Dangerous To Love

by Toni Anderson, Barbara Freethy, Dee Davis, Leslie A. Kelly, Cynthia Eden, J. Kenner, Meli Raine, Gwen Hernandez, Pamela Clare, Rachel Grant

His wife.

  His life.

  Wasn’t that the way it was supposed to work? And in his case, it was more true than usual, since the sum total of his known life was so small. But Denny was at the heart of it, and he had the feeling she always had been, even when his life was as wide as the world.

  “I love you,” she said. She stood naked and unabashed in front of him. “God, Mason, I love you so much.”

  The words warmed him. Centered him.

  He supposed that to another man in his position they might be terrifying. But not him. Not with her. Denise Marshall was saying those words to him, and even though his mind had been erased, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

  “Upstairs,” he said. “I want you in our bedroom.”

  For a moment, she didn’t move. Then a smile lit her face. “Yes, sir,” she said, then walked out of the sunroom ahead of him.

  He followed, enjoying the view of her heart-shaped ass and the way her hips swayed.

  His, he thought, and still couldn’t quite believe it.

  When he got to the bedroom, he found her on the bed, ankles crossed, arms stretched wide. “Like a feast for me,” he said.

  “Oh, I think I’ll enjoy it, too.”

  “Wife,” he said, then drew in a breath. “My beautiful wife.”

  As he watched, her cheeks turned rosy from her pleased blush.

  “Husband,” she countered, holding out her hand. “Will you make love to me?”

  “Oh, yes,” he promised, climbing onto the bed. But first he wanted to explore every inch of her. Wanted to listen to her breathing quicken as his fingertips traced her skin. As his lips tasted every inch. As he discovered a smattering of freckles on her shoulder and a diamond-shaped birthmark that seemed to float right over the indentation between her torso and her thigh.

  She had a kissable dent at the base of her neck, and it also was her most ticklish point. And when he ran his forefinger under the arch of her foot, she just about leaped off the bed.

  “You’re extraordinary,” he said finally, though he wasn’t through exploring her. Hell, he’d probably never be through. Right then, though, he wanted more. He wanted to kiss her. To lose himself inside her. And then, after they’d both exploded in each other’s arms, they’d drift off to sleep together.

  That’s what he wanted, he thought, as his cock slipped deep into her tight, hot core. What he craved, he thought as he moved inside her, their bodies joined. One heart, one soul. One memory.

  Her. Them.

  In that moment, that was all there was.

  And the true miracle of the moment was that he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that she felt the same way, too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wake to find Mason beside me, propped on an elbow as he looks down on me, his expression so tender it almost hurts my heart.

  “Good morning, wife,” he says, and I smile and snuggle close in response.

  “Can we just stay like this for a week or two? Surely the universe owes us that much.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he says, his fingertip gently stroking my bare arm. “I’m not ashamed to say I’m exhausted. It takes a lot out of a man to be deflowered by his wife.”

  I burst out laughing. “Deflowered. You? Hardly.”

  He sits up, pulling me up with him. “Ah, ah. No arguing. Especially when I’m right. That was the first time for me, after all. At least as far as I can recall.”

  I grin, because he’s right. And then, inexplicably, I start to cry.

  Or maybe not so inexplicable. Baby hormones, after all.

  But all the hormones are doing is stealing my self-control. The worry and fears are real. As are my tears.

  “Hey,” he says, pulling me to him. “Hey, we’re going to be just fine.”

  I suck in a ragged breath. “Are we?” I ask, and then kick myself because I don’t want to have this conversation right now. And yet it looks like we’re going to be having this conversation. Right now.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just—it’s just—Oh, hell, Mason. You’re here, and I love you, and I’m your wife, and from my perspective, that’s all amazing.”

  I mean every word, but I’m going to have to bite the bullet and reveal a little bit more of my heart if I don’t want Mason to think I’m a crazy person.

  He scoots back so that he’s leaning against the headboard. I shift, too, so that I’m sitting cross-legged in front of him, the sheet pulled up to cover me since I feel so damn exposed.

  “Denny,” he says, his voice tense. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m just afraid,” I say.

  “That I won’t get my memory back?”

  I nod. “And that you can’t—come on, Mason. You don’t remember me. You don’t remember yourself. You’re here in this bed because you’re my husband, but what if you’re not the same person now? What if you don’t want to be here?”

  What if you don’t want a baby when you don’t even remember its mother?

  I push the thought away.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “You have so much to deal with and now I dump this on you, but—”

  “You’re afraid,” he says simply as he reaches out to hold my hands. “Of course you are. Your husband came back and he doesn’t even know you.”

  I make a harsh sound. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

  He scoots closer, pulling me toward him as he does so that our hips touch and I can lean into his outstretched arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. “This shouldn’t be about me. Not after everything you’ve—”

  “The hell it shouldn’t.” His lips brush my forehead. “Here’s the thing, though. We made a vow to each other, right? For better or for worse? Are you saying we should bolt just because we’re skirting up against the worst?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, honestly. “People leave. They leave all the damn time.”

  “I’m not leaving.” His voice is hard. Intense. A statement and a promise. “Hell, even with amnesia, I came back. And here’s something else—I do love you. And I expect that will deepen over time.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know your core. Your heart. I know I like what I’ve seen. I know that I trust my gut, and so far it seems to me that Mason Walker is a pretty decent guy.”

  I grin. “He is.”

  “And he loved you. Which makes me pretty sure I love you, too. Or I will. Right now, it might just be all about the sex.”

  Now he’s teasing me. “The sex is definitely worth sticking around for,” I say, meeting his smile.

  “Definitely.” He taps the end of my nose, something the old Mason used to do, and happy butterflies dance in my soul. “Did you know I remember movies?” he asks. “A lot of movies.”

  “Um…” I have no idea where that came from. “I knew about TV shows. I mean, you remember Lost.”

  “And I remember When Harry Met Sally. All those real life interviews. One of them was an arranged marriage, and they did just fine. So why can’t we? I mean, if we want to?”

  And there it is. He’s just voiced the heart of what’s terrifying me. “Do you want to?”

  “Oh, yes,” he says, and there is no denying the depth of passion in his voice. Or in his kiss when he bends and kisses me ever so sweetly. “Don’t ever doubt that I love you. Not now. Not ever.”

  I bite my lower lip as I nod. “Okay. Don’t ever make me doubt it.”

  “Deal.” He tugs my sheet down and gently cups my breasts. “In fact, I’ll go one better,” he adds as slowly slides one hand down my belly. “How about I show you?”

  * * *

  “Feeling better?” he asks me, two orgasms later.

  I nod, then roll over onto my stomach. I prop myself up on my elbows and just look at him, this man I missed so much. Who has, miraculously, come back to me. And who means to stay.

  I still need to tell him about the baby, obviously, but I don’t feel any guilt about waiting. He
’s had a lot of reality thrown at him in the last few days, and it’s not like I’m going to go into labor this afternoon.

  Plus, I need to talk to Seagrave and Dr. Tam. I got pregnant when Mason snuck back to me during his operation. And that’s a pretty intense memory. If I tell him, are we risking blowing the circuits in his mind?

  I don’t know, but I’m not about to do anything that puts Mason at risk. Which means the baby and I are in a holding pattern for now.

  Meanwhile, I have a job, and he’s still supposed to be shadowing me at work. If that kick-starts his memory, then all the better.

  “We should get up,” I say. “We’re supposed to be at work. Chasing bad guys. Filing reports. Getting the details from Liam about his concert prima donna.”

  “And yet I’m not racing for the shower.” He runs his fingers lazily over my bare arm. “Was I always such a rule breaker?”

  “You were a soldier, so no.”

  He smirks. “Amnesia agrees with me.”

  I laugh, which changes quickly to a moan as he flips me over, then straddles me, his mouth closing hard over mine. “Again?” I bite his lip. “You’re an insatiable rule breaker.”

  “Is this a problem for you?”

  “Really not,” I say, and wrap my arms around his neck right as his phone chimes.

  He scowls as he rolls toward the side table. “Only a handful of people have that number, and I probably shouldn’t ignore any of them. Sawyer,” he says, as he presses the button to start a speaker call.

  “You want to tell me why my bike is parked outside Denise’s house?” It’s Liam’s voice, and I sit bolt upright, feeling as guilty as a student caught kissing in the janitor’s closet.

  “Because we’re still in bed. And naked.”

  There’s a pause, then Liam says, “Probably more information than I needed,” and I try very hard not to laugh.

  “Turns out she’s my wife.”

  I hear Liam’s sharp intake of breath. “You remember?”

  “Actually, no. Not a goddamn thing. But apparently it’s true. And right now, I’m enjoying being blissfully ignorant. Or I was, until you interrupted.”

  Liam sighs. “Definitely TMI.”

  “You outside?” Mason asks. “Because you could have just knocked.”

  “Got worried. Just in case you forgot who you were again. Would be a shame to lose such a nice bike.”

  “On the contrary, I’m feeling remarkably self-aware.”

  “Uh-huh. Ryan says to get your asses to the office.”

  He winks at me. “Apparently we’re in trouble with teacher.”

  “We’re on our way,” I shout over him, then smack him in the shoulder as he laughs and ends the call. “I think we shocked him,” I say.

  “I doubt that.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I adore Liam, but I’m not sure he dates. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about going out with anybody.” Then again, he’s best friends with Dallas Sykes, so I doubt anything could shock Liam.

  “Maybe he has a secret lover tucked away somewhere. And maybe,” he adds as he tugs me out of bed, “I don’t want to talk about Liam while I have you naked in the shower.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You have your memory back,” Ryan said, clapping Mason on the back as he slid into a chair next to Denny. “That’s incredible. How the hell did it happen?”

  “Apparently through the wildfire of rumors,” Mason said, his gaze landing on Liam. “I said I knew my name. That’s about it.”

  Liam leaned back in his chair, clearly unperturbed. “It’s a start.”

  “How’d you remember it?” Quince asked.

  Mason bit back a smile as he recalled how Denny had screamed his name in bed. Beside him, Denny scrolled through her text messages with her left hand as her right closed over his thigh. Her fingers dug deep into his flesh in a not so subtle warning.

  “Just something Denny said.” He smiled at the team. “It just clicked.”

  He pressed his hand over hers before she could pull it away, wanting to keep the contact.

  “Here’s hoping for more pieces of the puzzle,” Ryan said. “As for today’s briefing, we need—”

  “I’m sorry,” Denny said, sliding her chair back and tugging her hand free. He was on his feet, too, pushed into action by the worry etched on her face.

  “I just got a ping on Cerise’s system. Someone’s on her property right now.”

  “Go,” Ryan said. “Check in later.”

  They both nodded assent, and hurried to the garage. They’d come on Liam’s bike, which turned out to be fortuitous considering the early morning snarl of traffic. “I’m going to get me one of these,” Mason said as they dismounted at Cerise’s house, where an LAPD patrol car was already parked.

  This time, Cerise didn’t step out to greet them, and when they knocked on the front door, a shadow passed over the peephole before the lock clicked and the door opened. At the same time, a car skidded to a halt in front of the house, and Denny spun. Her hand, Mason noted, was on her weapon.

  “I hoped you’d beat me here,” Peter said as he sprinted for the door. “Tell me the system notified you directly, and you’re not here because Cerise called you, terrified, like she called me.”

  “The system,” Denise assured him. “And it called the police, too.”

  “They’re in the backyard,” Cerise said, biting her lower lip as she stood on her front patio. “Two cops. But the guy was already gone.”

  “You have the feed?” Peter asked Denny.

  She nodded. “I can download it to my phone. But it’ll be clearer on Cerise’s monitoring system. Can we go inside?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes. Of course.” Cerise stepped back in, then signaled for them all to follow.

  The system was set up to play the feed through Cerise’s home entertainment center, and Mason watched as Denny turned on the television, selected the proper input, then rewound the video.

  “I’m putting it at forty seconds prior to the time-stamp on the alert I received,” she said. “Let’s see what was happening then.”

  “Definitely an improvement on coverage,” Mason said as the image filled the screen. “No more blind spots. And see? Right there. Movement in that bush.”

  “I see it,” Denny said, moving to stand beside him.

  “See!” Cerise squealed the word, then pointed to the shadow of a man as he crawled up the steep incline of the lot behind her house. The sun hung low in the sky, and the vegetation made the area even darker. But as he moved up the hill, more light found him, and the man’s features became clearer.

  Denny stood beside Mason, their arms brushing as they studied the feed. So he both felt and heard her shocked reaction when the man looked up, and the camera caught him. The Face.

  Cerise’s intruder was the man from the club. More important, he was the man who attacked Denny, who gave her the long, thin injury over which she now pressed her hand.

  Behind him, Peter was talking to Cerise. “Do you know him? Is he the same man you saw before?”

  Mason was only half-listening. How could he hear over the rage that was bubbling up inside him?

  He turned, then met Denny’s gaze. She didn’t look scared. On the contrary, she looked furious.

  And he knew in that moment they were thinking the same thing. They were going to find the Face—and then they were going to do whatever was necessary to figure out what the fuck was going on.

  * * *

  It took some time to get Cerise settled. She didn’t want to leave her home, but she also didn’t want to be alone, and Peter assured her he’d stay the night. Or as long as she needed.

  “We’re going to assign a team to stay outside the property, too,” Denny said. “They’ll either act as a deterrent or they’ll be first responders if he comes back.”

  Cerise nodded. “Thanks. I think that would make me feel better. At least for a few days.”

  “Go open a bottle of wine,” Peter s
uggested with a hug. “I’m going to walk Denise and Jack out.”

  At the end of the sidewalk, his gentle demeanor changed to one of hardened fury. “The minute I find out who’s fucking with her—”

  He cut himself off, then drew in a breath as he looked between the two of them. “Who is that asshole, and what’s going on?”

  “A good question,” Denny said, her face all hard lines and grim determination. She met Mason’s eyes. “We’re going to find out.”

  “Find out?” Peter’s brow rose. “Dammit, Denise, I saw your face. You two know something. You’ve seen him before. Who is he?”

  She started to reply, but Mason jumped in first. “When we know, you’ll know.”

  Peter studied Mason’s face, then nodded. “Fine. Good.” He sighed. “I want her feeling safe.” He pointed between the two of them. “Call me.”

  As soon as he disappeared back into the house, Denny raised a brow. “I’ve worked with him. He’s a solid agent.”

  “Doesn’t mean we need to pull him into this loop. It’s not his rodeo,” he added when she raised a brow. “And I don’t think Mr. Face has a damn thing to do with Cerise.”

  She nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. It was one thing for you to notice him at the club. I mean, maybe his face was familiar because you saw him walking down the road as we were driving up, and it had nothing to do with your amnesia at all.”

  “But…” He tapped his own throat.

  “Yeah. Exactly. The assault on me.”

  “So this guy’s been stalking Cerise in order to keep an eye on you or get your attention,” Mason said, turning the possibility over in his mind.

  “More than that. Maybe he wants your attention. The message he gave me was for you.”

  He let that sit awhile and then shook his head. “Except Cerise’s first incident was before I was on the team. It doesn’t make sense.”

  She exhaled. “Then we keep poking around until it does.”

  “Agreed. At least we have a photo now.”

  “I already texted a screenshot to Ryan. He’s got the tech team on it. With luck, we’ll get a hit by tonight. If not, we can call in a favor with Seagrave.”