by Robyn Grady
Soon Daniel was pulling up to her parents’ Georgetown address and parking the Italian sports car at twelve on the semicircular drive. As he opened Scarlet’s door, she alighted having formed the opinion that the Anderses’ home was more a manicured mansion. Neoclassical in style, it featured giant columns, a large pediment, full-length porch and symmetrical facade.
And how did she know all that terminology? she wondered, walking alongside Daniel up the broad porch steps. Perhaps she’d knocked over some architectural courses in college. Not that she could remember being part of a sorority or anything.
Faith Anders answered the door. Scarlet tried her best to spark a memory but nothing about the woman’s silvery-blond hairdo or cosmetically enhanced lips was familiar. However, when Faith lifted her chin as she took in her daughter’s ensemble, Scarlet felt a twinge. Not pleasant.
Gathering herself, Faith extended both arms for a hug. Scarlet did what was polite and stepped into the embrace. As her mother’s cool fingers curled around her, remarkably she felt some warmth—a faint click—but nothing to shout about. At least she didn’t feel quite so reluctant to step inside now.
“Your father’s home,” Faith said, looking both uneasy and relieved.
“Hope I didn’t worry him too much,” Scarlet replied, entering the sparkling foyer ahead of Daniel.
“He’s eager to see you.” Then she turned to Daniel and spoke down her nose at him, no mean feat given he was a head and a half taller. “Thank you for looking after her last night.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied solemnly.
Scarlet flicked him a look. So cool. You are a bad boy.
They followed Faith into a house decked out with miles of oak-paneled walls, sumptuous window dressings and museum-quality art. Taking her time, Scarlet ran her fingertips along surfaces and objects as they moved through the hall and came to a large, immaculately decorated room. The smooth, mirror-polished entry table adorned with a bowl of perfumed roses…the gilded frame of a Renaissance painting depicting a preoccupied-looking woman holding a toddler…the curve of a gleaming baby grand piano.
Score on the memory gauge?
Zip.
Near the unlit fireplace, a man in his sixties reclined in a wingback chair. On seeing them arrive, he pushed to his feet and straightened the hem of his smoking jacket. So people really wore those things? Scarlet wondered.
“Sweetheart,” he said, and put out his arms as Faith had done a minute earlier. But again there wasn’t an inkling of recognition. Worse, she realized she didn’t know her own father’s name. As go-with-the-flow as she’d been yesterday, she felt more and more puzzled today.
She moved forward and allowed the man to bring her close, rub her back. That was when she noticed Cara Cranshaw standing nearby, waiting patiently. Now, smiling, her friend nodded hello.
“Scarlet,” Cara said. “You look so rested.”
“Although no one would recognize her in those clothes,” her mother said, indicating with a gesture that everyone should sit as she lowered into a chair that matched her husband’s. Scarlet took a seat on the embroidered couch.
“I haven’t seen your curls that wild since—” Faith seemed to catch herself before straightening the cuffs of her gray silk blouse. “You’re usually a fanatic with your hair. I remember when you were six and wanted to cut every recalcitrant strand off.”
Scarlet caught her hair in a ponytail and flicked it onto her back. “There’s a lot of it.”
Tipping forward, her father tapped one of several photo albums set out on the mahogany coffee table. “Your mother let me know what the doctor said—that your memory will return of its own accord. But no harm in taking a walk down memory lane.”
Daniel had remained standing. Now Cara moved across to join her friend on the couch. Scarlet picked up an album and murmured, “Thanks…Dad.”
She felt odd calling a man she saw as a stranger by that name.
She opened the album to the first page and saw a picture of herself looking like a red-carpet invitee in a black silk cocktail dress, raising a champagne flute and beaming along with a room full of equally jubilant people.
“That’s the official opening of DC Affairs.” Cara pointed out another photo of Scarlet with her arm around a stunning-looking woman. “That’s Ariella, your partner.”
Scarlet ran a fingertip around the photo. “When can I meet her?”
“I rang to tell her we were gathering here this morning,” Cara said. “She wanted to be here but…” Her friend’s expression wavered. “Ariella has a few things going on. She was in the middle of setting up a very important meeting.”
Something I would have known about yesterday, no doubt.
“You’d have all these photos downloaded somewhere,” her father said.
“You printed these out just for us,” Faith added.
Scarlet set aside the album. She wanted something older. One that was covered in cartoon ponies drew her eye. Inside, photos showed a girl with fiery red-gold hair lashed down in plaits at a ballet recital, then blowing candles out on a cake and, finally, sitting at a piano, tiny fingers on keys.
Her stomach filled with butterflies. This was weird.
She tapped the last photo. “Here I am playing chopsticks.”
Faith Anders stiffened. “Never that. Even at that age we knew you had talent.”
“Your mother plays, too,” her father said.
Scarlet took that in. Earlier Daniel had mentioned she liked classical music. “So I got my taste and talent from you?”
Faith’s eyelids flickered and she eased into a smile. “I won’t take credit. You were always destined to be a far better player than me.”
Scarlet slid the album back onto the table. “Maybe when I see my old room…”
But suddenly her brain hurt. She felt drained. When she pressed her hand against her temple—it was as if someone were winding a diamond-tipped screw in there—Cara touched her shoulder.
“Do you need to rest?” her friend asked. “Lie down?”
“I shouldn’t need to. I slept like the dead last night.”
Faith visibly shuddered. “Scarlet, please don’t say those kinds of things.”
It was on the tip of Scarlet’s tongue to point out that it was just an expression but that would have been rude. And something told her, if anything, she wasn’t that.
“I even nodded off before I got to the end of the latest Spider-Man DVD,” she said instead.
Faith laughed delicately. “But you’ve never been into superheroes.”
“Perhaps she never mentioned it to you,” Cara pointed out.
Faith sat back. “I can’t see why not.”
“Point is,” her father said, “you’re home now. We’ll work it out.”
Scarlet rapped her shoes’ toes on the million-dollar carpet. Home… That wasn’t here. And it wasn’t with Daniel. Right now, she didn’t know where she belonged.
Out of nowhere, the back of her nose began to prickle and moisture filled her eyes. But she willed the emotion away. This topsy-turvy state wouldn’t last forever. She’d had glimpses of her previous life. Soon, as the doctor had said, everything would fall into place.
Taking a deep breath, she changed the subject. “Daniel’s on his way back home to Australia today.”
“You must be terribly busy.” Faith sent Daniel a saccharin smile. “We’re sorry to have held you up. She’s in good hands now.”
Scarlet bristled. In good hands now…meaning she wasn’t when she was with Daniel.
His handsome face was a mask. He’d caught Faith’s slight but he had dignity enough not to lob one back. As his focus slid over to Scarlet and he sent her a quick wink, she projected a silent message.
As far as I’m concerned, I was in excellent hands.
He addressed her parents.
“Did you know your daughter wants to visit Australia?”
Faith shot her a look. “It’s incredibly dusty.”
�
��Getting dirty never hurt anyone,” Scarlet returned.
Rubbing his chin, Daniel sauntered over to stand before the coffee table and its albums. “I wonder whether a few days away might help.”
Eyeing Daniel, her father rearranged himself in his chair. “Help how?”
“Getting away,” he explained. “Having some fun. Rather than trying to load her with information, it could be better to, you know, ease up.”
Faith got to her feet. “We don’t want to hold you up, Mr. McNeal. You must have a plane to catch.”
“My jet’s on standby.”
Pushing out of her seat, her heart crashing beneath her ribs, Scarlet joined him. Had she heard him right? “Are you asking me to go with you to Australia?” She saw the smile in his eyes meant just for her.
“You said you wanted a holiday.”
Cara shot to her feet, too. “I’ll help you pack.”
“It’s out of the question,” Faith said calmly.
Her father spoke up. “Daniel, we’re grateful for your help up to this point, but, son, we don’t know you.”
“I can vouch for Daniel,” Cara said. “He and Max have been friends forever. My fiancé would trust this man with his life.”
Rolling her eyes, Faith muttered, “So dramatic.”
Scarlet held on to a growl. She wanted to tell everyone to be quiet. She might be living in a void, but it was her life, her choice, and unless someone stepped in to declare her mentally incompetent she was going. But she was interested, too, to hear which way her father’s opinion would fall.
Elbows on the chair arms, her father threaded his fingers at chest level and made an odd grunting sound, which flicked a faint light on in Scarlet’s memory. He did that when he needed to voice a tough decision.
“It’s well documented,” her father said, “that good things can come from taking the pressure off.”
Faith’s jaw dropped. “You agree she should just run away?”
He stood. “I know you’re concerned but I have a good feeling about this.” Then he addressed Scarlet. “That is, if you want to go.”
Scarlet’s focus shot to Cara, who gave a quick nod. When her gaze met Daniel’s, he grinned and shrugged. Your choice. Over near the unlit fireplace, Faith Anders had paled and looked set to collapse back into her chair. Scarlet didn’t want to hurt anyone but the vote was four to one.
“I promise not to go swimming in any croc-infested lakes, Mom.”
Faith blinked and a genuine smile breathed color back into her face. “You called me Mom.”
Her father moved to link an arm around Faith’s waist. He nodded and smiled encouragingly at his daughter before brushing a kiss over his wife’s cheek.
That’s when Scarlet had a flash of insight. She might not remember these people but, in this house, she knew that she was loved.
* * *
From the sidelines, Daniel watched Scarlet take stock of the interior of her town house. Her expression was curious but it didn’t look as if any lights were blinking on. One moment she was concentrating on the piano, then a framed shot of her folks displayed in the middle of the mantel. Next minute she pivoted away and almost stumbled on the potted palm, which she clearly hadn’t remembered being there. She knocked over a poker by the fireplace and had to steady herself, her two hands braced against the wall. For the first time since her topple yesterday, real frustration tightened her mouth.
Flustered, Scarlet set her tote bag down heavily on a nearby timber sideboard. The bag tipped over, upending a delicate porcelain figurine of a teenage girl embracing an armful of flowers. Swooping, Scarlet caught the figurine before it hit the floor. Her face ashen now, she moved to set the piece carefully back in place. Daniel noticed her hands were shaking.
As he joined her, she pasted on a weak smile and wound a sweep of hair behind one ear.
“That looks expensive,” she said. “Probably would’ve hated myself later if it’d smashed.”
Settling a calming palm on her back, he examined the living room. Decorated very much like the senior Anderses’ home, it featured lots of paneled wood, tasteful embroidered furnishings, expensive traditional touches like fine artwork and display crystal. Whatever floats your boat.
“Anything look familiar?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She traced fingertips along the polished sideboard’s rim. “But I’m not entirely uncomfortable.”
That was good. Promising. “Maybe you should rethink Down Under and stay here with Cara instead.”
“What you said at my parents’ made sense. I’d like to get away. Let my brain breathe instead of have it loaded down. But it was a rather random announcement, Daniel. I thought I’d been crowding you.”
Not crowding. She’d been giving his conscience a good poke. Putting him between a rock and one very hard place. When they’d first met, he’d wanted to see more of her. What they’d shared last night had, frankly, blown him away. Placing her outside of temptation’s way seemed like a plan. However…
“Your parents obviously mean well but, from where I stood, they were only confusing you more.” His palm fanned between her shoulder blades. “And there was an element of self-interest attached to my suggestion.”
She turned to face him. Her eyes glittered into his as she gave him a sly smile. “Are you suggesting we pick up where we left off? Because I’m certain there’s a bedroom around here somewhere.”
When she leaned toward him, his neurons started firing signals, preparing him for contact. But now was not the time for play. He caught her arms.
“My pilot’s issued a departure time. We should try to keep it.”
Her eyes narrowed as she considered the logistics. “I wonder what vacation clothes I have,” she said softly to herself as she sauntered away.
When she disappeared up the staircase, he followed her. Should he mention that when she wasn’t concentrating so hard, she seemed to know her way around?
Upstairs consisted of two pristine bedrooms and their attached baths. Daniel watched Scarlet enter the main suite, cross straight to the walk-in closet and throw open the doors. When he caught up, she stood examining neat rows of clothes and shoes. Everything was color coded. Skirts and trousers were to one side, blouses to the other. Dresses hung, evenly spaced, in the middle.
She let out a long impressed whistle. “I sure do have good taste. And these shoes are amazing. I must spend all my money at boutiques.”
“Any bikinis?” he asked eagerly then cleared his throat. “We’ll be spending a lot of time on the water.”
After digging around in drawers, pulling stuff out, leaving other bits and pieces hanging, she gave up. “Nothing,” she said. Then she considered the exposed lengths of her arms as if she’d never seen them before. “I am fair. Maybe I don’t have a swimsuit because I don’t go in the sun.”
“New invention. It’s called sunblock.”
She nodded at the pants section. “I have a pair of jeans but nothing else that says casual. No flip-flops, not even with platforms and sparkles.” She threw up her hands. “What kind of person has no regular weekend clothes?”
“Gee, I don’t know.” His shoulder butted against the jamb. “A person who looks amazing in Versace?”
She cast him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, but I’d feel more at home in cutoffs.”
“I’m happy when you’re wearing nothing.” He blinked. “And I didn’t just say that.”
“Because I really hated hearing it.” Her teeth tugging at her lower lip, she closed the distance separating them. “Are you sure we can’t spare a few minutes to check out that bed?”
“Do you really believe either one of us would want to stop at a few minutes?” He spied a piece of luggage on the shelf above their heads. He swung the case down and nudged it toward her. “Throw together a few things. I’ll take you shopping when we get home.”
She tapped his chest. “You’re on.”
She opened a different set of drawers. Daniel groaned. Sexy lingerie
city. Maybe the old Scarlet wasn’t hopelessly repressed, after all.
She angled around, swirling an X-rated thong on an index finger.
“Narrow, black and lacy.” Dangling the G-string at an appropriate level, she rocked her hips. “I appreciate the loan of Morgan’s underwear but these look like a lot more fun.”
He realized he was nodding, leaning forward, growing harder. With a start, he shot the case up under his chin. “You won’t get me to change my mind.”
“No?”
Shoulders hunching, he lifted the case higher still.
“No.”
“Then turn your head. I need to change.”
She proceeded to peel her T-shirt up over her head. Daniel swallowed. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He set down the case heavily.
“That’s it. I’m calling the tease police.”
But she was busy dragging off her trousers and briefs. Sweat broke out along the dent of his spine. “It’s way too hot in here.”
She crossed to him and, without any further provocation, his mouth dropped over hers. The tip of her tongue played with his as she unbuttoned his shirt, then filed her fingers up through the hair on his chest. When she let him come up for air, he gripped her hips and issued a warning.
“If you’re going to take advantage of me again, it’ll need to be quick.”
She dotted sweet kisses on his chest, then slid lower onto her knees. The metal sound of his zipper easing down had him gripping the doorjambs to either side of him. She lowered his briefs, and cool air hit before the moist warmth of her mouth circled, then drew him in. Daniel’s hold on the jambs tightened.
This was going to be one hell of a trip.
Eight
Scarlet took a sip of her ice water, stole a glance at the person sitting opposite. Finally she cleared her throat.
