She took it slow, and they made their way through the lobby, down the hall to the master bedroom they’d raided just hours ago. He was drenched, his coat and pants a muddy mess. “Can you stand while I get off your wet clothes?”
He nodded, barely. She didn’t have much time. She had to see to the gash on his head, but she couldn’t let him sit in soaked clothes. She got his jacket off first, and then his shirt. “Okay, now let’s get you down on the bed.” He swayed, and she grabbed him the best she could to keep him from falling, then guided him onto the bed. She took his boots off and then worked at the zipper of his jeans and slid them off. He began to shiver, so she covered him quickly with a blanket, tucking him in tight and hoping he hadn’t gone into shock.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered.
She ran into the master bathroom, grabbed all of the towels and dashed back to Risk. Now he was out cold. With shaky hands she dabbed at the blood, clearing it away so she could see the extent of the injury. The gash didn’t look too deep, but then she wasn’t a nurse, so she really had no idea how serious this was. But a nice lump was forming underneath it. Something had hit him hard enough to knock him out.
As she continued to dab, he moaned. Then his eyes slowly opened. That had to be a good thing.
“Risk, can you hear me?” she asked in a loud voice.
He nodded, and then his eyes closed again.
Her heart pounded. She hated seeing anyone hurt, much less someone she cared about.
She cared about Risk?
Only in a Good-Samaritan way. He needed help, and she was it.
“Don’t worry. You’re going to be all right.”
The one thing she did know was if he had a concussion, she couldn’t let him sleep. She would have to watch over him for the rest of the day and night. She could do that. She had to.
The room was frigid. Even under the blankets, Risk was shivering. She needed to warm him up with a fire. She left him only for a second, recalling in the back of her mind she’d seen wood on the ground near the front door. After dashing there, she found a bundle he must’ve dropped near the lodge entrance. She hauled the fire logs inside and into the master bedroom along with another magazine she’d snatched up from the lobby for kindling.
“Are you awake?” she called loudly, tossing the logs into the hearth.
His eyes opened again. Thank goodness.
She’d never been a Girl Scout, but she managed to get the kindling lit and tease the logs enough to make a low-lying fire come to life.
She went back to Risk to check his wound. It had stopped bleeding, and gratitude filled her heart. He looked so out of it, so vulnerable, so entirely dumbfounded.
“You’re not bleeding anymore, but I’m gonna wrap your head with this clean towel, just in case there’s seepage. Let me know if it hurts.”
She carefully folded the towel into a thin length and wrapped it around his head to cover the wound. “There. How are you feeling, Risk?”
Fire crackled, and a small blast of light shined on his face. “Who are you? And...why are you calling me Risk?”
Four
April stared at him. For one second she thought he was joking. But then good sense seeped in. He was in no shape to joke, not after the blow to his head... Even an Oscar winner couldn’t pull off his total sense of bafflement. “W-what do you mean?”
“You...keep...calling me...Risk.”
“Yes, that’s your name. Risk Boone. Don’t you remember?”
He seemed to search his mind, and the blank look on his face really worried her.
“No. I can’t remember anything.”
“You can’t remember anything?” she repeated, swallowing hard.
He thought about it a few seconds more, appearing puzzled. “Not about myself, no.”
Oh boy, if that were true then this situation just went from bad to worse. Could he really have...amnesia? The sharp knock to his head would’ve provoked it, but how long would his memory loss last? And what was she supposed to do about it?
“W-what happened to me?”
“You went out in the storm to get firewood. I think a branch broke off a tree and downed you.”
He took that in, not seeming to recall it at all.
“What kind of name is Risk anyway?” he muttered.
Maybe if she talked to him about his life, it would stir a memory or two. “It’s not really your name. Your real name is River Boone. And most people who don’t know you very well think you got your name because you took a lot of risks on the rodeo circuit. It was sort of your brand. But the truth is your little brother, Lucas, couldn’t say River very well when he was a baby. It always came out like Risker. The name stuck, and soon everyone was calling you Risk.”
She’d learned that bit of trivia when she’d spent the night with him in Houston.
“Oh.” None of what she’d said seemed to register with him and he frowned. “What’s your name?”
“I’m... I’m April Adams.”
“Should I know you?”
“Well...yes. But don’t worry about that right now. Let me tell you about your family and maybe you’ll recall something.”
“You said I had a brother?”
“Yes, two brothers, actually. Mason and Lucas. You all live on Rising Springs Ranch in Boone Springs.”
He shook his head slightly, obviously not recognizing the names.
“Your family founded the town a hundred years ago.”
He closed his eyes. “I don’t...”
“It’ll come to you in time,” she assured him, hoping that was truly the case.
“Tell me more.” Even in his weakened state, he seemed desperate to find something he could relate to, something that might spur a memory.
“You were in the rodeo. Actually, you did really well as a bronc buster. But you hurt your shoulder after a toss from a horse named Justice and needed surgery,” she said quietly. She ran her finger along the outline of the injury on his shoulder. “The scar is right here.”
He peered deep into her eyes, searching for something. Touching him like that was a mistake, one she couldn’t afford to make. Seeing him feeling weak, vulnerable and puzzled jostled something deep in her soft mushy heart.
“I, uh, I’ll go get you some water. You need to drink.”
She didn’t know that for a fact, but the body always needed water. Then images of the storm popped into her head. Outside there was an obscene amount of water flooding the property.
“Don’t go,” he pleaded. The desperation in his voice made her freeze in place. “Stay here.”
There was pain on his face and fear in his eyes. He didn’t want to be alone, and she couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know what had happened to him. To have your mind cleared of all your personal memories had to be unbelievably difficult. “I, uh, okay,” she said. “I’ll stay.”
April watched over him, telling him about how bad the storm was and how they’d made a run for it to the lodge for safety. But he was drifting in and out despite how hard she tried to keep him engaged. As the fire burned low, the room got increasingly colder, and she finally relented and climbed under the covers to keep warm.
He turned toward her.
“It’s important you stay awake a little while longer,” she whispered, touching her fingers to his cheek. “Please, Risk.”
He caught the glimmer of her diamond ring in the last of the firelight and grabbed her hand. Forcing his attention there, his voice lightened and a warm glow entered his eyes. It was the most life she’d seen out of him since she’d found him outside the lodge. “April, we’re engaged?”
She was in bed with him, tending to his wounds. Anyone might assume that, but as she opened her mouth to deny it, his lips pressed into the palm of her hand, and the sweetness of the warm kiss he p
laced there crushed her denial. She should have pulled her hand away and climbed out of the bed, but the brightness on his face, the relief in his eyes, stopped her. It was as if he’d discovered something about himself, his connection to her, and it was hard to destroy his hope. “Risk.”
“I like the way you say my name.” He smiled.
“It’s important that you stay awake tonight. In case of a concussion. You’ve taken a hard hit to the head.”
“Tell me about it. It’s pounding.”
She jerked to attention. “How can I help?”
“Stay here and talk to me.”
“I will.”
“Good,” he said, closing his eyes.
“But you have to stay awake.”
He fought to open his eyes. “Then tell me more about my life, about us.”
Oh boy, this wasn’t what she’d expected, but what choice did she have? Was it so terrible for him to believe they were engaged for a short time, to give him peace of mind? She’d tell him the truth later, once he was feeling better. Right now, she had to keep him from dozing off.
She began slowly, giving him glimpses of his life as she knew it. She told him they’d met in high school but didn’t get together until later in life—all true statements. She skimmed over facts, and thankfully he didn’t ask questions but simply listened. Then she steered her one-sided conversation to his brothers and the ranch they lived on. She mentioned that Boone Springs had an annual Founder’s Day party every year in town, honoring his ancestors and all the prominent people who’d contributed to the town. That big day was coming up soon, and all three of the brothers would be in attendance.
She knew a lot about the townsfolk, and so she kept a steady stream of information going, trying not to overload him with details but painting him a picture of Boone Springs.
“Does any of this sound familiar?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. She’d kept a watchful eye on Risk as she spoke, and there wasn’t one sign, one spark of recognition registering on his face. So when he gave his head a tiny shake, she wasn’t surprised.
“Let me check your wound,” she said and rose up on the bed. She slid awkwardly across his body to garner a better look. She unwrapped the makeshift bandage, noting the lump on his head hadn’t gone down. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked.
“My head still hurts a bit, but the rest of me is doing just fine.”
She was inches from his face, and as she glanced at him, a small smile curved his lips and she caught his meaning loud and clear. When she’d first seen him injured, strong feelings had rushed forth. She’d cared for him, worried over him. He wasn’t a stranger, but a man she might’ve loved if circumstances had been different. She hated what he’d done to her years ago, but she surely didn’t want to see him injured again.
Risk had amnesia, she told herself, but that didn’t stop her body from reacting to him, from tingling from head to toe, from turning her firm resolve into soft putty. With him smiling at her, his body granite hard, her defenses were down. And when he took her arms and stroked them up and down, drawing her closer, she didn’t protest. She didn’t back away.
And then his lips were on hers, gently, tenderly, kissing her as if he was experimenting to see if he remembered something. He was so gentle, so deliberate, and every second was better than the next. His feathery kisses drew her in, every nerve ending awakened to the sweet pressure of his lips.
She needed to keep him awake and engaged...well—she had the engaged part down. As in, he thought they were. Now was her chance to stop him. To own up to the truth, to tell him it had all been a lie to prevent this very thing. Yet the words were not coming. How could they, when Risk was kissing her like this? Each kiss brought her a new kind of thrill. She’d never met a man like Risk before; she’d never felt this way about anyone else. Wouldn’t Jenna Mae just die to find out her engagement ring plot had backfired?
“You’re amazing,” he murmured between kisses.
“Do you remember anything now?” she whispered.
“No, but I do know one thing. This feels right.”
He laid another amazing kiss on her with his masterful lips. “Risk, maybe we shouldn’t,” she said softly between his kisses.
“My head is feeling better and better by the minute. Didn’t you say I needed to stay awake?” He kissed her throat and nipped up to her waiting mouth. She was torn, confused, feeling helpless as the truth wouldn’t come.
“Well, yes, but...you don’t remember me.”
“You’ve been caring and worried and well... I think I do know you. Somehow, I feel you with me. I see how compassionate you are,” he said, taking her head in his hands. His eyes were bright and intense and goodness, he looked like Risk again, even with the bandage around his head. “And I’m certainly responding to you.” He planted a beautiful kiss on her mouth and then paused. “Unless we haven’t done this before? Have we? Tell me we have?”
“I, uh, yes,” she whispered. “We’ve done this before.”
“I need you, April. I need the connection.”
She absorbed those words, and they touched down deep in her soul. She’d never reacted to any man the way she’d reacted to him. This Risk was sincere, genuine and sweet. This Risk was in need of more than sex, but intimacy, a bridge to his past. And today, she was it.
But could she discount her past with him? She’d been hurt by his actions, and he hadn’t really made much of an effort to apologize to her. Her brain was telling her no, but her body was tingling all over and her big open heart was saying yes, yes, yes.
Only this time, she’d go in with caution, knowing not to have grand expectations. Could she be that woman who lived for this one night? Could she continue with the facade for just a little while longer? All the while knowing she would have to own up to the truth tomorrow?
She answered the question as her mouth pressed to his and she tasted him once again.
He touched her face, brushing a few curls from her cheek. “You’re sweet and beautiful, April. I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“I’m glad I’m here with you, too,” she said softly.
He kissed the words right out of her mouth. “No more talk.”
“Is it hurting your head?”
“My head is not what’s aching, sweetheart.” His arms roped around her shoulders and he brought his lips down to touch hers in yet another kiss. April was at a loss to stop, and in the back of her mind she knew this would definitely keep him awake. He was definitely perked up now.
He might not know who he was, but he hadn’t lost his finesse, and his near-naked rock-hard body was keeping her very warm. He stroked her arms and helped her remove her clothes. Then he began kissing the nape of her neck.
In the dimly lit room, he pulled the covers back a bit, exposing her body. There was admiration on his face, and deep desire. She was totally captivated by that look, by the reverent way his hands came to caress her breasts, as if in awe. She sighed at his intimate touch, her body trembling, her skin craving more from him. She was needy and ravenous and so taken by the attention he bestowed on her.
If he found her too curvy or lacking in any way, she didn’t see it in his expression. She was at peace with her size and loved that he seemed to like her body just fine as well. He caressed her until tiny throaty sounds rose up from her throat, and then he moved lower on her torso and spread his fingers wide as he ran them down toward the apex of her thighs.
“Oh,” she moaned once he stroked her center, and he smothered her cry with a deep lusty kiss.
* * *
Some time later, April lay beside Risk on the bed, her head on his chest. His arm was around her shoulders. “My head feels much better,” he murmured.
April was glad about that, but she had to face facts: she was going to have to ruin all this bliss come morning, by owning up to her lies. She sig
hed and wished she’d never agreed to Jenna’s plot in the first place.
“That’s a good sign. I thought for sure you’d have a headache.”
Outside the rain continued to fall, but with a little less force than before, and she wondered if the roads would clear or cell service would be restored soon. She doubted it would happen anytime soon. It was too risky for anyone to come out in such a torrential storm. The only saving grace was that Risk said he was feeling better.
“Well, I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a dull ache going on inside my head, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Everything’s a bit fuzzy.” A growl rumbled from his stomach, and his eyes rounded in surprise. “Whoa,” he said. “Guess I’m hungry. When’s the last time we ate?”
“It’s been a while. We didn’t expect to get stranded in the storm, so what we have on hand is limited. But it’s edible, and you should eat.”
He nodded.
April rolled out of bed as discreetly as she could and quickly threw on her clothes. “You’ll be okay here, right? I’ll get us the food.”
“I can go with you.”
He made a move to get up, and she quickly put up her hand. “No, please. It’ll only take me a minute. Don’t try to get up just yet.”
He looked at her, debating, and then lowered back down against the pillow. “Okay. Be careful.”
She almost smiled at that. He was telling her to be careful when he was the one who’d gotten injured. Yet it was sweet of him to be concerned.
He thinks you’re his fiancée.
She dashed out the door and made her way to the kitchen. There on the table was the five-course meal she’d promised to conjure up in the form of muffins with peanut butter, apples and potato chips. She filled the thermos with water and then grabbed the food. As she made her way through the lobby, she picked up Risk’s duffel bag and headed back to the bedroom.
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