A Marriage To Remember

by Cathryn Clare

“The evidence room.” His eyes changed suddenly. He looked the way he had on the river when he’d started to recognize the landscape as his home, Jayne thought. Was he on the verge of another breakthrough into the memories that had been locked away from him?

  She could see him struggling for a recollection. But after a moment, the gleam in his eyes faded, and he shook his head.

  “I thought I had something,” he said. “But it’s gone. The evidence room rings another belt, though. That’s where you said I supposedly stole the money from, right?”

  “Right.” Jayne had been thinking along the same lines. “If somebody was actively altering evidence, it wouldn’t have been hard to frame you that way.”

  She could feel her heart lifting at the thought that one part of this mystery might be close to a solution. It wouldn’t fix everything. But at least it might lay to rest the doubts about Ryder’s integrity that had plagued her during his year in prison.

  At the very edges of that fledgling feeling of hope was the thought—faint but impossible to ignore—that if they could lighten some of the clouds over their relationship, they might be able to lighten the others, as well. Maybe, if they unraveled this thread of the mystery, they might find their way back to each other.

  She tried to squelch the idea. It was absurd, far-fetched.

  And if she allowed herself to hope for it and then it came to nothing, it could be heartbreaking.

  But it wouldn’t go away. It lingered in the still afternoon air of the cabin as she and Ryder shuffled the day’s faxes into order.

  “So what do we do next?” he asked.

  She knew he was talking about the mystery. But it took an effort to tear her own thoughts away from the tantalizing glimpse of the future that kept nudging at her.

  “Well, we can’t go to the police.”

  “Obviously.”

  “We don’t know whether the FBI is on our side or not. And we do know Greg Iverson is being watched, in case he contacts us.”

  He nodded. “Doesn’t leave much in the way of official help,” he said.

  “There’s one avenue we haven’t explored yet. The Bulletin .”

  “Your paper?”

  “I told you, my editor loves corruption scandals. If we can feed him the evidence we’ve got, my guess is he’ll set the wheels in motion to break this thing open.”

  Ryder looked doubtful. “Can he do it? Without getting himself killed, I mean?”

  “He’s gone after public officials—and mob bosses—before now and walked away in one piece. My one concern is that we haven’t definitely tied Brady to the mob yet. It’s just speculation. If we had something that linked them conclusively—”

  “There may be something in tomorrow’s faxes. We asked your friend to dig up what she could about the period of Brady’s life when his verdicts seemed to start getting screwy, after all. If there’s anything really damning, that’s where it’ll likely be.”

  “I agree. Which leaves us nothing to do but wait until tomorrow.”

  It sounded simple—just wait.

  But the cabin seemed to get very crowded when the two of them were moving around at loose ends. They kept finding themselves close together without meaning to be.

  Jayne considered taking a nap. But the idea of lying down on the bed with Ryder so close to her seemed unbearably suggestive. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let herself be pulled back into the kind of firestorm she’d been swept into last night. Her body was still thrilling with the memory of their lovemaking, and the unthinkable possibilities it had unleashed.

  She was starting to let herself entertain impossible thoughts about Ryder finding his way back into her life, she realized. She was thinking and doing things that only a week ago she would have declared to be absolutely out of the question.

  It was time to put the brakes on, if she could.

  But it was more easily said than done. Ryder’s own restless wanderings around the cabin kept catching her eye. She was drawn to the long slope of his back, the sexy tilt of his hips, the superheated depths of his blue gaze.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked midway through the afternoon, when she caught him staring at her from across the cabin yet again.

  “No reason.” She thought he was trying to look neutral, disinterested. But a quick grin got past him, slanting his mouth into a devilishly sensuous curve.

  “This just happens to be exactly the fantasy I entertained for most of my adolescent years,” he added. “Being cooped up here with a beautiful woman—” He shook his head, and his grin widened. “Only difference is, in the fantasy I wasn’t trying quite so hard to be a gentleman.”

  If that’s what he was doing, it wasn’t working. Desire rose like a spring flood in Jayne’s body every time their eyes met. And the thought of the night to come was in both their minds, she was certain. They’d folded the pair of blankets and put them on the foot of the single bed, but she caught Ryder’s glance straying that way more than once, as though he was wondering whether nightfall would find them in each other’s arms again.

  They shared a meal of corn chips and salsa from a jar. Ryder looked into the empty jar when they were finished and said, “I think my cholesterol level is slipping dangerously low. I’d give my right arm for a nice juicy steak.”

  “Don’t start trading your body parts yet. You may need them.” Jayne crumpled up the empty chip bag. “But I know what you mean. I’ve been craving grilled shrimp all day. I miss cooked food.”

  “And beer. I miss beer.”

  She shook her head at him as she got up from the table. “I can’t imagine anything that would knock the memory of beer out of your head,” she told him.

  The thought seemed to please him. “When this is all over, I’m going to take you someplace where we can order steak and grilled shrimp and a whole row of beers,” he said.

  Something flared inside her at his words, something that was part hope and part alarm.

  It was the first time he’d said anything about the future. And he’d spoken the words so casually, so easily.

  Did that mean he’d been coming to think—as Jayne had—that they might be finding their way back to the closeness they’d once shared? Or had he just tossed away the comment without thinking?

  She couldn’t be sure. And she didn’t feel ready to ask him about it. She’d tried too many times to take a hopeful view of their future, only to watch him retreat into the demands of his job or the silence he’d used to deflect her questions. The truce between them was still fragile enough that she didn’t want to threaten it by plunging back into their old arguments.

  So she just shook her head again and said, “It’s a bit soon to be making dates, Nick. This is a long way from over yet.”

  She stepped behind him into the little area that served as a kitchen. They’d been putting their trash into one of the paper bags from the grocery store in Narvaez, but it was full now. Jayne reached for the folded-up bag she’d wedged into a space between the cupboard and the wall.

  Her fingers encountered more than the paper bag and the rough wood of the cupboard, though. There was something smooth in the same narrow space, something she could barely reach when she went after it with one forefinger.

  It was a black-and-white photograph, unframed, and badly tattered around the edges. It showed a man and a woman on a sandy beach, with a little boy between them who appeared to be about three years old.

  Jayne recognized him instantly.

  The woman was blond and vivacious-looking, with her head thrown back and a wide smile on her face. The man was smiling, too, but sheepishly, as though taking the photograph hadn’t been his idea. He had his hands on the child’s shoulders. The gesture looked awkward, and the little boy seemed to know it.

  Even in that child’s face, the high cheekbones were unmistakable. And so was the wariness in his eyes.

  “Ryder, look.”

  She half turned and realized he was already on his feet, looking at the photog
raph over her shoulder. He took it from her, staring down at it with. an expression she couldn’t decipher.

  “Did you remember that was here?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “I must have hidden it a long time back,” he said. “I had no idea—”

  She looked back down at the photograph. No child should have that too-knowing, guarded look in his eyes, she thought. A child had the right to grow up knowing he was loved, feeling he was secure.

  That was what Jayne had hoped to offer their own children—a home where they would be cherished, a mother and a father whose love would stay with them while they grew and found their place in the world.

  She’d once hoped—so fervently it made her ache to think about it—to see a little blond boy playing in her own backyard, with exactly those high cheekbones. She’d always wanted children, as far back as she could remember. And not just any children—Ryder’s children, blond babies who would have a chance to grow and thrive without the battles she was realizing Ryder himself had had to fight.

  No wonder he’d chosen a profession where he could be the one to solve mysteries, to make order out of chaos.

  And no wonder he’d been so hesitant about the idea of having children of his own.

  And yet—

  “They don’t look like the monsters I was picturing,” she said slowly, examining Ryder’s father’s face without finding any of the selfishness she’d been expecting. He just looked weak and unsure of himself.

  Ryder’s words confirmed her thoughts. “They weren’t monsters,” he said. “They were just unhappy people trying to act happy. I think they must have fed each other’s worst tendencies, and that didn’t help anything.”

  “Did we—do the same thing, do you think?”

  She couldn’t help asking the question. And she was so absorbed in waiting for his answer that she barely noticed him sliding one long arm around her shoulders, pulling them closer together.

  He seemed to be offering support and looking for it at the same time, she thought. The gesture had been completely natural, as though the closeness they’d been sidestepping all day had simply overtaken them with no fanfare.

  “I don’t know,” he said. His deep voice resonated against her shoulder as he spoke. “I still can’t remember anything about our lives together.”

  She’d been expecting to hear that bitter, frustrated sound in his voice. But for the moment it seemed to have disappeared. His words were serious, but more open than she’d heard him sound yet.

  She could feel the flutter of hope in her chest again. If she and Ryder could just hold on to this moment of trust and candor—if they’d somehow found an unexpected way around all the obstacles that had plagued their marriage—

  “I do know one thing, though.” He set the photograph down on the table and turned so he was facing Jayne with both forearms resting on her shoulders. She felt her whole body start to pulse as her hips nestled into the angle of his long legs.

  “Even without the rest of my memory, I’m prepared to swear that what happened last night was better than anything I ever even thought about.” He lowered his arms, circling her waist and pulling her closer.

  “It was—the way it used to be.” Her voice had gotten husky without her realizing it.

  “Was it?” She caught the suggestive gleam in his eyes, and wished she could capture the quick slanting grin that so completely transformed his face. She’d always loved Ryder’s grin—the maverick charm of it, the way she’d sometimes caught a glimpse, under that sexy tilt of his lips, of something half-hidden, something lonely but aching for love, something that had always spoken directly to her soul.

  She was seeing it now, buried deep in his dark blue eyes. And it was making it very difficult to breathe all of a sudden.

  There were so many things she wanted to ask him.

  Had these stolen few days in his boyhood home laid any of his old demons to rest?

  Did he recognize how much he’d changed, even since she’d found him at the hospital in Miami?

  Was it possible he shared her dawning sense that this might be a new beginning for the two of them?

  She didn’t get a chance to put any of her questions into words. He was shifting his body against her, reaching behind him for something.

  It took her a moment to realize it was his old knife he was after. He unsnapped the scabbard from its place on his belt and handed it to Jayne.

  His fingers closed around hers as he put it into her palm. The worn leather was warm against her skin from its contact with Ryder’s hip. She ran her thumb over the intricate inlaid pattern on the handle, feeling a sudden strong connection with the lonely boy who’d made it.

  “I want you to have this.” His voice roughened over the words like a grader on a gravel country road. “I-well, I owe you.”

  She looked into his eyes, and felt herself caught all over again between longing and doubt. “You don’t owe me anything, Ryder,” she said. “If you’re thinking—”

  His fingers tightened around hers where they held the knife. “I owe you for that diamond ring you pawned, if nothing else,” he said. “This is—well, it’s not worth much to anyone except me. But it‘s—”

  She waited while he searched for the right words. “I just want you to have it,” he said finally, sounding frustrated with his own attempts to say what he was feeling. “It’s not a promise, not exactly. Hell, I’ve got no right to promise you anything right now. I just—it’s all I’ve got to offer you.”

  Jayne couldn’t help thinking of the bleak moment when she’d handed her wedding ring to the clerk in that dingy pawnshop in Fort Lauderdale. Such a contrast to the shining promise of the day Ryder had first slipped the ring onto her finger.

  She didn’t know where this moment fit between those two extremes of hope and hopelessness. He was giving her the only token he possessed at the moment. But he seemed to be doing it as a way to settle old scores, to repay a debt he seemed to feel he owed her.

  On the other hand, it was impossible to miss the rough honesty in his face and words. He wasn’t making empty promises, as he’d done so many times before. He wasn’t avoiding her, running away into the dark mysteries of his job or anywhere else. He was here with her, giving her as much as he could give right now.

  And standing close to him like this, looking up into the deep sea-blue of his eyes, was making it difficult to think beyond what this moment might offer in return.

  The scent of his skin—musky, elemental—was close to intoxicating. The obvious stirring of desire at the juncture of his thighs acted like an accelerant to the arousal that had been simmering inside her all day.

  Suddenly impatient with words and questions and promises, Jayne lifted her arms to circle his neck. “You gave me something last night,” she murmured.

  That devil-may-care grin flashed across his face again. “I was thinking of suggesting a rerun,” he said. “Just in case we missed anything the first time.”

  The first time... That was exactly what it had been like. It had been like going back in time, recapturing their lost love, with all the more recent shadows cleared away.

  The temptation to savor that unclouded passion was getting more and more difficult to resist. Jayne nestled her body closer to his, and said, “Nick, just out of curiosity—”

  “Mmm?” He sounded like a big lazy cat, purring in pleasure as she moved against him.

  “How many of those condoms did you buy?”

  His grin widened. “Two,” he said. “One—well, just in case. And the other one—” The grin reached his eyes, becoming purely erotic. “In case the first one didn’t work,” he finished.

  “So that means there’s one left.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She wasn’t sure when he’d started to move his hips like that, or when she’d begun to sway in response. It was like slow dancing, she thought. She could feel the old seductive rhythm building inside her, urging her toward the completion that only Ryder’s loving ha
d ever been able to bring her.

  His voice was a low rumble at her cheekbone. “And there’s a good chance we’ll be out of here tomorrow,” he was saying. “If those faxes give us what we need, we’ll be gone. No sense carrying out the supplies we carried in, the way I figure it.”

  She fought the little quiver of disappointment that went through her at the thought of leaving this quiet haven. Tomorrow would be here soon enough, she told herself. For now, she didn’t want to let thoughts of everything that might still go wrong ruin this moment of unexpected union.

  “Well,” she murmured, “we’ve already polished off the com chips.”

  He chuckled against her ear. “Time to move on to dessert, then,” he said.

  And then both of them gave up on talking, as though they’d recognized again how fragile this shared peace was. A false step—a piece of bad luck—a misplaced word about a forbidden subject—there were a dozen ways they could shatter this momentary tenderness.

  But for the moment they were together.

  And for the moment that was all that counted.

  Their loving this time was achingly slow and tender. For an exquisitely long time they just swayed in each other’s arms, following the silent music that was playing inside both of them.

  It seemed like forever before Jayne lifted her head from Ryder’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. Still holding his gaze, she slid her hands under his dark blue shirt and pushed it up over his head. The dark gold hairs on his chest, when she ran her palms over them, seemed to ignite tiny electrical charges all through her body.

  His skin had a salty outdoor tang to it when she lowered her head and caressed the hard planes of his chest with her open mouth. She felt his frame stiffen as she did it. Her own body was already more than ready for him, hungry for his touch, eager for the heat and hardness of him.

  But they both seemed determined to spin out this erotic prelude to its full length. Although he made quick work of getting out of his jeans, and of helping her out of her own clothes, there was nothing hurried in the way he caressed her. He followed each curve and hollow of her body with hands that were almost worshipful, as though he couldn’t believe she was really here in his arms, as though this was the first time—and maybe the last—they would ever share the almost unbearable delight of inflaming each other like this.