. An image flashed through her mind; sensations and sounds, but no definition. The feel of his hands on her wet, bare skin…water…a warm fire.

She wasn’t ready for this—this intimacy. He was a stranger to her. A face with no memories, only feelings. Feelings that frightened her.

“Please,” she said softly, then wondered herself if it was please touch me, or please don’t.

He loosened his hold on her, then slowly rose, pulling her with him and setting her on the edge of the bed. The movement made her head swim and reminded her that someone with a tiny hammer was busy inside her head.

“You all right?”

She nodded, then winced at the pain the gesture cost her.

He sat beside her. “Here, let me take a look at that.”

She bent her head. “What happened to me?”

“You hit your head,” he said and lifted the bandage he’d applied. “Probably on a rock, or rocks, based on the number of bruises and scratches all over your body.”

She felt every one of them. She ached from one end of her body to the other. “But how did it happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“I was outside alone? In a storm?”

He hesitated, then reapplied the bandage. His fingers brushed her neck as he pulled away, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran along her spine.

When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. He stared at her, his mouth hard, his eyes narrowed. There was no emotion there, and he looked at her now as if she were a stranger. One not to be trusted.

A different shiver, this time one of fear, crept through her. She tightened her hold on the blankets, trying to still the trembling in her hands. Slowly she lifted her gaze to his. “Did you…do this…to me?”

Surprise clearly registered on his face, then exasperation. “No, Sarah, I didn’t do this to you.”

She believed him. She had no idea why she should, but she did. She let out the breath she’d been holding. “But you don’t know what happened?”

He shook his head, then ran a hand through his thick black hair. She stared at his large hands, then looked at her own.

“If we’re married,” she said carefully, “where are our rings?”

He said nothing.

She went still, then whispered, “We aren’t married, are we?”

“No.”

The strangest mixture of relief and disappointment filled her.

And fear.

She closed her eyes and started to shake. What was happening? She had no idea where she was or even who she was. She was in the bed of a man she didn’t know, and she looked and felt as if she’d been the pi&n~;ata at a child’s party.

The man inside her head with a hammer switched to a chainsaw. She opened her eyes again and, through a haze of pain, focused on the stranger sitting beside her. He watched her as if he were the one confused, as if he were suspicious of her.

“Do you even know me?” she asked.

“No.”

No? She drew in a slow breath and pulled the covers closer. He’d said they were married. He’d even climbed into bed with her. That she certainly remembered. Distinctly. Had he thought to take advantage of her in her weakened state? To make her believe they were husband and wife so she wouldn’t fight him if he—

No. She didn’t believe that. He’d had every opportunity if he’d wanted to use her like that. He still did. She was weak as a kitten. He was a big, strong man. It would be impossible to stop him if he had ill intentions toward her. And besides, a man with Caleb’s looks didn’t need to trick any woman into his bed. They’d have to take a number and stand in line. A long line.

“Why…why did you lie to me?” she asked quietly.

His eyes narrowed, and the lines beside his mouth deepened. Rain battered the roof; wind whipped the branches against the window; but the silence between them closed around them like a vise. And that look was there again, in his dark eyes, in the lines between his brows. And then she realized.

He was the one who didn’t trust her.

“You were testing me, weren’t you?” she asked. “You thought I was lying when I told you I don’t know who I am.”

He stood then and looked down at her. She not only felt weak as a kitten, she suddenly felt as small as one, too. He was so tall, six-three at least, she guessed. She’d felt that body against her own, every rock-hard muscle. Everything about the man was dark and dangerous.

And wildly, incredibly exciting.

“Why, Caleb?” she asked again. “Or is that really your name?”

He nodded slowly. “It is. Caleb Hunter.”

Hunter. How appropriate, she thought. And she was the prey. Like a cornered, frightened bird, her heart raced, but she was unable to move, even as he sat back down beside her.

“And my name? Did you make that up?”

He reached toward her, hesitating when she shrank back, then slipped his hand under the collar of her shirt. Her breath held as his fingers skimmed her collarbone. She felt him gently tug on a chain around her neck she hadn’t realized she wore.

“You came with an ID tag,” he said with a crooked smile.

Her hand brushed his as she reached up to touch the necklace. His skin was hot and rough, hers cool and smooth, a blaring reminder of his masculinity against her femininity. A woman alone, with a man she didn’t know.

She held his gaze as he pulled away, then glanced down at the chain. Sarah. A sweeping script of gold letters. She ran her fingers over each letter, trying desperately to remember something, anything. But as before, the attempt only intensified the pounding in her head.

The room began to spin. She swayed slightly, then felt Caleb’s hands on her shoulders, guiding her backward. The pillow cushioned her head, and her pain eased.

“You need to rest,” he said, and started to rise.

“No!” She laid her hand on his arm. “I have to know something. Whatever you can tell me.”

With a sigh, Caleb sat back down. “It was almost midnight. Wolf was unusually restless, agitated, as if he knew there was something wrong. I followed him down to the creek, which is more like a river right now, and I stumbled over you.”

Stunned, Sarah looked at the animal, who had settled down contentedly beside the bed. “I was alone? In the middle of the night, in a storm?”

He nodded. “Not exactly a healthy pastime.”

She struggled to keep her mind clear, to try to comprehend even a little of what Caleb told her. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital? Or call the police?”

He shook his head. “The roads weren’t passable last night.”

“And now?”

He stared at her for a long time, then rose and walked to the window. Rain streaked the glass, and a sudden flash of lightning backlit Caleb’s tall form. Thunder rumbled close by.

“Last night,” he said, turning to face her, “after I got you back to the cabin, you gained consciousness for a few moments. You pleaded with me not to call anyone.”

“I pleaded with you? Why would I do that?”

“That’s what I would like to know.”

There it was again, she thought with confusion. The mistrust. But why? If he truly didn’t know her, or she him, why would he be suspicious? He moved toward her again, arms at his sides, carefully watching her face.

“You begged me not to let them find you,” he said, standing beside the bed.

“Them?” She pressed her fingers to her temple and rubbed at the stabbing pain that sliced through her head. “Who?”

“I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,” he said without emotion. “You said, ‘no doctor, no police, don’t let them find me.’ You also had no ID on you.”

She’d told him not to call anyone? That made no sense at all. “Is that why you don’t trust me, why you don’t believe me? You think I’m an escaped criminal and I’m on the run?” she asked incredulously.

“You could be anyone, darlin’,” Caleb said dryly. “But one thing is clear. You were definitely on the run. From something, or somebody.”

If she’d had the strength she would have laughed. On the run. Why would someone like her be running from anyone? Ridiculous. Except—she closed her eyes as the pain became nearly unbearable—she didn’t know what she was like.

A moment passed, then she felt Caleb lift her head and press two aspirin into her mouth. She didn’t want them, she wanted her head to be clear so she could think.

But what good would it do to fight him? He was right; she did need to rest. She could think later, sort it out. Surely by the time she woke up, she would have her memory back, and she could call someone to come get her. Just an hour or two, then the pieces would fall in place.

You could be anyone. Caleb’s words sent a chill up her spine.

She swallowed when he held the water glass to her lips. His hands were gentle as he laid her head back down. Her lids were heavy, but she forced them open.

“Hey, Caleb,” she murmured as he turned to leave.

He looked back at her. “Yeah?”

“I think I liked it better when we were married.”



Caleb finished unloading the groceries he’d picked up in town, then moved into the living room. The fire he’d started almost two hours before was nearly gone, and a chill had settled into the cabin. Sparks flew when he threw three more logs into the fireplace, and new flames crackled to life.

After Sarah had fallen back asleep, there’d been a break in the storm and he’d decided to drive into town while the roads were passable. He’d made some inquiries—whether there’d been any accidents on the mountain during the storm or if any strangers had been in—but no one had seen or heard anything unusual. He’d also stopped by the sheriff’s for a casual chat, but again, nothing. After buying a few things, he’d hurried back to the cabin just in time for the sky to open up again and unleash the current downpour. Wolf, who’d been posted outside Sarah’s door while he’d been gone, had taken off for parts unknown, mindless of the weather.

Caleb threw another log on the fire and brushed his hands off on his jeans. He wasn’t expecting snow, but with the temperature dropping steadily over the past couple of hours, no doubt there’d be a coat of ice outside tonight thick enough to skate on. He frowned as he realized it might be difficult getting out again for a day or two.

Which also meant it would be difficult getting in.

Please don’t let them find me.

Caleb narrowed his eyes and stared into the dancing flames. Sarah’s words and the desperate tone in her voice played over and over in his mind. She’d been nearly unconscious when he’d brought her in from the storm. Why would he give credence to anything a half-drowned, incoherent female said? Especially one who’d had a knock on the head. For all he knew, she might have meant the little green men with four eyes and antenna hair.

He knew a lot about paranoia. It ran deep, made a person suspicious of everyone from the mailman to little girls selling cookies.

And most especially, to women who washed up on the bank of a creek in the middle of the night—right outside the door of a high-level federal government agent, whom half the agency wanted to find and reinstate in service, and the other half wanted to kill.

He certainly wouldn’t put it past the agency to sink to a stunt like this. Sending a female operative to find him. Not to bring him back, of course. Even though it had been six months, they knew only too well that no one could bring him back until he was damn good and ready. If she was an agent, her duty would be to assess the situation and report back, nothing more.

He smiled slowly. Between climbing into bed with her, then rolling on the floor with her this morning, she’d certainly have plenty to report. Just thinking about those long legs and how incredibly soft her body had been underneath his brought an instantaneous tightening in his lower regions. And those eyes of hers. Lord help any man who fell into those baby blues.

With a sigh, he picked up the fireplace poker and stabbed at the logs. He just couldn’t believe that the woman he’d pulled out of mud and water in near freezing temperature worked with the government. He’d always had an uncanny ability to spot another operative, and he didn’t want to believe that the agency would stoop that low, or jeopardize the life of an agent that way.

But hadn’t that kind of thinking nearly killed him seven months ago?

It had killed Tom and his wife, Jenny. Agents in Caleb’s department rarely married or had families. They didn’t even have friends. It was too risky. Not only because the work was dangerous, but the threat of retaliation and blackmail against loved ones was too great. And once an agent was in this highly specialized department, they didn’t get out. If you married, your spouse took the same risks as you. Tom and Jenny had known that and taken that risk. They hadn’t even seen their first anniversary.

Caleb’s hand tightened around the poker as he stared into the flames. He still woke up at night with the sound of the explosion, still heard Jenny’s screams….

That operation had been one massive screwup. After he’d gotten out of the hospital, Caleb had found every man responsible and had graphically demonstrated his anger. If it hadn’t been for Mike, and the man’s rank in the department, Caleb would be in the brig right now, instead of on a leave of absence.

Mike Townsend was the only person Caleb would ever trust again. The only man he truly called friend. They’d entered the agency at the same time fourteen years ago and had both risen quickly, with Mike choosing command positions and Caleb preferring the hands-on assignments. They’d been to hell and back together, and each of them had saved the other’s life. More than once.

That’s why, when he’d gone to town earlier, he’d called Mike, who had sworn he hadn’t sent an agent in. But Caleb knew that didn’t rule out the possibility someone else in the department had without Mike’s knowledge. And there was always the possibility, though remote, that she was from another department, or even less remote, from another government. Caleb had information that men—or women—would kill for. If they’d found out he was here, they might try to get at him through a woman.

He would know soon enough. He’d mailed the water glass she’d drunk from to Mike. Her fingerprints would reveal the true identity of his mystery woman.

“Caleb?”

He turned sharply at the unexpected sound, the poker raised and ready to strike. She stared at him from the bedroom doorway, eyes wide, one hand clutching the top of the shirt she wore. With a curse he slowly lowered the weapon.

Sarah’s first impulse was to bolt back into the bedroom and lock the door, but her feet wouldn’t move. She swallowed the lump in her throat and stood at the door. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You shouldn’t be up,” he said tightly.

“I’m feeling much better.”

Except for the light from the fire, darkness cloaked the room. Shadows flickered on Caleb’s face. He looked fierce and powerful. Dangerous. His dark gaze fell on her.

Why was he staring at her like that? she wondered. Not just staring at her, but into her. As if he knew things she didn’t. She almost laughed at the irony of that, considering she knew nothing about herself. She felt her breath release as he set the poker back into its holder.

“I didn’t mean to intrude.” She took a hesitant step into the room. “I thought I might use your phone.”

He raised one brow. “And call whom?”

“The police, to start. Maybe someone has filed a missing person’s report or they found my car.”

He moved beside her. “I just got back from town, Sarah. There’s been no report made, no car found.”

“That—that’s not possible,” she whispered.

“Apparently it is.”

The room began to spin. She reached back toward the doorway, but suddenly found herself off the ground and in Caleb’s arms.

“I’m fine,” she protested. “Really.”

He carried her to the fire and set her on the seat of the brick hearth. “Right. And I’m Don Quixote.”

She touched her trembling fingers to her temple. “No. You’re much too dark and handsome. I’d say more like Bronte’s Heathcliff.”

Sarah nearly gasped at the audacity of her words. My God, did I really say that? Heat rushed to her cheeks as she looked up at Caleb.

He stood over her, thumbs hooked in the front loops of his jeans. Amusement lit his eyes; firelight danced in his black hair. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Frantically she searched her aching brain, trying to think of a retraction. Oh, sure, she thought irritably, now I can’t think of a thing to say.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“I think the construction crew is taking a break right now.” She caught a flash of straight white teeth just before he sat down next to her.

“Let me take a look at it.”

“No, really, it’s fine.”

But he was already reaching for her, and there was nothing she could do, outside of jumping into the fire. When his thigh brushed hers, she nearly did that.

“Turn around.” He took hold of her shoulders and turned her body until her back was to him. It was impossible to stop the shiver that raced up her spine as he swept her hair aside.

“This might hurt.”

It didn’t. Quite the opposite. A delicious tingling sensation skimmed over her head and neck, spreading down her shoulders. When he tugged the bandage off, the tingling only intensified.

He angled her head toward the light of the fire. The heat from the flames burned through the cotton of her shirt and thermal underwear, but the whisper of Caleb’s breath on her neck was like a long, slow sip of warm brandy. She closed her eyes and, in spite of herself, felt herself relax as his fingers roamed the base of her neck.

He carried the scent of the storm on his skin, she thought languidly, and something else, something even more potent, more enticing. His scent. A mixture of soap and pine and untamed masculinity. Her pulse tripped, then bolted.

“That’s strange,” he said thoughtfully.

She held back another shiver as his fingers combed through her hair. “What?”

“Unusual.”

“What?”

“Your hair.”

“What about my hair?”

“It’s natural.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. With a cluck of annoyance, she pulled away and turned to face him. “I’ve misplaced an entire life, nearly died, and you’re making jokes.”

“It’s not a joke. Your hair is natural.”

He wanted to tell her that it was soft, too. Like spun silk. His hands ached to lose themselves in those golden strands. When he saw tears glisten in her eyes, he cursed his lust and let his hands fall to his sides.

“I looked in the mirror in the bathroom,” she whispered raggedly. “A stranger stared back at me. Have you any idea what that’s like?”

More than you could possibly know, he thought.

“Caleb.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I want you to take me into town, to the sheriff.”

He wanted to agree with her. For her sake, as well as his. There had to be someone looking for her-family or friends. And he sure as hell didn’t need an angry husband breaking his door down. Whatever trouble she’d gotten into was her problem, not his. It made no sense for her to stay here. No sense at all.

But he couldn’t let go of the desperation in her voice and the fear in her eyes when he’d found her. If it had been an act, it had been a damn good one. But if it wasn’t, then someone had tried to kill her, and that someone might try again.

“All right.” He stood and looked down at her. “Let’s say I take you in. Then what?”

Her brow furrowed. “I—I don’t understand.”

“As of one hour ago there was no missing person’s report or any car found. My closest neighbors, a German family named Schulz, are two miles from here, and I happen to know they’re away for the month. A rental cabin, owned by the Hamiltons, is another half mile from there, but it’s closed up right now.”

“I didn’t fall out of the sky,” she said with frustration. Although her body felt as if she had.

“Probably not, which means you had to come from the road off the main highway, and that’s way too far from the creek for you to have walked in the storm. Since there’s no car, that means someone brought you.”

Her eyes popped open. “And left me?”

“Appears that way.”

“But why would—” She stopped suddenly as a thought came to her. Eyes wide, she stared at Caleb, her fingers nervously working at the top button of her shirt. “Do you think…is it possible that someone wanted to—”

She couldn’t finish. It suddenly hurt to breathe. She looked away, struggling to hold on to her composure, but with a will of its own, her body started to shake.

“No.” He took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “There was no indication of someone hurting you like that.”

“How would you know?” she whispered hoarsely.

“When I brought you in last night, you were covered with mud.”

Confused, she looked at him. “And?”

“And I had to clean you up. Your clothes weren’t torn that way.”

“Oh…I see.” She was beginning to see. Too clearly. Up to now, she’d been too confused, too disoriented to have given a great deal of thought to her current condition and clothing. “So last night…you had to, that is you—”

“Had to be done, Sarah. You were soaking wet, covered with an inch of mud, and bleeding. I had to get you out of your clothes and in the shower, not only to get you clean and see how badly you were hurt, but to warm you up. You’ll have to trust me that I was a perfect gentleman.”

Trust him? Yes, she did have to trust him. What choice did she have? Still, the thought of him, a stranger, taking off her clothes, seeing her naked like that—

Suddenly the image—no, more like the sensation-of a man’s wet, bare skin against her own came to her again, just as it had last night when she’d awakened the first time. Only this time she understood where it came from. Her face blossomed bright red. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him. “Did you, were you also—”

“‘Fraid so. It was the quickest and easiest way. I was almost as wet and muddy as you, and I’ve never taken a shower with my clothes on yet.”

She looked quickly away as humiliation burned clear down to her toes. “Oh, my.”

Cupping her chin with his fingertips, he lifted her face to his and smiled. “If you have a husband, I’m a dead man,” he teased.

A husband? Did she have one? And if she did, would she be so incredibly aware of Caleb right now? The musky scent of his skin, the heat of his body, the touch of his hand on her chin? She stared at his lips and felt a strange tingling through her body. “I owe you my life,” she said quietly.

He moved closer, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “And Wolf.”

She smiled at that.

His hand dropped away. “We’ll give it a couple of days. You’ll either remember who you are, or someone will be looking for you.”

“What if there’s no one?” Her smiled faded. “What if no one claims me?”

Her worry cut straight to his heart. He understood, more than she could ever know. He saw himself twenty-five years ago, nine years old. Alone. Separated from Carrie, waiting for foster parents that never showed up. “Everyone has someone.”

Her gaze leveled with his. “Do you?”

His jaw clenched. “No.”

Utter despair darkened her soft blue eyes, and he kicked himself for not lying.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Helping someone you don’t know?”

Good question. He could tell her it was because she might be a government agent who had amnesia and it wouldn’t be a good idea to turn her in to the police. Or he could tell her it was because he’d help out anyone in trouble. But, of course, that was a lie.

He looked at her, watched her anxiously searching his face and decided there was really only one answer. Strangely enough, it was an honest one.

“I don’t know.”

She nodded, seemingly accepting that answer. “What about your work, or whatever it is you do here? Won’t I be in the way?”

“I’m in insurance,” he said carefully. “Life insurance. I broke my shoulder, and I’m on medical leave right now.” Mostly true, he thought. His business was a form of insurance, and he had broken his shoulder.

She sighed heavily, then ran her hands through her hair as she stared at the fire.

“Hey, Hunter,” she said after a long moment.

“Yeah?”

“Since you saved me, do you think you could feed me, too? I’m starving.”




Three (#ulink_99274a3f-8f01-5f0f-a0b0-acc3db9035c5)


Sarah sat at the small kitchen table, her gaze focused on the plate of spaghetti in front of her. She pushed the pasta around her dish, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof. She’d been starving a half hour ago, before she’d washed up and made herself presentable, but her appetite had waned the minute she’d sat across from Caleb, and the full realization of her isolation with the man hit her.

Alone.

With a man she didn’t know, had never even seen before. At least, she thought she’d never seen before. She’d tried to remember what had happened to her, how she’d come to be here in this condition, but every time she’d tried, the pain in her head had become unbearable.

She watched Caleb as he ate, amazed at his appetite and his ability to accept this situation so calmly. As if strange women fell at his doorstep all the time. Which, considering the man’s looks, might very well be the case.

“Thank you for the clothes and the, uh, other things you bought for me in town today,” she said, appreciative of the boots and jeans and denim shirt he’d picked up for her. She hadn’t tried them on yet, but they appeared to be the right sizes. He’d also bought her some personal items which included, much to her continued embarrassment, underwear and toiletries. “Please be sure and keep the receipt so I can reimburse you.”

He took a long swig of milk, then set the glass down with a clunk. “That might be difficult since I stole most of it.”

“You what!”

He looked at her with the patience one reserves for a child. “I couldn’t very well buy ladies’ clothes and underwear without raising a few eyebrows. Pinewood is a small town. Everyone knows who I am, and that I live alone. Unless I want people here to wonder if I’d picked up some unusual habits, I thought it best to be discreet.”

“Stealing is discreet?”

“Necessary. If it makes you feel better, I dropped a few bills behind the market counter. Judy will find it, and since she owns the store, it will go into her pocket.”

An honest crook. That should make her feel better, but it only increased the burning sensation in her stomach. In spite of her discomfort, she was pleased with the clothes and other items. Having a few things of her own gave her a small sense of identity. Other than the sweater and skirt she’d had on when he found her, which Caleb had washed and hung up in the shower to dry, she had nothing. Even her shoes had been lost in the storm.

She rubbed her feet together, thankful for the socks he’d given her to wear. They were way too big, but soft and warm, like the thermal pants and cotton shirt she also had on. His thermal pants and cotton shirt. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

“Is Judy a friend of yours?” she asked cautiously.

He shrugged, then scooped up some spaghetti sauce with a piece of bread and took a bite.

Suddenly worried, she poked at a green bean. “Close personal?”

One brow raised, he looked at her.

She straightened and lifted her chin, irritated he was making her inquiry so difficult. “This is a rather delicate situation, Caleb. I’m in your home, wearing your clothes. I believe I should at least be prepared for the possibility of a jealous lover bursting through the door.”

“Ah.” He chewed thoughtfully. “You think Judy will be upset we took a shower together?”

“We did not shower together!”

“We didn’t?”

“Not like that, and you know it.” He was teasing, making jokes. Her fingers tightened around the fork in her hand. “You may find my anxiety amusing, Mr. Hunter, but I find it extremely uncomfortable.”

“Sarah, Judy is eighty-four years old and has no teeth.” He made an effort to look serious, but it was a weak one. “Are you really that embarrassed I saw you naked?”

She nearly choked. How could he be so blas&e2; about this? “Showering with a strange woman may be an everyday occurrence for you, but I assure you it most certainly is not for me!”

He smiled. “I find that extremely encouraging.”

Flustered, she drew in a sharp breath and glared at him. “You know what I mean. I don’t shower with strange men.”

His smile slowly faded. “Well, you can’t really be sure about that now, can you? Unless you remember something and you’re holding out on me.”

It was back. That look of mistrust. An imperceptible tightening of his voice and mouth. And his eyes. A cold flash of wariness and doubt. She had the inexplicable feeling that anyone who might cross this man would find themselves in serious danger.

“I don’t remember anything, Caleb. I wish to God I did. I could be a beautician or a grape picker for all I know. But whatever I am, I’m not like that, I mean, I’m not a, uh, I’m not—”

“Loose?” he supplied.

She blushed furiously. “Yes.”

Caleb sighed. “Just my luck. A beautiful, sexy woman falls into my arms, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Sarah straightened in her chair and stared at the food on her plate. “Don’t tease me like that,” she said quietly.

“Like what?”

“I’m not beautiful, and I’m certainly not sexy.”

She had to be kidding, Caleb thought, watching Sarah push her green beans into a little mountain. Her blond hair fell in natural waves around her heart-shaped face, and wisps of the silken strands framed her wide, soft blue eyes. He knew women who would kill for the long thick lashes and smooth skin she had. Why would she possibly think she wasn’t attractive? Even in an oversize man’s shirt and loose-fitting thermal pants she was one of the most alluring women he’d ever seen.

He took a bite of pasta and studied her carefully for a moment. She held her shoulders stiff, her eyes carefully averted from his. Her cheeks were bright red. Strange, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around a woman who blushed.

“So what do you think?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “What kind of a person do you think you were—are?”

She looked up at him, and he saw the distress in her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“A secretary, maybe? Having an affair with the boss, who tries to off you before his wife found out?”

Her eyes flashed blue fire. “Certainly not! I would never have an affair with a married man.”

“A housewife, then?” he went on. “With six children, married to a double-dealing drug lord whose rivals want to make an example out of you.”

Her lips pressed tightly together. “I don’t have a husband or children.”

“And how do you know?”

“I just know.”

Did she? he wondered. Was she holding something back on him? Or was the whole thing a lie? She looked so damn innocent. If she was an agent and this was an act, she was very, very good.

And if she was lying, he resolved—about anything—he’d find out. That was one thing he was sure about.

“Okay.” He pushed his plate away and let his gaze roam over her. “So what do we know about you, then?”





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