The Most Eligible M.D. (The Bachelor Bet #3)

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The Most Eligible M.D. (The Bachelor Bet #3) Page 7

by Joan Elliott Pickart


  Ben hesitated a moment, then nodded.

  “There was definitely more than one incident of Charles hurting me. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was my strength then?” she said, her voice rising. “Why didn’t I leave sooner than I did? Oh, Ben, there are so many questions, so much I don’t know, don’t understand.”

  “You’ll get your memory back, Megan. All the pieces of the puzzle will come together.” Ben paused. “I hate to leave you, but I have patients to see. I have a full day scheduled. Will you be all right here alone until I get back around dinnertime?”

  “Oh, yes, don’t worry about me. It’s lovely and peaceful here. I’ll read, rest, maybe go for a walk in the woods.” Megan laughed. “Fear not, Dr. Rizzoli, I promise not to fall off any cliffs or...”

  Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened.

  “The only reason I took that tumble was because... because I suddenly felt Charles’s presence and I was afraid he’d find me, so I started to run and...”

  “Megan?” Ben said, frowning.

  “I remember now. Yes, that’s what happened. I was enjoying my freedom, being free, then I thought of Charles, of all his money, power, the resources he has to find me, and I panicked. I wasn’t far enough away from him. No, not far enough. He was only a hundred miles away in Phoenix, and...Phoenix.”

  The color drained from Megan’s face and she stared into space.

  “A big house, huge, very expensively furnished, but cold. A house, not a home.” Her voice was flat with no inflection, no emotion. “Gates. Locked gates at the end of a long driveway. A hired bodyguard who followed me everywhere I went. Always there, watching me, spying on me, reporting back to Charles.”

  A muscle ticked in Ben’s tightly clenched jaw as he listened to Megan speak. He didn’t move, hardy breathed, not wishing to do anything to interrupt the flow of memories she was experiencing. The echo of his wildly beating heart thundered in his ears.

  “The gates. Locked,” Megan repeated, her voice a near whisper. “Scrollwork there. Yes, I see it. On each side is the letter C. They don’t stand for Charles. No, no, not Charles. It’s...it’s Chastain. Yes. He’s Charles Chastain. And I’m...I’m Megan Chastain.”

  “Holy hell,” Ben said, not realizing he’d spoken aloud.

  Megan blinked at the sound of Ben’s voice and he swore silently for disrupting her trancelike state. She shook her head slightly and met his gaze again, her expressive blue eyes radiating confusion and a flicker of fear.

  “The name Charles Chastain means something to you, doesn’t it, Ben?” she said, searching his face for an answer. “Who is he? Ben?”

  “Charles Chastain,” he said, then cleared his throat as he attempted to control his rising anger, “is a high-profile Phoenix attorney. He does everything possible to keep his name in the newspaper—he’s involved with a lot of charity organizations, that sort of thing.

  “He wants the name Chastain to become a household word, because it’s rumored that he plans to run for governor. He simply smiles and says ‘no comment’ when reporters ask him about his political plans.”

  “Dear heaven,” Megan said, a shiver coursing through her. “He’s wealthy?”

  “Very.”

  “Then I was right,” she said, her voice trembling. “He does have the money, power and resources to find me. He’s going to discover where I am, Ben. He will. He’ll find me and—”

  “Megan,” Ben said sharply, shifting his hands to grip her shoulders. “Listen to me. Listen...to...me. He’ll never hurt you again. I promise you that. Are you hearing, really hearing, what I’m saying to you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You are the one with the power over him, Megan Chastain.”

  “What?”

  “Think about it,” Ben said. “The creep plans to run for governor. There’s no way in hell he wants the press to learn that he physically abused his wife. He’d be dead in the water on the political scene.

  “One of the choices available to you is that we trade your freedom for your silence. I don’t like the idea of him not paying for what he’s done, but it would be the safest plan for you, for your future.”

  “But—”

  “And another thing. He won’t report you missing through regular channels,” Ben rushed on, “because the reporters would get wind of it and have a field day. No, he’ll hire a private investigator to find you very quietly. We’re one step ahead of Chastain now, because we know who he is and what he’s done. We hold all the cards.”

  “We?”

  “You. Me. Together.” Ben brushed his lips over Megan’s. “Don’t forget that. You’re not standing alone against Chastain, Megan. You’re not alone.” He paused. “Man, I hate to leave you, but I’m late already getting to the office. Would you like to spend the day at Hamilton House with Andrea and the aunts?”

  Megan shook her head. “No, I’d rather stay here. I’m suddenly very tired.”

  Ben kissed her on the forehead. “That’s understandable. You just had a heavy dose of reality dumped on you. Your memory is definitely returning.”

  “Lucky me,” she said dryly. “So far, everything I’ve remembered is a nightmare.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry about that. Keep in mind that you’re remembering your past, and it’s over. The future is yours for the having, to do with as you will. There are just a few glitches to iron out first. We’ll handle it. Everything is going to be fine. But for now I’ve got to get into town before my nurse sends a search party to look for me. Are you positive you want to stay here at the house?”

  Megan nodded, then Ben kissed her deeply. He broke the kiss reluctantly, managed to produce a smile, then hurried from the house. Megan watched him go, then sank onto her chair at the table.

  “I’m so scared, Ben,” she whispered. “So terribly frightened. And there are still so many unanswered questions.”

  To Ben’s utmost relief, two late-morning patients had cancelled their appointments. He telephoned Cable Montana and made an appointment to see the sheriff during the lunch hour.

  In the sheriffs office, Cable sat in the old, leather chair behind his desk. His elbows were propped on the wooden arms; his fingers were tented and resting against his lips. With narrowed eyes, he listened intently to what Ben was saying.

  “There you have it,” Ben said finally. “Nice can of worms, huh?”

  Cable folded his arms across his chest. “Yep, a beaut. Chastain was news even over in Nevada. He’s very carefully paving a path to the governor’s office here in Arizona.”

  “And Megan could put a real damper on his plans.”

  “Oh, no doubt about it,” Cable said, nodding. “Chastain’s political aspirations would be dead meat if Megan released her story to the press.”

  “I’d love to see Chastain get nailed,” Ben said, a rough edge to his voice. “But I don’t know if Megan is up for that. She may settle for trading her silence for her freedom. She remembers enough to know that she was on the run from Chastain.”

  Cable leaned forward, the old chair creaking in protest. He picked up a pen and fiddled with it absently.

  “Well, now we know why there’s been no response to Megan’s description that I sent out over the wires. Chastain is probably doing everything possible to keep the newspapers from getting wind of it.”

  “I figure he’s got a private detective working on finding Megan,” Ben said.

  “I agree,” Cable said. “Does she remember how she got to Prescott? Her car? A rental? The bus?”

  “She doesn’t know that yet.”

  “Ben, we have to approach this from the worst case scenario. Chastain is violent, a wife beater. We have to assume he’ll stop at nothing to protect his image, and his future plans.”

  Ben lunged to his feet. “Are you saying that you think Megan’s life is in danger?”

  “We don’t know how far Chastain will go. Megan’s safety is priority one here. Better to be o
verprotective than to leave her vulnerable. You do realize that if Megan would file charges against Chastain now, bring this all into the public’s view, he wouldn’t dare touch her because all eyes would be on him.”

  Ben began to pace the office. He sighed and dragged a restless hand through his hair, his frown deepening.

  “I’ll talk to her,” he said. “Explain her options again. She has so much to deal with right now, though. She’s getting her memory back in bits and pieces, and none of it is pretty. She can’t gather all her inner courage when she doesn’t have a total picture of who she is.”

  “I understand,” Cable said. “Would you stop trekking around? You’re making me dizzy.”

  Ben slouched back onto the chair. “I hate this, I really do. I want to confront Charles Chastain and take him apart.”

  “Which would result in your being arrested for assault. You might feel better, but you’d be in the slammer.” Cable paused. “Look, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for anyone in town who is asking questions about a woman suddenly appearing here. Chastain may have a whole team of detectives on his payroll to look for Megan.”

  “Dandy,” Ben said, shaking his head.

  “In the meantime, I’d suggest that Megan stay inside your house with the doors locked when you’re not there.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ben said. “How do I tell her that without scaring her to death? Her emotional plate is full as it is, Cable. How much can one woman be expected to deal with?”

  Cable stared at Ben for a long moment before speaking again.

  “You care for Megan, don’t you?” he said finally. “And not as a doctor, but as a man. She’s important to you.”

  Ben nodded. “Yes, she’s important to me. She’s... she’s very special, very rare, lovely and—ah, hell. The bottom line is, nothing is going to happen to her. Nothing.”

  “She’s in good hands in my opinion,” Cable said. “The best bet is for Megan to blow the whistle on Chastain, call a press conference and deliver the news flash that the golden boy is scum.”

  Ben opened his mouth to reply, but Cable raised both hands in a gesture of silence.

  “I know, I know,” he said. “She’s not up for that at this point because she’s still struggling with the amnesia thing. Just keep it in mind. I suggest you take Megan to the library and go through the microfilm of old Phoenix newspapers. Her marriage to Chastain must have been high profile.”

  “Mmm,” Ben said thoughtfully.

  “From a medical standpoint, would it gum up the natural return of Megan’s memory if she was given information about herself from an outside source?”

  “There are no hard and fast rules about amnesia,” Ben said.

  Cable shrugged. “So it’s worth a try, right? The sooner she has her full memory back, the quicker she’ll be able to decide if she wishes to take Chastain on. Personally, I want to bury this guy.”

  “No joke,” Ben said, getting to his feet again. “I have to get back to the office. Thanks for your time, Cable.”

  “Keep me posted. I’ll let you know if I discover there’s someone in town asking questions about Megan.”

  “Okay.” Ben started toward the door.

  “Ben?”

  He stopped and half turned to look back at Cable. “Yes?”

  “One more thing,” the sheriff said quietly. “Think before you act. Your heart is involved in this, and that could lead you into trouble. Use your head.”

  Ben nodded and left the office.

  Ben walked along the sidewalk in the direction of his office, lost in his own racing thoughts. At the edge of a building he bumped into a huge man who weighed at least three hundred pounds.

  “Hey, sorry, Tuck,” Ben said. “I didn’t see you come around the corner.”

  “You didn’t see me?” Tuck said, laughing. “You must have a heavy burden on your mind, Doc. You’d have to be blind not to see the likes of me.”

  Tuck continued on his way, but Ben remained still where he’d stopped.

  Blind, his mind echoed. Blind.

  He started off again, his shoulders slumped.

  Megan was no longer a woman without a past, he thought, taking a shuddering breath. But he was still a man with no future.

  Blind, his mind hammered painfully. Blind... blind...blind...

  Chapter Six

  That evening, Ben added a log to the crackling fire, closed the screen, then planted his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to his feet.

  Megan was standing at an angle to the fireplace, staring into the flames, her hands wrapped around her elbows.

  “Megan?” Ben said quietly. “Would you like to talk about it now? You haven’t said a word since you told me you wanted to leave the library. If you’d rather be alone, I’ll understand, but I don’t know what you need from me.”

  “When I was a little girl,” Megan said softly, her gaze still riveted on the leaping flames, “maybe four or five years old, my mother used to take my hands in hers and we’d dance around the living room. She would sing ‘You Are My Sunshine,’ and we’d twirl and twirl until we fell into a dizzy heap on the floor, laughing, hugging each other. ‘You, my Megan,’ she’d say, ‘are my sunshine. You and your daddy. I love you, Megan mine, and I always will.’”

  Megan turned to look at Ben, tears shimmering in her eyes.

  “Then they were gone, Ben. My mother and father were gone,” she said, her voice trembling. “I was only seven years old. They left me with a baby-sitter and went to the movies.

  “Before I went to bed that night I drew them a picture with my crayons. It was a house with all three of us standing in front of it. Mommy, Daddy and Megan. I put it on their bed so they’d find it when they got home.”

  A sob caught in her throat.

  “But they never came home. A drunk driver hit their car one block from our house and killed them instantly. I woke up in the morning to discover that my entire world had been shattered.”

  “Ah, Megan,” Ben said, his voice raspy with emotion as he started toward her.

  Megan held up one hand in a halting gesture and Ben stopped.

  “No, please, Ben,” she said. “Don’t hold me right now. I’ll dissolve, go completely to pieces. I’m hanging on by such a fragile thread at the moment.”

  “Then let go, give way to your tears,” he said. “I’m here for you, Megan. There’s no shame in crying for what was, or for what you’ve been through. Having to deal with a lifetime of memories all at once is an extremely heavy load.”

  “Tears won’t serve any purpose,” she said, lifting her chin. “I know everything now, including the nightmare I endured during the two years I was with Charles Chastain.” She stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, gathering control over her emotions, then looked at Ben again. “Dear heaven, how I despise that man.”

  “With just cause. Come on.” Ben extended one hand toward her. “Sit with me on the sofa.”

  Megan hesitated, then moved forward to place her hand in Ben’s. He led her to the sofa and they sat down, Ben’s arm encircling her shoulders.

  “It was the sheriff’s idea to go through the microfilm at the library and search for information in the Phoenix newspapers,” Ben said. “It did the trick, all right. Slam dunked you with the whole package, snapped you out of your amnesia. What do you think? Should we hug Cable Montana, or hit him?”

  Megan smiled slightly, then sighed before resting her head on Ben’s shoulder.

  “Hug him...I guess,” she said. “I should be grateful that my memory has returned. It’s just that...well, we had such a special, wonderful, magical world within our crystal ball.”

  “I’m still here, Megan.”

  “But now my past has joined us.”

  “We’ll deal with it. Take all the time you need to sort through what you’ve learned tonight. When you’re ready, you can decide what you want to do about Chastain.”

  “I was such an easy target for that evil man,” Megan said, then took a shu
ddering breath. “I was raised in foster homes, because there were no relatives to take me in when my parents were killed. I set out on my own at eighteen with little confidence and even less self-esteem.

  “When I became one of the secretaries in Charles’s office, he must have waited and watched. He knew I was vulnerable and alone. My God, I was gullible. Imagine a handsome, powerful, wealthy man like Charles Chastain being romantically interested in me. I was starry-eyed, and innocent, and so incredibly stupid.”

  “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Ben kissed her on the temple. “You were a victim of a very clever, diabolical man. He figured he could mold you into the perfect wife for a candidate for governor.”

  “He didn’t love me.”

  “No. Any man who hurts his wife the way Charles did you, doesn’t even know what love means.”

  “He used me, Ben, just as you described. There was a whirlwind courtship, and I was so happy for the first time in years. Then the wedding, the big social event we read about in the newspapers. And then? The nightmare began. The screaming, the hitting, every time I failed to be exactly perfect, the way he was training me to be.”

  “Megan, don’t,” Ben said, feeling the cold knot coil in his gut. “You don’t have to relive all that.”

  Megan lifted her head from Ben’s shoulder to look directly into his eyes.

  “Yes, I do,” she said. “Oh, yes, I certainly do. Two years, Ben. I suffered that abuse for two long years. I was terrified twenty-four hours a day. Charles had me followed, and everything I did, said, everywhere I went, was reported back to him.”

  “Megan, you left him. Give yourself some credit. There are women in situations like yours who never have the courage to escape from their hell.”

  “It took me months to put together my plan to leave, to find people I could trust. It was my hairdresser, Jessy, who was my guardian angel.

  “I went to her shop every week, and she saw the bruises, heard the lies I told about bumping into a door, falling down the stairs, whatever fabrication I could come up with. Jessy finally confronted me and I fell apart, just flung myself into her arms and wept.”

 

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