Ignoring the driver, Tess turned off the engine and they exited the car. She studied the historic buildings lining both sides of the street. Nothing struck a chord. None of it looked familiar.
She kept walking, paying attention to the relentless little itch at the back of her neck that told her to stay with it. To keep looking. Then, suddenly, it appeared. An elegant brownstone tucked neatly in between two other less impressive ones. A flood of emotions ripped through Tess and she stopped dead.
She sensed Ryan moving closer and she put her hand out, asking him to give her a minute. Instinctively he seemed to know what she wanted, because he didn’t speak. He waited, giving her the space she needed to reach for the memories on her own.
She walked up to the cast-iron gate surrounding the postage-stamp yard and wrapped her fingers around the sun-warmed metal. Her gaze rolled over the reddish stone steps leading to the double oak front door.
The main floor of the building had floor-to-ceiling windows, each with window boxes sporting red-and-white geraniums. Affixed to the right of the front door were the polished brass numbers: 5687.
Tess’s pulse kicked up a beat, and her fingers tightened around the metal spikes of the gate. “I know this place.”
“Let it come,” Ryan said softly. He shifted and the warmth of his big frame pressed in on her, lending his support and encouragement. She leaned into the gate, straining to capture the memory that danced in the background. She closed her eyes and let the images come.
Light. Laughter. A child’s giggle.
Glass library doors opened to a large room with hardwood floors covered with elegant rugs in bright, rich colors. Huge couches and tapestry chairs with carved wooden backs and arms clustered around an oversize brick fireplace. A welcoming fire burned behind the gate.
Tess got the sensation of cold pressing in on the windows glowing with the warmth from inside. It was winter.
She allowed her gaze to shift, to take in the entire room.
The main focus of the room was a grand piano. Rich mahogany wood polished to a high gloss. Someone was playing the piano, the notes crisp and sweet.
Tess pressed her body against the gate, trying to see more, and as she strained to see, she heard again the giggle of a young child. She blinked and the images wavered. Frightened of everything shutting down again, she tightened her grip on the gate.
Don’t stop, she begged silently. Don’t leave me here.
The images sharpened and she saw a child, a young girl with white-blond hair, run into the room. She was about seven or eight, dressed in a flannel nightgown and a battered rag doll clutched close to her chest. The sight of the doll sent a shock through Tess. She fought to breathe.
“Emmie,” she whispered, the words catching and rasping in her throat. “My doll, Emmie.”
Ryan’s hands lightly touched her shoulders, and her breathing calmed. The little girl ran across the room, her bare feet slapping softly on the hardwood floor, and suddenly Tess could feel the cool wood of the floor beneath the soles of her feet.
A bolt of surprise ripped through her. She was the little girl! She concentrated, straining to push aside the fog.
She reached the piano, her small childlike fingers reaching up to touch the smooth surface of the ivory keys. And then, as quickly as the mist had appeared, it parted and she could see the man at the piano. He had deep brown eyes and a broad, strikingly handsome face. He continued to play, his large hands moving effortlessly over the keys.
He turned his head and his mouth stretched into a welcoming, loving smile. “Hello, Pumpkin.” The voice was soft, melodious and so familiar to her ears that she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.
“Daddy.” She basked in the warmth of the man’s smile, and her fingertips ached from their grip on the gate. She sagged, and a headache of monumental proportions stabbed the top of her head.
Ryan caught her and pulled her against him, wrapping her in his strong arms. “Easy, Tess. Slow, deep breaths.”
Tess fought the overwhelming urge to slip away, to succumb to the strange heaviness that pulled at her. But instead, she straightened up and turned to face Ryan. He steadied her, his eyes searching her with a thousand unanswered questions.
“I saw him. I saw my real father,” she said.
“Your real father?”
“Flynn lied. He’s not my father.” She fought a wave of dizziness. “Flynn’s my stepfather.” She laid her forehead against Ryan’s chest, and her arms slipped up to encircle his neck. An unbelievable sense of peace and contentment washed over her. “Do you have any idea how good that feels? How comforting it is to know that someone truly loves you?”
Ryan grinned and brushed away a strand of hair that had caught against the corner of her mouth. His touch was gentle. Loving. Familiar. “What do you remember about him?”
“He loved to play the piano. He was a wonderful musician.” She smiled slightly as the faint strains of music whispered again in her ear. “He could have been a concert pianist if he’d wanted. But he loved politics more.” She stared at Ryan with a sense of awe. “My name is Tess Ross and my father was a United States senator. He used to say, ‘the words of the U.S. Constitution are just as perfect sounding as the notes of Mozart, Pumpkin.’ H-he called me Pumpkin because I was born on Halloween.”
“Pumpkin.” Ryan held her close, his words whispering in her ear. “I like it.”
Tess swallowed, a terrible sadness welling up inside her, making it difficult to speak. Ryan’s arms tightened, cradling her and letting her know that it was okay to feel the emotions flooding her body. She wept, her tears soaking his shoulder.
Finally she lifted her head. “He died when I was twelve. A helicopter crash. He was traveling to—” She closed her eyes, digging down deep for the answer, and it came. “New York. A quick campaign trip in the fall right before my birthday. Momma stayed home with me because I couldn’t miss school.”
She turned to look back at the brownstone. “I lived here, right here in this house. With my mother and father. And my doll, Emmie.”
“Here now, what do you two think you’re doing over there?” a voice interrupted.
Tess turned to see a short, stocky man rounding the far corner of the brownstone. His chubby face held an expression of firm disapproval. He carried a gardening rake in one hand.
As he drew closer, he squinted and then stopped short. A wide smile of welcome stretched his tiny mouth. “Ms. Ross! I didn’t recognize you.” He hurried over to unlatch the gate, throwing it open. “Why didn’t you call? I would have sent a car to the airport for you.”
“Do I know you?” Tess asked.
Startled, the man’s eyes widened and his bowlike mouth fell open. Without knowing why, Tess had the feeling that he was a man that wasn’t often at a loss for words.
“Know you? Of course you know me.” He glanced over at Ryan, his confusion splashed plainly across his face. Not recognizing Ryan, he turned back to Tess again. A frown had sprung up between his thick eyebrows. “I’m Pete, miss. Pete Waverly—your caretaker.”
Tess shook her head. Nothing. Not even a fragment of memory. How could she have remembered so much a few minutes ago and now remember nothing?
Ryan pressed a reassuring hand to the small of her back. “Tess had an accident a few days ago, Mr. Waverly. She’s having a little trouble with her memory. But it’s coming back slowly.”
Concern flickered in the elderly man’s eyes and he immediately stepped forward to open the gate. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. We didn’t hear anything from you, so we thought all was going well with your trip.”
Tess nodded silently, racking her brain for some indication she knew this man. “Is this still my house?”
The question seemed to startle the caretaker, but he quickly recovered. “Of course it is, miss. Been yours ever since your mama passed on five years ago.”
Tess nodded in Ryan’s direction. “This is my good friend, Ryan Donovan.”
Pe
te pumped Ryan’s hand. “Welcome.”
“Do I live here with anyone?” Tess’s heart hammered against her rib cage as she waited for the answer. She dreaded the possibility that Pete would tell her that Flynn was also a resident of the brownstone.
The barest hint of a smile touched one corner of Pete’s mouth. “Joan—” he glanced back and forth between the two of them “—that’s my wife. She does the inside work and I take care of the outside. We have a small apartment in the basement. But other than that, you live here by yourself—been that way since you took over the house.
“Joan and I always held out the hope that you’d find a nice man and settle down. But you’ve been too busy for that.”
His eyes seemed to lose focus and he got a faraway look. “Your daddy used to call you his greatest hope for the first woman president.” He laughed. “Course, you’d have none of that. Told him you were going to be a newspaper reporter. But you always had your daddy’s good instincts when it came to people. Knew how to tell the fakes and con artists, you did.” His gaze sharpened again, taking on a hint of sadness. “Your mama wasn’t so lucky.”
“You’re talking about my mother’s second husband, General Thomas Flynn, aren’t you?” Tess asked.
Ill-disguised resentment flashed across the caretaker’s lined face. “How’d you guess? Course you knew what he was up to two seconds after he stepped foot in this house. You were only thirteen, but you were already speaking your mind. Let him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to step into your daddy’s shoes or use his name to advance any of his conservative causes.”
“Ms. Ross’s memories of those years are very sketchy, Pete. Do you have any knowledge of Ms. Ross suffering from any illnesses?” Ryan asked.
Tess tightened her hand on his, scared for the first time that someone might actually confirm what Flynn had reported as her history of mental illness.
The old man seemed to give the thought serious consideration for a moment, but then he shook his head. “Nope, can’t say that I can. She was a pretty healthy kid. A broken leg when she was fifteen.”
He looked at Tess. “You’ve always had a bit of the dare-devil in you. Even independent when it came to picking schools. The general, he wanted you to go to George Washington University, but you insisted on R.I.T. And then you landed yourself a job working for a small magazine shortly after graduating—in Paris, France. Flynn tried to pressure you to take a job at a conservative paper he had some pull at. But you wouldn’t hear of it. You were off to see the world. You really don’t remember any of this, do you?”
Tess shook her head. “None of it.”
“Well, come along then and I’ll show you the house. No sense in us standing out here in the middle of the sidewalk entertaining the neighbors.” He stepped back and waved them into the yard.
The three of them climbed the stone steps leading to the heavy oak doors to the brownstone. Pete lifted an oversize ring attached to his belt, carefully selected a key and inserted it into the lock. As the door swung open, he stepped aside, allowing them into the brownstone’s entry hall first.
“Joan is up in Philly, visiting her mom.” He glanced anxiously in Tess’s direction. “Her mom is in a nursing home there. She’d have been here if we knew you were coming. She wouldn’t have missed your homecoming for the world. But your last message said you wouldn’t be back until the end of July—maybe even August.”
“How did Ms. Ross get that message to you?” Ryan asked.
“She e-mails us every week with an update on her itinerary. She travels so much that one week she’s in Greece and the next time we hear, she’s in Moscow.” He smiled. “You’ve never liked phone calls.”
“Did you keep those e-mails by any chance?” Tess asked. At Ryan’s questioning glance, she added, “Someone might be able to trace the e-mails back to the location they were sent from.”
“Joan might have kept them. I’m not too good at using that dang computer so she prints the messages out for me and leaves them for me to read. I’ll check.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Tess said.
“I’ll let you get settled while I go down to the store and have a new key made.” The map of wrinkles around the man’s eyes crinkled with concern as he studied Tess’s face. “You sure everything is going to be okay, Ms. Ross?”
Tess smiled at him, acknowledging the man’s generosity. “I’m going to be fine. I just need some time to reacclimate myself to things around here.” She didn’t say it, but deep down she hoped that was all she needed. But the fact that she hadn’t even recognized a man who obviously had been in her family’s employ for years didn’t do much to bolster her level of confidence.
Whatever Flynn and his cronies had done, it had taken a heavy toll on her brain, wiping it cleaner than a newly scrubbed floor. Getting those memories back wasn’t going to be as easy as simply reintroducing her to her old life.
Pete left, pulling the door shut after him and sealing them in a heavy silence.
Tess looked around the hall, taking in the polished hardwood floor, the ornate cherry banister and staircase leading to the second floor. She didn’t miss the antique umbrella stand occupying a corner next to a walnut wardrobe with leaded glass doors. “Apparently, I have very good taste.”
“Or an excellent decorator and more than a little money.”
“Don’t tell me—you’re the kind of guy who can’t handle rich babes, right?”
“Oh, I’m rather partial to rich babes.” He stepped in close, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up against him. His hands slipped down to cup her behind and he lifted her, pressing her tight to his body. “I’ll have you know that I’m an expert at handling rich babes.”
She laughed, but Ryan cut her off by dipping his head and pressing his lips to hers, and in that single instant, the gentle but persistent pressure of his kiss wiped away her worries about forgotten memories.
She lost herself in the heat of his kiss, and it was then that she realized it didn’t matter how long it took to regain her memory. Ryan was what mattered, the sweetness of what she felt for him. The wondrous sensations he created within her with each glance, with every word spoken. It was Ryan, not the memories, that made her life complete. She loved him.
Tess slid her hands up the length of his back, savoring the feel of him, the strength, the power of his muscles shifting and moving beneath the smooth cloth of his shirt.
She tilted her head back and stared up into those endless blue eyes. “I’ve forgotten to thank you, haven’t I?”
“For what?” he asked absently, his mouth gently nibbling her bottom lip.
“For everything you’ve done. For sticking by me through this.”
His lips moved to the side of her neck, the kisses and tiny nips scorching her skin and setting her insides on fire. He lifted his head long enough to say, “I’ll consider this my thank-you.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could do better.”
“You have my permission to work on it.”
“How long do you think it will take Pete to get a key made?”
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
He bent down and slid an arm under her legs, picking her up. “Do you think you could remember where the bedroom is in this monstrosity?” he teased.
Tess reached out and stroked the side of his face, her fingers touching the bristle of dark beard, smoothing the lines of fatigue in the corners of his eyes. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”
He paused, his eyes widening slightly at her confession. “No, you haven’t.”
“Want to hear me say it again?”
He nodded.
“I love you. I love your mind. I love your body. I love the way you look at me. In short, I love everything about you, Ryan Donovan.”
She leaned forward and kissed him and her hunger for him shifted and curled in her belly, allowing her to melt against him. This was where she wanted to be, in his arms.
Ryan pulled back a
little and looked down at her. A small smile curled the corner of his mouth. “But the million-dollar question is, do you need me?”
She paused, sucking in air through a throat that felt as though it might close down on her. Damn. The need question. The thing that meant admitting that she depended on him, that she leaned on him and couldn’t get by without him.
A part of her, a part so deep that it seemed almost buried, knew the truth. Knew what she’d already admitted to herself—that she couldn’t get by without him. But to admit it openly? To confess that it was true? How could she? That meant surrender. Loss of herself. And if she surrendered, she’d never get back the person she was.
“Isn’t love enough?” she asked.
A flicker of sadness flashed in the depths of his eyes, and he nodded. “For now it is.”
He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Chapter Fourteen
Ryan lifted his head, his lips leaving hers by degrees, as if even that much separation from her was hard. Tess knew how he felt. She was swimming in the same emotions, feeling as though she needed to stay in contact with him forever.
She touched her tongue to her bottom lip and savored the taste of him. “That was nice.”
That wicked mischievous smile of his, the one that sent her heart south to her knees, appeared. “Now where’s that bedroom?”
But before she could respond, the phone rang. Ryan’s gaze met hers and they stood in silence for a moment. He set her down, and she felt a twinge of true regret.
“Should I answer it?” she asked.
Ryan shrugged. “Might as well. If it’s Flynn, then we know for sure that he is on to us. If it’s anyone else, it might help us figure out what the hell is going on.”
Reluctantly Tess nodded and walked into the huge library to pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Ms. Tessa Ross please,” a woman said, her voice clipped and businesslike.
Emergency Contact Page 19
