“You knew me in Paris?” Her voice squeaked. Even though she’d discovered she knew French last week, she never imagined she’d lived in Paris.
“That’s where I met you. I worked with…Jeremy and I served in the same unit. When I came to Paris on leave, Jeremy introduced me to his new wife.”
Ryder worked with her ex-husband? Did this mean her ex-husband was a spy, too? Did Jeremy even know about her pregnancy, about his daughter? Would she have to share Shelby with a stranger? Her gut clenched. She didn’t want to share Shelby with anyone.
Running her hands across her face as if brushing away cobwebs, she pushed out of her chair. “Where is he? Where’s Jeremy?”
Ryder spun around and gripped her shoulders. “Jeremy’s dead.”
She closed her eyes and waited for the grief, the sharp pang of regret, a twist of guilt. Nothing. She felt nothing but a flare of relief. No stranger would be knocking on her door to take Shelby for court-mandated visits with a father she didn’t know.
“Are you okay?” Ryder squeezed her shoulders.
Her eyes flew open. With his face inches from hers, she could smell his strong, clean scent and the citrus on his breath from the fresh lemonade. Two lines formed on either side of his mouth and his nostrils flared. Did he expect her to collapse?
“I—I don’t feel anything. I know he was your friend, but all I feel is relief that he can’t take my daughter. Am I a horrible person? I’m sorry you lost your friend.” A sob escaped her lips for the man, Shelby’s father, she’d never know.
The pressure on her shoulders turned to a caress and Ryder pulled her into an embrace. She molded against his hard body, and he tightened his arms around her, laying his cheek on the top of her head. Her blood sang in her veins as she rested against the solid comfort of his chest.
He murmured against her hair, “You’re not a horrible person. Your reaction is natural. You don’t remember Jeremy. How could you feel anything about the news of his death?”
Julia curled her arms around Ryder’s waist. Maybe if Jeremy stood here on the Stokers’ patio, holding her in his arms, she’d remember. The strong connection she felt with Ryder bubbled up from somewhere in her subconscious. Dr. Jim always believed if she met someone from her past, memories would start to return.
The memories still remained blank, but the feeling she had for Ryder surged through her, real and strong. She turned her head and pressed her lips against the warm skin of his throat, moving her hips against his. His breath hissed between his teeth, and she jumped back, disentangling herself from his embrace and the confusing feelings swirling in her head.
“I—I’m sorry.” She covered her face with her hands to hide the hot flash that claimed her cheeks.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. This must be…” He placed his hand on her back and steered her back to her chair. “Sit.”
She dropped into the chair, and Ryder shoved her glass of lemonade in front of her. She gulped the cool liquid and then pressed the glass against her hot face. Ryder must think she’d lost her mind along with her memory, coming onto him right after learning about her dead husband…ex-husband.
“How did Jeremy die and when?” She had to start piecing together the string of events in her past life that led to her accident in a stolen car with a bag of cash.
“You were living in Paris when Jeremy finished his last assignment.” He cocked his head. “Do you know that you speak French like a native?”
“Yeah, I discovered that just last week.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Weird.”
“You don’t know the half of weird. Go on.”
“You worked as a tour guide at the Louvre. Anyway, Jeremy returned from the field, and you two fought and decided to separate.”
“After one fight?” Her marriage to Jeremy couldn’t have been that strong.
“One of many fights.” Ryder shrugged his broad shoulders. “Jeremy left his job and went out to Tucson. When I found out about Jeremy’s…death, I called you in Paris. That’s when I learned you went to the States, but I don’t know why you followed him.”
“I was with him when he died?” She swallowed the uneasy lump in her throat.
“I don’t know, Julia. I saw you last in Paris before I left for my next assignment.” He shifted his gaze from hers and stared across the Stokers’ back yard that stretched into a paddock for their horses. “When I heard about Jeremy I called you, but you were gone. When I got back to Paris, I looked for you again, but you’d disappeared. I didn’t see you again until today.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Ryder.” Wings of anxiety fluttered in her belly. Something didn’t add up about Ryder’s story. He said Jeremy was in Afghanistan, in the military, but he talked of assignments instead of deployment. And what American soldier lived in Paris? The McClintocks never mentioned their son being in the armed services. He worked for a government agency, some said the CIA.
“How did Jeremy die?”
“Julia, we don’t have to go into this right now. You must be on overload. There’s plenty of time to get into this stuff, and I’ll be around for a while.”
“Before you get your next assignment?” She crossed her arms, squelching all the squishy feelings she had about this man. She needed some answers. “What agency do you work for?”
Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his long legs in front of him. His worn cowboy boots looked right at home on the dusty roads that led from Silverhill to the ranches that surrounded it. Of course he fit in because his family owned one of the biggest ranches, but he was also at home in Paris, Afghanistan, and wherever else he’d been hiding out these past three and a half years.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Or you’d have to kill me?” Her own attempt at humor caused a chill to ripple down her spine. Hunching her shoulders, she gripped her upper arms. “I must’ve known at some point because I was married to one of your coworkers.”
“You knew a little, but it’s best for those memories to stay buried.”
“Damn you.” She banged her fist on the table, and the ice in the glasses tinkled and shook. “You’re not the gatekeeper of my memories. Did Jeremy’s death have anything to do with this top secret agency? Is it the reason I was fleeing in a stolen car with gobs of cash?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
A quick grin broke across his face. “Still as hot-tempered as ever.”
She was? Nobody in Silverhill had ever accused her of having a hot temper. They tiptoed around sweet, gentle Julia and spoke in hushed voices so as not to startle her. She hated it.
Ryder sat forward and traced a finger along the knuckles of her clenched fist. “You never told me how you knew your name was Julia.”
A blatant attempt to change the subject, but his warm touch somehow made that okay. Not wanting to break away from him, Julia plucked her necklace from beneath her T-shirt with her other hand. Hooking her thumb behind the gold script of her name, she pulled it forward.
Ryder took it from her and ran the tip of his finger along the letters. Her heart ached at the gentle way he caressed her name. His eyes crinkled and a smile tugged at his lips.
“Do you recognize it?” She held her breath.
“Yeah, you wore it all the time.”
His eyes met hers, and she shivered at the longing mirrored in their depths. She shared a past with this man. His lips, inches from hers, invited her to explore further. As much as she wanted to, she had to learn more about herself, about her dead husband, Shelby’s father.
The patio door slid open, and Shelby barreled across the bricks and threw herself into Julia’s lap. “I want to go home. Uncle Clem said I could have a kitty.”
“Okay, we can go home now, but we have to wait until the kitties are ready to leave their mama.” Julia glanced at Ryder, who was smiling down at Shelby.
Shelby turned her head, a quick grin splitting her face. “I have your hat.”
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“Then let’s go get it.” Ryder tweaked one of Shelby’s curls before he stood up. “And I’ll walk you and your mama home.”
Millie collected the glasses from the table, her gaze darting between Julia and Ryder. “You learn anything, honey?”
“Yeah, but we have a lot more to discuss.”
Ryder raised his brows, but before he could utter a word, Shelby grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the house. With narrowed eyes, Julia watched her daughter pull the handsome stranger inside. Seemed Ryder McClintock had cast a spell over her daughter, too.
As Julia and Ryder sauntered down the dirt road to her house, Shelby skipped ahead of them, examining every rock and stick along the way.
“She’s really bright and talkative.”
“She was my lifeline after the accident.” Tears pricked her eyes and she dashed them away. “Does she look anything like Jeremy?”
Ryder stiffened beside her and lifted a shoulder. “I think she looks like you.”
“Was I pregnant when Jeremy and I divorced?” It bothered her that she’d separate from her husband when they were going to have a child together.
Her house came into view, and Shelby pushed through the front gate.
“I didn’t know anything about your pregnancy.” Ryder kicked at some pebbles on the road. “You weren’t pregnant the last time I saw you in Paris…before I left on assignment.”
“Were Jeremy and I separated at that point?” She gnawed at her bottom lip, trying to piece together the strands of her life, like a movie where she knew the ending and had to figure out the beginning and the middle.
“Yes.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Mama, more flowers.” Shelby ran back toward the road, clutching a bunch of wildflowers tied with a blue ribbon.
Julia’s heart pounded as she took the bouquet of flowers from her daughter. Two offerings in one day? Her secret admirer had just turned up the heat.
“Is anything wrong?” Ryder’s brow furrowed as he tilted his head.
“Someone has been leaving me flowers the past few weeks.” She shrugged with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “A secret admirer.”
“You used to love flowers…roses.” He pushed the gate open for her. “That’s how Jeremy proposed to you. He filled your apartment in Paris with roses.”
“What an extravagant gesture. How’d it all go downhill from a rose-filled proposal?”
“You inspired extravagant gestures.”
“Me?” She laughed. “Now I inspire scraggly bouquets of wildflowers.”
She shoved her key in the door, pushing it open. Many residents of Silverhill left their doors unlocked, especially during the day, but she never felt safe doing that. Maybe once she reclaimed her past, she’d stop looking over her shoulder, even though that past according to Ryder McClintock still contained secrets and unanswered riddles.
“Does Shelby take a nap? If you’re not on overload, we can continue talking. I can tell you about the time you jumped in the fountain fully clothed and the other time when you inspired a skinny-dipping session at a party.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not.” His blue eyes gleamed with a wicked light. “I was at the party.”
Shelby danced around Ryder’s legs. “Come see my rock collection.”
“You can show Ryder your collection, and then it’s time for a nap.” She had a lot to learn about herself, that carefree, uninhibited woman…and a lot to learn about Ryder.
Julia slid the backpack off her shoulder and pushed open her bedroom door. She stopped at the threshold and grabbed the doorjamb for support.
The blood rushed to her head and the roaring in her ears drowned out the sound of her own scream as it ripped through her throat.
Chapter Three
Ryder dropped the shiny piece of obsidian and lurched to his feet. Shelby clutched his fingers, and he swept her up in his arms. He charged into the small hallway where Julia sagged against her bedroom door.
“What is it?” He shifted Shelby to his left arm, wrapping his right around Julia’s waist. She leaned against his body and pointed a shaking finger toward her bed.
Bits and pieces of shredded material lay scattered across the chintz coverlet. A pair of scissors extended from the middle of the mattress.
“Mama’s underwear.” Shelby squirmed out of his arms and scampered toward the mess on the bed.
“Shelby!” Julia shouted and yanked her daughter back. “Leave it alone. I—I forgot I left my underwear here this morning.”
She turned pleading eyes toward him, and when could he ever resist Julia Rousseau anything? Taming the rage that burned in his belly for the unknown intruder who just destroyed Julia’s peace, Ryder scooped up Shelby. “Why don’t you get a tea party ready for me in your room?”
By the time he settled Shelby in her bedroom and scoured the rest of the small house, he returned to Julia’s bedroom where she crouched beside the bed, fingering the remnants of lacy bras and silk panties.
“Don’t touch anything, Julia. Leave it for the police.”
Her hand trembled as she dropped the material and then she covered her face. He’d never seen Julia show weakness before and her fear punched him in the gut. What kind of maniacs were running around Silverhill these days? If, in fact, a Silverhill local played this sick joke.
Dropping to his knees beside her, he wrapped her in a tight embrace. He smoothed her long, silky hair with his palm and inhaled her fresh, sweet scent, which resembled those wildflowers she’d tossed on the coffee table. “Do you have any idea who did this? Could it be a stupid prank?”
She shook her head, burrowing deeper against his chest.
“It’s probably connected to those flowers.” It looked like Julia had a stalker who just graduated from innocent gifts of flowers to more sinister acts of intimacy. He’d returned home to Silverhill just in time to protect her.
Just like he’d protected her from Jeremy.
“I think it is.” She rubbed her nose on his shirt and pulled away from him. “I got the first bouquet two weeks ago, a second one last week, and two today. There was one on my porch this morning before we left on our hike.”
“What did you do with all of them?”
“I threw them away, except for the one this morning. I got sick of it and crushed the flowers into the dirt.”
He smoothed the hair from her brow. He wanted to kiss her, but held back. He had to give her some time before telling her about their relationship…and Shelby.
The little girl had to be his unless Julia and Jeremy indulged in some postseparation sex, and Julia would have never done that. She’d loved him as much as he loved her, still loved her. Somehow he had to win her love back, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t do it with secrets. And he couldn’t just charge back into her life and take what rightfully belonged to him. He had that little girl to consider now. He had to protect her, too.
He shook his head. “Seems your stalker saw the abandoned flowers and got pissed off.”
“Stalker?” A tremble rolled through her slight frame, and he silently cursed himself. He wanted to treat this intrusion lightly for her sake, brush it off as a harmless prank.
This Julia with her broken memories and tentative hold on a new life didn’t have the same strength as the old Julia, who routinely battled with her mother and kicked her cheating spouse to the curb.
“Maybe he’s just a harmless, love-struck fool.” He rubbed her back.
Tilting her chin toward the scissors, she said, “That doesn’t look harmless to me. How’d he get into my home?”
On his inspection of her house he noticed the back door slightly ajar, but he didn’t want to touch anything. “He may have broken in through the back. Let’s get the police over here. I know Will Ballard is still the sheriff because my brother, Rafe, works for him, but Rafe’s in the Academy since he transferred over from L.A. Who else is on the force?”
“Ballard’s son, Zack, works with him
, too.”
He rolled his eyes, keeping the mood light. “Lord, save us from Zack Ballard.”
That earned him a snort and his heart clutched. Julia didn’t giggle. She snorted and then the snorts turned into big belly laughs that had everyone joining in. He wanted that woman back…although, this new Julia had a softness about her the old Julia would’ve scorned, and his retro-caveman side found it damned attractive.
The old Julia never wanted children either, but Ryder could tell Julia was a loving mother. Did she reconsider the idea of kids because she’d been carrying his baby? Why didn’t she tell him, and why did she go to Jeremy in Arizona? Did she even get a chance to see Jeremy before he died?
He couldn’t give her all her memories and didn’t know if he wanted to give her the bad ones. Of course she never told him about her pregnancy. He hadn’t wanted children, either.
He’d always shied away from commitments for just that reason. After the disaster of his parents’ marriage and his role in breaking apart his family, he didn’t want one of his own. Didn’t deserve one of his own.
Fifteen minutes later with Shelby sound asleep, the father-son team of Will and Zack Ballard showed up at Julia’s house. Ryder figured Will would’ve retired by now, but maybe he didn’t feel comfortable letting his bumbling son out on the streets without his guidance. Or he figured the new sheriff would fire Zack.
“Good to see you back, Ryder.” Zack crushed Ryder’s hand with his massive paw. “Are you going to stick around this time or do you have another secret assignment coming up?”
Ryder squeezed back until Zack blinked his eyes and struggled out of his grip. Zack always had to prove himself, and he did it with a pumped-up physique and a macho swagger.
“Can’t tell you that, Zack. That’s why it’s called a secret assignment.” Ryder winked to take out the sting of his words. He could understand Zack’s effort to escape the shadow of a larger-than-life father.
Ryder’s own father, Ralph, controlled his ranch and his family with an iron hand. It was one of the reasons Ryder took a job with the CIA—the top secret stuff came later when he joined the covert ops division, Black Cobra…and met Jeremy Scott.
Circumstantial Memories Page 3
