Hank stiffened. “Are you sure?”
She frowned, closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “I…no, I’m not positive. It all happened so fast. One minute I was standing there and the next minute I was falling.” A tremulous sigh escaped her and she looked at him once again. “Maybe I just stumbled, or maybe it was the wind. I really don’t know.”
As she shivered again, Hank stood and held out his hand to her. “Come on, let’s get you down by the fire.”
She nodded and placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her up. Together they descended the butte. “Hank.” She placed a hand on his arm to stop him before they joined the people around the fire. “I—I don’t know how to thank you. If you hadn’t pulled me up…if you hadn’t heard me call for help…” Her voice drifted off as another shiver shuddered through her.
“Shh.” He pulled her to his chest. “I did hear you, and you’re safe now.” As Colette relaxed against him, Hank’s mind whirled with suppositions. Had she been pushed? Or had she stumbled? If she’d merely stumbled, it had been an accident that easily could have been tragic. If she had been pushed, it had been attempted murder.
Hank tightened his arms around her. His blood ran cold. If she’d been pushed, that meant somebody other than him had managed to track her here to the ranch.
After several long moments she pulled out of his arms. As they walked back to the fire where everyone was now toasting marshmallows, Hank considered the men present. He didn’t know any of his co-workers well, had consciously kept distance between himself and them.
It would have been easy for one of them to slip away from the fire’s edge and follow Colette up the butte. Although the guests had remained around the campfire, the ranch workers had drifted from wagon to wagon and from the fire to the outer reaches of the campsite. Any one of them could have disappeared for a few minutes without arousing suspicion.
As Colette settled near the fire, Hank sat next to her. Accident or murder attempt?
He’d hoped her memory would return naturally, as she was able to deal with and process everything that had happened in the past year of her life. He feared that if he told her all of it, left nothing out, she’d run once more and this time she’d run someplace where he’d never find her again.
He couldn’t let her disappear. She was a vital piece in a large puzzle.
He watched the firelight playing on her features, noting the way the flickering light caressed the curve of her jawline, emphasized the determined thrust of her chin. Desire hit him in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the hot, hungry kiss they’d shared. And mingled in with the desire was an irrational anger. Was she playing games? Pretending her amnesia for convenience sake?
Again he thought of their kiss. She’d certainly responded to him like a woman familiar with his kiss. The passion that had arced between them like an electrical spark hadn’t been the kind inspired by a first kiss between two people. That instantaneous passion had spoken of memories, of the special intimacy between longtime lovers.
Yes, he’d hoped her memory would return naturally. If it didn’t, then he’d hoped to seduce her into remembering.
If she did really suffer from some crazy form of memory loss, then he had to walk a fine line. He needed to give her enough of her memory back to make her useful to him, but not enough to make her run again. He stared at her, trying to discern what was going through her head, how far he could trust her.
* * *
IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when Abby told everyone to load up for the ride back home. To Colette’s relief, Billy was chosen as one of the workers to stay behind and do cleanup. Although she had no proof, wasn’t even sure she was right to believe she had been helped off the butte’s edge, she was relieved not to have to feel Billy’s malevolent glare during the ride home.
Hank sat next to her, not speaking, not touching, but his mere presence eased her mind. It worried her a little, how Hank had become a source of comfort in her mind. He’d saved her twice now, once from Billy’s advances, and again by pulling her to safety. But she couldn’t forget she knew nothing about Hank, only that his eyes haunted her dreams and a whisper of memory stirred whenever he was around.
This fact, in itself, made her aware that she couldn’t trust him, didn’t trust him. She had a feeling he’d lied to her about their past association. But why would he lie? What was he hiding?
As the wagon rumbled to a halt, Colette jumped as Hank touched her shoulder. “I highly recommend a long hot soak in a tub for you before you go to bed tonight,” he said. “Otherwise, muscles you didn’t even know you had are going to scream at you in the morning.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Colette replied, refusing to meet his gaze. She needed some distance from him, needed to sort through the myriad emotions that plagued her and she was too exhausted to even try at the moment.
She frowned as he helped her out of the wagon, his hands lingering on her hips longer than necessary. “If you need me, I’ve been told I give one hell of a backrub.”
Heat rushed to her face at his offer. She drew a deep breath, unsure why he seemed to be romantically pursuing her, but knowing she needed to bring it to a halt. “Look, Hank, I’m grateful for all your help, but I’m in a bad position in my life. I don’t remember my past, have no clue what the future holds. The kiss we shared was pleasant, but I think you should chalk it up to the craziness of the full moon. I don’t intend it to happen again.”
“That’s too bad.” His eyes glittered darkly. “When I enjoy an experience I usually try to repeat it as often as possible, and I definitely enjoyed kissing you.”
She crossed her arms in front of her and eyed him with forced lightness. “Then I guess this will be a good opportunity for you to practice a little willpower.”
He reached out and traced her jawline with the pad of his index finger. “Willpower is nice, but yielding to temptation holds a certain charm, as well.”
She stepped away from his touch, irritated with his brash appeal, with the expression on his face that subtly told her he expected to kiss her again in the near future. “Good night Hank.” Without waiting for his reply, she turned and hurried toward the house.
* * *
SHE GRABBED her purse and was heading out the office door when she heard the voices. Until that moment she’d thought she’d been alone. Usually she was the last to leave, always behind in her work, always playing catch-up to avoid getting fired. The voices came from the inner office, her boss’s private sanctum. Moving toward the door, she strained to hear what was being said, to see if she recognized who was in the office with him.
Colors swirled and suddenly she was no longer in an office, but in a bed. And she was not alone. Strong male hands stroked her naked skin, languidly caressing each and every inch of her body. As the caresses grew more intimate, pulling her up in a spiraling whirl of desire, she struggled to see the face of the man hovering over her. A cloud of darkness obscured her vision, and still the passion grew, taking her mindlessly up…up.
With a cry, she felt herself falling…falling…into a black pit of nothingness, off the edge of a deadly precipice. And as she fell, she looked up toward the edge and there was Hank, laughing as she plunged into a bottomless abyss.
Colette woke with a gasp, her hands clutching something, anything to break her fall. In confusion she realized she clasped the bedsheet, which was hopelessly tangled around her hips.
A dream. She sank back on her pillow, waiting for her breathing to slow, her pounding heart to resume a more normal beat. Only a dream.
She turned her head toward the window where the morning sun snuck in, playing peekaboo along the edges of the curtains. Wincing, she turned over onto her side to face the window. It had been two days since she’d fallen off the ledge and still her shoulder and arm muscles relentlessly ached.
When she’d awakened the previous morning, she’d hardly been able to get out of bed. She’d finally had to confess to Abby what had happened and Abby ha
d sent her directly back to bed for the rest of the day.
Colette didn’t want to spend yet another day lounging around feeling useless, but her aching muscles told her that’s exactly what she should do.
The fall was no more clear in her mind than it had been immediately after it happened. She still didn’t know for sure what had happened, whether she’d imagined the force on her back or not. Nor was she any closer to sorting out her confusing emotions where Hank Cooper was concerned. It bothered her that no longer was it just his eyes she dreamed of, but rather the whole man.
She frowned, thinking of the dreams that had plagued her the past few nights. The segments had been the same…the office, the voices, the man, falling and then Hank.
Never had she had such vivid dreams, at least none that she could remember. There had been a sense of reality about these dreams that disturbed her. Were they merely her mind’s imagination creating dream images, or were they fragments of memories trying to resurface?
Brook’s mewling broke through Colette’s thoughts and she untangled herself from the sheets and went over to the crib. “Hi, sweet baby,” she greeted, ignoring screaming muscles as she reached into the crib and picked up Brook.
The baby girl immediately quit fussing and instead snuggled into Colette’s body warmth. “Are you hungry?” Colette whispered as she left her room and padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. Usually Brook took a bottle immediately upon awakening, then went back to sleep for a couple of hours, allowing Colette to enjoy a later breakfast in leisure.
As she walked into the kitchen, she jumped, startled to find Abby already there. “Whew, you scared me to death,” Colette exclaimed. “What are you doing up so early?”
Abby shrugged and raked a hand through her short hair. “I don’t know. I had trouble sleeping last night.” She gestured to the baby. “I’ll hold her while you make the bottle.” Colette nodded and handed Brook to her, then went to the refrigerator for the formula. “If you want to make yourself some of my special blend hot chocolate, the mix is in the container by the flour canister.”
Colette shook her head. “No, thanks.” She eyed her sister. “Something bothering you that’s making sleep difficult?”
Abby grinned ruefully. “Bulldog has taught Cody to spit through his teeth, I can’t get the books to balance, and our group of guests who left late last night took half a dozen towels with them.”
“You’re kidding?” Colette grinned teasingly. “Cody can really spit through his teeth?”
Abby laughed. “That’s the easiest problem to fix. I intend to wring Bulldog’s neck. And speaking of body parts, how are you feeling this morning?”
“Still sore.” Colette took Brook into her arms and sat to feed her a bottle.
“I can’t believe you had such a close call and none of us even knew it had happened.”
Colette nodded, grateful she hadn’t told Abby that it might not have been an accident. She didn’t want to add to Abby’s burdens especially when she herself wasn’t sure exactly what had happened on the top of that butte. “So, what are the plans for today?” Colette asked as Brook ate hungrily.
“Absolutely nothing. Belinda told me last night she’s going into town as soon as she wakes up. I promised Cody a day of fishing and Maria left this morning for a two-week vacation. With the guests gone, I think we all deserve a day of relaxation. You’re welcome to come with me and Cody to the pond.”
Colette shook her head. “I think I’ll pass.” She couldn’t explain why, but since the accident at the butte, she’d been reluctant to leave the house for any reason. She especially wasn’t anxious to see Hank again. It was irritating enough that he’d so completely invaded her dreams. “Brook and I will be just fine spending a quiet day right here.”
“Well, I’m going to go shower. If I know Cody, the minute his feet hit the floor he’ll be ready to go.” Abby stood and carried her cup to the dishwasher.
“With Maria gone on vacation, do you want me to do something about supper?”
“No, just do whatever you want for yourself. I imagine Cody will talk me into heading into Cheyenne for pizza or burgers.” As she walked out of the room, she paused long enough to plant a kiss on Brook’s forehead, then headed to her bedroom.
Colette finished feeding Brook, then went to her room. It was after nine when she left her room and went to the kitchen for coffee and some toast. She’d given Brook a long, leisurely bath and played with her until the little girl had fallen asleep.
As she waited for fresh coffee to drip through the machine, she noted that the house radiated an unnatural silence around her. Apparently everyone had left for their day off. She belted the silk robe around her more tightly, grateful that Belinda and Abby had been generous in sharing their clothes. The suitcase Colette had arrived with had been pitifully thin, holding only a single pair of leggings, several oversize T-shirts and some underwear.
Surely she’d had more things in her life in California. Where were they? What had happened to her clothes, her personal items? What had happened to her life?
Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she shoved away thoughts of her forgotten past, knowing it was useless to obsess. Obsession wouldn’t bring back her memory.
After fixing herself two slices of toast, she sank into a chair at the table, nibbling on the toast, sipping her coffee and wondering what the future held.
Would she grow old without her memories? Someday would she have to tell her daughter that she couldn’t share her memories of childhood because she had none? How depressing it would be to never recover the memories of family togetherness, of happy days with her sisters, of love. How sad not to remember the man who had fathered Brook, not to possess a single memory of their union.
And what of the other memories? The ones that had nothing to do with family or love…the ones that caused a sense of danger inside her, the ones of her time in California.
She jumped as she heard the sound of a door opening, then closing. It had sounded as though it might be the front door. She stood, wondering if perhaps Abby or Belinda had returned for some reason.
Her breath caught in her chest as Hank appeared in the kitchen doorway. Clad in his usual attire of worn, tight jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked dangerously masculine. “Wha-what are you doing in here?” she asked.
“I saw your sister as she was leaving with Cody and asked how you were feeling. She told me to feel free to come in and ask you myself.”
Colette stifled a groan. Was Abby playing matchmaker? Certainly the last thing Colette needed was for her sister to try to push her into a romantic entanglement. “I feel just fine, and you could have knocked before you came in.”
“I did. I thought I heard you holler ‘come in.”’
His look was all innocence, but again Colette had the feeling it was another lie. And his lies intrigued her because she didn’t understand the reason for them. “That coffee sure smells good, much better than the stuff we drink in the bunkhouse.”
“Would you like a cup?” she asked grudgingly.
He grinned. “Why, don’t mind if I do.” He walked over to the table and folded his lanky frame into a chair. Immediately the kitchen seemed smaller, as if his overwhelming maleness had somehow compressed the available space.
Colette poured him a cup of coffee, then went to the refrigerator and added a dollop of milk to the beverage. She placed it in front of him, then gasped as his fingers encircled her wrist. The easy smile that had creased his features was gone, usurped by a somber, intense expression that screamed of danger. “Why did you do that?” he asked.
Colette frowned. “Do what?”
“Why did you add milk to my coffee?”
Colette stared at his coffee cup in confusion. Why had she done it? It had been automatic. She hadn’t even given it any thought. She drank her coffee black. Why would she add milk to his? Because she knew with a certainty he drank his coffee light. And it was knowledge she had no way of knowing unless he’d be
en a part of her life before her amnesia.
She wrenched her wrist from his grip and stepped back from him, fear racing through her as she faced him. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
CHAPTER SIX
He sipped his coffee then leaned back in the chair, mild amusement reflecting in his eyes. “What do you mean? You know who I am.”
Colette stared at him in frustration. For some reason she was convinced she knew him. Somehow, someway, she knew with certainty that he’d been a part of her life before her amnesia. An intimate part of her life. “Is Hank Cooper your real name?”
He nodded. “It’s what my mama named me and it’s what’s written on my birth certificate.” He gestured to her coffee cup on the table. “Aren’t you going to finish your coffee?”
Warily she moved to the table and slid into the chair opposite his. She wrapped her fingers around her cup, seeking warmth. Her gaze lingered on him, intently studying his bold features, the sensual mouth that had kissed her so completely, the dangerous darkness of secrets in his eyes. Familiar, so familiar. “Are…are you sure we’ve never met?”
He paused a long moment. He sipped his coffee, then carefully placed the cup into the saucer and looked at her, all form of amusement gone from his gaze. “Actually, we’ve done more than just meet in the past. We’ve been intimate.”
Colette gasped, her mind reeling with shock at the unexpectedness of his reply. “I—I don’t believe you,” she exclaimed.
He shrugged. “Believe what you want.” He leaned toward her, a smile curving his lips. “But it was a wild, unforgettable night for me.”
Colette felt the blush that worked up her throat and swept over her face. “When was this? Where? How did we meet?” Question after question tumbled from her as she tried to fit this information into the blank spots of her mind.
Sunset Promises Page 6
