Yeah, he knew what Lizzie was up to—and it was working.
Damn. Spending a good part of his days with Jane and the better part of the evenings hadn’t helped his resolve to keep his distance. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
Tomorrow her picture would be splashed all over the television screens and newspapers. Her description would air on the local radio stations as well. Soon Jane Doe would be a household name in Winchester County.
But right now she stood in his kitchen, looking too much like she belonged there, cooking up his dinner.
Mac took a big breath to steady his nerves. Jane caught his deep sigh, and so he said quickly, “Something smells good.”
She smiled and even the specks of flour dusting her face couldn’t mar her beauty. Her clothes fit her like a glove. Lizzie’s Levi’s hugged her hips, and Jane wore a white, sleeveless button-down blouse two sizes too small for her, each button seeming to strain to keep the material from separating. Mac had had trouble keeping his eyes averted today at the jail, and he couldn’t miss his deputies’ conspicuous interest, either. Jane turned heads wherever she went. He had to do something about her attire. She was pretty enough to draw attention without those revealing clothes, but with them, Mac hated to admit, the woman turned him on.
He forced his body not to react while at work. But seeing her in his kitchen, and being alone with her, well, hell. He was human. And hard as a rock.
“It’s nothing special, just baked chicken and potatoes. I tried making biscuits, too. I’m sure you’d prefer Lizzie’s cooking over mine.”
Mac ran his hand through his short-cropped hair. “Same restaurant, different chef. Good cooking is good cooking, Jane. I’ll be back in a few minutes to help set the table.”
With that, Mac headed for an ice-cold shower.
Thirty minutes later, he entered the kitchen again after the icy assault and the stern, wordless lecture he’d given himself. He felt relieved and much more in control.
He could manage living with the lovely blonde without getting personally involved. He knew something of self-discipline.
Until he took one look at Jane’s face.
She turned to him from the stove, her face flushed, her eyes moist and her body trembling.
The smoke alarm began to chirp wildly.
He glanced down at the pan of chicken, the charred and blackened pieces almost unrecognizable now, surrounded by twice crisped potatoes and toasted biscuits that would chew like leather. The house smelled like a Wildcats football rally bonfire—after the fact—and was just as smoky.
Mac grimaced at the scene, feeling things he had no right feeling. Caring too much. He’d never been one to lose his heart to a woman. Not even his one-time wife.
“Jane, what the hell?”
Upon hearing her name, she burst into tears. Her body shuddered uncontrollably and she broke down, crying quietly. Her silent sobs wrenched his heart.
He reached for the kitchen window, sliding it open quickly, and smoke found its way out. He turned to her. “It’s just dinner,” he said roughly. “We’ll get pizza.”
“I…told you, Lizzie’s a better cook. I…don’t…know what I’m doing here,” she managed to blubber, waving her arms in the air.
“Okay, so maybe Lizzie’s a better cook. Maybe cooking isn’t your thing.”
“It’s not just dinner…you, you…”
“Idiot?”
“I didn’t call you an idiot. I learned my lesson the first time.”
“But you were thinking it.”
Jane sopped up her tears then glared with those lavender-blue eyes that went dollar size on him.
“What?” he growled. What the hell had he done wrong?
She tossed the kitchen towel at him.
Surprised at her gumption, he caught the towel before it slammed into his face. “Damn it, Jane. I can’t figure you out.”
“That makes two of us!” Her breaths shaky, she continued, “I can’t figure me out, either! I don’t know a thing about myself. I can’t cook worth a darn, that’s a given. But what else do I know? Nothing. Not one darn thing.”
Mac played with the kitchen towel, which sported blue ducks and yellow daisies. Jane had a temper. She had spirit and pride and intelligence. He already knew she was a knockout in the looks department. His mind in turmoil, he couldn’t tell if he was more pissed off or more aroused.
Neither emotion would do.
“Is all this about one burned dinner?” he asked, trying to make some sense of her outburst. He couldn’t claim to know what she was going through right now, but he’d done and would do everything in his power to help her regain her memory.
She pursed her lips and shook her head.
“No? Then what?”
Jane lowered her head, her eyes downcast, as if staring at the ruined meal, but Mac knew she didn’t really see any of it. “Deputy Brody called while you were in the shower. He said…he said that, uh, my fingerprints didn’t come up with a match. I was supposed to relay the message.”
Damn, Lyle should have run that by me privately.
When she glanced at him this time with a face devoid of hope, a body slumped in defeat, Mac couldn’t hold back another second. He took the steps necessary to reach her. He swept her into his arms, pulling her close, resting her head against his chest and tucking her hair under his chin.
“It’s okay, Jane,” he whispered, brushing his lips to her forehead. “Don’t give up hope.”
She clung to him, and he realized that maybe this had been what she needed all along—someone to hold her. To tell her everything was going to be all right.
He glanced down to where her breasts crushed against him. The top button of her blouse popped open, exposing creamy skin, right down to the white lace bra she wore.
He slid his eyes shut, but her image, and the sweet fragrant scent of her hair, sent him over the edge. He was rock solid against her and didn’t give a damn.
“Mac,” she whispered softly.
When he looked down he met her gaze, and Mac realized it wasn’t just comfort Jane wanted. He tipped her head and bent his, watching acceptance and desire sweep across Jane’s lovely face. He brought his lips down on hers, claiming her mouth in a kiss that began slowly, softly, a test to where they would go from there. A little throaty sound slipped from Jane’s lips and Mac drew her closer, cupping her face in his hands, then sliding them farther back, to flow through her blond waves.
She pressed in, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers digging into his hair. Her mouth was soft and warm and giving, and Mac deepened the kiss, exploring her lips thoroughly until she sighed with pleasure.
He hadn’t been with a woman in quite a while. Fact was, he’d dated some, slept with others, but he couldn’t recall a time when a woman had crept into his bones like this. He couldn’t remember ever needing this way.
He parted Jane’s lips and kissed her openmouthed, losing some of his usual self-control as their tongues danced together, a gentle ballet that soon became a wild tango. Lips and tongues and bodies touched and meshed and blended. They created heat together, a blaze that brought sweat to their brows. Hearts pounded. Bodies cried out for more.
A thought struck Mac. He pulled back, breaking off the kiss, and looked deeply into Jane’s eyes. “You could be married.”
She shook her head, lifting her left hand and wiggling her ringless ring finger. “I don’t think so.”
“You could be engaged. Maybe there’s a man out there waiting to marry you.”
Again, Jane shook her head. “There’s no one. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do.”
Mac wasn’t so sure. Jane Doe didn’t appear to be a woman who’d be alone in the world. She’d shown him passion and vulnerability, as well as strength and intelligence. She was beautiful and sexy and feisty as hell. How could a woman like that be unattached?
She still had her arms around his neck. Mac relished their contact one minute more, taking her in anothe
r deep, long, deliberate kiss, before he reached down to the slope of her breasts.
She waited, her expectant gaze fastened to his. Mac touched the top button that had popped open. She took in a deep breath, straining the material even more. He hesitated, realizing the implications of his next move. He wanted nothing more than to slip his hands inside her blouse and stroke her flesh. To feel the soft, ripe swells.
Slowly, with deft fingers, he refastened the button and backed away. He blinked from the impact of leaving her, giving up the best gift he might ever receive. Clearing his throat, he lifted his gaze to look into her baffled blue eyes. “Tomorrow, we go shopping. You need clothes of your own.”
Five
“W ell, here we are,” Mac said as he pulled into the Winchester Mall parking lot. “It’s not fancy, but I think you’ll find something you might like here.”
Jane glanced at him, sitting in his black Trailblazer, looking as if he wished he were anywhere but here. He wore blue jeans that fit him too well and a white tank with four large brown initials, WCSD. Winchester County Sheriff’s Department.
She decided Mac Riggs was one with his job. Whether off duty or on, his job, his commitment to the county, defined him. She respected him for his dedication and knew she was nothing more to him than an obligation.
But she hadn’t felt like an obligation when he’d kissed her last night. She been swamped with emotions, wondering about herself, struggling with the meal. And when Deputy Brody had called with the disappointing news, Jane had gone into meltdown.
She hadn’t expected to fall into Mac’s arms that way, or to kiss him for all she was worth. She hadn’t expected to feel more alive in that moment than she had for the last four days, ever since she’d woken up with no memory.
The kiss had been wonderful, but it had caused them awkward moments the rest of the evening. They’d shared a pizza, perhaps to prove to each other that they could handle what had happened, or rather not happened, between them. But their stolen looks, averted glances and stilted conversations had sent Jane to bed early.
For both of their sakes.
Yet she couldn’t deny she’d wanted to curl up next to Mac on her bed. She wanted his arms around her, comforting her and making her feel alive and vital once again.
“This is going beyond the call, Mac. I bet this is the last place you want to be on your day off.”
Mac glanced at her lime-green tank top, his eyes holding begrudged appreciation. “It’s necessary.”
“But Lizzie said if you’d only waited until the weekend, she would be happy to take me.”
Mac bounded out of his car, slamming the door. He came around to her side quickly and opened hers. “Necessary for my general health, Jane.”
His brows rose and he shot her a direct look. She glanced down, seeing herself as he might see her. True, she’d felt packed into her clothes like a sardine, but she hadn’t realized how that might make her appear to Mac.
Up until last night she hadn’t thought he’d even given her a second look.
“You’ve got a body on you,” Mac said, walking toward the mall entrance. “And I’d rather not be reminded of it every time I look at you.”
Jane stepped down from the Trailblazer, slamming the door also, nearly having to break into a run to catch up with him. He’d infuriated her with that last comment. As if Jane had had a choice in the matter! She’d been left with only the clothes on her back. She couldn’t help it that Lizzie’s wardrobe didn’t quite fit right. Jane would have seemed ungrateful to complain.
“That shouldn’t bother you, Sheriff. You’ve got enough willpower for both of us.”
Mac slanted her a look. “Don’t be too sure of it.”
“Is that all it takes to get you interested?”
He stopped in his tracks and stared at her. “What?”
Flushed now and nearly out of breath, Jane said softly, “I think you heard me.”
“I can’t be interested, Jane. Don’t you get that? You’re living under my roof, under my protection. Whether you think so or not, you may have ties to other people. People who love and care for you.”
“Yes, I get that. I got that last night. You made yourself pretty clear.”
Mac shook his head, his expression grim. Jane frustrated him, and she was beginning to understand why. He protected his heart well. So well that he wouldn’t even open up enough to take a chance. His dedication to his profession wouldn’t allow him to compromise his position. She got all of that.
But she also got that he had everything to lose. What if she had a past, a family who was looking for her? What if she had a man searching for her? Jane could only see the small details of her life now, living here in Winchester, but Mac could see the whole picture.
She couldn’t blame him for backing off. She took hold of his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “Listen, I’m sorry. I owe you so much for everything you’ve done.”
“You don’t owe me, Jane.”
“I do. And today, well, you’re doing such a nice thing by taking me shopping. Let’s not argue. Let’s get this over with. I promise I’ll be fast. I won’t prolong the torture.”
Mac grinned then, a quick lifting of the corners of his mouth. His teeth flashed, white and straight and her heart did that thing again. Mac had a killer smile.
“You’re really something, Jane Doe.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Do you really have Trump money?”
He laughed. “Nobody has Trump money.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on your wallet.”
He placed his hand on her back and led her inside the Winchester Mall. “I’ll bet you a week’s worth of laundry duty you’ll empty me out within an hour.”
“Deal.”
“Hey, you’re that woman with no memory, right? I saw your picture on the news early this morning,” the young salesgirl announced, scrutinizing Jane’s face. “You were found up by Deerlick Canyon. What’s it like, not remembering who you are?”
Jane’s expression faltered for a moment. “Well, I, uh, it’s not something I would wish on anybody.”
Mac stepped up to the sales counter, presenting his credit card. “All through here?” he asked.
The salesgirl, who was named Luanne, according to the pink tag pinned to her chest, took the credit card. “I heard you were injured, but no one really knows how.” She glanced at Mac’s card, then nodded. “Oh, you’re the one who found her. The news said to contact the sheriff’s department if anyone recognizes you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Jane said, her body language telling Mac that she wanted out of this conversation.
“Well, I don’t.” Again, Luanne studied Jane’s face. “Nope. I don’t recognize you. Can’t say that you’ve ever been in our store before.”
“Thank you. We’ll keep that in mind. Could you hurry up with that,” Mac said, pointing to the card and the clothes Jane had set on the counter. “We’ve got a lot to do this morning.”
“Oh, sure.” Luanne popped her bubble gum a few times as she rang up the sale, and had Mac sign for the purchases. “I bet someone recognizes you, though. I saw your picture on the front lawn as I was pulling out of my garage.”
“On your front lawn?” Jane asked.
“Front page of the Winchester Chronicle. Boy, I can’t imagine. Must be kinda strange.”
Jane sent her a weak smile. “It’s very strange.”
Luanne slipped the clothes into a shiny black bag and handed Mac his credit card and Jane the sack. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Mac grabbed the card and Jane’s hand. They strode out the door quickly. “I guess it’s going to be like that from now on.”
“Like I’m in a fishbowl and everybody’s suddenly got the urge to stare at the weird fish?”
Mac squeezed her hand once before letting go. “Not weird, Jane. Intriguing. You’re a mystery here, that’s all. We’ll run the news spots a few days and if no one steps up with information, we’ll take an
other route. You won’t enjoy your celebrity too long.”
“Celebrity? More like freak show.”
Mac shook his head. There was nothing freaky about Jane. Although she found herself in a precarious situation, she’d held up remarkably well, despite the meltdown she’d had last night. She was a strong woman, Mac surmised, and someone who certainly knew how to put herself together. He wasn’t an expert, but he’d waited and watched as she tried on clothes, picking out colors that emphasized her pretty complexion and showed off her flawless figure.
She had class, he’d give her that, and a good sense of style. Even though the highly anticipated and newly built Winchester Mall couldn’t compare with big city shopping centers, so far Jane had managed to pick out the right clothes to suit her personality.
Unfortunately for Mac, she looked just as sexy in them. It didn’t matter that the clothes were her correct size and there wasn’t a designer label to be had; Jane still looked like a million bucks.
“Where to now?” she asked.
Mac glanced down at her black leather boots. “C’mon. We’ve got to get you some decent shoes. Summer’s just around the corner.”
“I’m not ungrateful, but Lizzie’s shoes hurt my feet. They are just a little small for me.”
They strode toward a store called the Shoe Salon, a small intimate shop that carried nothing but finely detailed women’s shoes, the displays themselves nearly a work of art. Mac figured Jane wasn’t the department store type. And he also figured she’d be glad to get into something less confining. “I bet those boots can’t be any more comfortable than Lizzie’s shoes,” Mac said.
“Actually, my boots are the most comfortable shoes I own. They’re from a little town in Italy. The shoemaker only makes two pairs a month. He makes a mold of your feet and customizes accordingly.”
Mac halted abruptly. “What?”
Jane continued walking. “I said, the shoemaker makes only two—”
She stopped and turned to him, her eyes rounding in complete surprise. She stared at Mac for a moment as realization dawned. “Oh my God.” She dropped her shiny black bag right where she stood. “Mac, I remembered something,” she whispered. Then she repeated, louder this time, her face breaking out in a big smile, “I remembered something.”
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