UNFORGETTABLE

by Rhonda Nelson

  He didn't know a damn thing about checking the perimeter, but he'd heard it often enough in action-adventure movies that he hoped the excuse would fly. He held his breath and waited.

  She straightened and he released a silent sigh of relief. "Sure. In the meantime, I think I'll check in with Larson and make sure there are no other developments we should know about."

  She bent down and brushed a kiss over his cheek. "Don't be too long."

  Lex grunted a noncommittal response, even as every nerve ending screeched with need. His rod had swelled so much it was in extreme danger of busting his zipper.

  Once Faith had moved out of earshot, Trudy quirked an amused brow and said, "Check the perimeter?"

  Lex shoved an impatient hand through his hair. "I couldn't think of anything else." Agitated, he shot her a glare. "I warned you that I wouldn't be good at this."

  "Oh, you're doing fine," Trudy assured him. "You just need to read the books. While she's calling Larson, you should probably snag the first audio book and give it a listen while you're 'checking the perimeter.'"

  He'd already thought of that, and he planned to make that job last long enough for Faith to fall asleep before he had to go back in that bedroom.

  An image of her in his bed rose in his mind and it took a considerable amount of effort to beat it down.

  Naked limbs. Puckered breasts and dewy curls…

  No woman had ever slept in his bed. On the rare occasions he'd taken a lover, the encounters had always happened at her house, a hotel, and in the case of his first time, in the back seat of his car.

  But his room was his space, his bed an intimate haven he'd someday share with a wife. His children would be conceived there. Though it was an antiquated notion, that room—that bed—would eventually be home to a wife, and he had too much respect for that future woman to sully it with recreational sex.

  And now he was supposed to share it with a woman who didn't even know who he was, a woman that the Pope would have a hard time refusing, a woman he wanted with an intensity that made his knees quake. Lex swore under his breath.

  George came in then and began to clear the table. He picked up a chicken leg, took a bite, then looked at Lex and groaned dramatically, with as much enthusiasm as a death row inmate enjoying his last meal. "You missed some good chicken, Mr. Nash," he teased, the crafty old bastard. "Sure you don't want to change your mind about bein' a vegetarian?"

  Lex smirked. "Not yet, at any rate."

  George shrugged. "More for me, then."

  But that had reminded him… "Is there anything else I should know about, Trudy? Any other pertinent facts that you should possibly tell me?"

  An unmistakable edge tinged his voice, but he couldn't help it. His entire world was spiraling out of control. He was still hungry, dammit, and his dick had staged a relentless rebellion in his shorts—it refused to wilt, despite the fact that the object of his lust had left the room. Under the circumstances, feigning a good mood was simply out of the scope of his less-than-admirable acting skills.

  Despite his tone, a mischievous glint sparked to life in Trudy's eyes. "Considering that Faith has moved into your room, and the intimate nature of Zoe and Nash's relationship, yes."

  He exhaled mightily. "Well, what is it?"

  "You've only got one testicle."

  It took a moment for his brain to believe what his ears had heard, and by the time he'd regained his senses, Trudy had already begun her escape.

  His dick instantly thawed. "What? How?"

  "Book two—Lipstick and Lies." She chuckled. "It was quite … heroic."

  "Christ," Lex muttered, barely checking the urge to do a quick search and make sure both of his buddies were accounted for. So now he was a ball-less vegetarian? Could this get any worse? No, no, Lex hastened to tell himself. A tic formed near his left eye. Don't even ask, don't even wonder.

  It would not get worse.

  Things had to get better.

  They had to.

  Just what the hell sort of hero was she inventing? he wondered, utterly stunned, outraged on the behalf of her mutilated protagonist. What sort of twisted mind relieved the supposed hero of her stories of one of his nuts, for pity's sake? A sadistic one, Lex concluded, grimly determined to find out what made Faith tick. The answer to that lay in her books, which was all the more reason he needed to read them.

  Time to cram, Lex decided, chuckling darkly. Hell, he'd need to make sure the rest of his body was accounted for, if nothing else.

  * * *

  6

  « ^ »

  Zoe awoke the next morning as the first fingers of dawn were inching above the eastern horizon. Despite the glorious display of color as the sun's first rays illuminated the mountainside, a sense of confusion and dismay had shadowed her dreams and followed her into consciousness. A frown worked its way across her forehead and she winced when it pulled her temple.

  Where was she? she wondered, and for a moment, blind heart-pounding panic set in. A vision of a large yellow room with blue-and-white toile linens flashed abruptly through her mind, then fled before any particulars could fully form.

  Then she remembered—the fall, the wound.

  The dark room she currently found herself in made sense, and the purpose for her being here moved firmly into focus.

  Zoe shifted and the character profile and instructions for this To Catch a Thief party she'd been reading last night crumpled beneath her. She pushed her hair out of her face. Nash's side of the bed was empty and undisturbed, indicating that he'd never returned to their room last night. Disappointment weighted her shoulders.

  It wasn't the first time that had happened—occasionally he'd be forced to work while she slept—but those cases were few and far between, and he ordinarily wouldn't have missed an opportunity to take her to bed. In addition, he'd been acting quite distracted lately.

  Regardless, Zoe wouldn't allow herself to take it personally, because she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nash loved her. Other women might call her foolish for having so much confidence, but with Nash, that simply wasn't the case.

  They were made for each other.

  He adored her, doted on her, but most importantly, he respected her and regarded her intelligence with the sort of admiration it deserved. He was never patronizing or arrogant, and had even sought her advice on occasion. They were equals, and the measure of power between the two was nicely balanced.

  And it didn't hurt that he was drop-dead gorgeous, Zoe thought as a slow smile slid across her lips. To be perfectly honest, he couldn't have been more perfect than if she'd designed him herself.

  Nash Austin was everything a man should be.

  He was handsome and fearless, intelligent and funny, loyal and honest. Those ice-blue eyes could look at her in a way so hot, it sent chills trickling down her spine. Made a deep achy throb settle in her womb, and every cell in her body hum with a desire so strong she practically vibrated from the inside out. A shiver of longing eddied through her and she slowly released a pent-up breath.

  Succinctly put, he was an honorable man … with a truckload of sex appeal.

  And he was all hers.

  Now where the hell was he? Zoe wondered irritably. She threw the coverlet off, stood and pulled her robe from the bedpost, tied the sash, then snagged her gun from the nightstand and made her way out of the room.

  Though the lodge was silent, the scent of fresh-brewed coffee emanated from somewhere deep in the house, and she suspected that George, the surly but endearing cook, was most likely responsible. Undoubtedly he adhered to the old early to bed, early to rise proverb, but as far as Zoe was concerned she'd just as soon stay up late and linger in bed.

  She would have particularly liked to linger this morning, if Nash had deigned to join her. She'd been inexplicably horny since they'd gotten here, her need sharper, keener, more desperate. She wanted to feel his delicious weight between her thighs, wanted to feel the hot, throbbing length of him buried deeply inside her, the
n clench around him as she came, the most hedonistic sensation she could ever imagine. Her feminine muscles inexplicably tightened and warmth drenched her core.

  She searched the downstairs, and when that effort proved fruitless, she decided to check the porch. Nash enjoyed the outdoors.

  She found him asleep in a rocker on the back porch. A set of headphones dangled from his neck and a big black dog lay sprawled at his feet. The animal looked up as she approached.

  For a split second, a flash of alarm winked through her, but one look into the soulful eyes of the magnificent beast dispelled any hint of fear. Honestly, she'd never been afraid of dogs, couldn't recall being afraid of anything, for that matter. What was wrong with her?

  She dismissed the sensation, and offered her hand for the requisite sniff, then smiled when he licked her palm. "Hey, big guy," Zoe murmured softly. "Been guarding my man?" Her gaze slid back to Nash and something sharp and sweet lodged in her chest, more than desire, more than lust.

  The first kiss of dawn illuminated the side of his face and lent a gold tint to his boyishly mussed coal-black hair. His face was relaxed in sleep, the sharp angles and smooth planes a masterpiece of masculine artistry. Her fingers hesitated, then ultimately traced the scar at his temple—the result of one too many recon missions for Special Forces—with her finger, then smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead.

  His lids fluttered softly, then opened, revealing the clearest, most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen. Zoe sucked in a short breath, curiously startled, and a flash of heat brushed the tops of her thighs.

  A sleepy smile curled his lips, then his eyes widened and he sat bolt upright, dislodging the dog, who yelped and, after a reproachful glance, trotted off into the woods.

  Nash winced and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, hell." His voice was deep, rough with sleep. Sexy.

  "That's what I thought this morning when I awoke in an empty bed," Zoe told him, a wry grin twisting her lips. "The temperature dropped considerably last night. I'm surprised you didn't catch your death."

  "I've been trained to be impervious to physical discomforts, remember?" he said tiredly. He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

  She arched a brow. "You were also trained to never let your guard down, yet I managed to stroll right up—armed, I might add—" she indicated her gun, then tucked it beneath the sash of her robe "—and have a conversation with that dog before you opened your eyes."

  His gaze bounced from the gun to her face, then he straightened as if his senses had moved to higher alert. "The dog? You weren't afraid of the dog?"

  Zoe chuckled, crossed her arms over her chest. "That harmless lump of fur? Hardly. He might lick me to death, but I doubt he would do much else."

  He continued to stare at her and a ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. His eyes twinkled with some curious insight he didn't appear inclined to share. "Right."

  "Why didn't you come to bed last night?" Zoe asked, ignoring his odd behavior. "Were you not confident that the perimeter was secure?"

  He looked away. "Er … not entirely, no."

  Zoe quirked a concerned brow. "Did you see something? Hear something?"

  "No," he hedged. "Just more a feeling than anything else."

  She supposed that made sense. She often trusted her instincts in the same manner. Still… "Is there something I should know, Nash? Is there some sort of danger associated with this mission that Larson has shared with you and not with me?" It would be a first, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

  "No, of course not," Nash replied, as though the notion were ludicrous. "He has more respect for your ability than that. I just want to make sure everything goes as planned. I don't want any surprises." He shot her a sheepish look. "I guess I underestimated how tired I was."

  Zoe smiled and, unable to resist, settled herself in his lap. After the slightest of hesitations, his arms closed around her, cocooning her in instant masculine warmth. Heat slithered through her limbs. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathed in the clean woodsy fragrance that was the essence of Nash, and need kindled once more.

  "It's perfectly all right," she told him, letting go a contented sigh. "Even badasses such as yourself are allowed to succumb to human weaknesses every once in a while."

  His soft laugh echoed hollowly against her ear. "A badass, am I?"

  "Don't ever doubt it." Smiling, she nuzzled his neck, then grimaced as her chin hit something. She looked down and noticed the headphones once more. "What were you listening to?" she asked.

  His hand slid slowly over her thigh, eliciting a purr of pleasure, as he gently set the rocker in motion. "Hmm?"

  "What were you listening to?" she repeated. "You've got headphones around your neck."

  He tensed, then released a slow breath. "Just polishing up my Chinese," he said dismissively.

  Zoe hummed under her breath, looked out over the glorious vista the morning sun painted. "God, Nash, isn't it beautiful here?" She pulled in a deep breath and savored the crisp taste of autumn. "We've been all over the world, seen some of the best the globe has to offer … and yet I don't think I've ever been anywhere that a dawn has looked more beautiful. I like it here. I don't know why, but it feels … right. Does that make sense?"

  He stilled beneath her and the rocker slowed for a couple of beats before he resumed its soothing motion once again. "It makes perfect sense," he murmured, his voice rough and laced with some indiscernible element. "I agree."

  "You know what?" Zoe said, as an idea suddenly occurred to her. "We should get married here."

  He cleared his throat. "M-married here?"

  "Yeah," Zoe told him, warming to her plan. "In the fall, just like this. I know you'd wanted to get married in your church, Nash, but that opens the whole your-church-vs.-my-church with the parents. If we do it here, that eliminates that argument."

  He grunted. "I suppose."

  "What?" she asked, leaning forward to study him. "Do you not like it here?"

  A bark of dry laughter erupted from his throat. "No, I love it here. It's perfect."

  She relaxed against him once more. "Then it's settled. We're getting married here."

  So, Lex wondered, as Faith's rump sentenced his loins to a life sentence, in what book did Nash propose to Zoe? Just exactly when, he wondered, were they supposed to get married? Not that he didn't doubt that the fictional characters were perfect for each other, he just didn't want to face the possibility of wedding a woman with amnesia who thought he was her imaginary badass hero. He resisted the urge to howl with laughter. To howl with frustration. Faith's curvy little body felt entirely too perfect in his arms, her head rested too trustingly against his shoulder. It was damn hard to be noble—to keep from sliding his hands over each and every delectable inch of her—when every soft breath she took simultaneously fanned a fire in his blood and resonated with blind confidence.

  He'd like nothing better than to turn her around and have her straddle him, right here in this rocker, Lex thought. Robe gaping open, slipping down her slim shoulders. Her honey curls mingling with his darker ones as the rhythm of the rocker catapulted them to simultaneous release right as the dawn broke over the mountain…

  Lex shifted, sucked in a slow breath as the fantasy played out in the private theater of his mind. God, this was madness. What the hell was he going to do? He wanted her. Desperately. Need gnashed around inside him, writhed in the pit of his belly, but there was another emotion attached to that desperate longing, one he didn't recognize and was all too afraid to label.

  Because that emotion scared the living hell out of him. And it wasn't possible, Lex told himself. He'd just met her, for pity's sake. What he suspected he felt couldn't be true. It couldn't be. And yet…

  He'd been drawn to her from the very beginning, had felt a connection beyond the physical from the very first moment he'd laid eyes on her. There'd been something about her, a combination of mischief and vulnerability that had inexplicably captivated him. He'd known—he'd know
n on some inexplicable level—that agreeing to play this part would be difficult. Some secret sense had warned him against the idea. And now he knew why.

  Lex had listened to the first book, had been utterly hooked from the first few sentences of the story. When Trudy had told him that Faith was the best in the business when it came to romantic adventure, he'd thought she'd merely been touting her friend, possibly trying to score a few more sales.

  He hadn't been prepared for Faith's sheer talent, the incredible craftsmanship of her stories.

  He hadn't counted on holding his breath, waiting for the conclusion. He hadn't counted on sneaking back into his bedroom while she slept to pick up the next book on tape because he couldn't bear the cliff-hanger at the end of the first.

  The storytelling was simply phenomenal, but it wasn't so much the story as the characters that moved the plot forward. Doc had been right. Zoe Wilder was simply an extension of Faith. She represented her hopes and dreams, conquered on the page fears that couldn't be eradicated in reality. She was clever and fearless, witty and charming. He grinned.

  Zoe was Faith … only wilder.

  Just moments ago when she'd mentioned how beautiful the mountains were—his mountain—when she'd talked about how things felt right here, he'd been in complete agreement with her … but for different reasons.

  Having her in his arms, her sweet rump settled in his lap, the curve of her hip beneath his palm, her head upon his shoulder—just like now—had felt right to Lex. So right that he could barely draw a breath, and fear of screwing up what could be the most important weekend of his life filled his abdomen with gut-wrenching dread.

  This woman was special.

  Lex sighed. And she was in love with another man—Nash Austin.

  Granted, that man wasn't real, but a fictitious character she'd spun out of thin air and into her Mr. Perfect, but she loved him all the same.

  But how in God's name was a guy supposed to compete with that? Lex wondered. Admittedly, he could see where she would note physical similarities between him and her fictional hero. Their hair and coloring—even the scar near the temple—was the same. They were about the same height, with the same build, though he hesitated at saying he resembled a Greek god.