Rich, Rugged...Ruthless

by Jennifer Mikels

  His gaze strayed to her. “No, there wasn’t. You don’t understand. Rachel wasn’t in town back then. And our father was always busy. Even when Christina was younger, mourning our mother’s death, he was never there for her. Sure, she was wild. She was trying to get his attention. That’s why she went from man to man. And I wasn’t any better than him. She expected me to be there for her, and I wasn’t.”

  Max bowed his head. He wanted to backtrack to the day Christina had phoned him, to run from the bank and meet her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He wanted her back.

  “Damn it,” he murmured, and jerked, startled when Sam touched his forearm. Stay clear of me, he should say to her. As if it was yesterday, he could see Michelle inside the dark confines of the car. Limp, she sat in the passenger’s seat, her head back, blood from a gash on her forehead streaking her cheek. Her moan filled his mind. Mercifully he saw the sudden flashing red light of an ambulance.

  “Help me,” she’d cried.

  How could he? He didn’t know how to help—only hurt.

  He’d hurt her, hurt Christina.

  That one thought hammered in his head. Who next? he wondered, and looked at Sam. He couldn’t be near her, near her sweetness; he didn’t deserve her gentleness. Peripherally he saw her lean closer. Before she made contact, he rushed to his feet, stepped away, using the desk as a barrier between them.

  “Max?”

  He heard bewilderment in her voice, but kept walking out the terrace doors and into the rain. He needed to be alone, to think about the past and about the future that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—have with her now.

  He needed to do right by her. A flash of lightning illuminated surrounding trees. Max walked slowly, letting the rain pour over him. Two women had already suffered at his hands. Why? Why had he let himself get this close to Sam?

  He swore under his breath. He hadn’t been thinking straight. He’d made the biggest mistake of his life while he’d had the amnesia. He’d fallen in love with her. He’d begun to believe in a future with her. He never would have let it go this far if he hadn’t had amnesia, hadn’t been so addled. With his memory came the truth of who he really was. He hurt people. He was no good for Sam. As long as he kept his distance, she would be safe.

  With an ache lumping in his throat, he strode back to the terrace doors, stepped into the room. Sitting on the carpet with Alyssa, Sam cast a look of uncertainty at him. He couldn’t weaken. He had to make the break now. I’m sorry, Sam. She’d never know how sorry he was.

  “Max, let me help.”

  He never doubted she would want to. She possessed a generous heart. Giving came so naturally to her.

  As she stood and started to reach out to him, he fought himself. “Don’t.” He couldn’t be gentler. He might fold, might let her see how desperate he was to have her in his arms. Even as hurt flashed in her eyes, he told himself that he was doing right by her. He was saving her from more heartache, much more. “Everything is different now.”

  “Different?” Her head moved slightly in a little shake as if she were trying to clear muddled thoughts.

  She wasn’t dumb; she was confused, he realized. Why wouldn’t she be? One moment he caressed her like a captivated lover, and the next he shunned her touch. But he couldn’t afford to give in to the love consuming him. This beautiful woman with her sunshine smile and quick wit who gentled him with a touch and challenged him with her sharp tongue meant everything to him. And he’d die before he’d hurt her, too.

  “What do you mean?” Sam watched a stream of water cut across his jaw and down his neck. “Different?”

  “I have my memory back. I don’t need a nurse.”

  A nurse? Or me? Sam breathed slowly and deeply. Needing contact with someone was overwhelming her. Nearby on the carpet, Alyssa batted at the ball and babbled. Sam pivoted toward her, gathered her in her arms.

  “You can go, Sam.”

  Just like that. How calmly he’d said the words when she could hardly speak, breathe. She’d played mind games with herself, she acknowledged. She’d told herself that when he got his memory back, everything would be different. But she’d never believed this would really happen, never prepared for the hurt. “Go?”

  “We don’t belong together,” he said simply.

  And she wanted to weep.

  Weren’t those the words she’d expected and had never wanted to hear? Foolish. She was so foolish. She’d known he wouldn’t want her once he remembered who he was. She’d known they’d never be together forever. She couldn’t argue, couldn’t find any words to stop what was happening. She’d always known all she’d found with him was bound to end.

  “You need to go.”

  She looked for a hint of emotion in his eyes, some indication that he didn’t mean what he was saying. She saw nothing. There was a meanness about him suddenly. People were right. He could hurt someone who cared about him, could hurt them and not look back. With more effort than she imagined she would need, she mouthed necessary words. “I’ll inform Rachel that she should hire a new physical therapist.”

  “Do that.”

  Pressure building in her chest, she wanted to run out of the room. But Samantha Lynn Carter was made of sturdier stock. She’d never been a weepy female and didn’t plan to start now. With Alyssa in her arms, she left the room and climbed the stairs.

  Almost instantly when Sam set Alyssa down on the bedroom carpet, she whined. To distract her, Sam placed a jingling ball on the floor in front of her. Once her small hand touched it, she forgot she wasn’t being held.

  Anger mingling with her hurt, Sam searched for anything to stay busy. At home, she’d have scrubbed floors. Here, she chose the most logical act.

  She went to the closet and yanked a suitcase from the shelf. Leaving in the middle of the evening had never been part of her plan. Because she never forgot responsibilities, she would, of course, stay until Rachel returned for the little one. But not a moment longer.

  Her throat tightening, threatening to choke her, she slammed the suitcase onto the bed. Then she sank to the mattress and she gave in to the smarting tears. Why had she given him her heart? Oh, Sam, you’re such an idiot. He never loved you. He never said those words. That was what she’d forgotten to remember. She’d had her own form of amnesia, not allowing herself to face facts. He’d only felt dependent on her while he’d had amnesia. She’d fooled herself into believing that what she wanted most in life was within reach. It wasn’t. Never would be. All that they’d shared had been about his need for her.

  Straightening, she brushed the back of her hand at wet tears. Enough. Tears wouldn’t change anything. In a rush of movement, she stuffed clothes in the suitcase. She should have known this day would come. Fool. She was such a fool. Her mother’s foolish child. And an even more foolish woman had believed that Max Montgomery would want forever with her.

  For most of the evening she stayed closeted in her room with Alyssa. She never bothered to find out where Max was. She cared for Alyssa, played with her, fed her dinner and changed her diaper, then held her until she fell asleep again.

  At ten o’clock, expecting Rachel and Jack at any moment, she carried a sleeping Alyssa downstairs.

  “We’re back,” a voice called from the foyer as Sam descended the staircase.

  With Rachel’s return, Sam mentally geared up for the next difficult moments. Carrying Alyssa in her arms, she ambled toward the sound of voices and into the living room.

  Max had already appeared. Not looking Sam’s way, he made small talk with his sister. “Samantha handled the baby-sitting duties,” he told Rachel. Before Rachel asked, he made an excuse for not spending time with Alyssa. “I was tired, so she took over.”

  “Are you all right?”

  A mirthless smile curved his lips. “Just tired, Rachel. Nothing more.”

  Sam noticed he didn’t tell her that his memory had returned. He ushered his sister and Jack to the door and said he’d baby-sit again sometime.

  A
ware of Rachel’s watchful stare, Sam managed smiles at all the right moments. If Rachel detected tension between them, she said nothing. Sam waited only until Rachel and Jack pulled way, then she returned to her room.

  Before Max got up in the morning, she would be gone.

  It was the quietness in the house that awakened him. The rooms were the same, a morning sun still flooded the kitchen with light, but the house was empty, void of life. No radio blared from the kitchen, no soft feminine voice hummed along.

  Max eased from the bed, hating the way he felt, hating the way he’d ended everything. There had been no other way. It had been best for Sam.

  In retrospect, he’d say that he’d acted peculiar during his episode as an amnesiac. He’d been soft, too soft. He needed to toughen up again.

  He tried to do just that.

  During the next few days he fell into an old routine. At eight, as he’d done before his accident, he was already sitting at his desk in the bank. Trying to focus on something, anything, he stared at a pay increase recommendation for employees, a document that required only his signature. He held the pen point on the paper, but didn’t sign it.

  The words blurred. His mind’s eye saw Sam instead. Every day had been the same. She wouldn’t leave him alone. This morning he remembered the way she’d looked basking by the pool, her skin golden and glowing; the slight curve of her lips when they’d parted for his kiss; the golden threads glistening among the red strands of her hair when she’d stood in the sunlight. She was like a haunting apparition, appearing everywhere, as if determined to make him suffer, to drive him crazy.

  Unable to concentrate, he pushed away from his desk. He was miserable now without her. And his only solace came from knowing that she was better off without him. While he’d had the amnesia, he’d nearly forgotten what was really important. He didn’t have any business getting close to anyone ever again. If he kept his distance, then no one would get hurt.

  The sound of his office door opening made him look up.

  Jack grinned wryly. “Your sister sent me.”

  “Tell her I’m fine. I’m back to normal.”

  “That’s what I said about you.” He ambled in, closing the door behind him. “She said that’s why she’s worried.”

  Max took the gibe good-naturedly. “What’s happening with the Kincaids?” he asked. With his memory back, he recalled that it was Jack and his sister Gina who’d been hired to locate Garrett’s seven grandsons. Six of them had been found.

  Jack retraced his steps to Max’s desk. “Since we’ve had no luck locating Garrett Kincaid’s seventh grandson here, Gina is extending her investigation to towns outside of Whitehorn.”

  “She thinks he’s near?”

  Jack nodded. “Gina’s pretty intuitive. She thinks he’s right under her nose.”

  “Last time I talked to Garrett he was determined to meet all of his grandsons.”

  “He’s a fair man,” Jack offered. “He wants to do right by them.”

  But Max wasn’t that kind of man, was he? How close was he to being again the man disliked by so many? Looking down, he scribbled his signature on the paper for the pay raise.

  “I heard he’s a real bear again,” a blond clerk, sitting behind the desk in the rehab center said to the nurse standing nearby.

  “Mr. Scrooge, you mean.” The brunette sighed. “Too bad. He’s gorgeous. But I don’t like brooding men. Someone else can have Max Montgomery.”

  Sam had no intention of eavesdropping. But Max’s name being said by anyone put her on alert.

  Sam felt sadness for him sweep through her. Just a week ago her world had been different, her world had included Max. Now she sat in the small break room at the rehab center, drinking coffee and lurking around to catch any news about him.

  After tucking the paperback she’d bought yesterday into her shoulder bag, she drained the coffee in her cup. It seemed strange to get up for a regular job, but she’d heard from a friend that the hospital needed another physical therapist while one of the staff took her vacation. So three days ago Sam had settled into the routine.

  Now at two in the afternoon, fatigue hit. She rode the elevator to the fourth floor therapy room. Not even a jolt of caffeine had helped. Blame it on a bad night’s sleep. She’d been awake for hours, thinking about Max. She wasn’t pleased with herself. Enjoy. Have Fun. Don’t Expect Too Much had always been her motto. Once she’d met Max, she’d forgotten that.

  The swoosh of the elevator doors opening snapped her back to her surroundings. She left the elevator, determined to stop feeling sorry for herself, and entered the gymnasium-size therapy room.

  A woman with a prosthesis was learning to walk with the aid of the double-bar rail. A man who was a day away from being discharged rolled his wheelchair toward the weighted pulleys. Sam strolled toward the spa to help another patient.

  Hours later, when she finally had time to herself, she sat at the scarred oak desk at the back of the room.

  Her supervisor, a therapist whom Sam had known since nursing school, plopped onto a chair near Sam. “Since you worked for Max Montgomery, I thought you’d want to know that the family needs a private nurse again.”

  “What?” Sam’s heart jumped. “Who? Max?”

  Jana leaned on the edge of the desk. “Rachel Henderson has been ordered to stay in bed for a few weeks.”

  Worry sprang forth. “Is the baby all right?”

  “From what I heard, the baby is fine. And Rachel is in good spirits, according to her obstetrician. But she needs a live-in nurse. Would you—”

  “Of course,” Sam cut in, not waiting for her to finish asking. “But what about here? Will I be leaving you shorthanded?”

  “I called the registry. They’ve found another therapist for me. Go.”

  “Jack told me you were coming,” Rachel said brightly when Sam strolled into the bedroom later that afternoon. “I’m so glad.”

  Sam took the hand Rachel held out to her. “I wouldn’t stay away once I’d heard. We have to take care of you and your baby, don’t we?” Swiftly she assessed Rachel. Her face had a rosy glow, her smile appeared genuine and free of discomfort.

  “I’ll be fine. The doctor worries easily.” Despite her lighthearted tone, Rachel couldn’t veil the trace of alarm in her eyes.

  “Follow his orders and everything will be all right,” Sam assured her.

  “I will. Sit down,” she said more seriously. “Tell me what happened with you and my brother.”

  Sam expected Rachel’s distress about them, knew this woman whom she now considered a friend would want to know more.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he’s become impossible again.”

  Sam hated the thought that his mind had returned him to the old Max. The man she’d fallen in love with had been happier, free of dark emotions.

  “I think he misses you. My question is, do you miss him?”

  Even though she’d expected Rachel’s questions, Sam wasn’t really prepared to answer, to share her humiliation with her. “Rachel, what I feel doesn’t matter.”

  “To me, it does. I know you love him. So why aren’t you together?”

  Sam uttered the thought haunting her. “Two people have to be in love, Rachel, not one.”

  “Two people are.”

  Sam fought the warmth of tears in her eyes. “No, he’s not in love with me.”

  “Who says?”

  “He did.”

  Rachel inclined her head questioningly. “’I don’t love you.’ He said that?”

  “Not in those words exactly. ‘Everything is different now.’ Those were the words he’d said.” We don’t belong together. She didn’t want to discuss Max anymore, not even with Rachel. “Let me get settled in, then I’ll make us some tea.”

  “And we’ll talk,” Rachel insisted.

  Sam pivoted away. They could talk endlessly. But nothing Rachel could say would make a difference. The simple truth was that Max didn’t want her.

&
nbsp; She took her time to carry her suitcase to her room and to learn her way around the kitchen. She made the tea and found some shortbread cookies in a tin.

  Rachel hadn’t forgotten her intentions. The moment Sam ambled in with the tray, Rachel began, “Samantha, what happened that night with Michelle affected him forever. He still blames himself, still believes if something goes wrong, it’s his fault.”

  Busy pouring tea, Sam had been listening halfheartedly. Now Rachel’s words garnered her attention. “What do you mean?”

  “No one understood. No one knew about Michelle except me. And it breaks my heart. He always blamed himself for it, believing if he hadn’t been so tired, then he would have reacted differently. Afterward, he isolated himself, Sam. He wouldn’t allow himself to get close to anyone. People saw a ruthless, difficult man, but he only seemed that way. He put up this shield to keep his distance from everyone.” Sadness for Max had stolen the glow from her face. “He believes he hurts people who care about him.”

  Sam set down the teapot and stared hard at Rachel for a long moment, certain she’d misunderstood.

  “He thinks if people care about him, then he’ll be responsible for—”

  “Hurting them?” Sam finished for her.

  “Yes.”

  “Rachel, that’s absurd, ridiculous.”

  Rachel nodded. “I agree. But that’s what he believes, especially after what happened with Christina.”

  Now Sam was totally lost. “I don’t understand. What did he have to do with what happened to Christina?”

  “Nothing. You can see that. So can I. But not him. He believes he let Christina down, too. After all, she’d called and he didn’t go to her.”

  And now he felt responsible for hurting two people? Sam’s heart twisted for the torment he carried. This was what the amnesia had given his mind a rest from. This was what Rachel had tried to protect him from remembering—his guilt.

  Fourteen

  “I heard you sent that nurse packing.”

  Max wondered who his father’s source was. Ellis had acted as if he didn’t like Sam. The odd thing was, he always asked about her. No longer staring out his office window, Max shifted the telephone receiver to his other ear and swiveled his desk chair around. “I don’t need her.”