Memories of Megan

by Rita Herron

  Chapter Five

  Cole rubbed at his neck as he maneuvered over the bay bridge, his gaze straying to the envelope holding Tom Wells’s appointment book which he’d jammed in between the console and seat and passenger side. He’d found it as soon as Megan had left and had tried to catch her, but he’d missed her, so he decided to drop it by her place. He’d also discovered a silver compact in the desk drawer. Assuming it was hers, he’d brought it as well.

  The thick evening traffic slowed, the sight of smoke drawing his eye in the fading sunset. He watched a flume of smoke curl into the graying sky, flames shooting upward in jagged orange and red lines. His chest caught when he realized the burning wreckage was a Ford Explorer. The same one Megan Wells drove. Was she inside?

  He steered off to the left side of the road and drove along the embankment. Finally he spotted her standing a few feet from the burning wreckage.

  Thank God.

  But what had happened?

  Hunched over, with her arms wrapped around herself as if she might collapse, she looked dazed and confused. And so damn vulnerable, a surge of protectiveness swept over him.

  His heart pounding, he swerved off the road and screeched to a stop. He threw open the door, grabbed the cane, then limped toward her, cursing his weak leg.

  MEGAN’S SHOCKED GAZE was glued to the site of flames consuming her SUV. A man in a black pickup had stopped and phoned 911, two other cars had joined him.

  “Ma’am, are you hurt?” one of the bystanders asked.

  “Did you get burned?” the elderly woman with him asked.

  “No. I…I’m fine.” In spite of the heat, Megan’s teeth chattered. If she hadn’t gotten out when she had, she would be trapped inside.

  And most likely dead.

  “Megan!” Cole Hunter suddenly appeared beside her, winded and looking concerned. He gently grabbed her and turned her toward him. “Are you all right?”

  Megan nodded, hating the sting of tears pricking at her eyes.

  “What happened? Did someone hit you?” He checked the area, searching for another car, but the ones that had stopped were apparently innocent onlookers who’d tried to help.

  “No, I smelled a weird odor, then I saw this puff of smoke—” Her voice broke, but she inhaled to gain control. “So I pulled over, but when I got out, the whole car burst into flames.”

  Megan swayed. Cole pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as they waited on the emergency vehicles. A police siren wailed in the distance, and the sound of a fire engine roaring toward them drowned out the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. Heat scalded them, the crackling of burning metal splintering through the silence.

  Seconds later, chaos erupted as firemen roared to a stop, jumped down issuing orders, and began trying to hose down the flames. One police officer instructed bystanders to move along and began to direct traffic, while the other one introduced himself as Wayne Lamont. “Ma’am, what happened here?”

  Megan tried to pull herself together and reiterated the same story she’d told Cole Hunter.

  “So no one else was involved?” the burly officer asked.

  “No.”

  Lamont wiped sweat from his face. “Did you hit something, run off the road, lose control?

  “No.” Megan mentally replayed those last few seconds. “I just smelled something odd, wasn’t sure what it was, then I saw smoke so I figured the engine had overheated.” The flames were dying down with the onslaught of water from the fire hose. “When I stopped to check the engine, the whole car burst into flames.”

  “Did you check your engine gage before you got out?”

  Megan frowned. “Yes, when I first noticed the smell, but it was normal.”

  “It wasn’t registering hot?”

  “No. What would make it do this?”

  The policeman pulled at his double chin. “I don’t know, ma’am. Faulty engine or a gas leak maybe. We’ll check it out.”

  “You do that,” Hunter said in a strained voice. “Make sure there’s no foul play.”

  The cop raised a thick gray eyebrow. “What makes you think it might be foul play, mister?”

  Megan glanced at Cole wondering the same thing.

  “Cars just don’t catch on fire,” Cole said, a dark look in his eyes.

  “Can I get your name, sir?”

  “Cole Hunter. A…a friend of Ms. Wells.”

  A friend? She barely knew this man. And how had he arrived so soon after the fire?

  Shadows darkened his eyes as he gazed at her. Had he read her mind?

  “You really think the fire might not have been accidental?”

  “Yes.”

  But why would he suspect foul play? And why had he shown up when he had?

  “I’m just trying to protect you, Megan.”

  She remembered the questions she’d had about Tom’s death, Cole’s sudden appearance, the unsettling feeling that someone had been in her house, Boyd’s accusations earlier in the day, the whispered warning that she might be in danger in the night. Fear gripped her. What was going on?

  “DO YOU NEED A RIDE HOME, Mrs. Wells?” Officer Lamont asked after he’d written down her insurance information. The other policeman questioned the two cars that had stopped, then sent them on their way.

  “Thanks, that would be—”

  “I’ll give her a ride,” Cole offered.

  Megan opened her mouth to refuse, but he silenced her with another one of his dark looks. He didn’t understand the fierce protective instinct that came over him, but he had to make sure she arrived home safely.

  “We work at the same place,” Cole explained when the policeman arched both eyebrows. “Besides, I was planing to stop by her apartment anyway. I have some things from the office for her.”

  Lamont shrugged. “All right with you, ma’am?”

  “I suppose.” Tension knotted Megan’s muscles. If Cole meant her harm, surely he wouldn’t announce to the police that he was driving her home.

  “Let your insurance know about this right away, Ms. Wells. We’ll call you when our report is finished.”

  Megan nodded and moved as if on autopilot when Cole led her to his Jetta. As soon as he slipped inside the car, the tension escalated.

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Megan?”

  “Yes.” She fidgeted with a loose thread on her shirt, then remembered the seat belt and buckled it securely. “Were you really coming by my apartment?”

  “Yes.” He wove into traffic. “I found some more of your husband’s things. I thought you might want them.” He indicated the envelope stuck between the console.

  Megan lifted the manila envelope, her hands still shaking. He ignored the urge to fold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. That he would take care of her.

  He had no right. No connection to Megan Wells. And he had to remember it.

  Recovering his memory had to take first priority.

  She opened the clasp and pulled out her husband’s personal appointment book.

  “I didn’t know if you’d want that, but—” He shrugged. “I thought you might.”

  She flipped through the book, not really reading the contents, but absorbing the fact that it held Tom’s handwriting.

  “There’s something else, too,” he said, gesturing toward the envelope.

  She frowned and reached inside, then slowly removed the silver compact. Her eyes narrowed as she turned it over and examined the back etchings.

  “Where did you find this?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  He cut across the left lane and veered into town. “Tom’s desk. I figured you’d left it there sometime—”

  “It’s not mine.”

  If it didn’t belong to Wells’s wife, then whose was it?

  The most obvious answer—it belonged to another woman. The same suspicions flared in Megan’s eyes.

  Was her husband having an affair before he died?

  MEGAN TRACED A FINGER OVER the expensiv
e silver compact. Had Tom been involved with someone else? Had another woman captured his heart and given him the happiness she’d been unable to? Was this woman the reason for all his secrets and not his job as she’d thought?

  Hurt and anger twisted inside her, carving a hole in her already shattered emotions. “It must belong to Connie,” she said finally, stuffing the compact back in the envelope.

  He nodded, although she saw a muscle tick in his jaw. He didn’t believe her. Had he known more about Tom than he’d revealed?

  She was surprised when he headed toward the section of town where she lived. In fact, he pulled into her driveway without once asking for directions. The beautiful azaleas had turned brown, shading the sun from the front door.

  She studied Cole’s features. “How did you know where I lived?”

  He shrugged, gazing at her with that same intense look. “I…I don’t know. Maybe someone told me. Maybe I’ve been here before.”

  “You haven’t.” She glared at him. “How well did you know my husband, Dr. Hunter?”

  His jaw tightened. “Not well. What little I did know, I’ve forgotten.”

  She laced her hands over the envelope. “What do you mean, you’ve forgotten?”

  Cole raked a hand through his hair, the scar more striking in the glare. “Let’s go inside and I’ll explain.”

  “No, why don’t you tell me now. You’re hiding something and I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t mean to be hiding anything.”

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “I told you I was in an accident.” He reached for the door handle, then stopped as if he realized he was frightening her. “I suffered a head trauma in the accident, Megan,” he said in a low voice, “and I…I lost my memory.”

  Megan’s breath caught. He sounded sincere, yet should she trust him? “You mean you have amnesia?”

  “Yes. I may or may not ever recover the memories. That’s one reason I’m not ready to start seeing patients yet. I may never be.”

  She unfastened her seat belt ready to escape if need be. “What do you remember?”

  “Not much,” he admitted. A long-suffering sigh escaped him. “When I read some of the files, I recognize the technical terms. But I don’t remember my name, much less anything about my life as Cole Hunter, not where I lived, my family, where I grew up, nothing except for the things Jones and Parnell told me. I don’t even remember coming here for an interview or taking this job.” He stretched his hands in front of him, rubbing a finger over the puckered scar. “All I know is that I came from Oakland Research Institute in Tennessee. That’s where I signed on to work with your husband. And…”

  “And what?”

  “And…” He hesitated again. His voice turned low, husky. A smoldering heat warmed his eyes as he stared into hers. “And that there’s something about you that is familiar, too.”

  A strained heartbeat passed between them. Megan wet her dry lips with her tongue, forcing herself to take a deep breath. The car closed around her as if it had suddenly shrunk.

  “But that’s impossible.” She hated the quiver in her voice. “We didn’t meet until Tom’s funeral.”

  He touched her hand, stroked her fingers one by one, then turned her hand over and traced a heart in the center of her palm. Tears filled her eyes while a bizarre feeling engulfed her. Tom used to do the same thing.

  Who was this man and how did he know that Tom had done that?

  Panicking, she swung open the car door and nearly fell out. Heart sputtering, she hurried up the steps to her flat, fumbling with the key to the door. The older home had been divided into two apartments; hers occupied the bottom floor. Thankfully the other tenant had his own entrance.

  Cole appeared beside her in a flash, yanked the keys from her hand and frowned at her. He’d left the cane in the car. Without it, he seemed even more imposing. Manly. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Megan. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  A shudder rippled up her spine. “I…I never said I was afraid.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand, slowly rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth along her cheek. His eyes darkened to a smoky hue and his breath bathed her cheek in an erotic whisper.

  A frightening sense of déjà vu encompassed her.

  Then his lips parted and he tilted his head as if he meant to kiss her. Megan froze.

  “I won’t hurt you, Meg,” he said in a husky voice. “You can trust me.” He cupped her face in his hands and hunger flashed in his eyes as he lowered his mouth to hers. Megan couldn’t move, couldn’t force herself to stop him. His mouth brushed hers so gently, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. He closed his lips over hers, and pulled her to him, holding her against his hard body as he sipped at her mouth in a long slow kiss that made her body yearn for more.

  A hot surge of need, of desperation tore through Megan at the low moan rumbling from his throat. She answered with one of her own, her heart thumping wildly as his tongue teased her lips apart, as he probed the inner recesses of her mouth with his tongue.

  But this was all wrong.

  She was a married woman, she could never cheat on Tom, no matter how far apart they had been…but she wasn’t married now, a tiny voice whispered. Tom was gone.

  Forever lost. As was the chance to try to make their marriage work.

  But he had only been gone a few short weeks. And she knew nothing about this man, except that he had unnerved her from the moment she’d met him. His hands raked down her back to pull her closer into his embrace. His chest felt like a band of steel, his shoulders so broad she ached to lean into him. Ached to let him make her feel whole again. To make her forget the harsh way she and Tom had ended their last night together. The hurtful things he’d said…

  But she couldn’t. She had no right to start something with a stranger.

  Summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, she firmly pushed away from him. As he stared into her eyes, heat blazed between them, along with a thousand questions. And a tormenting kind of forbidden lust that shook her to the core.

  “I’m sorry, Megan, it just seems like…like we were together before.”

  Only they hadn’t been. “Look, Dr. Hunter, I don’t know what you think of me but I would never have cheated on my husband.”

  “I…I didn’t mean it like that.” He clawed at his hair. “I…I don’t understand it myself, but…I just know I spent time with you before.”

  “I thought you said you had no memories.”

  “I don’t. Well…some sporadic ones. But I sense this feeling that we were together.”

  That same uneasiness once again splintered through Megan. On some level, she was afraid of this man. On another, she felt a strong pull to him that she couldn’t explain… A strong chemistry that spoke of needs and passion and unleashed hunger.

  A pull that terrified her.

  The blaze from the car fire rose in her mind to taunt her. The fear. Someone being in her apartment. Cole’s sudden appearance. The envelope with the things he’d said he’d found. What if he was lying to her? What if he’d fabricated the story about finding the compact?

  Steeling herself against the erotic sensations spiraling through her, she let the fear and anger drive her. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Dr. Hunter, hinting that the fire might not be accidental. Giving me things you say were Tom’s but weren’t, then suggesting we had an affair when we didn’t. I’ve had just about enough for today.” She grabbed the keys, opened the door and ran inside, then closed the door behind her.

  She only wished she could shut out the feelings that kiss had provoked. And forget that for a moment, she hadn’t cared if he had scared her. Or that her husband might be watching from his still warm grave, wondering how she could surrender to such hot passion in another man’s arms when he’d said she’d been a cold fish in his.

  COLE STOOD ON MEGAN’S PORCH, shadows dawning around the house, his body burning with a need so strong he had to
fight not to knock on her door.

  But he could not sate his desire for Megan Wells. She was vulnerable. Needy. Still grieving over her dead husband. But terror had swept over him when he’d seen her car on fire. For a minute, he’d thought she might be inside. That she might be dead.

  Where had this concern, this desperate fear for her life come from? And this insatiable desire?

  Images suddenly bombarded him, just as they had when he’d held her. Images of another time when Megan had readily slipped into his arms. A warm spring day when she’d stripped in the dim light of the evening and they had walked naked into the ocean, laughing and teasing like old lovers. A night when he hadn’t needed an invitation to kiss her. When he hadn’t seen fear in her eyes, but lust. Even love.

  He jerked himself out of the throes of the images, then pressed his hands to the side of his head as an incessant throbbing took hold. What was happening to him? How could he see these things so vividly in his mind when he couldn’t remember anything else about his life? When the name Cole Hunter still sounded foreign to his tongue? When his face looked like a stranger’s? When Megan swore they had never met?

  The blood roared in his ears as he staggered down the porch steps. His leg throbbed and threatened to buckle, the haunting memory of that long hospital stay and the surgery dogging him. Was he hallucinating? Wishing those memories into his mind to fill the empty void that he’d felt when he’d been in so much pain?

  His accident had occurred around the time of Tom Wells’s death. And he had been scarred so badly he’d needed plastic surgery.

  Could the doctors have made some kind of mix-up in identifying him? Could he possibly be Megan’s husband, Tom?

  Chapter Six

  Upset by the fire and the interlude with Cole Hunter, Megan spent the evening cleaning out the bedroom closet, packing away Tom’s things.

  And forcing herself to face the arduous task of learning to live alone.

  Tomorrow she would have to contact her insurance agent. Arrange for a rental car so she could return to work. But tonight…tonight, she had to do something to keep busy so she wouldn’t think about the unsettling encounter with Cole Hunter.