by Lori Wilde
The short man looked relieved. “I hope your wife feels better soon.”
“I’m sure she will.”
Carrying her in his arms, Truman headed for the elevator. She dripped water over his clothes, but he didn’t care. He wanted to get her back to the room and make certain she was okay. If he found a problem, he’d call his chief and see if they could get a doctor to make a hotel call.
Someone pressed the elevator button for him, and Truman hitched Katie up in his arms. He prayed neither Tandy nor Smith nor their female accomplice had seen the incident.
Katie clung to him, nuzzling her chin against his neck. “Umm,” she said. “You smell nice.”
Her warm breath tickled and sent a shiver skimming across his skin. Good thing he was soaking wet, otherwise he might battle an embarrassing physical reaction to having her so close to him.
Truman stood against the back of the elevator. Several other people got in and eyed them inquisitively. He fixed his gaze on the numbers above the elevator door and would have done a good job of remaining stoically indifferent if Katie hadn’t kept running her tongue along his
throat.
What in the hell was she doing?
He leaned his head over and whispered in her ear. “Knock that off.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You know you love it, Zackie Poo.”
“Not in an elevator full of people.”
“Since when did you get so prudish?” she asked a little too loudly for his comfort. “I remember that time in the Bahamas when we made love on the beach and—”
“Stop it,” he whispered.
Embarrassed, Truman glanced at the four other people in the elevator. “She hit her head. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
A droll-looking older man smirked and arched his eyebrows. A younger couple gave him a sympathetic smile. A middle-aged lady looked down her nose at him as if she’d bitten into a bitter turnip.
Great. He was making friends and influencing people right and left.
The elevator dinged.
“Excuse us,” he said, edging past the sour-faced lady. “This is our floor.” He heard her mutter, “Some people,” as the doors closed behind them. Meanwhile, Katie was busy twining her fingers through his hair.
“What are you doing?” he snapped, distressed.
“Oh, bunny rabbit, don’t get mad at me.”
“I’m not mad, Katie. I’m just trying to get you to the room.”
“Katie?” She frowned.
Truman stopped outside their room. “I’ll put you down while I find the room key. Are you going to be all right?”
“Who’s Katie?” she asked as he deposited her on her feet. Her wet dress clung to her skin, emphasizing every dip and curve of her body.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to notice. “You’re Katie.” Truman patted down his pockets, searching for the plastic key card. “Katie Prentiss.”
“Oh.” She shook her head and put an index finger to her lips. “Shh. I get it. An alias. We’re on a case.”
Huh? Something wasn’t right.
Worried, Truman frowned. “Let’s get inside.” He opened the door, took Katie by the hand, and tugged her inside.
“First, dry clothes,” he said. “Then we talk.”
She shrugged and started to unbutton her dress.
“Not here!” He reached over and buttoned her back up.
“What is your problem?”
Truman put a palm to his forehead and realized he was sweating. Something was definitely wrong with her.
“Get undressed in the bathroom, please. I’ll bring you something else to put on.”
“What’s up, pup? When did you turn into such a prude?”
He propelled her toward the bathroom. “Go. Change. We’ll talk when you’re clean and dry and clothed.”
She obeyed, albeit reluctantly, casting him a “you’re acting crazy” glance before snapping the bathroom door shut behind her.
Truman breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know for sure what was going on, but obviously the blow to her forehead had affected Katie. He hustled to the bedroom and opened her suitcase to find dry clothes.
It was empty.
She must have already unpacked.
He flung open a dresser drawer. Stunned, he stared at the contents. Black lace garter, black silk thong underwear, red satin teddy. Holy smokes, what had she been planning? Was it her aim to seduce? Was that why she’d wanted to go undercover with him?
Frantically, he pushed the frilly, seductive garments aside, desperately searching for something boxy or baggy for her to put on. Sweats. Long Johns. A parka.
Nothing fit that category.
Panting, Truman slammed the drawer shut. Had Katie come on this stakeout with the express
intent of seducing him? Surely not, yet how did he explain that underwear? There was enough hot lingerie there to tempt an army of Puritans.
He couldn’t let her put on any of that. Not when she was in the mood that she was in. Not when the sight of the undies, and thoughts of her wearing them, made him hotter and harder than he’d ever been in his life.
What to do?
Truman yanked out his own suitcase and took out gray drawstring sweatpants and a matching
sweatshirt. It was too big for her, but it was better than nothing. Sweat suit in hand, he tapped lightly on the bathroom door.
“Here,” he said. “I’ve got something for you to put on.”
The door opened. One bare arm protruded. A lithe, sexy arm.
He placed the sweats in her hand and backed down the hall.
She pulled her hand back inside but left the door open. She squawked. “What’s this?”
“My sweats. Put them on.”
“It’s a million sizes too big.”
“Tighten the drawstring and roll up the sleeves.” He wished she’d shut that door. He could see her sexy shadow thrown against the wall.
“Don’t I have anything of my own to wear?”
“No.”
“Zack?”
“Yes.”
“What’s going on?”
“I wish I knew.”
Katie emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair slicked back, framing her oval face. She’d washed the dried blood from her temple, and Truman could see the cut was superficial. That made him feel marginally better.
The sleeves of his sweatshirt hung a good four inches past her fingers, and she’d cuffed the pants. The effect was comical, and yet, strangely erotic. The woman could make a ragged, oversized sweat suit look enticing.
It’s been far too long for you, Truman, my boy. You need an ice cube shower.
“Come here.” He held out his hand to her, and Katie padded toward him. A peculiar twinge pinched his heart.
She pushed up the sleeves and slipped her hand into his.
He led her to the sitting area and safely away from that mirrored bedroom. “Sit down.”
Katie plopped onto the couch, then drew her legs up tailor-style. Nervously, Truman eased down beside her.
“I will ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability.”
“What’s going on, Zack?” Her eyes narrowed.
“That’s what I’m trying to determine. Will you humor me, please?”
She nodded.
“Do you know who I am?”
“I do.” Her smiled softened his heart to melted butter. “How could I forget the love of my life?”
Truman cocked his head. That much might be true. Katie once had a ferocious crush on him. But the love of her life? Him? A strange sensation fizzed in his stomach. “What’s my name?”
“Zack Dupree. My husband of three years.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not your husband.”
She stared at him as if he’d just announced he could transform himself into a coffee table with a snap of his fingers. “Yes, you are. We got married on Kapalua Beach in Maui, Hawaii.”
“We seem to spend a lot of time on beaches,” he muttered.
“See. You do remember. What’s this all about, Zack?” She reached out to run a finger over his cheek. “Has something affected your memory?”
“My memory?” He stared at her, stupefied.
“C’mon, bunny rabbit, if you can’t remember our wedding night, then something is terribly wrong. Best night of our lives.”
“We never had a wedding night. We’re not married.”
She grinned. “Okay, what’s the joke? Let me in on it.”
Truman threaded his fingers through his hair. They were getting nowhere fast. “Answer me this—what’s your real name?”
Katie snorted. “Knock it off, Zack. I’m exhausted of this game.”
“It’s not my memory in question here. I’m afraid that lick you took to the head has affected yours.”
She dismissed him with a snort and wave of her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
A dark suspicion nagged at him. Could it be true? Had the blow to her head given Katie some weird form of amnesia?
“Just tell me your name,” he persisted.
“This isn’t funny, Zack.”
“No, it’s not.” The serious look on his face must have finally convinced her.
She gulped. “My name’s Tess Dupree,” she whispered.
“That’s your undercover name. What’s your real name?”
“Tess is my real name,” she insisted.
Truman blew out a breath. He was way out of his league here. He knew nothing about amnesia nor how to help Katie remember who she was.
“Your name is Katie Prentiss. You’re a librarian at the Rascal Library in Presidio County.”
“No, I’m not.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m Tess Dupree. A private eye in Colorado Springs, Colorado.”
“Then what are you doing in Fort Worth, Texas?”
A distress light flared in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she confessed.
Oh, boy. What now?
“No way am I something as mundane as a librarian.” She tossed her head like a spirited filly. “That is such a boring job. All those tedious books to read.”
“You love to read.”
“Since when?”
“Since always.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m afraid it’s the truth.”
Her eyes widened. “Why are you doing this, Zack? Does it have something to do with the case we’re on?”
“It does, but I’m not lying to you, Katie.”
“Please don’t call me that.” She looked so small and helpless in his oversized sweats it just about broke his heart.
“Why don’t you tell me about the assignment we’re on,” he said. “Maybe that will jog your memory.”
She rubbed her temple. “I am having a little trouble remembering the assignment.”
Ah-ha, it was a start. “Do you have trouble remembering anything else?”
A wicked grin lit her face. “I have no trouble remembering how good you are in bed, lover. Why don’t we just go to the bedroom and resume this discussion in the morning?” She walked two fingers up his arm and over his shoulder.
Truman scooted away. “Stop that.”
“Come on, honey, don’t be so touchy. A little hugging, a little kissing, and you’ll feel so much better.” She stretched toward him like a cat and planted a hot kiss on his cheek.
“No. There’ll be none of that.”
“Don’t be a sourpuss,” she coaxed. “I’m sorry if I did anything to upset you.”
His temperature was climbing through the roof, and there was a definite stirring below his belt. He had to get through to her. He knew Tess Dupree’s flagrant behavior would appall Katie. Problem was, Katie was out to lunch, leaving him with Miss-Sexier-than-Sin.
“Katie, get hold of yourself. Neither of us wants to do something we’ll both regret later.”
Her bottom lip protruded in a pout. “Please, please, stop calling me that name.”
“It’s your name.”
“No, it isn’t,” she replied stubbornly, hugging herself. “I’m Tess, and I won’t answer to anything else.”
Great. Just what he needed. Perpetuate her fantasy. He could kick himself for allowing Katie to pick their undercover names. Now he had a situation on his hands. Could he, in good conscience, continue the investigation with Katie in this compromised state?
No. He had to call it off, notify the chief, get Katie to a doctor. It was the only wise thing to do.
Then again...
Truman rubbed his jaw with his hand. He hated to give up the case when they were so close. If Katie truly believed she was Tess Dupree, mightn’t their cover be even more convincing?
He didn’t know what to do. It was late, and Tess had a photo session scheduled for nine o’clock in the morning with Smith and Tandy. If he called off the investigation now, there would be no time for a new team to move in. But if he proceeded, Tess might say or do something that could destroy everything and possibly even put them in jeopardy.
Then something occurred to him. “What were you doing in the fountain, Tess?”
She blinked. “The fountain?”
“Yes. That’s where you slipped and hit your head.”
She frowned and rubbed her temple. “Oh, yeah.”
“Can you remember why you were in the fountain?”
She hesitated and screwed up her mouth in thought. “It had something to do with the investigation.”
“Do you know what it was?”
She frowned. “I was trying to listen.”
“Listen to what?”
Closing her eyes, Katie leaned her head against the back of the couch. “The red-haired woman. She was on the phone.”
Truman leaned forward. Katie couldn’t remember her own name, but she recalled what she was doing before she hit her head? This was a good sign. Right? If she could recollect the investigation, it might be safe to proceed, even if she thought she was really Tess Dupree.
“I was on the way up to the room to tell you about the conversation when that manager caught me in the fountain. I guess that’s when I slipped and fell.”
“Excellent, Tess. Now, what did the woman say?”
A long moment passed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I forget that part.”
“It’s okay.” Truman reached over to cover her hand with his. Her grateful smile kicked him right in the gut. “You’re doing fine. But I think we need to get you to a doctor.”
“No doctor,” she insisted. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Besides, we’ve got a case to solve.”
“Katie…er…Tess, I don’t care about the investigation. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
He didn’t care about the investigation?
Even though the words came from his own mouth, Truman couldn’t believe he’d uttered them. He was the most devoted detective in the sheriff’s department. The man they counted on to work endless overtime. He was the son of a cop gunned down in the line of duty. He was the man who’d ended his engagement rather than marry a woman who demanded he change careers. Something mattered more to him than the successful completion of an assignment?
Impossible.
But it was true. Nothing came before Katie’s well-being. Not the case, not his supervisors’ opinions, not his own safety. That knowledge rocked the core of Truman’s belief system. Until Katie, he had thought nothing was as important as protecting and serving the public. Now he only wanted to protect her.
At any cost.
“I’m fine, Zack. Really.”
“No, you’re not. It’s not normal to think you’re somebody else.”
“Look, I already remembered stuff about the investigation. I’m sure my memory will be back tomorrow, although if I’m as boring as you say I am, I don’t really want to remember her.”
“Katie’s not boring,” Truman growled, coming to her defense, then realizing h
ow silly it was, arguing with Katie about how exceptional Katie was. He held up both palms. “Wow, this is too surreal for me.”
“I can see you’re upset,” Katie said. “Tell you what. If my memory hasn’t returned by tomorrow morning, I promise I’ll go see a doctor. How about that?”
Truman considered her proposal. “All right,” he agreed uneasily. It was late; he was bone-tired, and perhaps she would be all right by morning. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“Great,” Katie said, springing to her feet. “Last one in bed is a rotten egg.”
10
“Whoa. Hold it. Hang on. Stop the presses. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Truman backtracked.
“Oh, no?’ She slanted him a coy gaze. “How did you mean it?”
“Listen, Ka…Tess, I don’t care whether you remember it, but I am not your husband.”
“You look like the man I’ve been waking up next to for the last three years.” She licked her lips and winked.
Truman wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m not.”
“I don’t care.”
“Excuse me?”
“Even if what you say is true, and I am this Katie person, so what? I still want you. Can’t we make love?”
“No!”
“Why not?” She stripped the sweatshirt off and flung it on the couch. “You find me attractive, don’t you?”
She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the sight of those firm, high breasts had his pulse racing and other parts of his body doing handstands. Those beautiful breasts tempted him, although usually it was her tight little fanny that got to him, that and her unbridled zest for life.
“Tess, please put your shirt back on.” More than anything in the world he wanted to pull her close and drop kisses on those sweet pink nipples. He could almost taste her sweetness. If just staring at her naked breasts caused him to quiver with need, could he survive anything more?
She advanced on him, a come-hither expression in her blue eyes. “Come on, Zack, make love to me.”
“I’m not Zack,” he cried, trying his best not to look at her beautiful breasts and failing miserably. They were so perky and cute and bouncy.
“Don’t you find me attractive?” She sounded hurt.
“Tess,” he said, dodging around the couch. “You’re an exquisite woman, but I can’t take advantage of you.”
