by Mina Carter
Rae's heart lurched. However? It wasn't good when a doctor said however, was it?
"I'm not quite sure how to tell you this but ... Well, your husband has sustained some memory loss. He doesn't remember you."
A wave of relief that her deception hadn't been revealed crashed over Rae, followed by another wave of guilt as the doctor's words sank in.
"He doesn't remember anything?"
"Well, you have to understand that although his physical injuries weren't too bad we still don't understand all the functions of the human brain. He remembers his name at this point but is a little confused.” The doctor explained. “Now, it could just be the brain's way of coping with the trauma of the accident. He struck the steering wheel with some force to sustain the concussion. A good night's sleep may reset everything and he'll be fine when he wakes up, or he could take a little longer to recover his memory. Fortunately in cases like this it's unlikely to be permanent."
Rae breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't imagine losing her memory. It would be so confusing to wake up and not know who you were, where you were or how you got there.
"So he just remembers his name at the moment? That's a blessing at least, waking up and not knowing who you are must be terrifying."
The doctor nodded. “Indeed, I'm glad you understand that Mrs. Fyre, it's so much easier when a patient's relatives can approach this with the right attitude.” Her eyes flicked down over Rae's white tunic. “You're a therapist yourself?"
"Massage and aromatherapy, yes,” Rae replied with a wan smile. “I keep getting mistaken for a nurse here, even though I'm wearing a different colour. When can I see Logan?"
The doctor's lips quirked a little. “Yeah, sorry about that. They tend to see the uniform and don't look beyond it. I can take you through now but he'll be asleep. We gave him a mild sedative so he'll be out for a couple of hours, I'm afraid. You're quite welcome to wait or come back in the morning...?"
* * * *
Rae hadn't wanted to come back in the morning so she'd asked to wait. For one, she'd come in the ambulance with Logan so she didn't have her car here at the hospital. She had no idea how she was getting home. Deep in thought, she nibbled her lip. She could ring Reg from the garage and get him to drop her car off. She'd known him since she was a child and he always serviced her car, so she knew he had a spare key in his workshop. But it was late, edging into the early hours, and Reg would be long in his bed. It wouldn't be fair to wake him.
She sat in the chair next to Logan, watching him sleep. Far better to wait until the morning now. If she couldn't get hold of Reg she would have to get the bus. There was one that went between Newbolton and Ashton about mid-morning. She'd have to be careful not to drop off though; otherwise God knows where she'd end up. Probably some bus terminal somewhere with a janitor shaking her awake and wondering at her mental state.
She turned her attention back to Logan. He looked ... peaceful, lying there on the bed. Stripped of the suit he wore like armour, and asleep, he still had a strong look about him. Something about the set of his mouth and chin, a determined set. She had a feeling he'd have been a formidable man regardless of what field he'd gone into. Just her bad luck he happened to be in property development. She leaned back in the chair and stifled a yawn.
What was she still doing here? He was in the best place, and the doctor said he'd be fine; his injuries should heal and his memory should come back before long. She'd done more than anyone would expect from her. So why hadn't she left already? When she'd shut her front door on him earlier she'd vowed if she never saw him again it would be too soon. Especially after forcing that kiss on her...
She drew a ragged breath, her fingers running through her now loose hair. Okay, that was a little unfair. He hadn't forced the kiss on her. He'd given her plenty of chances to pull away, or slide past him. However much she might dislike him because what he and his company wanted—her home—she couldn't accuse him of being little better than a rapist.
She'd enjoyed it, if she could enjoy something which rattled her to her very core. She'd never felt such instant heat, such chemistry, with any man before.
Was that why she couldn't leave now? Because of the kiss? She leaned her head against the high back of the chair, allowing her eyes to half close as they rested on the figure lying on the bed. No, not even a kiss would have kept her here considering how she felt about Jensen and Fyre. Not even that hotter than hell kiss.
No, it was because he was alone. In all the time she'd been here, waiting for him whilst they checked him out and cleaned him up, no one had called for him or arrived to see him. Not in all the hours she waited as they took him down for x-rays. Nor as she sat here watching him sleep.
He didn't have any contact numbers in his wallet, just a couple of his business cards. Since she assumed the number on the front was for the sleek silver cell which had been in his pocket, they weren't much help. Feeling like a snooper, she'd even been through his phone to check. Scrolling through the numbers and messages and looking for the name or number of someone she could contact. Either he was the most organised man she knew, or he didn't have any friends or family.
She gnawed her lip. She should let someone know, perhaps his office? The card had a landline number. No doubt his office; they'd know who to ring. She'd do that first thing in the morning. No point in trying now, business hours were nine to five. Even for hotshot property developers.
Yawning again, Rae shook out his coat again and snuggled under the thick fabric, breathing in his scent. She'd always been a sucker for someone or something in need. She wouldn't, couldn't leave him to wake up on his own with no memory and only the nurses around him. The least she could do was pretend to be a family member and be concerned about him until someone got here to take over for her. If anyone did...
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Chapter 3
Logan woke slowly, his head pounding like he'd been out on a three night bender. He'd never been on a three night bender but he'd been drunk enough before to appreciate how it would feel. Something similar to the way he felt at the moment—as though a herd of elephants were stampeding around in his skull. Not a pleasant sensation. He swallowed painfully, the tiny movement threatening to make his head drop off his neck as a fresh surge of pain thudded across his temple.
Even the light creeping in at the corner of his eyelids hurt, the glare so bright that someone had to be shining a bright lamp in his face. Like a scene from old-fashioned spy movies, when the bad guys captured the hero and tried to make him talk. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised if a male voice drawled ‘Oh no Mr Bond, I intend for you to die’ or something equally dramatic.
He lifted his hand carefully to his head. If he was honest, a toddler could easily take him down at the moment. He'd have to hope no marauding gangs of them appeared any time soon. Amusement filled him. It was rare he drank a lot, but a hangover of this magnitude meant he must have had a really good night.
His hand stopped halfway to his head as a sharp pain shot through it. Even in his dazed confusion Logan registered the pain as wrong—a sharp scratch under his skin. Blearily he opened his eyes, squinting against the low lights to locate the source of the scratching.
"Ugh."
There was a needle in the back of his hand, which meant he was in hospital. He dropped the hand back to the bed and winced as the slight impact jarred his head again. Eyes closed, his mind started to put the pieces together. Hospital, faded impressions of being in a car and the squeal of brakes and a huge bang. A bang he'd felt more than heard. Then pain and a view of a hedge. A soft female voice, caring and concerned.
He'd been in a car accident. It must have been a good one for him to be in hospital rather than ... He frowned again. He'd been doing something, something important, but he couldn't put his finger on what. It was hardly important at the moment so he let the thought slide away, whatever it was. After he'd oriented himself, then he'd worry about it.
He tried opening hi
s eyes again. This time the lights didn't assault him as badly. Even dimmed, they were still painfully bright. Lifting his head clear of the pillow, he searched with his free hand for a call button. If he was in a hospital then there were nurses nearby, ready and waiting for patients to need them.
But instead of the square plastic he expected his hand touched soft hair. Surprised, he looked down, his fingers automatically curling around the silky red-brown strands they found. A woman lay half across his bed, fast asleep. Ignoring the warning throb in his head he studied her more. Slender and petite, she looked like an angel, peaceful in sleep.
Logan made a noise deep in his throat, somewhere between surprise and contemplation. Okay, now he knew where he was, he just had two more questions.
Who was the girl? And why the hell couldn't he remember more than his name?
* * * *
Exhausted by her night at Logan's bedside, Rae took a while to wake. The first thing she became aware of was a soft touch on her hair. The gentle caress of a large hand stroking the hair away from her face.
She opened her eyes, blinking as she focused, and found Logan smiling down at her. Instantly nerves burned the sleep out of her brain as she waited for him to say something, sure her deception was about to be uncovered.
"This might be a stupid question.” His voice was little more than a soft rumble in the quiet of the private room. Confusion swam in the clear blue of his eyes. “But I have no clue who you are."
Relief washed through Rae. He didn't remember her! She hadn't been found out yet. As soon as she thought it, guilt followed on its coattails. How could she be relieved another person had lost their memory? That was an awful thing to be relieved about, and probably revealed some deep flaw in her personality.
"That's not a question,” she replied on automatic, her tongue buying time as her brain frantically played catch-up. Dammit, she shouldn't have fallen asleep. Or at the least she should have set her phone to wake her up earlier, so that she could get her story in place before Logan woke.
She checked her watch, five to six in the morning. Five to six! What a god awful time. No sane person should be awake at this time. She thought longingly of her comfy bed with its thick duvet and soft pillows.
"The doctors said you'd be asleep until morning."
"Well, from the looks of that, it is morning,” Logan nodded to the morning light just visible through the cheap hospital curtains. His lips quirked. “Okay, let's try this one again. Who are you? Obviously someone I know unless you're in the habit of breaking into hospitals and going to sleep across the beds of complete strangers. Of course, you could be ... I don't know..."
"Well, they don't come much stranger than you,” Rae threw back, the quip rising easily to her tongue as she tried to work out what the hell to say. She couldn't just admit who she was, could she?
Yeah, I'm Rae Borne. You thought I was a man, kissed me senseless in my hall. Oh, and you're trying to kick me out of my house. I thought I'd just pose as your wife, see if I couldn't get you to change your mind somehow...
Salvation arrived in the form of the nurse who swept into the room with a bright smile. “Ahh Mr. Fyre, you're awake. Good, Doctor Davies will be pleased. How are you feeling this morning?” Brisk and efficient, she moved around the small room with the force of a small tornado, tidying up in an absent manner.
"Like I've been hitting my head against a brick wall."
Logan's reply surprised Rae. Usually guys like him would die rather than admit a weakness. The nurse—Judy, her name tag proclaimed—smiled as she plumped his pillows energetically. “Not far from the truth from what I hear. Still, you had a very lucky escape, I'm pleased to say.” She diverted her attention to Rae. “The tea trolley just arrived on the ward, Mrs. Fyre. I'd hurry and grab something if you want. Hot water doesn't last long in this place."
* * * *
"Married, whoa! You didn't tell me we were married!” Logan's eyes turned to her in surprise.
I didn't tell you because it's not true, she wanted to wail, finding herself pulled deeper and deeper into the deception. Instead she shrugged and managed a small smile, trying not to fidget as Logan looked her over with incredulous eyes, as though she were some new species unknown to mankind.
"Bloody hell!” He breathed after long seconds. “How the hell did an ugly bastard like me manage to get with someone like you?"
What could she say to that? Nothing. Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, Rae stood and smoothed her hair down. “I'll get us some tea. Nothing better than a good cup of tea,” she said over her shoulder as she grabbed her bag from the chair and made her escape.
* * * *
Married. Well wasn't that a turn up for the books?
Logan lay back against his pillows, now fluffy and comfortable after the nurse had gone. No doubt off to wake some other poor soul and abuse their pillows as well. Married. Well, that was one thing he hadn't seen coming. Actually he hadn't seen anything coming. That was the thing. He couldn't remember anything past his name.
Logan Fyre.
It was a good name. Sounded strong, respectable. He approved, which was a damn good thing since he was saddled with it. He probed the edges of the blank spot in his mind. Most people would panic, waking up in a hospital with no memory. Not Logan. Instead he approached the problem like a puzzle, trying to slot the pieces into place.
"Analytical,” he said aloud. Yes, that felt right. Whatever sort of person he was, problem solving played a large part in it. Even contemplating his own memory loss as a puzzle to be solved was exciting as a concept.
"Yes, definitely analytical. Competitively so?” He tried the thought on for size, deciding that yes, he definitely had a competitive edge. But as what? What did he do? Analytical and competitive was an odd combination. Usually one cancelled the other out.
"Astronaut?” He chuckled, remembering a childhood ambition. Odd he should remember things from being a child and not the woman who had just been here. The wife who had spent the night at his bedside, worrying over him. Leaving the puzzle of who he was and what he did for a living for a moment, he allowed his mind to settle on her.
She was pretty. No, scratch pretty, the right word was gorgeous. He hadn't been joking when he'd asked how the hell someone like him had managed to get together with someone like her. Sure, she wasn't the supermodel kind, but false tits and plastic Barbie doll features had never been his cup of tea.
He preferred real women. The ones who had curves in the right places. And from what he could see of ‘Mrs. Fyre’ she definitely had curves in all the right places.
He shook his head, then winced as the ache started up again. Okay, he needed to remember not to move until he found a doctor and got hold of some medication. The feeling his head was falling off his shoulders was not a pleasant one. Logan eased himself back against the pillows, the bed in a half raised position now, and glanced out the window.
How he knew what type of woman he preferred he had no clue. But it was another piece of information he filed away, working to fill the void where his memories should be. His eyes on the trees swaying in the breeze outside, he probed the feelings which came to mind when he thought about his wife.
Frustration and exasperation were the main ones, mixed with a healthy dose of desire and heat, which made sense if they were married. That description matched most of the married men he knew. Even J ... Logan frowned as the hazy image of a face came to mind, the name almost forming on the tip of his tongue. But it was gone as soon as it arrived, and the more Logan tried to hold onto it, the more it slipped away from him.
"Dammit!” His curse was soft but heartfelt. If only he could remember one thing for definite, then he could chip away at the rest. Break down the problem and build the solution. He waited for the ache to subside again and turned towards the door, trying to see past it into the corridor outside. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife.
Wife. He shrugged to himself. That felt odd. Despite his memory loss,
he still had a strong sense of who he was. A man in control, used to dealing with people, probably in a managerial position. No doubt he had a fast car, which may or may not have landed him in here. He wouldn't have seen himself as marriage material though. He snorted in amusement. “Probably find out I'm some second rate office runner with grand ideas, or a bus driver or something."
Still, he was glad someone cared enough to wait for him to wake up, to be around when he did. He shuddered; at least he wasn't one of those heartless bastards he saw in films. The ones who had died and no one found out for days.
* * * *
Rae fled the room on shaky legs, needing to escape Logan's disturbing presence for a while. She'd had no trouble while he'd been asleep. No trouble at all convincing herself there was anything wrong with what she was doing. She considered it an act of kindness even. But what had seemed noble as she sat next to an unconscious Logan seemed very different, much more dangerous, when he was wide awake and those blue eyes were intent on her. Analysing her. She shivered at the thought, walking past the tea trolley and toward the exit.
One thing was for sure, she couldn't stay in here a moment longer. The long corridors of the ward were crowding in on her. Recognising the onset of a panic attack, Rae turned to head outside. She needed air, open spaces. She hated enclosed spaces and still had a touch of claustrophobia left over from trapping herself in a linen cupboard as a child.
Walking through the main doors, she emerged into the weak sunlight of a late autumn morning. She filled her lungs, relishing the nip in the air which warned of colder weather on its way. The winter months were her favourite time of year.
Shivering a little she stood to one side of the door, rubbing her arms in a brisk motion. Why the hell hadn't she thought to pick Logan's coat up? Although she liked the cold weather, the crisp air and the frost on the windows, she didn't fancy catching a cold and ending up in the bed next to Logan.
Reminded what she came out here for, she squashed some entirely inappropriate thoughts about joining Logan in any bed, never mind a hospital one. Swinging her bag around, she rooted in it for Logan's phone. The sleek silver case was easy to find even in the chaos at the bottom of her bag. There was no way she could mistake it for hers, not unless it had morphed into a dependable and easy to use brick. Rae didn't do phones. It had taken her long enough to work hers out so she didn't plan on changing it any time soon. Perhaps the next decade or something...
