Rich, Rugged...Ruthless

by Jennifer Mikels

  A seriousness clouded his eyes. “Not at all.”

  She wanted to offer encouragement, but doubted anything she said would help. Still, she tried. “When you’re ready, you’ll remember.”

  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he took her hand. “You know, I thought you’d come up with a better idea than taking a walk.”

  Sam peered over the rim of her sunglasses at him. “Ever play strip poker?”

  Dramatically he tapped his fingers at his chest in the vicinity of his heart. “Carter, you take my breath away.”

  As he dropped his hand to his side, she relaced her fingers with his. “Let’s go this way.”

  “Why? What are you planning?”

  Here goes, Sam mused. “I thought we’d visit the Crowleys.”

  “I gave up strip poker to play Good Neighbor Sam?”

  “There’s a time for everything.”

  “You have a torturous nature,” he returned.

  Enjoying the lighthearted moment, Sam continued the banter. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “You’re supposed to make me feel better.”

  “Oh, what a line.” As they trudged over a ridge, the Crowleys’ home came into view. It was a ranch-style with numerous additions, as if the couple had started small and kept building onto the house.

  “The husband doesn’t like me,” Max seemed compelled to remind her.

  Sam reasoned that Joe simply needed to spend time with the new Max. “He will.”

  “If the purpose of this visit is to find me a bosom buddy—”

  How telling his words were. Even with amnesia, he needed a reason for everything. “Sheba is the reason.”

  “And Sheba is?”

  “Their dog. A collie.” Sunlight bathed her face with a warm glow. “She had puppies. I’d like to see them.”

  “Fine. Then you go.”

  “Cooperate, will you?” Sam noted a stubborn set to his jaw. “Anyway, it’s too late to walk away.” She directed his stare to the couple approaching them. “Here come Joe and Barbara.”

  Though Barbara hurried to greet them, Joe lollygagged behind his wife. “What a nice surprise.” Barbara hooked her arm in Sam’s. “Isn’t it, Joe?” she said to her husband who’d finally caught up to her.

  “It’s a surprise, all right,” he mumbled.

  “We wanted to see the puppies.” Sam hoped the visit went well, hoped to break down the unfriendliness between Max and his neighbors before his amnesia lifted.

  Nearing the front door with Barbara, Sam noticed several clocks piled on a table as if left there and forgotten. She paused to examine what looked like an oak gingerbread kitchen clock.

  Barbara huffed. “That’s my husband’s junk collection. He picked those up at a garage sale about three weeks ago. And here they still are.”

  “They’re not junk,” Joe protested.

  Stopped, Max touched the curved scroll top of one clock. “They sure aren’t. This is a pillar-and-scroll clock.”

  Sam swung around. For a brief second Max’s gaze flew to her. She saw his bafflement. Was he wondering, too, how he remembered that?

  Joe’s chest puffed slightly. “Told you, Barbara. Here’s a man who has good taste.” He placed a hand on Max’s shoulder as if they were old buddies.

  Sam shared an I-don’t-know-what’s-happening-here glance with Barbara.

  “Do you collect?” Joe asked.

  “No.” Max lifted another clock, turned it over. “My grandmother did.” He showed no outward reaction, but Sam was sure he was wondering about the sudden memory. “I have her Victorian shelf clock.”

  “I’d like to see that clock you have,” Joe said.

  To his credit, Max gave the right response. “Come over sometime.”

  “We’d like that. And the two of you need to come to our barbecue. It’s next week.”

  Sam swiveled a quick look at Max and nodded her head, prodding him to accept.

  “Sure, okay,” Max agreed.

  Amazing, Sam mused. She couldn’t have orchestrated better results, but she wondered if Max had chosen the easiest path, or was warming to his neighbors.

  Barbara beamed at both of them. “Wonderful. Now come with me,” she urged Sam. “The puppies are outside in back. Some of them look like the father, a Border collie.”

  Trailing her, Sam whispered in Max’s ear, “You need one.”

  “I don’t need one,” he murmured back.

  “Aw.” Sam gushed the moment she stepped outside and spotted the puppies. It was impossible to decide which one was cuter. Several were tan and white like their mother, one of them had a white mask with a black nose, and another had a black face and black saddle but the tip of his tail was white. Another had one ear up and one still drooping. “He’s so cute.” She bent and picked it up. Petting the small head, she faced Max while the puppies romped around their feet. “Aren’t they adorable?”

  “Do you want one?” Barbara asked.

  “I wish I could. But I live in an apartment. It wouldn’t be fair to the dog. And I don’t have time.”

  “If you want one badly enough, you’ll make time,” Max said.

  She assumed that no-nonsense tone belonged to the Max he’d been. She really didn’t have time, but he did. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed he hadn’t looked away from the puppy in her arms. If she’d just seen a glimpse of the man known with affection by his sister as “Max the Impossible,” then traces of the boy who loved animals must still exist, too. Facing Max, she transferred the puppy to his arm before he could protest.

  As if suddenly secure and content, the puppy nuzzled its nose into Max’s shirt pocket.

  “Max, why don’t you—”

  “Why don’t you?” he countered, and thrust the pup back at her.

  Sometimes he truly baffled her, she decided. Why wasn’t he grabbing at the opportunity to bring a dog into his life if he always wanted one? “I’ll take him,” Sam announced. She believed once the puppy lived with him that Max would grow to love it.

  “It’s yours, not mine,” Max reminded her.

  Sam nodded agreeably, but she believed differently. Max was wrong, of course. With the puppy in her arms, she stroked its soft fur and walked with Max back toward the house. She recalled how the puppy had snuggled into him. This was his dog—only he didn’t know it yet.

  While Max wandered into his den, she found a cardboard box for the dog, and retrieved the morning newspaper from the trash can to line the box. When the puppy plopped down to sleep, she started dinner.

  The sound of Sam’s laughter, and the mouth-watering aromas drifting to him from the kitchen, enticed Max from the den half an hour later. At the kitchen doorway, he heard her talking. From the conversation, he gathered she was on the phone with Jessica McCallum.

  Her back to him, she chatted away about the puppy. “It’s just adorable, Jessica.”

  Awake and whimpering, the puppy had conned her with doleful-looking eyes and managed an escape from the box. As it wandered from one corner of the kitchen to another, Max wondered if it was getting ready to mark its spot.

  Stirring something in a pot on the stove, Sam went on. “I haven’t thought of a name yet. I hope Max will help name him.”

  Max scowled at the pup sniffing around his shoe. He had no intentions of getting involved with it. Intending to put the pup back in its box, he bent and picked it up. Okay, it was cute, he admitted to himself. But it might be because of his amnesia that he was feeling such softness for the round ball of fur curled in his arm.

  He’d resisted bringing it home for good reason. Sure he’d want it now, but what about later? Could he trust any feelings he had now? He even had to wonder about ones for Sam. He wasn’t certain it had been fair to get involved with her. Hell of a time to think about that, he mused.

  But he didn’t know the man everyone told him he’d been. From what he’d learned, the person Sam had begun to care about wasn’t the real Max Montgomery. Whe
n his memory came back, would he feel the same desperation to hold her in his arms? Would her lips taste as sweet to him? Would he yearn for moments like this, for the sound of her voice? Max set the puppy down and watched it scamper toward Sam.

  In response, she crouched and lifted it to her to kiss the top of its head. “Scruffy?” Sam made a face. “I don’t think that name would work for him, Jessica. ‘Scruffy’ sounds small and cutesy. Oh, sure the puppy is cute. But one day it might be a majestic-looking dog.” Her laughter rippled out at something Jessica said.

  Max stayed out of her view. Clearly she’d made some good friends since coming to Whitehorn five years ago. He’d lived in the town most of his life and had few.

  “Max? Max?” her voice sang out, assuring him that she’d repeated the question since ending her phone call. “Where are you?”

  He focused and grinned at her. “It smells great in here.”

  Pleasure rushed color into her face. “Thank you.” Having set the puppy down, she went to the sink and washed her hands. “You keep saying things like that and I’ll change professions.”

  He doubted that. He moseyed near as she took the meat from the pan. He’d been with her long enough to sense she was the dedicated type. Without hovering, she’d kept a close eye on him during the first days he was home. She’d handled small jobs like cutting food for him, yet given him room to keep his independence. She was an excellent nurse. Though her sunny disposition had annoyed him at times, it had also forced his spirits up.

  “Seriously, I love to cook, and bake,” she said. “A German lady I nursed made desserts to die for.”

  While she dished potatoes onto a plate, he paused behind her. “She must have taught you well. You’re no slouch at making them.”

  Over her shoulder, she grinned at him. “I’m no slouch at lots of things.”

  He pushed her hair to the side. With her soft pale skin bewitching him, he lost himself in her scent and kissed the nape of her neck. “After last night, I’d never argue.”

  They were nearly done with dinner when company arrived. Looking past Sam toward the window, Max regarded the white pickup parking in his driveway. “Who’s that?”

  Sam raised her gaze from her plate. “The Kincaids. That’s Garrett and Collin Kincaid.” She stood, then skirted the table to cross toward the door.

  Max wasn’t sure he wanted visitors, but she was already inviting them in. Decades separated the ages of the men. They had similar blue eyes and handsome looks. One was silver-haired. The other was dark-haired, around Max’s age, and nearly as tall.

  “We came to visit,” the older man said with a step inside. “Hope we’re not disturbing your dinner.”

  Sam shook her head. “No, no. We’re done.”

  Garrett smiled at her, then swung questioning eyes on Max. “I heard you might not remember us.”

  Max hated this, truly hated this. “I don’t.”

  As Max stood, the older man offered his hand. “Garrett Kincaid.”

  From others, Max had heard about Garrett Kincaid. In his seventies, the man was the patriarch of the Kincaids, and a fair and honest man.

  “Collin Kincaid,” the other man said as they exchanged a handshake. “Garrett is my grandfather.”

  With the introductions done, Max ushered them toward the den doorway. Was this just a social visit, or had they come expecting something from him? Every time someone came to see him, he questioned what the person wanted.

  “We wondered if you were doing better.” The older man settled on the settee. “The doctors said everything will come back to you, didn’t they?”

  Repeatedly, Max mused. But when? “That’s what they said.” Max watched Sam bring in their coffee and set down the tray. He mouthed a thank-you to her. She did a lot of jobs that were above and beyond what she was hired for.

  As she breezed out of the room, Collin cleared his throat. “We meant to come sooner.” Annoyance danced across his face as his beeper went off.

  Garrett whipped a glare in his grandson’s direction. “Who?” he asked simply.

  Head bent, Collin squinted at the number on his beeper. “The lawyer.”

  Irritation deepened the frown lines on Garrett’s face. “You know about our problem, don’t you?” he asked Max. “Hell, of course, you probably don’t. I keep forgetting that you don’t remember any of this.”

  Rather than insensitive, the man came across as blunt. He’d said what was the truth. What could Max say to counter him? He’d get flashes of memories, but most of the time he was like a person who entered the theater too late for the start of the movie, and didn’t know who the players were. “I’ve heard,” Max answered. “My father mentioned it.”

  Garrett offered his own version of the problem with Jordon Baxter and the land they were fighting over.

  “It’ll be a battle,” Collin admitted. He set down his empty coffee cup. “Why we really came was to let you know that we’re near if you need anything.” When Collin stood, Max rose and touched his shoulder. “Thanks. Come again, will you?”

  Collin stopped and smiled slightly. He actually appeared stumped by something. “Is this the new-and-improved Max Montgomery?”

  Was he so different? “I guess so.” People reacted as if he was acting odd. From what he’d previously been told about himself, it had to be an improvement.

  He walked the Kincaids to the door and watched their truck pull away. Before he could walk back to the den, Merv Talbot arrived. “Told you I’d be back.”

  Max couldn’t say he was thrilled but wanted to get to know the man better. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No.” Merv glanced at his watch. “I can’t stay long. But I wanted to check on you.”

  “Why?”

  “We used to be best friends, Max.”

  Max asked the logical question. “Why ‘used to be’?”

  “It was a long time ago when we were real close. Before you went to college.”

  Max didn’t understand. Here was a part of his past with no clear-cut answers. Why would he distance himself from a friend? “What went wrong between us? Did something happen in college? Did we go to the same one?”

  Merv chuckled good-naturedly. “You were the studious one, Max, not me. But you were okay the first semester. During the second year, you changed. You didn’t want to see any of us. You said that you were busy. You wanted to concentrate on your career.”

  None of this made sense to Max. Was he always so self-centered? “And nothing else mattered?”

  “You were single-minded. When you wanted something, nothing stopped you from going after it.” Merv’s attention shifted to his watch. “Damn, it’s later than I thought. How about lunch next week?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  Was there more left unsaid? Max wondered. Was Merv doling out bits and pieces of information because of his amnesia? “Be straight with me. Did something happen?”

  Merv held out a hand, palm up. “Max, I honestly don’t know. There was a woman. I gather that you were in love with her. I’m not sure. I never met her. All I knew about her was her name.”

  In love with her? How could he have loved some woman and not even remember who she was, what she looked like? “What was her name?”

  “Michelle.”

  Frustration swarmed in on him. Damn it, why couldn’t he remember people? Tense now, he saw Merv to the door, said goodbye, then returned to the den. What had happened in college that had changed him? Was it about some woman named Michelle? Who the hell was she?

  “You look troubled.”

  Max whipped around toward Sam’s voice. Confused by unanswered questions, he needed her, her softness and strength at the moment. He’d become too close to her to pretend nothing was wrong.

  She stepped near and placed her palms on his chest. “Did the Kincaids tell you about their problem?” she asked because she could think of no other reason for the look on his face.

  “Do you know about it?”

  “I know
Garrett Kincaid is still looking for his seventh illegitimate grandson,” Sam answered. “And that he’s trying to settle the dispute over the land with Jordan Baxter so he can give his grandsons what he thinks they deserve.”

  “Through their lawyers, they plan to set up a meeting with this guy Baxter.”

  “I doubt he’ll agree,” Sam said. “Jordan Baxter tells anyone who’ll listen that the Kincaids are trying to steal his ranch from him.”

  This was the worst part of not remembering, Max thought. He hated his inability to recall small details in his life. “Who is Baxter?”

  “A local businessman. He deals in real estate mostly. He’s not liked, and for good reason. He’s closed down shopkeepers who didn’t meet his rent increases. He’s evicted tenants because they’re living in properties he wants to dump.” Sam paused and searched his face, trying to decipher if his mood had lifted any. She saw no smile in his eyes. “And now Baxter insists he found some lost letter that willed him the land.”

  “It’s clear Garrett won’t be deterred,” Max told her. “He plans to buy the land, insists his grandchildren deserve their fair share.”

  “Something is bothering you.”

  She’d become his companion, his friend, his sounding board, his lover. He felt at ease sharing anything with her. “After they left, Merv Talbot came.” A sense of the man he’d been had grown stronger while he’d been with Merv again. A friend meant camaraderie, laughs, trust. To find someone he’d shared all that with had made him feel less lost. But even that friendship wasn’t solid.

  Repeatedly he was forced to face the man he’d been, someone who was hard on employees, ruthlessly practical in business, unaffectionate with family and estranged from a friend. Why? Did a woman named Michelle hold the key or was she someone else he’d pushed away?

  Michelle… Merv had acted as if the woman had changed him.

  Totally confused, he’d stepped closer when Merv had turned to leave. Max had wanted to grab him, stop him. Tell me more, he wanted to shout. Damn it, fill in the empty places. “Thanks for telling me that much,” he’d said instead. But he’d been floundering. The name had meant nothing to him.