by Maya Banks
He raised an eyebrow. “I came to return your shoes. Does that make me a criminal?”
“Oh, come on, Rafael! Stop playing stupid games. It’s beneath you. Or it should be. I get it. Believe me—I get it! I got it as soon as you looked right through me at the party. Though I have to say, the ‘have we met?’ line? That was priceless. Just priceless. Not to mention overkill.”
It was all she could do not to hit him again, and maybe he realized just how badly she wanted to because he took a wary step back.
She advanced, not willing for a moment to allow him to control the situation. “You know what? I never took you for a coward. You played me. I get that. I was a monumental idiot. But for you to hide from the inevitable confrontation like you’ve done makes me physically ill.”
She stuck a finger into his chest, ignoring the baffled look on his face. “Furthermore, you’re not going to get away with your plans for my land. If it takes every cent I own, I’ll fight you. We had a verbal agreement, and you’ll stick to it.”
He blinked, then looked as if he was about to say something.
She crossed her arms, so furious she wanted to kick him. If it wouldn’t land her on her ass, she’d do it.
“What? Did you think you’d never see me again? That I’d hide away somewhere and sulk because I learned you don’t really love me and slept with me to get me to agree to sell to you? You couldn’t be more mistaken,” she seethed.
Rafael reacted as though she’d hit him again. His face paled and his eyes became hard, cold points. If she weren’t so angry, what she saw in his gaze would probably scare the bejesus out of her. But Mamaw had always said that common sense was the first thing to go when someone got all riled up. Boy, was that the truth.
“Are you trying to insinuate that you and I have slept together?” he asked in a dangerously low voice that—again—should have frightened her. But she was way beyond fear. “I don’t even know your name.”
It shouldn’t have hurt her. She’d long since realized why Rafael had chosen her. Why he’d seduced her and why he’d told her the lies he told. He couldn’t shoulder the entire blame. She’d been far too easy a conquest.
But still, that he’d stand there before her and categorically deny even knowing her name sliced a jagged line through her heart that was beyond repair.
“You should go,” she said in a barely controlled tone. Damn the tears, but if he didn’t leave now, she wasn’t going to keep her composure for long.
His brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side, studying her intently. Then to her dismay, he swept his hand out and smudged a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb.
“You’re upset.”
Sweet mother of God, this man was an idiot. She could only pray their child inherited her brains and not his. She nearly laughed aloud but it came out as a strangled sob. How could she hope for the poor baby to inherit any intelligence whatsoever when it was clear that both his parents were flaming morons?
“Get. Out.”
But instead he cupped her chin and tilted it upward so he could stare into her eyes. Then he wiped at the dampness on her cheek in a surprisingly gentle gesture.
“We can’t have slept together. Besides the fact that you aren’t my type, I can’t imagine forgetting such an event.”
Her mouth gaped open and any thoughts of tears fled. She wrenched herself from his grasp and gave up trying to get the man out of her room. He could stay. She was going.
She gripped the lapels of her robe and stomped around him. She made it into the hall before his hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her up short.
Enough was enough. She opened her mouth to let out a shriek, but he yanked her against his hard body and covered her mouth.
“For God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you,” he hissed.
He muscled her back into the hotel room, slammed the door and bolted it shut behind them. Then he turned and glared at her.
“You’ve already hurt me,” she said through gritted teeth.
His eyes softened and grew cloudy with confusion.
“It’s obvious you feel as though I’ve wronged you in some way. I’d apologize, but I’d have to remember you and what I supposedly did in order to offer restitution.”
“Restitution?” She gaped at him, stunned by the difference in the Rafael de Luca she fell in love with and this man standing before her now. She yanked open her robe so that the small mound of her belly showed through the thin, satin nightgown underneath. “You make me fall in love with you. You seduce me. You tell me you love me and that you want us to be together. You get my signature on papers agreeing to sell you land that has been in my family for a century. You feed me complete lies about our relationship and your plans for the land. But that wasn’t enough. No, you had to get me pregnant on top of it all!”
His face went white. Anger removed all the confusion from his features. He took a step toward her and for the first time, fear edged out her fury. She took a step back and braced her hand against the TV stand.
“Are you saying that we slept together and that I am the father of your baby?” he demanded.
She stared wordlessly at him, hurt still crowding viciously into her chest. “Are you trying to say we didn’t? That I imagined the weeks we spent together? Do you deny that you left me without a word and never looked back?”
Sarcasm crept into her voice but there was also deep pain that she wished wasn’t so evident. It was enough that he’d betrayed her. She didn’t want to be humiliated further.
He flinched and closed his eyes. Then he took a step back and for a moment she thought he was finally going to do as she’d demanded and leave.
“I don’t remember you,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t remember any of it. You. Us. That.” He gestured toward her belly.
He trailed off and something about the bewilderment in his voice made her stop in her tracks. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and swallowed.
“You don’t remember.”
He ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “I had an…accident. Several months ago. I don’t remember you. If what you’re saying is true, we met during the period where my memory is a complete blank.”
Two
Rafael watched as all the color leeched from her face and she swayed unsteadily. With a curse, he reached to grasp her arms. This time she didn’t fight him. She was limp in his hands and he felt the slight tremble beneath his fingers.
“Come, sit down, before you fall,” he said grimly.
He led her to the bed and she sat, her hands going to the edge to brace herself.
She glanced up at him, her eyes haunted. “You expect me to believe you have amnesia? Is that the best you could come up with?”
He winced because he felt much the same about the idea of amnesia. If all she’d said was true and their positions were reversed, he’d laugh her out of the room.
“I don’t ask this to make you angry, but what is your name? I feel at quite a disadvantage here.”
She sighed and rubbed a hand wearily through her thick hair. “You’re serious about this.”
He made a sound of impatience and she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.
“My name is Bryony Morgan,” she said quietly.
She bowed her head and black curls fell forward, hiding her profile. Unable to resist, he ran his finger over her cheek and then pushed the hair back behind her ear.
“Well, Bryony, it would seem you and I have a lot to discuss. I have many, many questions as you can well imagine.”
She turned her head to stare up at him. “Amnesia. You’re seriously going to stick to this insane story?”
He tried to remember how skeptical he’d be in her shoes, but her outright disbelief was ticking him off. He wasn’t used to having his word questioned by anyone.
“Do you think I like being punched in the face at a public gathering by a woman claiming to be pregnant with my child when to
my knowledge it’s the first time we’ve met? Put yourself in my shoes for a moment. If a man you’d never seen before or had no memory of walked up to you and said the things to you that you’re saying to me, don’t you think you’d be a little suspicious? Hell, you’d probably have already called the cops you keep threatening me with.”
“This is crazy,” she muttered.
“Look, I can prove what happened to me. I can show you my medical records and the doctor’s diagnosis. I don’t remember you, Bryony. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s a fact. I have only your word that we were ever anything to each other.”
Her lips twisted. “Yeah, we can’t forget I’m not your type.”
He winced. Trust her to remember that remark.
“I’d like for you to tell me everything. Start from the beginning. Tell me when and where we met. Maybe something you say will jog my memory.”
A knock sounded at the door and he scowled. “Are you expecting someone at this hour?” he asked when she rose to answer it.
“Room service. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“That can’t be good for the baby.”
She didn’t look as though she appreciated the remark. Gathering her robe tighter around her, she went to the door and a few seconds later, a room service attendant wheeled in a cart bearing covered plates. She signed the bill and offered a halfhearted smile of thanks to the man.
When Rafael and Bryony were alone again she pushed the cart the rest of the way to the bed. “Sorry. Obviously I wasn’t counting on company. I only ordered enough food for one.”
He lifted a brow as she began uncovering the dishes. There was enough food to feed a small convention.
“Sit down and relax. We can talk while you’re eating.”
She settled in the armchair catty-corner to the bed and curled her feet underneath her. As she reached for one of the plates, he studied the face of the woman he’d forgotten.
She was beautiful. No denying that. Not the kind of woman he usually gravitated toward. She was entirely too outspoken for his liking. He preferred women who were gentle and, according to his close friends, submissive.
Quite frankly it made him sound like a jackass. But he couldn’t deny he did like his women a bit more biddable. He found it fascinating that he’d supposedly met and fallen in love with Bryony Morgan, the antithesis of every woman he’d dated for the past five years.
Okay, so he bought that he’d been attracted to her. And yeah, he could buy sleeping with her. But falling in love? In a span of a few weeks?
That was a giant hole in the fairy tale she’d spun.
But she was also a woman, and women tended to be emotional creatures. It was possible she thought he was in love with her. Her hurt and betrayal certainly didn’t seem feigned.
And then there was the fact she was pregnant with his child. It would probably make him seem even more of a bastard, but it would be stupid not to insist on paternity testing. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she’d made the entire thing up after learning of his memory loss.
He had the sudden urge to call his lawyer and have him tell him whose signature was on the real estate contract for the land he’d purchased sometime during the weeks he’d lost. He hadn’t seen the paperwork since before his accident. He paid people to keep his business running and his affairs in order. Once he scored the deal, there was no reason to look back.
Until now.
Damn but this was a mess. And yeah, he was definitely calling his lawyer first thing in the morning.
“What are you thinking?” she asked bluntly.
“That this is a huge cluster f—”
“You’re telling me,” she muttered. “Only I don’t see what’s so bad from your perspective. You’ve got more money than God. You’re not pregnant, and you didn’t just sign away land that’s been in your family for generations to a man who’s going to destroy it to build some tourist trap.”
The pain in her voice sent an uncomfortable sensation through his chest. Something remarkably like guilt ate at him, but what did he have to feel guilty about? None of this was his fault.
“How did we meet?” he asked. “I need to know everything.”
She toyed with her fork, and her lips turned down into an unhappy frown.
“The first time I saw you, you were wearing an uptight suit, shoes that cost more than my house and you had on sunglasses. It annoyed me that I couldn’t see your eyes, so I refused to speak to you until you took them off.”
“And where was this?”
“Moon Island. You were asking about a stretch of beach-front property and who owned it. I, of course, was the owner, and I figured you were some guy from the city with big plans to develop the island and save all the locals from a life of poverty.”
He frowned. “It wasn’t for sale? I remember it being for sale before I ever went down there. I wouldn’t have known about it otherwise.”
She nodded. “It was. I…I needed to sell it. My grandmother and I could no longer afford the property taxes. But we agreed we wouldn’t sell to a developer. It was bad enough that I was forced to sell land that’s been in my family for generations.”
She broke off, clearly uncomfortable with all she’d shared.
“Anyway, I figured you for another stiff suit, and so I sent you across the island on a wild-goose chase.”
He sent a glare in her direction. For the first time, a smile flirted on the edge of her lips.
“You were so angry with me. You stormed back to my cottage and banged on my door. You demanded to know what the hell I was doing and said I didn’t act like someone who desperately needed to sell a piece of land.”
“That sounds like me,” he acknowledged.
“I informed you that I wasn’t interested in selling to you and you demanded to know why. When I told you of my promise to my grandmother that we’d only sell to someone willing to sign a guarantee that they wouldn’t commercially develop the stretch of beach, you asked to meet her.”
An uncomfortable prickle went up his nape. That didn’t sound like him. He wasn’t one to get personal. Everyone had their price. He would have simply upped his offer until he found theirs.
“The rest is pretty embarrassing,” she said lightly. “I took you to meet Mamaw. The two of you got along famously. She invited you to stay for supper. Afterward we took a walk on the beach. You kissed me. I kissed you back. You walked me back to my cottage and told me you’d see me the next day.”
“And did I?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “And the day after, and the day after. It took me three days to talk you out of that suit.”
He lifted a brow and stared.
Her cheeks turned red and she clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean it like that. You wore that suit every where on the beach. You stuck out like a sore thumb. So I took you shopping. We bought you beachwear.”
This was starting to sound like a nightmare. “Beachwear?”
Her head bobbed up and down. “Shorts. T-shirts. Flip-flops.”
Maybe the doctor had been right. He lost his memory because he wanted to forget. Flip-flops? It was all he could do not to stare down at his very expensive leather loafers and imagine wearing flip-flops.
“And I wore this…beachwear.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You did. We bought swim trunks, too. I don’t know of anyone who goes to an island and doesn’t pack something to swim in, so we got you some trunks and I took you to my favorite stretch of the beach.”
So far her version of the weeks missing from his memory was so divergent from everything he knew of himself that it was like listening to a story about someone else. What could have possessed him to act so out of character?
“How long did this relationship you say we had go on?” he croaked.
“Four weeks,” she said softly. “Four wonderful weeks. We were together every day. By the end of the first week, you gave up your hotel room and you stayed w
ith me. In my bed. We’d make love with the windows open so we could listen to the ocean.”
“I see.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t believe me.”
“Bryony,” he said carefully. “This is very difficult for me. I’m missing a month of my life and what you’re telling me sounds so fantastical, so utterly out of character for me, that I can’t even wrap my head around it.”
She pressed her lips together but he could still see them tremble. “Yeah, I get that this is difficult for you. But try to see things from my perspective for just a few moments. Imagine that the person you were in love with and thought was in love with you suddenly can’t remember you. Imagine what kind of doubts you have when you discover that everything he told you was a lie and that he made you promises he didn’t keep. How would you feel?”
He stared into her eyes, gutted by the sorrow he saw. “I’d be pretty damn upset.”
“Yeah. That about covers it.”
She stood and pushed the serving cart back so that she could step around it. Her hand crept around the back of her neck and she rubbed absently as she stood just a short distance from where he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Look, this is…pointless. I’m really tired. You should probably go now.”
He shot to his feet. “You want me to go?” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she was out of her damn mind, but that wouldn’t win him any more points with her. “After dumping this story on me, after telling me I’m going to be a father, you expect me to just walk away?”
“It’s what you did before,” she said wearily.
“How the hell can you say that? How do you know what I did or didn’t do when I don’t even know? You said you loved me and that I loved you. I’ve just told you I can’t remember any of it. How do you get that I walked away from you? That I somehow betrayed you? I was in an accident, Bryony. What was the last day you saw me? What did we do? Did I dump you? Did I tell you I was leaving you?”
Her face was white and her fingers were balled into tiny fists at her sides.
