His Forgotten Colton Fiancée

by Bonnie Vanak

  When he brought out the tea, he sat next to her on the sofa. Quinn pushed over to the sofa’s opposite side. West clenched his gut. Once, she would have all but been in his lap.

  He patted Rex’s head as the dog came over with a chew toy. West tossed it into the far corner. Rex grabbed it and lay on the floor, happily gnawing.

  “This party, there will be a lot of police there?” Quinn asked.

  “Maybe a few. Does that bother you?”

  “No, it makes me feel safe.” She looked at his belt. “Where’s your gun?”

  “Locked in the gun case in your nightstand drawer. You always insist I lock my sidearm when I come over.”

  “I don’t like guns. But knowing you have one makes me feel safe.”

  She curled her feet underneath herself, a move he recognized as pure Quinn. Flexible. So flexible. He tried not to think of exactly how flexible she’d been when they’d been naked together...

  “I know. I tried to take you to the range to shoot, but you nixed that idea.” West’s mouth quirked. “You told me if an intruder came in, you’d beat him over the head with your cast-iron skillet.”

  “What else do I like to do besides cooking? What did we enjoy together?”

  The question startled him. He considered. “There’s things I had yet to discover about you. But you and I enjoyed horseback riding, shopping at flea markets and yard sales, seeing movies. Mostly just talking and relaxing together.”

  And sex, yeah, the sex was amazing, but you won’t even sit next to me, as if you’re afraid of me. Damn, that hurts.

  “Was I a chatterbox? The type to never stop talking? My cousin Valeria seems that way. She’s sweet, but she goes on and on.”

  “Not you. You would have made a terrific bartender.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Because I know how to pour beer?”

  West’s chest tightened. “No. Because you know how to listen. You’re good at it, Quinn. It’s what drew me to you. Rarely do you find someone willing to truly pay attention and listen to you, someone who doesn’t finish your sentences for you because they’re eager to talk about their own troubles.”

  Fingers curled tightly around the teacup. Quinn stared into the cup as if trying to divine the future. Or the past. “I don’t know if I can be that woman again. I don’t know who I am, or what I am, West. All I know is someone nearly killed me. And I need to find myself again, before whoever did this finds me first.”

  Couldn’t help it. He pushed over to where she sat, her lower lip wobbling tremulously. Brave Quinn, strong and stubborn.

  “I won’t let that happen, honey. I’m doing everything in my power, and so is the entire Red Ridge PD, to find the unsub.”

  He slid a hand around her neck, staring into eyes that once sparkled with life and now flashed with fear. Quinn glanced at him, nodded. Then she pulled away.

  “I’m really tired. I’m going to bed now. I found a soft mattress topper downstairs, put it by the sofa for you.”

  Before vanishing into the hallway, she paused. “Thank you, West. I’m sorry. I know this must be hard on you.”

  “Good night,” he said quietly, his body aching to hold her, his mind screaming with the need of it.

  Discipline and focus had seen him through the FBI academy. He needed both now.

  West waited until hearing her bedroom door close. Then he headed for the bathroom.

  He brushed and flossed. West went to throw out the floss and saw a white stick in the trash. His heart skipped a beat as he fished it out.

  Pregnancy test.

  Staring at the test’s single line, he sat on the tub’s lip, his head spinning. Quinn must have thought herself pregnant and bought it before the bombing. But it was negative.

  They’d been careless, yeah, but the timing had been on their side.

  West replaced the test in the trash and splashed cold water on his face. Then he prepared for bed and collapsed onto the sofa, Rex on a pillow on the floor. Sleep proved elusive. For the longest time he remained awake, staring at the ceiling.

  Wondering if he would ever get to share a bed again with Quinn Colton.

  Chapter 11

  The day after her release from the hospital, Quinn’s appointment with the therapist made her more frustrated than ever.

  Her doctor had suggested therapy would help recover her memory. Quinn would do anything to trigger recollections of the past.

  Maybe her expectations were too high, and her patience too low, but she found the session boring. Especially the part where the doctor suggested she envision her past by creating a vision board.

  “I want you to mentally relax, think of pictures you like and paste them on this board.” Dr. Ross handed her a piece of twenty-by-thirty foam board. “Instead of creating a vision for what you wish for your future, this will help you to recover the past.”

  Studying the board, she saw only the bits and pieces from a childhood anyone would wish to forget. Oh, it wasn’t a terrible life. Her mother loved her, but with the revolving door of stepfathers drifting in and out, Quinn distrusted the idea of marriage.

  Her mother had relied on men to help pay the bills and support her emotionally and financially. Seeing how frail and dependent she was on men only strengthened Quinn’s resolve for independence. Standards became higher, expectations, as well.

  She was thirty years old, never married. Probably happy on her own. Successful. And then came West Brand.

  What is it about West that I would agree to marriage? He must be quite special. Did we plan on a large wedding? Elopement? Her thoughts drifted to images of pink roses and white freesia bouquets, cute flower girls traipsing down a carpeted aisle, a tuxedo-clad West Brand waiting at the altar for her.

  And Rusty, the father who others said was the town lowlife, escorting her down the aisle? The vision shattered like a hammer on glass.

  “Quinn? Are you remembering something?” Dr. Ross asked.

  She blinked, loath to share personal information. “I do remember my mother hating to be alone. She got married a lot.”

  And then their time was up. Quinn made an appointment for the following week, walked into the lobby to see Austin, who’d offered to accompany her, talking quietly on the phone. He hung up and smiled upon seeing her.

  “Ready?”

  Quinn got into the elevator and eyed his phone. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Oh, a client. He needs soy fettucine Alfredo and roasted-vegetable salad for fifteen by this afternoon. He’s hosting a small dinner for clients at his house.”

  Good. Work would help more than cutting and pasting pictures from a magazine of someone else’s life.

  Austin pointed at the board as they reached his car. “What’s that?”

  Outside, she took the board and tossed it into the back of Austin’s little sedan. “It’s a waste of time.”

  Her partner sighed. “Give it a chance, Quinn. You went through a lot and need rest.”

  What I need is action, not vision. “What other orders do we have for catering?”

  Austin drove out of the parking lot, his hands tight on the wheel. “A few. Nothing I can’t handle by myself.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “Hey, this is a partnership. I’ll do my part. Tell me what you need and I’ll prepare the meals.”

  “You couldn’t even remember who I am, and you can recall how to make roasted vegetable salad?”

  That hurt. Quinn fisted her hands. “Have you ever heard of a recipe book? I went through those books yesterday. I may have lost my memory, but I know I can cook, damn it.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Wow, I’ve never heard you swear before.”

  “Get used to it. I’m going to turn the air blue if you dare push me out of my kitchen.”

  A small smile touched his mouth. “Okay. When
we get back, I’ll get started on the veggies, and you boil the noodles.”

  That was more like it.

  He stopped at a light and frowned. “You know, Quinn, maybe you should get out of town for a few days. Go someplace else.”

  Quinn closed her eyes, trying to relax. Everyone seemed to be hammering at her to rest, recover. As if she were bedridden.

  Staying in bed terrified her. She had to keep moving, and scrape together the shards of her shattered life.

  Quinn resolved to make the best meals ever this afternoon for the client’s dinner party.

  She had to make it right. Because if she failed at this, she wasn’t sure anyone would trust her to resume being the old Quinn Colton again.

  * * *

  By the time the Colton barbecue arrived, Quinn felt no more confident than she had after talking to her cousin Valeria.

  All week, she’d spent time in her shop, making meals for Austin to fill catering orders. The orders were small, consistent. Quinn suspected people in town felt sorry for her and wanted to help, and decided this was the best way.

  Instead of bringing her food, they asked her to cook for them.

  The cooking soothed her, and she fell into a familiar pattern. As she made the recipes, spurts of memories surfaced. Recollections of baking cookies with her mother, testing out her own creations.

  As a child, she and her mother had spent most of their time together in the kitchen, especially after yet another stepfather decided to dump her mother and take off for parts unknown.

  If that was her past, no wonder she had stayed single so long. It made Quinn curious about West Brand. Surely he had to be quite special for her to agree to marriage.

  She’d met a few people, only when Austin was in the shop. Not knowing who to trust meant she took no chances.

  But she did tell the security guards to leave. Quinn was tired of having them babysit her. She’d pointed out to her brothers and West that security cameras would pick up anything suspicious. Finally they agreed, as long as she always had someone with her in the store.

  Today’s party was a welcome break from the tension she’d felt all week, especially around West. He didn’t share with her any information gathered in the investigation. West was tight-lipped. She wondered if it had to do with him investigating her, or his personality.

  Quinn wasn’t sure about this deal with the devil she’d made.

  West sleeping in her apartment.

  No memory of him. Only flashes of recollections from a childhood she suspected she didn’t want to remember.

  Today she needed fresh air. The barbecue sounded like a fine escape. And so did a drive.

  Quinn searched the kitchen for the keys to the small sedan Finn had told her she owned. After opening and searching each drawer, frustration filled her.

  A jingling caught her attention. She whirled to see West standing in the doorway, keys dangling from one finger.

  “Looking for these?”

  “Yes.” She slammed the drawer shut. “I’m driving to the barbecue. Give them to me.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I can drive.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” West pocketed the keys.

  Quinn scowled. “I’m perfectly fine. The doctor released me.”

  “Medically, yes. You’ll get your memory back.” West leaned against the doorway, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. He looked more like a cowboy, ready to ride for miles, than a rugged FBI agent.

  “Then why are you shadowing me? I don’t need help.”

  “Sweetheart, get used to it. I’m not leaving your side.” West came closer until he nearly backed her up to the wall. “Too many unknowns. The unsub might have been after Tia...”

  “Of course he was. She’s dead.”

  “We don’t know that for certain yet. He could have targeted Tia. Or he could have planned to kill you. Or both of you. And you may be a witness, the only witness, to what happened before the explosion. Until you get your memory back, we can’t be sure.”

  West caged her with his arms, leaning close. “I almost lost you, Quinn. Not going to take any chances or give the unsub a chance to finish what he started.”

  “My brothers—” she started.

  “Are not responsible for you. Only one person is, and you’re looking at him.”

  She stared up into his dark, intense gaze. The sad recollections of her broken, hard childhood indicated she’d had to learn to fend for herself from an early age. She’d been an independent soul, and didn’t like handing control over to another person, especially with her personal life. But West had a good point. Frustrated as she was with the lack of memory of the blast, it was little compared to what could have happened. Still, she didn’t like relying on someone else to care for her. “What gives you the right to tell me what I can or can’t do in my own home?”

  West touched her left hand, the finger missing a ring. “This. And this.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her. As kisses went, it was brief, but the passion behind it made her toes curl and her belly clench tight.

  Before releasing her, he gave her bottom lip a brief nip, as if claiming her in a different manner than mere words. West pulled away, his gaze smoldering and dark. He rested his hands on her shoulders, his body not touching hers, but there was possessive intent in the manner in which he touched her.

  Quinn licked her lips. “That’s a mighty fine kiss, cowboy, but you’ll have to do better than that. I need a reason why you’re being so stubborn.”

  “I couldn’t bear losing you to that bastard who nearly took you away from me, Quinn. And if that means tying you to my side while I do my job, I’ll do it. Until we catch this son of a bitch, I won’t stop worrying about you.”

  His quiet tone and the shadow of vulnerability in his expression assured Quinn of West’s sincerity. He wasn’t being a dominating he-man, but a man who wanted to keep her safe.

  So she let him drive, Rex riding happily in the back seat of West’s truck.

  West pulled up to the ranch house, walked around his truck to let her out. Quinn carried a container of raspberry-cream cake. The ranching crowd here would be meat lovers, so she’d made a special sweet dessert. Rex bounded out of the back seat, barking happily.

  The sharp blue skies and burning sunshine promised a hot day, broken by an occasional cooling breeze that tousled her curls and played with the hem of her floral dress. Gently sloping land stretched for endless miles. This was a good land, where one could raise cattle, horses and children in relative peace, far from the crime-ridden cities.

  She’d been here before to mingle with her Colton cousins. Quinn didn’t remember when or why, but her senses tingled.

  She’d always been a city girl. Quinn halted a moment, stricken with another flash of memory. Mom, struggling to hold down a series of dead-end jobs, yet always managing to pay the bills. Quinn had learned to cook for herself at an early age when the double shifts meant Mom didn’t get home until midnight.

  West stopped as well, studying her. “What’s wrong?”

  Shoulders lifted. “Nothing. It’s pretty here.”

  Loath to share the memory with West, because she didn’t want him quizzing her, she pushed on. When they entered the backyard, Quinn jerked to an abrupt halt.

  If this was a small gathering, she’d hate to think of what constituted a large one.

  People crowded the yard in back of the big ranch house. Laughing, talking, gathered in small groups and larger clusters. Smells of grilling meat and barbecue sauce filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of horses and hay. A gaunt woman in a black uniform and white apron lingered in the crowd, serving a silver tray of small canapés.

  Her stomach lurched. If these people were family, she remembered none of them. And then a familiar face popped up in the crowd. Br
ayden, her brother.

  Half brother. But at least there was one face she recognized.

  As if sensing her anxiety, West stopped. Looked down at her. “You sure you’re ready to go through with this?”

  Maybe seeing some of these faces would help her remember. Quinn knew that hiding in her apartment wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Let’s do it.” Shoulders thrown back, she strode forward as Rex ran ahead of them.

  A group of people talking saw them, turned. None of them looked unfriendly; rather, they were curious.

  Still, it made her feel like a sideshow act. West gave them an abrupt nod and took her elbow, steering her past them.

  “Let’s say hello to your cousin Finn,” he murmured.

  Grateful for West, she walked over to a dark-haired, good-looking man she did remember from the hospital. Finn Colton. Police chief. Her cousin.

  Finn’s face lit up upon seeing them.

  “Brand,” he greeted. He gave Quinn a warm peck on the cheek. “Glad you made it.”

  She thrust the dish at him. “Dessert. I found it among my recipes.”

  “Smells fantastic.”

  They followed him over to a canopy where a large table had been set with several tempting desserts. At the bar, Finn fetched a beer for West and a bottle of green tea for her.

  Surprised at his thoughtfulness, she thanked him. “How did you know?”

  His look was grave. “Everyone knows you’re a green tea drinker, Quinn. You got Valeria started on the kick and a few others, as well.”

  News to her. She wondered if she would enjoy the same things she had before losing all sense of time and place.

  Finn held a bottle of beer and gestured to the crowd with it. “The food will be ready in about thirty minutes. Let me introduce you around, Quinn. Some of the Colton clan you’ve met before.”

  Pasting a bright smile on her face, she followed him as he made introductions.

  People greeted them, but they were strangers. They gave second looks at West, who stuck to her side.