Deja Vu (Titan World Book 0)

by Cristin Harber

  Beth’s bold smile flickered. “Honey, we’re friends. I know you don’t remember anything.” She faux-hesitated. “I was listed as your emergency contact. Don’t you think that means something?”

  “Beth, is it?” James threw a stare that could have knocked over an armored vehicle. “Why don’t you give us a minute? I promise she’ll be fine.”

  The war was on as to who would give in first.

  “Sure thing, Doc.” Beth waved the white flag, and then her expensive heels clacked on the tile until he and Allie were all alone.

  Shit, he would hear about this later. But that didn’t matter. Beth slammed the door shut right after the nurse skittered out, and he shifted back to his patient, or his… ex-fiancée. “Allie.”

  “Doctor, I’m—”

  “If we were engaged, it’s James.” He tapped his lab coat, where she had read his name before.

  She blushed, and he couldn’t help but smile at the innocent way it tinged her cheeks. “James.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, letting that unhidden smile find his words.

  “Likewise.” She shifted on the bed. “About that, though…”

  He waited expectantly in an easy silence.

  “Actually”—Allie tugged her bottom lip between her teeth—“I wish I had a good reason for pulling that out of nowhere.”

  “That?” James pushed.

  “I called you my fiancé.” She blushed again, giving her fair skin a workout.

  “I said you were.” Between her light-brown hair and eyes, and the third, maybe fourth time she had blushed around him, James found her… entrancing. Perhaps he was crazy too. She was in a hospital gown and very clearly had days-old eye makeup that was smudged and semi-wiped away, but not removed. No one ever looked great staying in a hospital room for more than a day, yet Allie did. Her chin was scabbed, her cheeks had signs of windburn, and still she could’ve turned heads.

  She sighed as though her charade was up. “Now you’re going to mark up that I’m nutzo.”

  “Are you?” He shoved his hands in his coat jacket and ignored the urge to sit next to her.

  “No.”

  “Now that we’ve cleared that up…” Still, he couldn’t stay away. Hands in the pockets wasn’t enough of a barrier, and James stepped closer to her bed. “Any questions for me?”

  “Why did you agree? That you were my ex-fiancé?”

  Good question. He took a deep breath and held it before letting it drift out. “Call it instinct.”

  “Instinct…” She toyed with her hospital gown, smoothing it and focusing on a loose string. “Hmm.”

  James pulled his hands out and crossed his arms, deciding to push. “Hmm?”

  “Thank you for taking a chance.”

  “I’ll take your non-answer for now if you tell me why you needed a fiancé?”

  “I didn’t need a fiancé.” Eyes defensive, she lifted her shoulder but winced. “I just needed someone on my side and knew it could be you.”

  “You’re in pain?” He reached for his tablet and swiped the screen awake, quickly bringing up her chart. She’d turned away pain meds?

  “I’m not taking anything that could make me feel fuzzy.”

  Not even simple painkillers. The CIA and their games produced trust issues even when one wasn’t aware of their involvement in their own life. He didn’t blame Allie at all. What did she know about the CIA, though? “You have Beth. She’s a friend who can help.”

  “So she says.”

  “How much of your memory is actually gone?” he asked. She was so close to the truth that he had to wonder if it was all a game.

  Her face fell. “All of my memory is gone; I just have a feeling—you have instincts, I have a feeling. I know what Beth has told me, and I needed a neutral safe harbor. You don’t know me. You don’t know her. You’re Switzerland.”

  Well, shit. Their fake ex-engagement was starting on a lie and he already hurt the girl’s feelings. Man, he was screwing this relationship up already. But more than that, James was impressed that, without a memory, she could pick out a mole in the room and see Beth for what she was. Not one to be trusted.

  Allie dropped her chin. “See? It sounds crazy. But I don’t feel like she’s my friend. I don’t feel like I’m anything she’s told me about me.”

  He couldn’t imagine how frustrating that had to be. He was contracted to not say a word. To walk out the door as quickly as he came in. But not helping her when she was clearly grasping at straws of her former self was nearly medical malpractice and ethically bankrupt. That, and it was a total dick move. “Who do you think you are, Allie?”

  “Not an introvert, work-from-home Internet marketer.” She made a face, twisting her mouth and rolling her eyes.

  He burst out laughing. “That’s what she said you were?”

  “Yes.” Allie deepened her smirk now that they were both in on the joke. “You don’t believe it, either.”

  He tilted his head. “I wonder how we would’ve met.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since you were an introvert who worked from home.”

  “Oh.” Allie laughed, relaxing in a thought. “Maybe at the grocery store or a gas station?” She tugged the neck of her hospital gown. “Maybe after a fender bender gone wrong or something?”

  “Or something.” Maybe they’d paired up on a CIA operation in which the Agency had needed him out in the field on an op. Or that was just his fantasy…

  She pulled her hair off her shoulders as though she were going to pull it into a ponytail and winced. “Odd place for a bump from a car accident.”

  Nope. Allie didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. The hospital room door opened, and Beth powered in, woman on a mission to stop the nefarious relationship-history building. Now he was the one who was going to get pissed because fake ex or not, Allie was a breath of fresh air in his normal ho-hum day. Beth could cool her heels already.

  “We weren’t done yet,” Allie snapped before he could.

  James sidestepped in front of Beth and intercepted her play. Careful not to show they knew one another, he dropped his voice low. “Easy. You’re treading on my turf.”

  Beth’s lipsticked mouth pressed into a tight line. Her polished gaze swept between them, ignoring the nurse who reappeared at the door.

  “Allie.” James pivoted to have both women in his view. “Beth understands we weren’t done yet. She’ll give us the room again. She’s worried, and that just makes her a good friend.”

  One second, then another tick of time passed before Beth surrendered. “Sure thing, Doc. I’ll be back later.”

  The door slammed again, almost on the nurse this time.

  “She was kind of mad,” Allie whispered.

  “Yup.” There would be Hell. To. Pay.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Beth stormed into James’s private office, and the glass door hit the wall, making his diplomas and awards jump. He tossed down his pen, and the heavy weight of the Montblanc hit his desk with a thud then rolled once until a gold lapel pin stopped it in place.

  He stared at the expensive black pen instead of her, cracked his neck once, and pushed back in his leather chair. “Well, hello to you too.”

  Beth put her hands on her hips. “You were never her fiancé! What are you doing?”

  “Who is she really? And don’t give me some BS-filled résumé that the CIA put together, because frankly, I’ve already read it. Whoever she worked with before isn’t here. And it wasn’t you.”

  “Damn it, James!”

  He bounced back in his chair twice, assessing Beth. The woman was fit to be tied and that said volumes. The more she pushed, the more he’d buckle down on his move. “How do you know we weren’t engaged before? You don’t. We were. End of story.”

  “You sound like a petulant two-year-old. It’s a matter of national security.”

  He crossed his arms at that song and dance. “You have no idea what it’s a matter of. You’re fo
llowing orders.”

  “So should you,” Beth shot back.

  “I will remind you”—he leaned forward—“I have no orders to follow. I don’t work for anyone but my patients, and you know that.”

  Exasperation rolled off her. When Beth worked, she was cool as a cucumber straight out of the crisper, but when she had the chance to vent, her temper could fly. She paced back and forth in front of his desk.

  “You know, the people who pace in front of my desk are generally making life-and-death decisions. They have far more weighty decisions on their minds than trying to handle the backstory of an amnesia patient.”

  Beth threw her arms out. “You were never engaged.”

  “The love of my life broke my heart long ago. I have done nothing to interfere with whatever it is you’re doing. And I have listened to everything the CIA has asked of me, despite how questionable this one seems to be.”

  Beth glowered, and her flawless makeup didn’t hide her disdain as she stalked to the front of his desk, her fists balled. “You don’t know what you’re messing with, Doc.”

  James shook his head. “I suspect, Beth, that you don’t either. And if that is all, you can storm out.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  London. Paris. New York City. Those weren’t the places James wanted to be. When Allie was in his office, the place had a different energy. Having her visit him gave his day an extra lift, and he didn’t feel as though they were sitting in Summerland Hospital’s row of offices. It honestly didn’t matter where they were.

  Today was different, though. Between their conversation about her health and discharge papers, the mood was darker… though neither of them had said as much.

  “I’m sorry.” Allie rubbed her temples, letting her soft-looking hair fall over her face. “It’s just I have this sense of déjà vu, and it’s been driving me crazy.”

  “It’s—”

  “I know that’s part of recovery.”

  James rolled a Montblanc pen between his fingers, its weight seemingly garnering far more of his interest than what was needed. “You should talk to your specialist about that.”

  What a stupid answer. He hated to give her that answer, but he had no choice.

  “You’re not even curious what’s causing it?” Her analytical eyes bored into him, and he didn’t even need to look up to know her assessment was in full swing.

  That wasn’t déjà vu; it was her survival instinct. James pressed his lips together and raised his brows. He had nothing to say, nothing he could say, so he played with his pen.

  Allie’s unexpectedly powerful hand slapped on top of his. “Why is everybody lying to me?”

  Her palm was hot, her fingers strong as they gripped the tops of his and squeezed. He tugged his hand back, and she ripped his hand forward.

  “Dr. Tuska—”

  “James.” Damn it. She needed to let go, because he didn’t want to. He hated lying to her, hated when she referred to him as her doctor, hated when she didn’t say his name. Because he wanted to hear her say James! And to kiss her. So hell, she needed to let go! Now!

  Allie’s eyes narrowed. “James, I don’t understand why you listen to everything I have to say except for when I talk about me!”

  He snatched his hand away, breathing harder than he should have been. Hell, turned on when he never should have been at all. “It’s an injury, and there’s a recovery process.”

  She stared at the ceiling. “That’s not at all what I’m talking about, and you know it. Beth knows it. Everybody who I talk to knows it.” She dropped her gaze, thankfully appearing to have missed the last thirty seconds of his thoughts and reactions to her. “I feel like they’re rewriting my history, and I don’t understand why.”

  “I don’t understand, either,” he admitted, focusing on the real issue.

  They sat in silence, avoiding why she was there—to say good-bye after she was given her discharge papers. “Beth is going to take me home. And I was going to order pizza. Do you want to join us— Shoot, that sounds like a date. I wasn’t asking you on a date. I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t know anybody. Or the people that everybody says that I do know, I don’t know.” She looked away.

  Before he needed to kiss her. Touch her. Now all he wanted to do was offer her a hug and tell her it would be okay. “It didn’t sound like a date. No worries.” Though if it had, he would have said yes. What were the rules on asking out a patient who was supposedly an ex? That could be done. Not that complicated. The problem was that her connection to the CIA made her off limits.

  “Knock, knock, I’m here,” Beth said as she appeared at the door. “How’s everybody doing?”

  Allie turned in her chair and put on a fake smile. “I guess I’m doing okay.”

  Even Beth’s cheery disposition didn’t lift the fog from the room. James settled back as Beth did her best to entertain her friend.

  The whole faux show hurt to watch. But this was his job, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen the CIA’s bullshit. Though it was the first time James had cared.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The doorbell rang in the foreign house, and Allie jumped, nearly choking on her pizza. It was her fifth slice of the night. The first two she’d eaten with Beth. The second two she’d had alone. And this fifth piece she was having with a bottle of wine—well, at least the start of a bottle of wine. Two glasses in and two bites deep, she quickly dabbed at her mouth and walked to her door, wondering who on earth would be knocking.

  It was far too late for any mail delivery, and as it turned out, she apparently didn’t have a lot of friends. She worked online, where people knew her, and she belonged to mega marketing groups. Everybody was familiar with her profiles.

  But as for real live people? Apparently, Allie didn’t have those.

  Warily, she stared at the door as the doorbell rang again. “Coming.”

  Anxiety at the unknown door knocker struck, and her hands felt empty, as though she should have been running them along her hips, searching for something. She glided against the wall and checked outside as best she could without being seen.

  James.

  ***

  James stood on the front porch as though the soles of his shoes had been glued to Allie’s doormat and gaped. At home in sweatpants and a T-shirt, Allie had her hair thrown into a ponytail. She was gorgeous just like that as she stood there, holding the front door open. His mind flashed back to the night she’d arrived at Summerland Hospital. Even though she had just been through a trauma, he’d known this was what his idea of beauty and the future looked like. This woman at home.

  Shit. What was he doing there?

  “I didn’t expect you.” Allie’s wide eyes showed the interest that she couldn’t understand and didn’t trust, and that he knew all too well.

  “I wanted to check on you and should’ve called.” His landlocked stance loosened, and he took a bold step forward despite her lack of invitation. “But there was the chance you’d say no. You weren’t clear on your interest in a date.”

  Her eyes went wide. “A date?”

  He needed to backtrack. “Not a date. Just checking on a woman who told the world she was my ex-fiancée for a solid week.”

  Truth was, now that she had left the hospital, he missed stopping by her room before he left for the night, and he’d missed her in his office the moment she waved good-bye. They had messed with the nurses, screwed with Beth, had laughs, shared a few stories, and caught up on a life they hadn’t had together. They’d become fast friends over a relationship that hadn’t existed. There were sparks for him. Did she feel them too? He had to know, and tonight, he couldn’t stay away. Was he more than just her security blanket?

  He wanted to be, and he had no idea how that was possible. She’d used him as a life raft in an uncertain week as she questioned everything else, except for the one certain lie that she told as a truth: them.

  “I’m fine. Nothing a little bit of pizza couldn’t cure.” Allie bit her lip. �
�And… I wouldn’t have said no to a date.” She took a rushed step back, shyness brightening her cheeks. “But—”

  He caught her hand. It was soft and delicate, fitting nicely in his. The first time they had touched outside the confines of Summerland Hospital, and his pulse jumped as her face shot up. “Allie, hey.”

  “Hey.”

  His thumb swiped across her knuckles. “It’s good to see you.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. “It’s only been a few hours.”

  “I don’t care.”

  A pretty pink lit her cheeks under the glow of her porch light. “Would you like to come in?”

  That was why he was here, wasn’t it, after all? He squeezed her hand. Everything about this would have been perfect if he’d never lied to her. “I’d like to.”

  Nervously, Allie took her hand back and swept her arm into the room. “Welcome to the house that I don’t remember. It doesn’t feel like mine. Mi casa es su casa.”

  Was it even her home? James wanted to trigger a memory of what might have been here before and what had been removed by the CIA cleanup team. But first, he had to get through the door. “Maybe it’ll feel more like home after a day or two.”

  She sidestepped the well-decorated hallway. “You sound like you believe that as much as I do.”

  The entryway was clear of anything out of place. No tossed jacket, no kicked-off pile of shoes. He tended to be a neat freak, but when an unexpected guest walked into his home, they could tell he lived there. Not like this place. It was far too clean. James would have bet money that she hadn’t lived there before.

  Allie led the way to a dining room table, where a piece of pizza and a bottle of wine waited.

  “I’ll get you a glass,” she offered.

  “I’m good.” She shouldn’t have been drinking. He glanced around at the house that could have been picture ready for a house accessories catalogue photo shoot. Nothing was out of place. Even the pile of junk mail on a side table looked expertly placed. He leaned over to spy… Just as he’d thought. The address labels had her name laser printed on. It was too much. Since when did junk mail come addressed by name instead of “Our Friends” or “The Neighborhood Household”? Maybe one or two pieces, but not a pile of crap she would likely toss. It’d been staged.