by Robyn Grady
“Hey,” she said, “you’re really cute.”
He stopped breathing and did a double take.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry. Forward of me.” She arched a brow. “Then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
He ran a hand down his clean-shaven jaw. Okay. This was weird. Her attitude. That openly seductive look. Where had all this come from?
“Can you tell me what day it is?”
When she sighed, closed her eyes and turned her head, he directed her face back again. As that tranquil spring-green gaze fused with his, he asked very clearly, “Do you know where you are?”
She blinked slowly and cast a glance around. “I’m in a room alone with you. Are you married?” she asked, and then smiled at herself. “There I go again. But…you aren’t married, are you?” A faint line cut between her brows. “How do I know that? How do I know you?”
Daniel rocked back on his heels. Good Lord. “I’m Daniel. Daniel McNeal.”
“Nice name. Kind of cheeky. It suits you.”
She repeated his name, tasting it like a bite of warm Belgian chocolate. When her tongue held on to the final l, he caught himself studying her mouth, her lips, and not in a clinical way.
“How about your name?” His palm brushed her cool brow. “Know that?”
She blinked several times, screwed up her eyes tightly and thought. “I don’t recall.” Then she studied her surrounds more closely. “I don’t remember anything.”
Footfalls sounded behind them and Cara Cranshaw breezed in. When she saw Scarlet lying there with Daniel so close, she put on the brakes.
“Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Scarlet smiled across at her friend like a drunk. “Hi there.”
Cara’s head cocked to a sharp angle. As if she were tackling a field full of land mines, she edged forward. “Scarlet, honey, are you all right?”
“Everyone keeps asking me that.” She eyeballed Daniel again. “Scarlet. Is that my name? That’s a ridiculous question, isn’t it? Except…you know…I feel a little confused.”
Cara hurried the rest of the way. This time she spoke to Daniel. “What happened?”
“No one was out front. I heard a noise. Found her sprawled out over there.” He indicated the spot near the lace and the upended ladder.
Cara hunkered down beside her friend. “Scarlet, did you fall?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” She sent Daniel a plaintive look. “Can we go home now?”
While a rush of alarm shot up his spine, Daniel felt Cara’s stunned expression gravitate from her friend across to him.
“My doctor makes house calls,” she said.
“Get the front door.” He was already collecting Scarlet in his arms again. “She needs a hospital.”
* * *
That afternoon, a Dr. Lewis spoke to Daniel and Cara Cranshaw outside of Scarlet’s private hospital room.
“Trauma to the head can sometimes cause a loss of episodic memory,” Lewis said, scribbling on Scarlet’s chart. “That’s to say that the patient’s memories of personal life experiences are impaired. Simply reminding a patient of their name and history won’t trigger spontaneous recovery.” He lowered the chart. “Usually memory returns of its own accord within a short time.”
“Did you say usually?” Remembering how Scarlet had imprinted on him after waking from that fall, Daniel let the prognosis sink in. “You mean she could stay like this? No memory of her past, of who she is?”
From what he and Cara could determine, Scarlet had been alone when she’d tripped and knocked her head. On their way to this hospital, Scarlet had seemed confused but, thankfully, calm. Tests were performed. Other than a small contusion on the left side her head, and the fact she couldn’t remember a thing, she seemed fine.
“There are instances where a patient’s retrograde amnesia is permanent,” the doctor went on, clipping his pen inside his white coat pocket. “It’s typical that immediate events leading up to the accident are permanently lost. But generally the semantic memory—a person’s general knowledge about the world and her surroundings—is unaffected.”
“Other than her loss of memory,” Cara said, “she seems the same and yet…different.”
“Give her brain time to reset after that jolt.”
The doctor hadn’t finished his sentence before Daniel noticed a woman trotting down the corridor. While her maroon pantsuit looked fresh from the cleaners, her demeanor was rumpled. As she stopped before them, Daniel saw she wore only one gold button earring rather than two.
Mrs. Anders nodded at Cara and ignored Daniel as she spoke to the doctor.
“I got here as soon as I could. I’m Scarlet Anders’s mother. Her father’s out of town, but flying back first thing.” She took a breath. “I’d like to see my daughter straightaway.”
The doctor filled Mrs. Anders in on her daughter’s condition and concluded with “We recommend she stay in overnight for observation. Right now she wants to speak with her partner.”
Mrs. Anders dabbed a white lace handkerchief against her cheek, then her brow. “Scarlet recently ended a relationship. She’s confused.”
“On that she was clear.” The doctor nodded at Daniel. “Scarlet wants to see you.”
Mrs. Anders lowered her handkerchief from her face. “But I’m her mother.”
“It would help enormously,” Lewis said, “if everyone remains calm and positive around her.”
Mrs. Anders looked more dazed than her daughter had when Daniel had found her. “I’ll tell Scarlet,” he said, “that you’re here.”
Mrs. Anders closed her gaping mouth, then lifted her chin. “I’d appreciate that.”
Daniel rapped lightly on the door before entering. Scarlet sat propped up in bed, ankles crossed, looking bored. Until she saw him. Then her expression came alive like the sky on the Fourth of July. Moving closer, he sent an encouraging smile.
“How you doing?”
“Fine. Other than the fact I can’t remember who I am. It’s the strangest feeling. It’s like all the memories are there just waiting for a door to open but I can’t quite turn the knob.”
“It’s only temporary.”
“So they say.”
But as she smiled so honestly into his eyes, something deep in Daniel’s chest shifted more than a notch. Hopefully Scarlet would regain her memory, and soon, but it wasn’t all bad having her look at him this way—with trust and excitement. Where a woman like Scarlet was concerned, a man could get used to this kind of attention.
“When can we go home?” she asked.
“My home’s in Australia.”
“Explains the accent. I thought maybe English.” She shimmied back up against the pillows. “How long have we lived there?”
“You live in D.C., Scarlet. Here. You like it.”
She narrowed her eyes as if trying to absorb the information. “We live ten thousand miles apart?”
“We haven’t known each other long.”
“And yet somehow I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
When the light in her eyes faded, clouded by uncertainty, he reached and found her hand.
“Who knows?” he said. “Maybe we knew each other in a previous life.”
“You think so?”
“Anything’s possible.”
Her face brightened again. “That’s exactly how I feel.” Then she moved her legs, her shoulders, as if she were uncomfortable. “Can we leave now? I’ve had enough of tests and being cooped up.”
“The doctor wants you to stay in overnight.”
“But I don’t have to, right?”
Still holding her slender hand in his, Daniel exhaled. That question wasn’t his to field.
“Your mother’s waiting outside. She wants to see you.”
“My mother? Well, tell her to come in.”
“You remember her?”
“Not at all. But I’d like to meet her.”
A
moment later, Mrs. Anders and her single earring slipped into the room. Her smile was hopeful, filled with maternal worry and love. She might be self-important but she obviously cared greatly for her daughter.
“Hello, Scarlet. How do you feel?”
Scarlet studied Mrs. Anders before disappointment dragged down her smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you. Not a thing.”
Standing beside the bed, Mrs. Anders gave a stoic nod. “We’ll show you pictures. That should help. Recent pictures. Pictures of when you were in school.”
Scarlet’s face pinched and her focus drifted to some imaginary spot beyond the hospital wall. “I’m not sure if it’s real, whether it really happened…but I just had a thought. Some sort of a flash.”
Mrs. Anders clasped her handkerchief. “Something from your old room? It’s still as you left it when you moved out.”
Scarlet’s expression turned darker as she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate.
“It’s a tire swing,” she said. “And I’m playing with someone. No, it’s me playing with the tire… Or I think it is.”
Mrs. Anders sank into a chair. “You need to rest,” she said in a thin voice. “The doctor said you should.”
Scarlet’s eyes opened again. She spoke softly but also firmly. “I’ve had enough rest. We’re leaving. Daniel is taking me home.”
* * *
Watching their unexpected guest peruse the penthouse’s main room, Morgan wedged her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and shook her head.
“This has got to top anything you’ve ever gotten yourself into.”
His focus on Scarlet running an appraising hand along the entertainment system, Daniel spoke out the side of his mouth. “I didn’t get myself into anything. She’s the one who fell.”
Mrs. Anders was floored when her daughter had announced she was going home with a veritable stranger, a playboy descended from convicts. But when Scarlet stuck to her guns, the older woman had kept her cool and, cornered, Daniel had accepted her decision, too.
“I warned you, didn’t I?” Morgan said in hushed tones. “Her friend showed up seconds after that accident, too. If you hadn’t been there, Caroline Cranshaw would have taken her to the hospital and your Scarlet would be with her family now rather than thinking she’s in love with you.”
It was true. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, it was clear Scarlet was convinced they were—or should be—a couple. Which he could have handled very well two nights ago. Not so easy now.
Scarlet was checking out the DVD collection when she turned to him with an uneasy look on her face. “Any chance we can get something to eat? My stomach’s growling louder than a bear come spring.”
Daniel winced. Good Lord, had she really said that?
He resumed his supportive face. “Anything in particular?”
“A hamburger with extra onions would hit the spot. And I could go for something sweet.” She thought for a moment. “Jelly beans.”
She blew him a big thank-you kiss and moved out onto the terrace. Through the open door, Daniel watched her eye the hanging cane seat, then hoist herself up and work it into a steady swing.
“Want that burger with a Guinness or a glass of milk?”
Daniel ignored Morgan’s jibe. “Jelly beans. I saw a bowl on the table at her work. Could be the start of her memory coming back.”
“In the meantime, hope you have a big stick handy. You’ll need it to fight her off. Although that would spoil your fun.”
“I would never take advantage of this situation.”
“Believe it or not, I’m more worried that she’ll take advantage of you.” Morgan was headed for the door and her own suite. “I’ll call to delay our flight. Then I’m off to research how bumps on the head can lead to heightened sexual urges. And, Daniel―” Morgan stopped in the opened doorway “―if you need me, call, okay?”
He surrendered a grin. “Always do.”
He moved out onto the terrace. With her shoes off, Scarlet was evaluating the view from her perch on the swing.
“Your place is really nice,” she said. “What did you say you do for a living?”
“I’m a geek.”
“I love geeks!” Her lips swung to one side. “Or I think I do. Your secretary’s nice, too.”
“God, don’t let her hear you call her that.”
“Why?” With a certain gleam in her eye, Scarlet sat back. “Were you two an item in the past?”
“Never, ever.”
Pointing out her peach-polished toes, she laughed. “Don’t worry. I believe you. She likes you, but as a friend.” Scarlet considered her words. “Was I always good at sizing people up?”
“You thought I was a pleasure-seeking eccentric.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“You didn’t think so at the time.”
“That woman—my mother—she’s so repressed. Am I normally like that?”
He rolled back a shoulder. “Maybe a little.”
“Snobby, too?”
“Let’s say focused.”
“Then why do you like me? You don’t seem pretentious at all.”
He leaned back against the solid masonry rail. “Scarlet, we’re not a couple―you know that, right?”
“So you said. Still, I can’t shake the feeling…” She pushed out of the swing and strolled over in her rumpled white dress. “We were involved somehow, though. I’m certain.”
“Involved is a very strong word.” He flipped a finger at her hair, cascading over one shoulder, a hypnotic river of shimmering gold. Far too distracting. Way too sexy.
“Just so you know,” he said, “you like to wear your hair up.”
Sweeping the waves up between her fingers, she piled the delectably tousled hair high on her head and struck an unintentionally steamy pose. “Like this?”
Daniel’s mouth began to water.
“On second thought,” he muttered, “leave it down.”
She let go and the waves tumbled around her shoulders again. “You’re okay with me being here, though, aren’t you?”
“If it’s going to help, sure.”
“I’m already thinking a little clearer.”
He sparked up. “You’ve remembered something?” The jelly bean connection?
“I remember this.”
A teasing fingertip traced down his shirtfront. When her nail reached his belt buckle, every one of his reflexes jumped and, like a sprung trap, his hand caught hers. This was getting out of control, and it wasn’t just her. His autonomic nervous system needed a stern talking-to.
“Believe me,” he said in a thick voice, “that’s not a good idea.”
She didn’t listen. Only smiled, then craned up on tiptoe to drag her lips down the left side of his neck. She hummed in her throat.
“I knew you’d taste like that,” she murmured. “And I’m getting another flash.”
Calling on willpower reserves, he put his hands on her shoulders and gently, calmly, held her back. “I don’t think you should tell me.”
“You have a mole under your left nipple. Am I right?”
“Wrong.”
“A scar on your right thigh?”
“Nope.”
“I’m sure I could find one if I looked hard enough.”
As he gazed down into those bewitching green eyes, he felt his focus sharpen. Her lips were parted. Glistening. Pitilessly tempting.
Down low and deep inside where a man knows no conscience, he felt a telltale tug. Okay. More a cosmic push. He’d never wanted to kiss any woman more than he wanted to kiss Scarlet Anders right now. Mindlessly, relentlessly and well into the coming night.
But he’d told Morgan. Warned himself. It wasn’t happening. Not when Scarlet didn’t know her own mind.
With his hands still cupping her shoulders, he had every intention of shifting her to one side, stepping out of harm’s way. Instead, he was aware of fingers curling over her upper back at the same time her palms traveled up his chest t
o each side of his neck. The impulse to react in an unmistakably positive way filled his veins with so much molten want, a sweat broke on his brow.
Worse, while his hands brought her closer, his head angled down. Her mouth was an undeniable hairbreadth away and his inner caveman wouldn’t quit grunting. Do it. Do it. An educated, just as unhelpful voice assured him that he was doing the right thing. Acting on reproductive chemistry is the natural order of things. Good God, man, what are you waiting for?
Hell, she was practically begging.
Gritting his teeth, cursing both sides of his nature, he maneuvered until she was a good arm’s length away.
“We need to stop.”
“I know we’ve done this before. We’ve kissed.” One slender shoulder lifted and dropped. “Might help my memory if we did it again.”
She edged forward but, digging painfully deep, he stood his ground.
“If you keep this up, you’ll go home to your parents.”
Her eyebrows hitched. “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m an adult.”
“Then act like one.”
She opened her mouth, ready to object. But then her peeved expression eased. With a vaguely apologetic air, she sauntered inside while Daniel was left to slump against the balcony rail. He wanted to deflect trouble but, Lord in heaven, he also wanted to embrace it. And he had the biggest feeling this changed Scarlet knew that as well as he did.
So how long did she expect to stay here and torture him?
How long before he caved in?
Six
Scarlet snuggled back on the enormous black leather sofa.
“I’m still sighing over the hamburger.” She eyed her generous host, Daniel McNeal, who was slotting a DVD into his kick-ass entertainment center’s player. “You seriously missed out.”
“My steak was good. I’m completely satisfied.”
As he glanced over, Scarlet soaked up the entrancing slant of his grin. She might have lost her memory but anyone could spot a heartthrob when she saw one. From the moment she’d laid eyes on the man who had come to her rescue when she’d apparently fallen and knocked her poor head, she’d been smitten. Frankly, love-struck. He might insist they weren’t “together,” but the way she caught him sometimes looking at her, with that need-to-have-you gleam in his eye, she’d put her money on intuition. He was dying to kiss her, to hold her tight. As much as she wanted to kiss and hold him right back.
