by Joanna Wayne
“No worse than eating your enchiladas. They’ve been banned by every heart surgeon in the state,” he teased.
“Don’t go believing all that hogwash you hear about a few fat grams. My enchiladas are good for the stomach and for the soul. Everybody needs a little fire in their belly sometimes. Now are you ready to order, Darlene, or do you want me to just bring you a plate of tortillas to munch on while you decide?”
Darlene set her menu on the edge of the table. “What are you having, Clint?”
Rosita saved him the trouble of answering. “The sheriff here is so predictable, I usually just stick his order in for the beef enchiladas when he walks in the door.”
Darlene picked up her salsa-stained menu and handed it to Rosita. “Bring me the same, only make mine chicken.”
“Extra hot?”
“Sure. If the sheriff can handle the fire in his belly, I can too.”
Rosita walked away laughing.
Clint didn’t laugh. For two cents he’d get up right now and haul Darlene back to the hospital. He had to be out of his mind to think he could work with her as if she were just any other victim. Her memory might be shot to hell, but his was alive and bucking at the barn door.
“Clint.”
Her voice dragged him out of his butt-kicking reverie. He met her gaze across the table.
“You seem so agitated. Is something wrong?”
He scooted the paper napkin from in front of him. “You mean, besides the fact that we’re no closer to finding your attackers than we were three nights ago?”
“Right. I’m talking about us now. What is it about me that upsets you so much?”
“What makes you think you upset me?”
“The way you act. One minute you’re friendly, but the next it’s as if you can’t bear to be around me.”
“You’re reading me wrong. I’m just doing a job. I haven’t even talked to you in years, except to speak if we ran into each other when you were visiting Vaquero.”
“That’s another thing that puzzles me. Why haven’t you seen me? I must come back to Vaquero fairly often. Rosita wasn’t surprised to see me—only to see me with you. And you said yourself that I was a frequent visitor at the Altamira. If we were friends before I left, why didn’t we visit when I was back home?”
Clint shifted in his seat, wishing he were anywhere but here, and talking about anything but this. If he told her the truth, it would only intensify the awkwardness between them. Not that he could tell her the truth. His ego was far too fragile to take that kind of beating. He settled for a partial truth. “Between running my ranch and being the sheriff, I don’t have a lot of time for socializing.”
“I think you’re lying.”
She reached across the table and laid her hands on top of his. He drew them away as if she’d hit him—a stupid, teenage response. After all, she was groping to recover her life. He was dodging pain that he would have sworn had died a long time ago.
“What happened to our friendship, Clint? Was it something I did?”
“I can’t see a lot of sense in digging up the past right now.”
“That’s because you have one.”
Her voice was low, tinged in frustration. He looked up into smoky eyes that almost took his breath away. “Exactly what is it you want to know about our relationship?”
“Were we lovers?”
Clint averted his gaze to the paper napkin. He could answer her in one word, but she’d never be satisfied with that. And there was no way he was going to sit in this restaurant and try to describe the relationship they’d shared that summer.
“We made love,” he finally answered, his body reacting to that simple, understated response in ways that made him glad he was sitting behind a table. “We were also friends a long time before it got to that stage.”
“What happened between us?”
“I guess you’d say our lives just ended up in different places. You went to Quantico to pursue your career. I stayed here in Texas, the only life-style I know how to live.”
“You make it sound so matter-of-fact, so cold.”
Clint picked up his glass of water and drank it down. He had half a mind to show her what it had been like between them, to throw her across his shoulder and haul her off to the barn where they’d first made love. If she wanted to give her memory a true test, he’d see if she could recall how she’d moaned in pleasure and begged for more.
He sat the glass back down with a clatter. He had to get a grip. Too much was riding on his ability to think clearly. “We were young,” he said, “and what we had was no more than a summer fling.”
The lie lay between them, a bitter but welcome barrier. If she bought it, it would help keep their current relationship all business.
She fingered her napkin, but didn’t respond until one of the younger waitresses had set a basket of hot tortillas, a bowl of spicy dip and one frozen margarita between them. Darlene thanked the girl and took a sip of the drink before pushing it toward Clint. As much as she’d like more than a taste, she knew it wouldn’t mix well with the drugs in her system.
“Then there were no hard feelings between us when we parted?” she asked, turning her attention back to Clint. “I mean, neither of us did anything cruel that would make us hate each other, did we?”
Cruel? Not unless you counted destroying his dreams and breaking his heart as cruel acts. Actually, she’d done him a favor, the same kind McCord had done him years ago: taught him not to expect anything from anyone but himself.
“We didn’t have any knock-down brawls or have to cancel any wedding cake orders.”
“Good.” Darlene buttered a tortilla and dipped it in the bowl of hot sauce. “Then there’s no reason we can’t work together as fellow law enforcers now.”
“That all depends. What kind of work did you have in mind?”
“First off, I think we should locate the senator. I’ve been thinking.”
“If it’s about getting involved in my investigation, forget it.”
“Not so quick. I have an idea that could break the standstill. Suppose I act like I remember everything—that should bring my attacker out in the open. When he strikes, we’ll be ready for him. The old give-’em-the-bait trick.”
“Bad idea.”
“Do you have a better one? We can’t just wait around for him to attack again.”
“There is no ‘we’ here, Darlene. You’ve been relieved of duty. This is my investigation, and I haven’t been ‘waiting around.”’
“Ah, ah, ah.” She put her hand up to stop his tirade. “I’m the one with amnesia, but you have a very short memory. You just admitted there was no reason we couldn’t work together, so don’t get high-handed with me. Besides, I’m the one the senator called when he was in trouble, not you. And I’m the one who witnessed the attack.”
“You don’t remember it.”
“But I will. Any minute now. So why not push the truth a little and get the ball rolling?” Darlene wiped her mouth with her napkin, catching some sparkling grains of salt left by the margarita glass. “You have to let me help,” she insisted. “I can’t bear just sitting in that hospital feeling sorry for myself, wallowing in forgetfulness. It’s not me.” She took a deep breath and clasped her hands. “At least, I don’t think it is the real me.”
“No, not unless you’ve changed a whole lot. But the real me doesn’t put women in danger.”
“I’m glad to know that. It gives me all the more reason to count on you and that big gun you’re wearing to keep me safe.”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of plates of chili-covered enchiladas, Spanish rice and refried beans. The smoke from the hot food curled around Darlene’s nose, and she sighed as she breathed in the aroma. “If it looks as good as it tastes, I may never leave Vaquero again.”
And on hearing her comment, Clint’s appetite departed faster than a starving bull through a busted fence.
DARLENE AND CLINT TRIED to sneak back i
nto the hospital as quietly as possible, knowing the staff would frown on the patient returning with tequila on her breath, even though she’d only had a couple of sips. But they had the bad luck to meet Dr. Bennigan rushing out the door of her room.
The doctor whirled around and followed them in. “You need to get right back into that bed, young lady. I certainly never intended for you to be out of the hospital this long. I know Clint has no sense of restraint when it comes to working on a case, but I thought you would.”
“I’m fine.” But she didn’t protest when Clint took her coat and led her to the bed. The activities, the food and the taste of the margarita were taking their toll on her stamina. Apparently, they hadn’t affected the sheriff, however. He was pacing the room, his hands balled into fists.
“Where’s Lucky? I assigned him to guard this room until Randy relieves him at midnight.”
“Taking a dinner break, I imagine. You might try Lilly’s Coffee Shop. But don’t get all fired up at him. He hasn’t had anyone to guard for hours. Besides, you’re upsetting my patient. Her blood pressure is probably sky high after listening to you rant all day.”
He grabbed Darlene’s chart and started jotting down notes. “It’s way past the dinner hour, but I can probably. get one of the nurses to rummage up some food,” he offered. “You don’t need to miss any meals.”
“No food for me,” Darlene assured him, sitting on the side of the bed and slipping off her shoes. “We stopped at Rosita’s.”
The doctor turned to Clint and frowned. “You wouldn’t be letting your personal feelings interfere with your judgment, would you, Sheriff?”
Clint rapidly fisted and unfisted his hands. “Nothing personal about feeding a witness. Or about seeing that she isn’t killed before she has a chance to talk. Reason enough to expect the guard on duty to actually be on duty.”
The seriousness of Clint’s tone didn’t appear to affect the doctor. He just kept on about his business, nudging Clint out of the way and stepping to the head of Darlene’s bed. “I take that to mean you haven’t caught the men who attacked Darlene and McCord.”
Clint fingered the brim of his hat. “No arrests yet. But we’ll catch them.”
“I’ll be glad when you do. This just doesn’t sound like McCord. He never slips up. Wouldn’t have gotten where he is now if he did.”
“McCord makes mistakes like everyone else,” Clint said, walking over and checking the lock on the window. “He’s human, in spite of his reputation.”
“I still don’t understand how he managed to be in a position where he could get attacked like that. Where was that security guard who tails him like a hound after a possum?”
“Bernie was off duty.”
“See what I mean? Doesn’t sound like Jim McCord. If he thought there was a chance of trouble, he’d have had Bernie on duty.” Dr. Bennigan wrapped his fingers around Darlene’s wrist to check her pulse. “How about you, Darlene? How’s that head feel?”
“I’ve had a slight headache off and on, but very little dizziness.”
“What about the memory?”
“I’ve remembered a few things. Nothing like what I’d hoped for.”
The doctor’s eyes grew kinder. “Maybe it’s better for the time being. It’ll give you a chance to rest and recover before dealing with the gruesome details of the attack. You know, sometimes our bodies shut down because they’re a lot smarter than we are.”
But the “gruesome details” were what she needed to remember. “I don’t want any drugs of any kind tonight, Doctor. Write that on my chart. Absolutely no drugs, no matter what I might mutter in my sleep.”
“I’ll write it in red.” He gave her a playful wink and turned back to Clint. “I can send a nurse in to stay with Darlene until your guard returns from his break. I need a few routine checks anyway. Temperature and blood pressure for the charts.” He patted her on the top of the head the way he might a small child or a puppy.
“Afraid your nurse won’t cut it,” Clint answered, “unless she carries a revolver in her skirt pocket.”
The doctor chuckled, and his glasses slid back down to the end of his nose. “The only weapon she has is a set of vocal cords you can hear all over the hospital.”
He replaced the bed chart in its holder and stared at Clint, a frown tugging at his mouth. “You don’t really think this man would just walk into the hospital and come after Darlene? I mean, he wouldn’t be that crazy. Someone would surely see him.”
“You’re probably right. All the same, I’ll wait around until Lucky returns.”
The doctor nodded. “Makes sense. But I’ll have to ask you to do your waiting outside. As soon as I give Darlene a thorough check, the nurse will help her get back into her hospital gown. She needs a good night’s sleep.”
Once again they were talking around her, but this time Darlene didn’t have the energy to complain. One sentence stuck in her mind. You wouldn’t be letting your personal feelings interfere with your judgment, would you, Sheriff? A brief fling. That was how Clint had described their relationship. So why would the doctor think Clint’s personal feelings would color his judgment six years later?
She stared at Clint, trying to imagine what it would have been like having him for a lover. To have those strong arms wrap around her, those lips crush hers. He would be gentle, but strong. and exciting. The images intensified, and her pulse quickened. Thank goodness the doctor wasn’t still holding her wrist.
The jarring ring of the telephone by her bed interrupted her torrid thoughts. She reached for the receiver. “Hello.”
“Darlene, is that you?” The urgency in the rough male voice sent alarms clanging through her head.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Senator McCord. Are you alone?”
Darlene’s lungs tightened, and she gasped for air. “No, I’m not alone, Senator McCord, but I can talk.”
Clint crossed the room in an instant and moved to stand over her, motioning to her to keep McCord on the line.
“Everyone’s worried about you,” she said, struggling to find the right things to say, the right questions to ask.
“There’s no reason to worry about me. I can take care of myself. But I need you to listen carefully. I can only talk a minute, Darlene.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m out of town, doing some research. It’s better I don’t say where, right now.” He coughed to clear his throat. “I’m sorry for what happened Monday night. I didn’t expect the attack,” he continued. “I would never have called you if I thought there was a chance I was putting you in danger. I hope you know that.”
Clint stuck a hastily scribbled note in her face. Darlene read the words into the phone. “Do you know who attacked us?”
“I’m working on that. Just listen for a minute, Darlene. This is very important, and I can’t stay on the line much longer.”
She pushed Clint’s notes aside. “I’m listening. What is it you want me to do?”
“Have you told anyone what I told you the other night?”
“About what?” She was clutching at straws.
“The truth about my past.”
“No, I’ve told no one.”
“Good. Don’t repeat any of it to anyone—not even the sheriff. I’ll handle this my way. You did the right thing when you claimed to have amnesia. You were always a fast thinker.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Talk to Clint Richards. Tell him I don’t want him or any other cops on my tail. And I definitely don’t want the FBI interfering with what I have to do. You make sure that they don’t. I’m counting on you.”
“Clint Richards is here now. You need to talk to him. He could help you.” She was pleading now, sure that McCord was in trouble. “Just tell us who’s after you.”
“No. I wouldn’t even if I could. You know too much already. Look, I have to go now. Just tell the sheriff I expect him to keep you safe. That’s the real reason I called, Darlene. You’re in dan
ger, real danger. This man isn’t sane. Do you understand?”
“No. I can’t understand unless you tell me everything.” Panic infiltrated her voice.
Clint yanked the receiver from her hand. “What’s going on, McCord? And don’t give me any runaround. I want it straight.”
Darlene couldn’t hear McCord’s reply, but she saw fury grip Clint, twisting his face into hard lines.
Seconds later he slammed the receiver into the cradle.
CLINT WAS STILL fit to be tied when he brought his truck to a screeching stop in front of his front door. McCord had hung up on him, banged the receiver in his ear. Clint had gotten the message. McCord wanted no part of his help. No part of him. He never had.
It didn’t matter. He’d lived his life without McCord’s approval or his cooperation. And he definitely didn’t need McCord telling him to protect Darlene from the lunatic he’d dragged into her life. He’d make damn sure Darlene was safe.
Darlene Remington, back in his life. If you’d asked him three days ago, he’d have sworn it was the last thing he wanted. The past was well behind him, his heart and mind finally clear of her, clear of the ache she’d left behind. Now it was starting all over again.
If he was near her, he wanted to touch her. If he touched her, he wanted to hold her close. If he held her, he wanted to make love to her.
This, after all the nights he’d vowed he’d never give her or any woman like her a chance to crawl under his skin, steal into his heart. Torment his very soul.
Then she’d dropped into his life again, hurt and afraid, and his promises had crashed as fast as a tin can in target practice. What had he ever done to deserve falling for the same woman twice? A woman who’d walk away again when this was over, the same way she had the first time.
Tired and distracted, he walked from the truck to the front door and stepped inside. Loopy jumped up, licking him everywhere his tongue would reach. Clint rewarded the mutt with an absentminded pat. Loopy didn’t settle for that. He jumped up again, this time barking incessantly.
