by Anne Ha
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she’d been fast asleep for two whole days, so she knew it was futile.
Garrick kept slipping into her mind, with his tousled dark hair and appealing male scent. She almost missed him.
Well, she supposed that made sense. It really did seem as if she’d married him. And she’d probably done it for a good reason. She probably loved him!
Too bad she couldn’t remember.
She still didn’t feel like a Samantha, she thought. Maybe she never would. Maybe she’d always hated the name.
The door swung open with a quiet swish, and Garrick entered. He met her eyes and smiled a tender, disturbingly sexy smile.
“I thought you’d gone home,” she said.
“Eager to be rid of me?”
Mutely she shook her head. On the contrary, his presence gave her pleasure—but she wasn’t quite willing to admit it.
He crossed to the chair and picked up an overnight bag that had been stashed beneath it. His back to her, he rummaged through the contents.
Samantha watched him while he did so. He wore faded jeans and a wrinkled white oxford shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. She could see his muscles shift underneath it as he moved.
This man was her husband, she thought. The father of the small life growing inside her. How…odd.
Even though she couldn’t remember it, she’d actually made love with him. She’d run her fingers over his warm skin, kissed his full, sensuous lips.
And other places as well.
Despite the pounding in her head, a spark of excitement ran through her. There must be worse fates than being married to such an attractive man, she decided. Even if he was a little maddening.
He turned to face her. His features had a rugged beauty that drew her gaze to his beard-darkened cheeks and the line of his jaw. His gray eyes were like sun-warmed granite—hard but not cold.
Samantha’s attention drifted downward. Garrick wore his sleeves rolled back, revealing muscled forearms lightly sprinkled with hair. His legs were strong and well shaped, his hips lean. He had the body of a man who enjoyed physical activity, who skied, played tennis, jogged, made love….
She felt a sudden urge to touch him, to learn with her fingertips whether his body was as strong and firm as it looked.
Garrick’s hands came up and unfastened the top button of his shirt. She watched, mesmerized, as deft fingers slid the second button free. And the third. She saw dark hair curling on the sharply defined planes of his chest.
Her mouth went dry.
Three more buttons. He tugged the shirt free of his waistband, revealing a washboard stomach.
“What are you doing?” she croaked.
His hands stilled, but he didn’t answer. The shirt hung loose around his torso. Dark hair arrowed down his stomach and disappeared under his waistband.
She swallowed painfully.
With blessedly quick movements, Garrick shed the wrinkled oxford and replaced it with a black T-shirt.
Samantha cursed herself for a fool. She’d acted as if he were putting on some sort of striptease, as if he could read her mind and the unseemly thoughts that went on in it, when he’d only been changing.
They were married, she reminded herself. There was no reason for him not to change his shirt in front of her—especially when it looked as if he’d slept in it for a week.
He handed her a square leather purse. “I thought you might want this.”
Happy for a distraction, Samantha took the purse. She sorted through its contents, hoping something would look familiar.
Nothing did. The pocket calendar, face powder, lipstick and address book might all have belonged to someone else. Even her driver’s license, which showed a five-foot-five, twenty-five-year-old woman with brown eyes and long blond hair, didn’t elicit a flicker of recognition. She flipped through the address book without knowing a single one of the names that were written in a slanted, flowing script. Sighing, she put everything back in the purse.
“Nothing?” he asked.
“Not a thing. It’s like digging into someone else’s purse. I feel like a trespasser.” She held out the driver’s license. “Do I really look like this?”
He glanced at the license, then at her. “Close enough, though it’s not the most flattering picture—makes your hair look limp and your eyes look small and beady.”
“Thanks.”
He grinned back at her. “You asked.”
Samantha fingered a lock of her hair, which was loosely tied at the nape of her neck. The strands felt thick and soft. She pulled it over her shoulder to inspect it, but the unfamiliarity of the pale gold color disturbed her.
“There’s a mirror in the bathroom, in case you’d like to see your face.”
Something made her shake her head, despite her curiosity. The throbbing headache grew sharper with her movement.
She told herself it would be too much trouble to get out of bed, but in the back of her mind she knew her response was more complicated. If she looked in the mirror, she would have to confront a stranger’s face—even though she’d had it for twenty-five years. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a highly charged encounter.
The magnitude of her situation finally struck her full force. She knew nothing at all about herself or her life. She had only what she could learn from the foreign-looking items in her purse, and from Garrick. Without them she’d be completely at a loss.
It made her feel vulnerable, helpless.
It made her feel like a nonentity.
Garrick watched the expressions play across Samantha’s face. She’d never been good at hiding her thoughts and emotions. He could tell her panic had returned.
Taking her hand, he held it once more between his. “It’ll be okay, Sam. Your memory will return.”
She stared back at him, her brown eyes dazed. “When?”
Garrick paused. He still had trouble comprehending the fact that she’d lost her memory. How could her whole life disappear just like that? How could she not remember the past ten years? It must be utterly overwhelming. “I don’t know, Sam,” he said. “But I’ll stay with you and support you till it does.”
She lay back. “I’m scared.”
“I know you are. Everything will be all right, though. You and the baby are alive, and that’s what matters.” He stroked her hand until she slowly relaxed. Amazing, he thought, that his touch could have such an effect on her, as if she drew strength from him, from his nearness.
Garrick had had the same feeling when she’d been unconscious, as if he was speeding her recovery merely by touching her and remaining by her side. She’d become skittish and uncertain once she’d woken, but now the connection was back, and thank goodness. It gave him hope for the future.
Garrick found himself wishing her memory would take a while to return. He knew it was a foolish, selfish thought, but he couldn’t stop it. He wanted the chance to build a new intimacy between them, to make their marriage a strong and fulfilling one—and not just a passionless arrangement.
Samantha squeezed his hand. “Who am I, Garrick? Where do I live? What do I do?” She smiled ruefully. “Why am I such a bad driver?”
He laughed softly. She had a lot of courage, he thought, to make a joke—even a feeble one—when her life was in chaos. “You’re not a bad driver,” he assured her.
“I hit a tree. You told me so yourself. How much worse could I be?”
Garrick looked down at her, wishing he knew how to reply. He could have told her she’d been distraught, that her mental state had destroyed her concentration. But he didn’t. If he told her everything about her accident, about the convoluted events that had led up to it, they’d be right back where they’d been two days ago.
“Well?” she said. “Aren’t you going to tell me anything?”
He studied her for a long moment. “You’re definitely not a bad driver. What else would you like to know?”
“How long ago did we
meet?”
“Ten years.”
She considered this. “So it wasn’t a whirlwind courtship.”
“No.” It wasn’t a courtship at all, really, but she didn’t need to know that right now.
“How long have we been married?”
Garrick groaned inwardly. These probably seemed like simple questions to her, but they were headed in a difficult direction. “Two months,” he admitted.
She was clearly shocked. “That’s all? We certainly took our own sweet time, didn’t we? Why the delay?”
“You were only fifteen when I met you,” he pointed out, unable to keep from smiling. She had no way of knowing how attracted he’d been, even back then.
“And how old were you?”
“Twenty.”
“Ah…” she said, a look of dawning comprehension on her face. “Let me see. I must have fallen in love with you on the spot. I can just picture it—the shy girl and the handsome older man. How sweet.” She paused, her brown eyes wistful. “Was I shy?”
“Yes, you were shy.” He remembered their first meeting as clearly as if it were yesterday. He and Warren had both come home from college for the winter holidays. Their younger sister Jenny had rushed down the stairs to greet them, eager to introduce her new friend. Samantha had followed with tentative steps.
Garrick had heard all about Samantha in Jenny’s letters and been prepared to like her. He had not been prepared, however, for the jolt of desire that swept through him at the sight of her blossoming figure and ethereal brown eyes. She was fifteen, he’d reminded himself sharply. A child.
Someday, he’d thought as he’d pushed back his desire, she would be grown up, a woman far more beautiful than the child in front of him. He would wait, and the waiting would make it all the more pleasurable in the end.
But looking into her eyes and seeing the barely concealed hero worship in them had been difficult indeed.
“You must have been amused by my crush,” she said.
“Not at all,” he responded truthfully.
“Of course not.” She smiled. “You probably didn’t notice I was madly in love with you. I was fifteen, you said? You probably didn’t even know I was alive.”
Of course he’d known. But Garrick didn’t relish reliving that part of the past any more than necessary. “Anything else you’d like me to tell you?” he asked, hoping to shift the conversation to safer topics.
She thought for a moment, tapping her chin in that adorable way she had. “Where’d we go on our honeymoon? Maybe it will help me remember.”
He hesitated. “We stayed here in town.”
“Really? No trip to Hawaii or Mexico? Was that my choice or yours?”
“Both of ours.”
Samantha frowned. “Isn’t this strange? I can remember about Hawaii and Mexico, but I don’t know if I’ve been to either one or if I learned about them from TV.”
“You’ve been to Mexico, not Hawaii,” Garrick said.
“With you?”
“With Jenny.”
“Who’s Jenny?”
“Your best friend. My sister.”
“Oh.” She looked a little depressed. “I can’t believe I don’t remember my own best friend.”
“It’s okay, Sam. I’m sure she’ll understand. She’d be here right now, by the way, but she’s taking an exam.”
Samantha gave him a questioning look.
“Law school,” he explained. “She’s finishing her second year.” He decided he’d given Samantha enough information to absorb for one night. “How’s your headache?”
She closed her eyes briefly. “Better, but the medication they gave me isn’t very strong. I guess they didn’t want to hurt the baby.” As if suddenly reminded of the new life growing inside her, she cupped a hand to her abdomen. She grinned at him, her eyes alight. “We sure got started on our family fast, didn’t we?”
Garrick grimaced. Now what the hell was he supposed to say to that?
Chapter Two
He racked his brains for the right response.
It didn’t come.
If he told Samantha the truth about the baby’s conception… Well, he didn’t know how she’d react. But after her romanticized version of their relationship, she was sure to be upset.
Samantha continued, unaware of his inner turmoil. “After ten years of being madly in love with you, I couldn’t wait to start a family, right? Or was it just because you’re, er, extremely virile…? No point going to Hawaii if you’re gonna spend the whole week inside the hotel room, anyway, eh?”
“I guess not,” he said, feeling trapped. He was pretty damn close to lying by omission at this point.
He should just tell her everything. That was the honorable thing to do. But when he opened his mouth, no words came out. He just stared at her beautiful features, which were so much more happy and relaxed than they’d been twenty minutes ago, and couldn’t bring himself to burst her bubble.
“Two months,” Samantha continued in wonderment. “I bet I never thought I’d get pregnant that quickly. Did you?”
“Uh, not exactly.”
She paused, tapping her chin. “Is that why we fought?”
“Why we fought?” he repeated.
“Yes. When I woke up, you asked if I was still angry. So we must have had a fight, right? Was it about the baby?”
Garrick nodded reluctantly. She might have lost her memory, but her instincts were right on. They had been fighting about the baby right before she drove off. But it wasn’t what she thought.
Samantha’s brows drew together. “You don’t want the baby, do you?” She shut her eyes. “Oh, gosh, no wonder I got amnesia. I don’t want to remember that you don’t want our baby!”
“Sam,” he said, leaning forward, “I want this baby, and I have since the moment you told me you were pregnant. Nothing could make me give it up.” And it was the truth. Despite everything, he already loved the child she carried.
“Then why were we fighting?”
He sighed. “I can’t explain that right now. I don’t even understand it myself. It was all a big mistake, which you’ll realize when you’re better.”
“You want the baby?”
“Yes, I want the baby.”
Samantha sank back against the cushions, an expression of relief on her face. She folded her hands over her belly. “The doctor said it’s May,” she mused. “So am I going to give birth in December?”
Oh, good Lord. She’d always been too mathematical. “November, actually.”
Her eyes widened. “November?”
“Early November,” he said, feeling as if he’d just stepped off the edge of a precipice.
She stared at him. “Garrick, exactly how long have I been pregnant?”
“About twelve weeks,” he admitted.
“Oh…Oh, no.” She shook her head slowly. “You married me because I got pregnant, didn’t you?”
How could something be true and yet so completely false? He remembered how quickly his shock at her pregnancy had shifted to elation—and how he’d hated himself for that weakness. He’d had to force himself not to blurt his proposal on the spot, but to pull back behind a screen of disinterest, treating the situation as he might treat a sensitive business deal. “Not exactly.”
“Then why?”
“I married you,” he said, “because I thought we had a good chance of being happy together.”
They did. Ten years of friendship was the strongest basis for marriage he could imagine.
“And because you got me pregnant,” Samantha said.
“Your pregnancy did have something to do with it,” he admitted.
She looked disappointed. “You don’t love me?”
If she only knew what she was saying! But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Even amnesia wasn’t enough to erase the past ten years.
Garrick kept the emotion from his voice, just as he’d done when he’d proposed. “Love isn’t always the most important thing, Sam…Sometimes frie
ndship can be enough.”
He didn’t love her.
Sure, he’d married her and wanted their baby, but he didn’t love her. He’d spent the whole night by her side, but he didn’t love her.
It wasn’t right, Samantha thought the next morning as Garrick checked her out of the hospital. Something felt wrong. She might not remember who she was, but she knew, just knew, she wouldn’t have wanted a loveless marriage.
So why had she married him? Only because she was pregnant? That didn’t make sense. She wouldn’t have slept with him unless…
She loved him. She loved him. Obviously the adolescent love she’d imagined last night had been all too real.
But he hadn’t loved her back.
Had she known? Had she willingly settled for a one-way marriage in order to be with her childhood crush? Or had she thought their feelings were mutual? Maybe she’d found out he didn’t love her, and that was what they’d fought about, what had made her such a terrible driver the night of her accident.
Maybe he’d let her think he loved her to get her to have a fling, but then it had backfired when she’d gotten pregnant.
She considered Garrick as he helped her into his dark green sedan, his touch warm and reassuring on her arm. He radiated confidence, strength and purpose. He didn’t seem like the devious type, she thought, the type to take advantage of a young girl’s crush.
Which left a distressing alternative. Maybe she’d taken advantage of him.
Samantha watched Garrick circle to the driver’s side, his dark hair lifting in the wind. Today he wore a blue chambray shirt and casual khaki chinos. He looked every bit as sexy as he had last night, and again she felt the pull of attraction and desire. He was an incredibly handsome man.
Could she have done it?
She didn’t want to face the possibility, but she couldn’t ignore it: she was pregnant, and he’d admitted that had something to do with their marriage. So had she set out to seduce him? Had she planned to get pregnant to entrap him?
