STOLEN MEMORY

by Virginia Kantra

  He stretched cautiously to touch her again, and she woke up.

  For an instant they stared at one another. Her eyes were wide and dark. His pulse and respiration went so crazy he expected the machines on the wall to start bleeping or something.

  Laura licked cracked lips. "You jerk. You scared me to death."

  Simon smiled. He let himself touch her, running his fingers over her smooth hair, her poor, battered face. "You scared me, too. Are you all right?"

  "Stiff," she admitted, rolling her shoulders. "Sore."

  "That's what you get for sleeping in a chair." Don't read too much into it, he told himself. Don't scare her away. "How long have you been here?"

  Her gaze slid away. "A while."

  Now that he was more awake, he noticed things. The darkness outside the window. The collection of cups by her chair. "How long have I been here?"

  "Since eight o'clock. Chief called Medevac for you," Laura said. "The gunshot wound's not that bad, but you had significant loss of blood."

  He glanced at the bedside clock. It was just past two in the morning. "Have you been here the whole time?"

  "Yeah." Her thin face flushed in the dim light. "I had to make up some story about how you'd want to see me when you woke up."

  Hope hooked its claws in him, tenacious as pain.

  "Laura." He waited until he had her full attention. "I do want to see you. There's no one in the world I'd rather wake up with."

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. "Gee," she said gruffly. "That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy."

  He couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. But he wasn't. He loved her. And it was time he told her so.

  "There's something we need to discuss."

  She nodded. "My father. I know."

  Maybe whatever painkillers they'd slipped into his IV were making him stupid. "What about your father?"

  "I talked to the chief. Both Macon and Cooper are in custody and talking, trying to pin as much of the blame as they can on each other. When Vince realized your laser 'by product' could threaten his gemstone investments, he hired Cooper to stop its development. Cooper wanted the job, so he didn't tell Vince he didn't have access to Lumen Corp. Instead, he stole my father's passcard and talked my brother into making Dad a new one on the Q.T. Dad probably never knew about the substitution."

  "There was an extra guard that night," Simon said, the memories stirring like dark things underwater. Laura looked at him sharply.

  "I remember," he said. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, because he had on the same uniform. I'd opened the safe, and…"

  "And he knocked you on the head and took your journal and the rubies."

  "But he didn't count on your father," Simon said quietly.

  "Dad apparently surprised him as he was getting into his boat. Cooper claims they struggled and Dad's death was an accident. Chief Denko thinks it's more likely Cooper saw the opportunity to pin the theft on somebody else. Everyone would assume the missing guard and the missing rubies were connected."

  "Everyone did," Simon said. "Except you."

  She shrugged. "I was lucky, spotting the passcard thing."

  "No," Simon corrected gently. "You're good. Your father would have been proud of you."

  She flushed.

  "So, what happens now?" Simon asked, struggling to sit up.

  She found the controls that raised his bed. "Palmer and Denko are putting together the case. It's going to be big for our little department. Macon's in jail. Cooper's under guard and under observation here at the hospital. The doctors aren't sure what's wrong with him. His vitals are fine, but he's got some weird skin condition, almost like—"

  "Sunburn," Simon said.

  "Yeah." Laura looked at him with surprise. "How did you know?"

  "The electrical charge for the MTD is delivered along UV rays," Simon explained. "Concentrated in one area for too long, it can create a burn effect. Like sunburn."

  "I'll tell the chief. He was pretty impressed with your Mr. Wizard thing."

  The warm look in her eyes embarrassed Simon. "Obviously there are still flaws to be worked out. Actually…" He hesitated.

  "What?"

  "I was terrified it would fail and that son of a bitch was going to shoot you," he confessed.

  "But it worked." She smiled at him crookedly. "My hero."

  "Hardly." Now he was the one whose face was hot. "You're the one who came to my rescue."

  Laura snorted. "Some rescue. I walked right into their hands."

  She'd defied her boss and risked her life. For him.

  "I couldn't have stopped both of them," Simon said. "You took down Vince on your own. And with your hands cuffed behind your back."

  She squirmed. "That's my job."

  His chest tightened with disappointment. He didn't want to be a job to her. Still…

  "I'm grateful you came back to protect me," he said quietly.

  Laura narrowed her eyes. "I didn't come back to protect you, you moron. I came back because I love you."

  I love you.

  In his whole life, no one had ever said those words to him. He would have remembered. He remembered everything now. He'd never dreamed he'd hear them for the first time from a female cop with exasperation in her voice and misery in her eyes. Or that they would fill him with such overwhelming relief. Such immeasurable joy.

  He struggled for a way to tell her, but there were no words new enough or big enough, only simple words, time worn and small.

  "I love you, too," he said.

  Her mouth dropped open. "Oh."

  His heart was beating about a million times a minute. "You said you didn't need promises. But I do. I need this one. I promise to love you for the rest of our lives if you'll let me."

  She looked stunned. "Okay."

  He cleared his throat, hope raking his heart. "So, it's a deal?"

  "Sure."

  He watched her carefully. "Want to seal it with a kiss?"

  The smile he loved broke across her face and blossomed in her eyes. "Yeah."

  Their lips met, touched, clung, in a kiss of breath and promise, in healing and tenderness, in communion and love.

  They pulled back and smiled into one another's eyes. Kissed again, with warmth and urgency and tears and tongues.

  "Ouch," Laura said.

  Simon drew back instantly. "Are you all right?"

  She sighed and settled her head against his shoulder. "Never better."

  His good arm came around her. Carefully, because of the IV. "This isn't the most romantic setting."

  "I don't need romance," Laura said. "I just need you alive and more or less in one piece."

  "And in love with you," he said.

  He felt her smile against his neck. "That's good, too."

  And it was, he thought, tightening his arm around her. It was very good.

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  « ^

  Laura opened Simon's front door with her passcard. For the first time since her short, ill-fated marriage, she had her own key to a guy's apartment—okay, mansion—and the ordinary intimacy of it thrilled and terrified her. Even after five weeks, sharing her life and his wealth took some getting used to.

  "Yo, Quinn," she called. "I'm home."

  No answer.

  Living with servants took some getting used to, too. Cooked meals and folded laundry were a definite plus, particularly after a day like today. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that one of these days she was going to look up from nibbling Simon's neck and lock gazes with his butler.

  She shoved open the door.

  No Quinn.

  That was a nice surprise. Maybe Simon had given his household manager the night off. She could pay him back with a surprise of her own. Something involving bubble bath, maybe, and full frontal nudity and full penetration sex.

  Smiling—she smiled a lot lately—Laura turned toward the stairs, already loosening her gun belt.

  And froze with her hea
rt in her throat.

  Red. Splashes of crimson against the polished treads, going up the steps like a trail of blood.

  Simon.

  Not blood, she realized half a heartbeat and a hundred horrible mental scenarios later. Roses. Red rose petals, scattered on the stairs.

  She took the steps two at a time, her relief morphing into confusion. What the hell was going on? Where was Simon?

  She was halfway up the stairs when he appeared above her on the landing.

  As always, the sight of him slapped her with a quick, visual jolt, a slow, inner melting. He was so amazingly gorgeous, the strong planes and angles of his face, his dark, thick hair, his light as rain eyes. Her wizard king. The body, in jeans and a dark T-shirt, was an added bonus.

  "You're home late," he observed. "Tough day?"

  "Good day." She continued toward him, shedding her tensions along with her jacket and shoes. "Chief put me on the Algonquin case. Thefts from some of the guest rooms," she explained in response to Simon's lifted eyebrows. "So I guess he's finally forgiven me for turning off my radio."

  Simon frowned. "He should forgive you. He should give you a damn commendation. You broke the biggest case his department has ever seen."

  "We broke the case." Reaching him, she linked her arms around his neck, loving the way his body hardened instantly against hers. "I broke protocol. But it's all right now. Kiss me."

  He ran his hands possessively over her shoulders and back. But he said, "Not yet."

  She scowled. She was here. She was ready. Quinn was gone. "Why not?"

  Simon gave her butt a friendly squeeze and stepped back. "I have something to show you first."

  "Show me later," she suggested, reaching for his buckle.

  "Now," he said firmly, catching her hand and threading his fingers with hers.

  "You're interfering with an officer." She pouted as he pulled her along the hall. More rose petals were strewn over the floor. It was a good thing Quinn wasn't home. He'd have a fit.

  Simon slanted a look down at her. "So write me a ticket."

  "I was thinking more along the lines of handcuffs. And whipped cream," she added wickedly.

  "You're trying to distract me."

  She grinned. "Yep. Is it working?"

  "Too well." He stopped outside his bedroom door and dragged a hand through his hair. "Right. All right." He took a deep breath. "This is it."

  He was nervous, she realized with tender and amused surprise. What was it? A new invention, or…?

  He opened the bedroom door.

  And her breath deserted her for the second time that night.

  Candles gleamed from the dresser, the nightstand, the table set for two by the open French doors. Roses glowed against the silk bedspread and from heavy silver bowls and vases arranged around the room. Music played from hidden speakers.

  Laura's jaw dropped. "Holy crap. What's all this?"

  Simon's eyes focused on her face. "An experiment. I wanted to set the scene better this time."

  She was flattered. Bewildered. Overcome. "For seduction?"

  He shook his head. "For romance." He reached for a bottle chilling in the heavy silver wine cooler beside the table. "For you."

  "Champagne?" Laura asked.

  He smiled, lifting the bottle so she could see. Miller Genuine Draft. "I thought you might like this better."

  Her hand trembled as she accepted the beer. It was too perfect. She had to take a gulp before she could speak. "I told you I don't need romance."

  "Maybe you don't. Maybe I do." He opened his own bottle and raised it in a silent toast. Sipped, his eyes warm over frosted glass. "The romantically impaired and relationship challenged, isn't that how you described us?"

  Her face heated. "It wasn't a criticism."

  "It should have been. You deserve more. You deserve better."

  She narrowed her eyes. "If you've done all this so you can tell me that one day I'll find some nice man who will love me the way I deserve to be loved, I'm going to have to hurt you."

  Simon laughed. "I'm not that unselfish. No, you're stuck with me. But I can change. You taught me that."

  She shook her head. "You don't need to change for me. I think you're…"

  Perfect, she thought.

  "Fine the way you are," she said.

  "The way I am now, maybe. The way I am with you." He took her in his arms. "I want you to stay with me, Laura. I want you to marry me."

  Her head was spinning. Her heart crowded her throat.

  "Why me?" she asked shakily. "You're Simon Ford. You could have anyone."

  He didn't argue. If he had, she could have accused him of lying.

  "I don't want just anyone. I want you—your sharp mind and your fierce loyalty, your bluntness and your laughter, your grace and your strength. I need you, Laura. I love you." He took a velvet jeweler's box from its place on the table and opened it, offered it to her. "Will you marry me?"

  Laura stared at the burning circlet of rubies and diamonds with the hunk of ice mounted on top. She felt as if he'd just offered her the sword in the stone, the golden apple from the tree, the happily-ever-after at the end of the fairy tale.

  "Wow," she said.

  Simon cleared his throat. "The rubies are the first of the Lumen Fire line."

  She was still gaping at that amazing rock. It took a moment for the significance of his words to sink in. "You told Dylan yes."

  Simon nodded, his eyes watchful. "He'll head the new company. Julie's already talking about jewelry design."

  She beamed. "That's great."

  He shrugged. "It's what he asked for."

  "It's what you both need." She was no visionary genius, but she could picture how it would be, the laughter and lively arguments, the three siblings gathering around a table for business meetings or holiday dinners. "It's the family you want."

  "Not quite," Simon said.

  The look in his eyes made her dizzy. She forgot what they were talking about.

  "You," he explained patiently. "You're the family I need. And you haven't said yes yet."

  "Oh," Laura said, having a tough time forming even little words, maybe because of the beer or lack of air or just plain happiness. She took a deep breath and set down the bottle. "I… You… Yes," she said simply, and threw herself at him.

  "Obviously I should have tried to romance you before," Simon murmured later. Much later. "Or was it the ring?"

  "The ring is awesome. But I would have said yes without it." Laura rubbed her cheek contentedly against his chest. "I love you, Simon."

  The words spilled out, she discovered, when the heart was too full to hold them.

  His arms tightened around her as the candles guttered and the scent of roses filled the dark.

  * * * * *