She sat on an overly large couch that was more comfortable than it looked, as Carter busied himself with cleaning the house. They'd arrived two days ago, but she had spent most of it asleep or lying in the large bed with the biggest headaches in the history of humans. When he came down with an armful of linens, he smiled at her.
“Sorry, it's been a while since I've been here. Mitch and Sandi stayed here last year, but I just haven't had time to visit and clean up the place.” He dumped the items on the floor and walked over to sit beside her. “Are you doing okay? You sure did sleep awhile.”
“Yes, the pain has been cut in half.” She still felt pressure on her head, but didn't want to spend any more time upstairs in the large room, alone.
“Do you need another pain pill?” He started to get up.
“No.” She reached out and stopped him from moving. “I'm fine. Really.”
“Okay.” He frowned a little. “If you feel like you need one, just let me know.”
She nodded and looked down at the photo album he'd given her. There were hundreds of pictures of the three of them, Mitch, Carter, and herself. Younger images, older ones. It seemed they were always together. She felt a little better knowing there was proof behind what Mitchell and Carter had told the hospital. They had been best friends since grade school.
“Where are my parents?” In all the pictures she'd seen, none had shown anyone whom she thought could be her mother or father. There had been an older couple, but underneath the picture it had said, “Mary and Steven Edwards.” She knew they must be Carter’s grandparents.
“Well,” he said and played with a strand of her hair. She flinched a little, and he pulled his hand away, looking down at his fingers with a slight frown. “Well, your parents live just outside of New York. I've been told your dad is out of the country at the moment.” He stood up and picked up the pile of dirty linen. “I'll just go throw these in the washer. Why don't you head up and rest a while. I'll make us some soup then you can take another pain pill.” He turned to leave, then looked back at her. “I'll keep trying to get a hold of your folks, don't worry.” He walked out, down a long hallway.
After he was gone, she slowly stood up. She still felt waves of dizziness hit her, but it was getting better. Taking the picture book with her, she made her way to the twisted staircase that sat in the middle of the house. She stood at the bottom and looked all the way up the three floors to a large chandelier that hung over the opening. By the time she got to the top of the stairs, she was a little breathless. She walked down a long hallway. Here there were framed pictures of some of the better shots she'd seen in the photo album. Her face, the one that she’d seen for the first time just three days ago, smiled back at her in most of the images, almost always next to Mitchell or Carter.
She opened the door to the master suite and looked in. She hadn't really noticed it before; her head had hurt too much. Now as she looked around she noticed that the room was large with a very big four-poster bed that sat off to one side. A huge television sat on a stand across from the bed. She set the photo book down next to it and walked into an adjoining room, which was a newly remodeled bathroom. When she walked in, she smiled at the large bathtub. She'd taken a quick shower at the hospital before their drive to Maine, but hadn't bothered to shower since. She was looking forward to taking a long, hot bath.
When she looked across the room at the mirror, she was still shocked to see her reflection. It was hard to explain; it was like looking at a stranger who followed your every movement. The first time she'd seen herself, she’d felt a sense of relief. Not that she was vain—at least she didn't think she was—but she'd been happy that she was pretty. Very pretty.
Her dark hair had been matted with dried blood. It had been caked on her forehead as well. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to slowly clean it off her sensitive skin. She'd actually left most of it in her hair, since trying to clean it had given her a larger headache and her vision had grayed at times. The last thing she wanted to do was faint in the shower and have someone come in and find her like that.
Walking closer to the mirror, she assessed herself now. The new white bandage was over her cut, which had apparently received half a dozen stitches. Her left arm was still in a sling and when she tried to move it, she found out why it was better to keep it on and still.
She was wearing an outfit that Sandi had told her had come from her own suitcase. There were still a lot of questions she had about her relationships with everyone, especially her relationship with Carter, but she didn't quite know how to ask. She hadn't wanted to ask Sandi or Mitchell, so she had decided to wait and feel it out.
Walking back over to the tub, she started filling it with hot water. When she leaned over to plug it, she saw that there were jets in the tub. She was going to really enjoy this. She hit the button to turn on the jets and they made a crazy sound and a little water sputtered out. Quickly, she turned it off again. She knew that once the tub was full, the jets would help soothe the aches she had.
She moved over to the bathroom door and closed it, hitting the lock button. She might not know what her relationship with Carter was, but she didn't think a private bath would cause any problems.
Slowly, she removed her clothes and her bandages. She left the small white butterfly bandages over her stitches, but removed everything else. She'd been too foggy to really get a good look at her body when she'd dressed. Her eyesight had fully recovered now and she stood in front of the mirror assessing herself. She started to slowly turn and was shocked to find a small tattoo which started at her lower right rib and went down to her upper hip. She couldn’t tell what it said, and at first she thought it was in a different language. But then she realized it was the mirror image and calculated in her mind, reversing the words until finally she realized it said, “To thine own self be true” in small fancy cursive letters. She laughed.
“If only I could.” She finished her assessment of her body and walked over to sink into the warm water. She hit the button for the jets and felt the sore muscles in her back start to relax. The doctors and nurses had told her to try and not push herself to remember, that it would come eventually.
But she just couldn't shut down her mind. At this point she had images, but none of them flashed in her head as memories. The only steady thing so far was the sound of Carter's voice. When she heard him speak, she felt something. She wasn't sure what it was, but the first word that popped into her head was safety.
She leaned back in the tub and when her hair floated around her, she reached up and tried to scrub the dried blood from her hair. She noticed a small patch near her injury that had been cut really close to her scalp. It was small enough that she figured she could easily part her hair on the other side for a while until it grew back.
She sat up a little and grabbed the shampoo, using it to get the rest of the blood. Finally, minutes later, she felt she had sufficiently removed all of the caked-on blood from her skin and scalp. Her head hurt a little from the tugging and pulling she'd done to get it all. Resting back, she rinsed her hair and relaxed with the jets.
Her mind kept flashing back to the hospital room. What secret did Carter have that he didn't want his friends to know. She'd heard the story of how she'd been injured, at least the part when Carter had found her in a dark alley, bloody and unconscious.
How had she gotten there? Where had he been? Did he have something to do with how she'd been injured? As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she shook her head no. There was no way Carter would ever hurt her. She may not have her memory back, but she knew, just knew in her heart that that was true. So many other questions raced through her mind.
Half an hour later, when she opened the bathroom door, she screamed and started to fall backwards.
While Carter stood outside the bathroom door waiting for Eve to get out of the bath, he thought that if he was ever going to pick up the habit of biting his nails, he would have done so then. Instead, he had paced back and forth
, listening at the door. Did she know how dangerous it was for her to be taking a bath? What if she slipped and hit her head? What if she started to feel light-headed, something he'd noticed she'd done several times in the last two days, even though she never mentioned it.
The minutes had ticked by slowly, and he was just about to barge in when the bathroom door opened and he jumped as Eve squealed. Then she had started to fall and he'd reached out and grabbed her. He pulled her close to him so she wouldn't fall. She felt so warm and soft and smelled so good.
“What do you think you're doing?” she said, just as he said the same.
“What do you think you're doing? Don't you know how dangerous it is for you to be locking yourself in a bathroom, taking a bath?” He held onto her as she was trying to get out of his hold. The large white towel she'd wrapped herself in was slipping a little, and she'd tried to pull it up and push him away at the same time.
“I was in no immediate danger. What were you doing standing outside the door?” She glared at him. He could feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. The skin he was holding on to was wet and warm and he didn't want to let go. She smelled of lilies and it dawned on him that she was all but naked in his arms. He decided he didn't want to let go anytime soon.
“Did you enjoy your bath?” he asked her softly.
She blinked a few times. It was a look he knew well—the look she had right before she was about to scold him for changing subjects.
“Don't.” He interrupted her thoughts. “Don't lecture me on changing subjects.” When a shocked look crossed her face, he smiled. “You may not know who you are, but make no mistake about it, I do. I know your moods, I know when you're happy, when you're sad.” He looked down at her lips and smiled when she licked her lips. His eyes traveled back to hers and he saw them cloud over with desire. “When you want to be kissed.” He leaned his head down towards her mouth and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She tasted as good as she felt and she seemed to melt in his arms. Her hand snaked around his neck and pulled him closer. He moaned as she slid her fingers into his hair.
He couldn't stop his hands from traveling between the soft cotton and her heated skin. How did she make her skin so soft? It felt like silk under his fingertips. Her wet hair had been brushed and lay down her back. He enjoyed the smoothness of it as his hands roamed over her body while their mouths pleasured each other. He wanted her, there was no denying the fact, but when he thought about her, it was her fire that he wanted. He was a schmuck. What was he doing, taking advantage of her like this? Slowly he pulled back and looked down at her closed eyes. Her dark eyelashes rested on her high cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch of her face and her body, but now was not the time.
“Carter?” Her eyes were open and she was looking at him. “What exactly am I to you?”
He knew it took a long time for him to answer her, but a million scenarios played through his mind at that moment. Here was a unique opportunity. They were going to be alone in this house for who knows how long. Mitch was handling the business, so there was no rush to get back to New York. Her parents, well, who knew where they were. He thought of all the fights and arguments they'd had over the years. Eve had never let him get this close before. Sure, there were the two nights before her attack, but he could blame her state of mind on having to get her drunk first. Looking down at her face, he knew she wasn't drunk now.
Then a light went off in his mind. This was his one clean shot at happiness. She might just kill him if she ever got her memory back, but the odds were in his favor that she'd be so in love with him, that it wouldn't matter. He decided that was a chance he was willing to take and opened his heart and told her what he'd been feeling for as long as he could remember.
“Eve, you are everything to me. You're the woman I'm going to marry.” He watched her eyes get bigger, then soften and he knew that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance of happiness.
Chapter Six
Eve sat across the room and watched him cook in the large kitchen. She enjoyed seeing him move around as he hunted for pans or dishes.
“It's been a while since we've been here.” He smiled at her. “I've forgotten where everything is.”
He found the plate he'd been hunting for and set it near the stove, then looked at her. “So, you really don't remember anything? Like foods you like or don't like?”
She shook her head. “Why? Is there something in particular that you had in mind?”
He laughed. “No. You pretty much liked it all. We never could tell how you could stay so skinny after eating more than us.” He turned back to the fish he had simmering in a pan. “Of course, you're quite the runner. Never could beat me though.” He looked back at her and she didn't know how she knew it, but she knew he was lying. Instead of saying so, she just smiled.
“So, tell me something else about myself.” She leaned her elbow on the countertop and watched him. He had a nice body. His shoulders were wide and his hips were narrow. When he bent over to check on the potatoes in the stove, she enjoyed the way his worn jeans looked over his tight backside.
“Well, you're an only child, like Mitchell and me. We went to Huntington School district our whole lives until we graduated, then we all went to Princeton. It was a big shock when we were all accepted together. Shortly after, Mitch and I started K&E Agency. A few years back…” He trailed off. His back was to her, so she couldn't see his face, but then he picked right back up. “A few years later you came on board and the rest is history.”
“Why didn't I start the business with you?” She watched his body movements, waiting for any sign.
“You had received an offer from a larger company. You went and worked there until you decided it wasn't for you anymore.” He turned back to her and smiled. “Here, you can set the table.” He motioned to the plates and silverware.
She got up and started setting them on the large table. “This was your grandparents’ house. From the pictures, it seems I spent a lot of time here.”
“Yes,” he smiled over at her. “Every summer, you and Mitch would stay, up until we were done with college. Just before my grandparents died.”
“How did they die?” She looked over at him.
“My grandmother died of cancer shortly after we graduated college. My grandfather died in his sleep shortly after that. My mom thinks he died of a broken heart.”
“Your mother? Where is she?” She sat up a little.
“She died two years ago.” He turned back around and tried to busy himself with cooking.
“I'm sorry, Carter.” She sat back and thought about it. “Do you still have your father?”
He turned to her and looked into her eyes. “I never really had my father. He left when I was little. Hasn't shown his face since I was three years old.” He shrugged his shoulders. “My grandparents and many uncles and aunts, my cousins, all filled in where my family was lacking. Not to mention I had you and Mitch to keep me company.”
He leaned against the countertop while the fish sizzled. “My grandfather built the place when all their kids were young. My mom was one of eight. Most of them are gone now, since mom was the youngest of the bunch. She lost two brothers in Vietnam, a sister in a fire a few years later, and the rest are off somewhere else with their own families. When my grandparents died, they left the house to my mom and when she died, well, the place came to me.” He turned around and took the fish off the stove.
“Am I close to my folks?” She bit her bottom lip, afraid of the answer.
He looked at her, then walked over and took her hand. “Sorry, sweetie. Your father is a strict military type. Your mother…Well, she falls in line with your dad, and to be honest, I can't remember the last time you saw either of them.”
Her shoulders dipped a little. “What about Mitch?”
Carter's eyebrows shot up. “Mitch? Well, his mother lives outside of Boston. She plays tennis three times a week, attends all the country club events, and is sure to have someone younger
than us in her bed at least once a week. His father lives in California and pretty much lives the same life.”
“Is that the reason we bonded so well? The lack of family?” She helped him carry the food to the table.
He nodded. “That and the incident.”
She set the plate down and looked at him. “The incident? What incident?”
He smiled. “I think that's a story for a later time. What do you say we eat?”
She shook her head, “No, you don't. You cannot spring something like that on me and get away with not answering.” She crossed her good arm over her chest. It didn't give the whole effect, since her left arm was in the sling, but he still got the idea. Finally, he sighed and pulled out a chair for her.
Secret Identity Page 6
