by Anne Ha
They crossed the Hawthorne Bridge and parked near the waterfront, where a wide strip of grass stretched for several blocks. Garrick took her hand in his as they walked along. The warm afternoon had brought out the crowds, especially to the small area of shops that marked one end of the park. A diverse range of people strolled back and forth, or sat on the benches overlooking the marina. The idyllic scene made Samantha feel happier, more peaceful.
“You used to love to come here,” Garrick volunteered, surprising her.
She glanced at him. A light spring breeze ruffled his hair, and when he smiled, he looked irresistibly handsome. “With you?” she asked.
“With Jenny, mostly.” He found a vacant bench for them. “Here, rest a bit. It’s a hot day and you’ve been on your feet a lot. We don’t want them to swell.”
Samantha complied, noticing again how thoughtful he was.
“I’ve heard the snack bar over there has great fruit salad,” he said. “Care for a cup?”
She nodded and turned her head to track his departure. He made an impressive figure, she thought. Tall and broad, with just the right amount of muscle.
Suddenly her mind flashed back to the previous night—to sharing his bed. She remembered everything she’d felt lying next to him.
Craving.
Need.
Desire.
Her body heated. Obviously her pregnancy was doing strange things to her hormones! At least, she hoped it was. She hoped she didn’t always have such lascivious thoughts.
Trying to get herself under control, she focused on the snack bar, which stood a dozen yards away. A frazzled young woman worked alone behind the counter, handling the long line of customers as best she could. A large pink sign announced the place carried “the tastiest smoothies in town.” It seemed to influence everyone’s orders—usually at the last minute—and only worsened the problem.
The blond man in front of Garrick crossed his arms and tapped his foot Garrick, however, showed no signs of impatience. He did glance over at Samantha a couple times, winking when he caught her watching.
Then the blond man reached the counter. Though Samantha sat too far away to hear the conversation, she gathered the man wasn’t shy about expressing his displeasure to the overworked food server—nor was he satisfied with her apologies. He also had some problem with the six smoothies he ordered and finally stormed off without buying a thing.
The woman looked as if she wanted to cry.
Smiling sympathetically, Garrick stepped up to the counter. He murmured something which, miraculously, got her to smile back, and then he purchased all six of the abandoned drinks as well as the cup of fruit salad. He also slipped a handful of bills into her tip jar—which previous customers had ignored.
Samantha felt her chest swell with pride. Not only was her husband understanding and considerate with her, but with total strangers, too.
She watched him turn from the snack bar, carrying a tray. He gave the extra smoothies to a couple of men walking a dog and to a little girl and her mother.
Finally he reached Samantha, with just two of the tall plastic cups left on the tray. He handed her one of them, along with the fruit salad.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t mention it. Anyway, I have an ulterior motive, remember. I want the baby to be healthy and strong.” He patted her gently curved stomach.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue—I’ll be lucky if he or she doesn’t come out weighing twelve pounds!” She paused. “You were really sweet back there.”
Garrick grimaced. “It wasn’t her fault the place is understaffed.”
“Still.” She sampled her drink, which was wonderfully cool and tangy, and added, “A lot of people would have only thought of themselves. You know, they’d have wanted to be served instantly, no matter what”.
He stared out over the water, looking uncomfortable.
Samantha leaned closer to him. Was he blushing? He was! Her handsome, heroic husband was embarrassed by her compliments!
She had to smother a grin. How cute, she thought, digging into her fruit salad. He was chivalrous and modest. He was probably the type who stopped to help elderly people across the street, too—not that he’d ever admit it!
* * *
When they got home Jenny greeted them at the front door and whisked Samantha off for a few minutes on the patio. She’d taken her second-to-last exam and was excited for the end of the semester.
Samantha told her about her memory of their water fight in the kitchen, though she omitted the details of her physical response to Garrick.
She did try to broach the subject of her crush, though. “Did I make a fool of myself over him?” she asked.
“Over—over Garrick? No, not really…No, I wouldn’t say you did.”
Samantha groaned. “I did, didn’t I? I’m sure I spent the last ten years making cow eyes at him! How mortifying.”
Jenny leaned back on her patio chair. “You never made cow eyes at Garrick.”
“Then what did I do?”
“Not much, Sam. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s all ancient history.” Jenny shrugged. “My main concern is the present. How are things going with Garrick? Are you getting, er…reacquainted?”
“Yes, pretty much.”
“Pretty much, eh? Not completely? Then I take it you haven’t…?”
Samantha swallowed, embarrassed. How could Jenny ask such a personal question? And without even batting an eyelash!
Jenny read the answer in her expression. “Right, you haven’t. Did he give you some line about looking out for your best interests?”
She blinked. “How did you know?”
“Oh, that’s just vintage Garrick. He’s got a totally overblown sense of honor. He’s always trying to put other people’s needs before his own.”
Samantha nodded, thinking of their stop by the waterfront. She found something very appealing about such a big, strong man being so kind and thoughtful. “I know, but it’s one of the things I like about him. He can be really sweet.”
“True—but don’t let him hear you say that!” Jenny grinned. “He likes to cultivate his gruff and tough exterior.”
They shared a few more minutes on the patio, enjoying the late-afternoon sunshine, before Jenny went to prepare for her last exam.
Samantha wandered to Garrick’s study. She found him on the phone, massaging his neck with one hand as he talked. His dark hair stood slightly on end, as if he’d run his fingers through it several times. He looked rumpled and unutterably sexy.
Garrick caught sight of her. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his pleasure was obvious. Samantha’s stomach dipped in response.
He waved her into the study, indicating he’d only be a few more minutes. Too restless to sit down, she wandered aimlessly through the room, tuning out his business conversation but not the cadence of his deep; rich voice.
She touched random objects, regarded them without really seeing them. A Mont Blanc fountain pen. A framed award from the mayor on the wall. A blue silk tie tossed onto the file cabinet, one end draped over the edge.
Finally, unable to focus on anything besides her husband, Samantha came to stand behind his chair. Tentatively she placed her hands on the firm neck and shoulder muscles he’d massaged earlier, taking up the task.
She thought about the hours they’d shared since she’d left the hospital. In just a day and half they’d grown more comfortable with each other. And, though their afternoon excursion hadn’t generated any more memories, it had definitely made her feel closer to her husband—and more attracted. His behavior at the waterfront had only increased his sexiness.
She pressed her fingers into Garrick’s warm skin. If only she could reclaim the past. She wanted to be his wife again—in every sense of the word.
She wanted to explore the contours of his body, to know every inch of it, just as she had before.
“Sam?”
She jerked hers
elf back to reality.
Garrick held the phone away from his face, his palm over the mouthpiece.
“Yes?” she said.
He tilted his head up to give her a wry smile. “That feels great, but could you be a little more gentle?”
Samantha glanced down at her hands, startled to see her thumbs digging deeply into his shoulders, her fingers curled into his chest. “Sorry,” she said, forcing her grip to loosen. She stroked his shoulders and lightly kneaded the length of his neck. “Is that better?”
He allowed his head to drop forward, giving her fuller access. “Much.”
She stared at his tanned skin above the white collar of his shirt, mesmerized. She loved the feel of him, wanted to indulge in another dreamy moment of sensual imagination.
Could he feel her thoughts? she wondered. Did her fingertips communicate their need to caress every bit of his gorgeous body?
She worked on his neck for several seconds, then noticed he still held the telephone receiver. “Don’t you need to finish your conversation?”
His head snapped up. “Damn.” He uncovered the mouthpiece and muttered, “I’ll get back to you,” before dropping the phone into its cradle.
Samantha massaged a while longer, then gave his muscles one last squeeze. She started to pull away, but he raised his hands and laid them over hers, trapping them against his shoulders.
She froze, absorbing the heat of his touch. Neither of them spoke. Neither acknowledged the physical awareness between them.
Then, catching her by surprise, Garrick released her hands. He swiveled his chair and pulled her toward him, turning her hips until she fell neatly onto his lap. He drew her close against his chest. “How was your talk with my sister?” he murmured, his warm breath caressing her ear.
Little electric shivers worked their way through her body, but she strove for a normal tone of voice. “It was fine.”
“Did she say anything outrageous?”
“Not really…Nothing too bad.”
He traced her jawline with a single finger.
Her skin tingled in its wake.
“You’re sure…?”
She nodded, momentarily overwhelmed by sensation. Without thinking, she tangled a hand in his dark, tousled hair. “I—I still think it’s strange I can’t remember my best friend.”
His arms tightened around her, then slowly relaxed. He nudged her a few inches away so he could look into her eyes. “Or your husband.”
“That, too.” Samantha hardly knew what she was saying. What was happening to her? She gulped for air, feeling his large hands spanning her ribs, seeing the desire in his gaze.
He held her there on his lap, not moving, not kissing her, as if he couldn’t help showing how much he wanted her, but wouldn’t let himself do anything about it, either.
She remembered his words from the night before. I want to make love to you. I want to slip inside you and bring us both the relief we deserve.
And she flushed.
She remembered her own response. You can make love to me if you want to.
And she realized how it must have sounded—as if she were only suffering his attentions for the sake of their marriage, only fulfilling her wifely duties.
Nothing could be further from the truth. She wanted him, every bit as much as he wanted her.
Which was why she couldn’t help kissing him.
It was light at first, just on the corner of his mouth. But then she inhaled the heady scent of his skin and felt herself losing control. She parted her lips and touched him with her tongue.
He gave a tortured groan. Very slowly he began to kiss her in return, cupping her nape with one hand, holding her at just the right angle. His other hand still curved possessively around her ribs, squeezing and releasing in the most hypnotic rhythm. Her perceptions seemed to shift sideways, as if she’d slid into a dream.
Garrick trailed his lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Tilting her chin up, he pressed moist kisses to her throat. His tongue teased her skin, skimmed over her pulse.
“We should stop,” he whispered.
Samantha didn’t want to stop. “All right.” She undid the top button of his shirt and ran her fingertips along his collarbone.
“It’s too soon, Sam.” His hand roamed higher on her ribs, brushing the side of her breast.
She tried to suppress a moan. “I know.” Her voice came out raspy and thick. Illicit expectation made her insides go shaky.
“This shouldn’t…this shouldn’t be happening.” His thumb grazed the tip of her breast through her lace bra and shirt, and Samantha thought she would die. The caress sent ripples of pleasure through her, pleasure she’d never imagined.
How could she possibly have forgotten this? How could she have shared something so intense with her husband and not remember it?
Groaning again, as if unable to stop, Garrick caressed her through the material. She felt herself tighten with excitement, her body reaching toward him, pressing into his hand.
Their gazes met. Samantha wanted more—she wanted him to slip underneath her shirt, unfasten her bra, touch her without any barriers. And she knew he wanted to, as well. He couldn’t look at her like that, his beautiful gray eyes all dark with hunger, if he didn’t feel the same.
But he didn’t go further. That misguided sense of honor must have kicked in, because he stilled and then slowly lowered his hand. Something flickered in his eyes—guilt?—and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I’m sorry, Samantha.”
She took a moment to catch her breath. “Don’t be. You’re my husband.”
This didn’t seem to comfort him.
“It took a lot more than what we were doing just now to get me pregnant,” she pointed out.
He eased her off his lap. “That’s not what I meant….”
She leaned her hips back against his desk, waiting.
“We shouldn’t have been fooling around in here.” Garrick motioned to his study. “If we’d gone much further, I would have ended up—” He stopped, staring out the window at the wide green lawn.
Ended up making love to me? she thought. Would that have been so terrible?
“You deserve more than a cold desk under your back, Sam.”
She knew the words were meant to shock her. They did shock her—with a wave of explicit images that made her toes curl.
He gave a self-mocking laugh. “The damned curtains aren’t even closed.”
Samantha had the crazy urge to go and draw the curtains. If that was the only problem…
Of course, when she thought about it, Garrick’s desk wasn’t the most romantic spot to make love. Sure, it might be hot and exciting. But this would be their first time together since she’d gotten amnesia— their first time ever, as far as she was concerned. She wanted it to be special.
Samantha regarded her husband. He didn’t seem as set against making love as he’d been that morning, she thought. Had he relented? She hoped so.
“Maybe we could…” She trailed off, feeling shy. “Maybe…later…?”
Garrick stared at her for several seconds, long enough for her to regret her words. His eyes were shuttered, unreadable, and she wondered if she’d been too forward.
But then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he smiled—a slow, serious, irresistibly attractive smile. “All right, Sam. Later.”
* * *
Later.
Just what, exactly, did it mean? Later that night? Or later that year? Had it been a promise or a put off? Samantha wasn’t quite sure.
As she and Garrick joined the others in the family room for predinner drinks, she felt restless and edgy. She couldn’t stand the suspense of not knowing.
After pouring the sherry—and a ginger ale for Samantha—Garrick sat beside her on the couch. He draped his right arm over her shoulder and proceeded to chat with his mother, tease his sister and generally behave like the charming man he was. All the while, however, his hand toyed with a lock of her hair, twining it around his
index finger and, every so often, brushing the bare skin of her neck.
Samantha tried to follow the conversation around her, but Garrick’s nearness made that impossible. His body felt hot against hers, and her breathing grew quick and shallow. His touch was intimate and innocent at the same time, as if they’d been married for years. As if, she thought, contact between their bodies was as normal as eating and breathing and sleeping….
She blinked, suddenly realizing the room had gone quiet. She glanced around, trying to recall the topic of conversation, but her mind drew a blank.
Jenny watched her, one eyebrow arched inquisitively. “Well, Sam, do you?”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She’d been so absorbed in her response to Garrick that she hadn’t heard the question. She took a cooling sip of ginger ale. “Do I what?”
She caught a shared look between Jenny and Beth—a brief curl at the corners of Beth’s mouth and an answering grin from Jenny—before Jenny said, “Mom asked if you have anything to wear for that play you and Garrick are seeing this weekend. If not, we can go shopping.”
“I—I don’t know. I didn’t look at my clothes that carefully.” She glanced at Garrick. “Do I?”
His fingertips stroked the side of her neck, making her mind go hazy again. “Probably,” he murmured, “but it sounds as if Jenny wants to go shopping, so I’d advise you to comply.”
“Garrick!” Jenny rolled her eyes and then asked Samantha, “How about Friday morning?”
Garrick traced tiny circles on the skin behind her earlobe. She couldn’t focus on the question Jenny had just asked her, so she nodded her head, not caring what she’d agreed to.
She had to get away from her husband, Samantha realized. It was too embarrassing to have him distract her so much she couldn’t carry on a simple conversation. She drained her glass and rose to her feet on the pretext of refilling it.
With every step her alertness increased, though she still felt Garrick’s magnetic pull. She poured herself another glass of ginger ale from the tray of drinks, sensing his gaze on her the whole time. Knowing he watched her was almost as distracting as being touched by him.
