by Lynde Lakes
Eagar to shake on it, she slid her hand into his. Matt’s firm grip and steady eye-contact drew her deeper into a curious complicated seduction. He played his come-hither, back-off game too well. What was behind the retreats? All the electric vibes charging the air around them told her he wanted her. Well, she could play the game, too, and would—just as soon as she learned the damn rules.
Matt pointed to a grassy clearing next to the creek. “I’m hungry. Let’s have our lunch here.”
When he dismounted, his thigh muscles tightened under his jeans. He came toward her, reaching out. Molly steeled herself against the anticipation of his touch. He grasped her waist in warm, strong hands and swung her to the ground. “Is this our land, too?” she asked, a little breathless.
He nodded, then tied their horses’ reins to a contorted oak branch. Matt snatched a rolled-up navy blue blanket from the back of his saddle. Molly wanted to help him spread it under the tree, but in light of their strong physical attraction, she hesitated, unsure about getting that close to him again. He placed the basket on the edge of the blanket and dropped to his knees. “Let’s see what Tita packed for us.”
Molly positioned herself at the farthest corner of the blanket. “It’ll be fantastic. We know that. Hand me the picnic basket. With Tita’s cooking and her flair for putting interesting things together, I’ll bet even I can spread a wicked banquet.” Is that true? Do I have an eye for presentation? She paused and looked up at Matt. “Am I right about that?”
A grin played at his lips. “Wicked as they come, Molly, wicked as they come.”
Their hands brushed when he handed her the basket. Molly gasped at the crack of static electricity. Matt’s eyes twinkled, but to his credit, he said nothing. With trembling hands, Molly set out the thermos, the bananas, oranges, and Mexican corn bread.
Matt took the cover off the meat. The smell of mesquite-grilled barbecued beef and onions wafted in the air. “Ah, carne asada. You’ll love this.”
And she did. The ride through the dry heat had made her thirsty and ravenous. Although her nerves were taut, it seemed the stress had increased her appetite rather than diminished it.
The shady surroundings by the creek were breathtaking, but rather than drink in nature and fill her thirsty soul, she studied Matt with brazen scrutiny. Something about him got to her on a deep, unrelenting level. Perhaps it was his dark, sexy magnetism or the mystery behind their life together. All she knew was he kept her off balance, and somehow kept alive this wild, electrifying tension between them. If she wanted to keep her heart intact, and keep her resolve to remain aloof until she knew more about their relationship, she had to fight the spell this man was weaving over her.
She watched the breeze ripple the meandering silvery-green creek. The restful sound of its waters soothed her inner turmoil and brought her racing heart back to normal speed. She tucked the last bite of grilled beef into her mouth and shoved her plate aside. Letting her feelings run amuck wouldn’t get her the answers she needed. Matt always closed her off when she asked questions about herself, but what if she used the key to understanding him—his family—to indirectly target this intriguing cowboy? She thought of his earlier anger. “Luke’s part of what makes you angry, too, isn’t he?”
When Matt’s head came up with a jerk, Molly immediately wanted to take back her words. Several heartbeats of silence passed. She was about to apologize for pushing the point about Matt’s anger when he spoke.
“Yeah. Luke’s an unbroken stallion,” Matt drawled. “Wild as they come.”
With the door open, she delved deeper. “I got the impression he’s quite the ladies’ man and a two-fisted drinker.”
“Can’t deny it.” Matt looked down. “The drinking part has always rubbed me wrong, like a burr under the saddle. “Luke always chooses the messy route. He has a good heart, but he’s the kind of maverick who drifts through life with no apparent goals, falling into barroom brawls and inappropriate relationships. Reckless. Imprudent. He believes life is a crap shoot where you risk all or nothing.”
“And you’re the opposite?”
****
Matt frowned. Molly probably meant it as a statement, but Matt took it as a question. “I guess sometimes I want to be. Other times, I envy him.” Matt knew that much of his intensity resulted from the constant suppression of his own reckless impulses.
Molly leaned forward, looking full of devilry. “Memory-wise, my life started when we arrived here. To me, we just met. But in spite of that short-term relationship, may I tell you my impression of you?”
He laughed, feeling his walls start to rise. “I’m not sure I can take your blunt assessment.”
“I’ll go easy on you.” With mischief glinting in her eyes, she tilted her head and studied him. “Let’s see…you’re cautious, hard working. A you-can-count-on-me kind of guy. But you’re also a control freak with hidden secrets that make you miserable.”
Matt tried to laugh, but it came out a snort. Molly had hit it right on. He feared his reckless side, hated when his inner wildness spilled out. To fight his secret demons, he buried his emotions under layers of rigid, relentless control. Until Molly had come to the ranch, he’d been as miserable as hell, figuring that if he kept his life compact and manageable, he’d have less to lose.
He moved closer to Molly, with only a vague awareness he’d done so. He didn’t want to talk about himself; he wanted to talk about her. “It’s been three days since you left the hospital. Any memory flashes? Dreams?”
“Nothing.” Her soft response and unwillingness to meet his eye contact suggested otherwise.
“Don’t hold out on me,” he prodded. “This is crucial. Everything will be better when you remember.” He hoped it was true, but he had mixed feelings. He wanted her to remember the nights they spent entwined in one another’s arms, but feared her memory of their parting. He’d done what had to be done—ended their affair. It had been abrupt, cold, but leaving her had ripped his guts and heart out.
“Give me some hints,” she said. “My memory needs something to jog it.”
“I told you, the doctor advised against pushing things—”
“Well, maybe ol’ Doc De La Fuente’s a quack. Perhaps I know what’s best for me. And I say I’ll get in less trouble if I know what’s going on.”
Matt’s stomach knotted. “What do you mean, less trouble?”
She shrugged. “Poor choice of words.”
He doubted that. A woman who had made her living choosing and writing exacting words didn’t often pick wrong ones. But what trouble could she have gotten into? He had kept the phones and newspapers from her. Newspapers. Maybe he could give her a subtle hint without throwing her into shock. “You’ve been out of touch for a while. Would you like to see a newspaper?”
Her eyes lit up like a kid’s at Christmas, and the sight of her happiness warmed his heart. “I’d love it.”
“I’ll get one for you when we get back to the ranch.”
She toyed with a blade of grass. “A Dallas paper?”
Dallas? Surprise shot through him. Was she beginning to remember? A San Antonio paper would have been a more likely guess. “Why jump to that conclusion?”
She shrugged. “Is it important? Do I have some mysterious tie to Dallas?”
“We went to the Cotton Bowl together, and the Dallas State Fair. I don’t recall anything else.” The lie turned to acid in his mouth. “What’s important are your memories. Promise me you’ll tell me at the first sign of one.”
He hated holding back. It could ruin any chance for him to have her again. In his fantasy, he’d take her in his arms and kiss her breathless. She would respond to his lips after remembering the reality of their past lovemaking, remembering the low murmurs between them and their hard, hot climaxes. Most vital, she’d remember that they loved each other, and agree that they belonged together, this time forever.
Suddenly, Molly got this I’m-up-to-something expression and edged across the blanket tow
ard him until their hips touched. When their bodies touched, the heat practically set fire to the denim between them and seared his skin beneath the fabric.
“You say we’re married…right?”
Her words and the incessant hot wind electrified Matt’s nerve-endings, making him edgy. The air itself seemed alive, dangerous. “So?”
“Are we in love?”
Matt stuck a finger into his collar to loosen it. His throat went dry. “I love you, and you…you used to love me.”
Molly moistened her lips. “Then why haven’t you kissed me?”
“Kiss you?” He cringed at the huskiness in his voice and felt his control shredding.
She reached up and traced his jawline. “Yes. Even if it’s against doctor’s orders.” She grinned. “Especially if it’s against doctor’s orders.”
He hesitated, then laughed and swept her hat off her head. It sailed to the edge of the blanket, followed by his Stetson, which landed on top of hers in a soft stack. “You’re such an imp,” he said. “And I love you for it.”
Matt gathered Molly in his arms. Damn, I shouldn’t do this, at least not until she remembers. It was risky and unfair, but he was propelled forward by the strength of what they’d once been to each other, an indefinable something more powerful than basic need.
When he stroked her hair and looked into her eyes, she entwined her arms around his neck and drew him closer. He caught her fragrance—the scent of wild strawberries stirred by a hot afternoon breeze. The muscles at the back of his neck tightened. He felt her heat flowing into him, and he knew the hunger he felt was in her, too. He stared at her lips. They parted slightly in the special sexy way he knew so well. She lifted her head, offering what he desperately wanted.
He didn’t move.
She glared at him like she wanted to shake him. Or maybe it was anger at herself for her desire. “Well, are you going to kiss me or not?”
Frozen with rigid control, Matt didn’t move a muscle. Oh, God. He groaned as his control broke. He bent and captured her lips.
Molly drew back enough to whisper, “This is somehow familiar, like coming home.” Tears glinted in her eyes.
Taking his time, Matt traced her lower lip with his tongue, in hope of driving her mad and sending some familiar sensations slithering through her.
She moaned, and he covered her mouth again. He could taste the tangy barbecue flavor of her mouth.
He tensed and put all he had into the kiss to make it hard, hot.
She clung to him with a ferocity that fired his passion. He caressed her back, hoping to steal her sanity and catapult her into a familiar world of warm, delicious madness.
God, this is so against doctor’s orders. He tried to pull back, but her mouth followed.
“Don’t stop, please,” she whispered.
A hard, steady, brain-shaking pulse throbbed in his temple. His loins burned. He damned himself for his lust—and Molly for bringing it out in him. He took a deep shuddering breath and, kissing Molly’s eyelids, tried to cool down. His next move could well prove him a heel or the responsible man he’d always tried to be. He damned himself and Molly as all control broke free.
Matt kissed Molly again with all the love he felt for her, then untangled her arms from his neck. “Honey, you won’t be a consenting partner until you remember.” He wondered if she heard the ragged edge to his voice.
“I don’t understand. We’re married, aren’t we?” The tremor in her voice tore at him, but he had to be strong for both of them. “See? That’s what I mean. You don’t know me. And it hurts like hell.” At least that part was true.
Molly glared at him. “What if I never remember?”
It was just like her—direct, challenging. He gave her a quick, fierce hug and wished she could remember him the way he remembered her. “We’d better get back to the ranch before I change my mind.”
“From what I’ve seen so far, that’s not likely,” Molly muttered as she began to help repack the basket, careful to keep her fingers from touching his.
He stood and extended a hand to her. Molly ignored his offer as though she couldn’t let him touch her—as though her emotions, like his, were raging out of control. She rose under her own power, and his stomach knotted when she stepped away from him. On impulse, he bent and picked an Indian paintbrush. In a slow, deliberate pace, he walked toward her and tucked the vibrant red flower behind her ear. He winked. “Just so you won’t doubt that I love you.”
****
When Matt and Molly arrived back at the ranch house, the place looked deserted. No music playing, no aromas of food. This doesn’t feel right, Molly thought. With a rising panic, she swung herself down from Starlight and ran toward the house.
“Molly! What the hell—”
“Sara Jane!” she called back at him while racing up the steps. The door was locked. She banged on it with her fist. No sounds inside. “Hurry, Matt!”
Matt hitched the reins of their horses to a post, then came running. “What’s wrong?”
“Get this door open!”
He opened it, and Molly raced inside calling Tita’s name.
“Wait, Molly,” Matt shouted.
She ignored him, and checked the nursery. The crib was empty.
She felt Matt grab her waist from behind. He turned her around to face him. “It’s all right, Molly,” he crooned. “We got back a little late. Tita’s probably taken Sara Jane home with her.”
Tears pushed at Molly’s eyes. She thought about the surreptitious telephone call she’d made. A shiver coursed down her spine. “I need to be sure.”
Matt gave her waist an encouraging squeeze. “I have a cell phone in my saddlebag. I’ll call Tita.”
****
Matt raced to Gold King, not because he was worried but to ease Molly’s mind. He retrieved his cellular phone. Molly was pale and trembling. Damn. She didn’t need this stress. He should have considered how finding the baby gone would affect her and avoided it. He got Tita on the line and held the phone so Molly could listen. Tita assured them that Sara Jane was with her and happy as a lark, just like Matt knew she would be. Hearing the baby was safe wasn’t enough. Molly insisted upon going to get her at once. Matt told one of the ranch hands to see to the horses, and then he drove Molly to Tita’s house in his truck.
Tita was out on the porch in a worn rocker feeding Sara Jane a bottle when they arrived. Practicing his opening song for the Rancher’s Rodeo, Roberto sat on the railing strumming “Texas, Our Texas” while staying close by the baby as instructed.
Molly ran to Tita and grabbed up Sara Jane. Tita stiffened. “What’s wrong, Molly?”
“Nothing.” She blushed, but she held the baby close like she’d never let her go. Sara Jane’s eyes widened, round and blue. “Thanks for taking care of my baby.” Molly kissed the baby’s rosy cheeks and tickled her, her eyes never leaving the cherub face. She eased the bottle to Sara Jane’s lips so the baby could resume sucking. “Finding you gone—” Molly’s voice broke, and she couldn’t finish.
Sensing that no matter how much he longed to, now wasn’t the time to go to her, Matt clenched his teeth and rooted himself to the spot. His frown deepened when he spotted his older brother, Parker, coming around the side of Tita’s house with two strangers. One was a Latino with fine features who walked with the grace of a bullfighter. The other guy had a potato-nose and lumbered on the tree-trunk-like legs of a muscle-bound wrestler. An unlikely trio, Matt thought. He could see by his brother’s glassy eyes that he’d been drinking as usual. The seven years Parker had on Matt hadn’t made him any wiser.
“Why aren’t you out rounding up steers with Luke?” Matt growled.
Parker rubbed his bristly day-old beard. “Emergency came up.”
Molly seemed to be sizing up Parker, maybe noticing how much taller he was. Six feet six inches of lean mulishness. Matt knew that although he and his brother Parker looked a lot alike, drinking had given Parker a rougher look that, oddly enough, probably
appealed to some women. Matt felt confident that Molly wasn’t one of them. Despite her innate aversion to his steely self-control, she would probably prefer it to the reckless ways of his two brothers.
“Why didn’t you use your field phone?” Matt asked.
“Tried, but your house phone was off and your cell must’ve been outta range. ’Sides, my new sidekicks here decided they wanted to talk to you face-to-face.”
His brother’s slurred words brought such anger that Matt felt the tendon knot in his neck. Fighting to stay calm, he held up his hand to interrupt. “Hold up, Parker. I want you to meet someone.” He drew Molly and the baby forward and rested his arm on Molly’s shoulder. “Parker, this is my wife, Molly.”
“Whoa! Wife, you say?” Parker looked her up and down, then smiled his winning grin, showing his gold tooth. “Howdy, ma’am, welcome to the Bar R. Been wonderin’ who Sara Jane’s mama was. Seems my li’l brother is just full of surprises and secrets.”
Matt tensed for more wisecracks about the sudden appearance of first a baby and now a wife. Instead, Parker turned to the men standing next to him. Both reeked of wine.
“Since we’re meetin’ people,” Parker drawled, apparently more interested in introducing his latest drinking buddies than pursuing the subject of his brother showing up with a wife, “these’re my newfound sidekicks, Paulo Santina and Webb Viceman. They had plane trouble, and their radio went out. I called for help. But Webb wanted to talk to you.”
The strangers stared at Molly. She shifted the baby to her other side, looking wary, uncomfortable.
Matt made eye contact with Tita and gestured with his head. Understanding his silent message to get Molly and the baby out of harm’s way, Tita motioned to Molly, and the women slipped into the house.
“That must have been the single-engine Cessna I saw earlier,” Matt said, drawing their attention back to him. “Which one of you is the pilot?” At the Latino’s affirmation, he scrutinized the pilot and his Caucasian passenger with suspicion. “What was your destination?”
