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The Cowboy's Gift-Wrapped Bride
Victoria Pade
Texas cowboy Matt McDermott was craving his first white Christmas on his family's Wyoming ranch. But a blizzard delivered more than Matt bargained for–a petite, pretty motorist stuck in a snowbank, with a bump on her head and her memory gone!The woman melted Matt's heart like a puppy at a pound. But hadn't Matt learned that loving someone with secrets was just plain dangerous? Still, he couldn't help but wonder–if he gift-wrapped his heart and gave it away, might this beautiful mystery woman become his bride?
Matt didn’t ordinarily shave at eight o’clock at night.
It had been one hell of a day, though. Driving through a blizzard. Pulling an unconscious woman out of a snowbound car. Finding out that that woman didn’t remember who she was. Bringing that woman home with him…
Definitely not a run-of-the-mill day. But no real reason to shave at the end of it, either. So why was he doing it?
Because in just a few minutes he’d be seeing her again.
That was the crux of things, wasn’t it? She was a beautiful woman. Trim and petite, with those perky little breasts just hinting from behind her shirt in a way that stirred a man up without even trying. And all that red hair. And skin like porcelain. And those soft, pink lips.
Oh, yeah, those lips…
The Cowboy’s Gift-Wrapped Bride
Victoria Pade
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
VICTORIA PADE
is a USA TODAY bestselling author of numerous romance novels. She has two beautiful and talented daughters—Cori and Erin—and is a native of Colorado, where she lives and writes. A devoted chocolate lover, she’s in search of the perfect chocolate-chip-cookie recipe. For information about her latest and upcoming releases, and to find recipes for some of the decadent desserts her characters enjoy, log on to www.vikkipade.com.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 1
Matt McDermot didn’t need the voice coming from his truck radio to tell him he was in one of the worst blizzards Wyoming had ever suffered. He could see it for himself, right out his windshield. It was about all he could see as snow blew straight at him and left his visibility at maybe ten feet.
He was new to Wyoming. New to weather like this. He’d driven through Texas ice storms during his years growing up and living there with his family but even that hadn’t been as bad.
Welcome to Wyoming, he thought, wondering if it had been such a good idea to move to the small town of Elk Creek after all.
Nah, on second thought he didn’t really believe the move had been a bad idea. Not when all three of his brothers and his sister, too, were there. Not when it gave him a chance to get to know the grandfather he’d only met a few years ago.
And not when it gave him a chance to get far, far away from Sarah and the havoc she’d wreaked on his life.
Besides, he liked Elk Creek and up to now the change of seasons had been pretty pleasant. What was one bout of bad weather? Next time he’d just take the predictions more seriously than he had today.
But for now, here he was, only a few miles from Elk Creek and home, and he’d driven right into the worst of the storm.
If he hadn’t stopped to put the chains on his tires he wouldn’t be moving at all. And he had to keep moving, he knew, or risk not getting through.
The weatherman came on the radio again, announcing that this storm could dump a full thirty-six inches of the white stuff before the next day and another foot to two feet by the morning after that.
No doubt about it, they’d be having a white Christmas this year, the radio announcer promised, because even when the snow stopped, frigid temperatures were headed to the area for the week until the holiday. Which meant Cheyenne and its outlying suburbs and farmland would be in the deep freeze and wouldn’t see much melting to speak of.
Matt didn’t mind that part of things. He was looking forward to his first white Christmas. He just hoped he got back to the ranch in one piece to enjoy it.
The news report turned into a traffic update then, listing road closures due to high winds and drifting snow.
The highway Matt was driving wasn’t on the list but probably only because it was an isolated country road without enough usage to get it mentioned on the radio.
“Or maybe it’s officially closed and I just don’t know it,” he said to himself, realizing that his truck was the only vehicle on it.
But no sooner had he thought that than he spotted the weak flashing of red lights up ahead. They looked as if they might belong to another car but they seemed to be at an odd angle so he didn’t veer toward them. Instead he concentrated on staying centered between the tall poles of the streetlights on either side of the highway—his only way of judging where the road was.
It was a good thing he didn’t let the flashing lights throw him off course because as he neared them he saw that they were indeed coming from another vehicle—a small beige sedan that had gone into a ditch off the side of the road, nose-first in a deep drift.
Apparently the car had been there awhile because the battery was dying, the rear lights dimming even as Matt approached.
It was dangerous for him to stop and he knew it. A slow, steady progression was his best hope of getting through this storm. If his truck stalled in the cold or just got stuck in the snow that could drift around it within minutes, he would be stranded.
But what if the other car’s driver or passengers were still in it?
It was possible they’d already been picked up by another passerby and had left the lights flashing to warn any on-coming vehicle, but the odds of that didn’t seem good.
And Matt knew he couldn’t drive by without checking for people who might be still inside and hurt from that deep dive into the ditch that left the car’s rear end at a sharp upward pitch.
So he carefully came to a stop, turning on his own hazard lights and hoping they were bright enough to warn anyone else who might come up from behind him—as unlikely as it was that anyone else was crazy enough to be out in this mess.
He left his engine idling and reached across to the glove box, popping it open and retrieving a flashlight from inside.
It was only midafternoon but the clouds were so dense and the snow so thick—not to mention that it was piled up almost completely over the other car—that he thought he might need some extra light to see inside the vehicle.
He set the flashlight in his lap, flipped up the fleece collar of his suede shearling coat and pulled down on the brim of his Stetson to keep it securely on his head. Then he opened the door and hopped out of the truck into wind so fierce it had turned the snowflakes into shards of glass against his face.
Luckily he knew exactly where his shovel was—just behind the truck’s cab—so he reached blindly for it with one gloved hand, pulling the tool out from beneath its wintry blanket.
Carrying the shovel and flashlight, Matt plowed through snow that was nearly knee-deep in some places, making his way as fast as he could to the side of the road.
The wind was a howl that obliterated any other sounds, but he was reasonably sure no one was calling for help from within the car. He had to dig to get to the driver’s side door, then he managed to break its frozen seal and pull it open to shine the flashlight into the interior.
It was a good thing he’d taken the trouble.
Inside the car was a woman hunched over the steering wheel, her head bloody against the windshield.
She didn’t move and Matt had a moment’s sick feeling that he was too late.
He yanked off one glove and pressed two fingers to her neck, just under her jawbone.
There was still some warmth and softness to her skin, telling him right off the bat that she was alive, and when he found her pulse, he had it confirmed.
But she was hurt. There was no doubt about that. Badly enough to be unconscious.
He knew it wasn’t good to move her but what choice did he have? Even if this had been a sunny day in May he’d have had to call for a helicopter rescue because they were too far from the nearest hospital for an ambulance to reach them with any speed. In this weather neither a helicopter nor an ambulance could risk it, so he was the only help this woman was going to get.
And the longer he spent pondering it, the more danger they were both in.
So he switched off the flashlight and slid it into his coat pocket, jammed the shovel into the snow like a stake claiming land and replaced his glove. Then he eased the woman out of the car and into his arms as cautiously as he could, gently hoisting her up against his chest like a fragile sack of grain.
She wasn’t much bigger than a minute. He’d carried calves and foals that weighed more. But since she was still unconscious, she was dead weight.
Her head fell limply to his shoulder and her right arm swung outward like a loose gate. He kept his head hunched over her to provide as much protection as he could from the elements he knew were biting through the simple wool coat she had on. She wore no gloves to cover her hands or hat to conceal the long fall of curly burnished red hair.
She moaned when he lifted her into the passenger side of his truck, but she still didn’t regain consciousness.
“You’ll be okay. I’ll get you to a doctor,” he told her anyway, thinking maybe the reassurance would penetrate somehow. Then he reached behind the seat for the emergency blanket he kept there and covered her with it, cranking up the heat before he closed the door and went back to her car.
A quick scan of the inside of the topsy-turvy sedan showed him a black leather purse and a single suitcase on the rear floor.
There was no telling when anyone would be able to get out here again and he knew she was likely to need her things so he grabbed the purse and the suitcase to take along, too. Then he retrieved his shovel, closed the door and finally high-stepped his way to his truck once more, hoping he could make good time getting his unplanned passenger to help.
The first thing she was aware of was an unrelenting headache that started in her temple and wrapped around the side of her head like a vise.
The second thing she realized was that she was very, very cold even though it felt as if there were heavy blankets covering her. So cold her fingers and toes ached almost as bad as her head did.
She could hear the sound of voices and a telephone ringing, but it was all from a distance. Muted. She couldn’t make out any of what the voices were saying.
She opened her eyes into slits that let in stabbing white light. But she couldn’t bear the bright fluorescent glare and had to scrunch them closed again in a hurry.
That was when a deep male voice said, “Are you finally going to join us?”
The voice wasn’t familiar. Not at all. But it was smooth and full-bodied and confident, and it reminded her of dark molasses.
Then she heard a few footsteps, a door opening and the same voice said, “I think she’s coming to,” before the click of boot heels brought the man to stand near her again.
Painful or not, she decided she didn’t have any choice but to open her eyes again. By very, very slow increments, allowing in only as much of the light as she could endure and adjusting to it before raising her lids more, until she finally had them completely open.
She found herself looking up into a face of chiseled planes and rawboned, ruggedly masculine beauty.
“Don’t be afraid, Jenn,” the man said. “You’re okay. You were in a car accident but you’re safe now.”
Jenn? Had he called her Jenn? The name didn’t ring a bell.
“Jenn?” she repeated.
“We had to get into your purse and look at your driver’s license to find out who you are. I’m sorry for poking into your things, but—”
“Jenn,” she said again, alarm building in her voice to match what was building inside her as it began to sink in that the name didn’t mean anything to her.
“Jenn Johnson—it’s on your driver’s license. Along with your picture.”
“You think that’s me? Jenn Johnson?”
“That’s what we’ve pieced together. Isn’t it right?”
“Is it?” she said with growing agitation. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Her heart was racing now. She could hear the rush of blood through her veins and it crossed her mind that maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was having a very vivid nightmare. A very vivid nightmare in which she’d somehow forgotten who she was.
But her head hurt too much for this to just be a dream.
“I don’t know if that’s the right name or not. I don’t know that name at all. I don’t know if it’s mine,” she said, sounding on the verge of hysteria.
“You don’t know who you are?” he asked as if he doubted his own comprehension of what she was saying.
“I really don’t know!” she said, the full force of her own panic echoing in her voice.
He must have heard it, because he said, “Okay, okay. Don’t get riled up. Your driver’s license says you’re Jenn Johnson,” he said soothingly. “Your car went off the road in a snowstorm. I found you inside, slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious and bleeding from the head. I brought you here—you’re in a doctor’s office. No one recognized you from around these parts so we looked in your purse for identification and that’s what we came up with—a Colorado driver’s license with your picture on it that says you’re Jenn Johnson.” He explained everything in such detail, no doubt hoping it would make her recall something.
But it didn’t. And she felt a fear so intense it was palpable.
She tried to sit up then to combat her own sense of extreme vulnerability.
But when she did, her head started to spin and she thought she’d pass out.
The man seemed in tune with what was going on with her because he stepped even closer to the examining table and put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I think you’d better stay lying back until my brother gets a look at you. He’s the doctor. We’re in his office.”
Something popped into her head then, as she looked at the man claiming to be her rescuer. But it didn’t have anything to do with her. It was some kind of odd flash that instead made her think she knew him. Although that didn’t make sense.
“Are you Matt McDermot?” she asked tentatively.
He looked almost as confused as she felt. “That’s me,” he confirmed.
“And we are in a place called Elk Creek? In Wyoming?”
“We are,” he said.
“Did you just move here? From Texas?”
His lips stretched into a smile as his full eyebrows creased over dark green eyes the color of fir trees. “Right,” he said, clearly surprised and somewhat confused.
Another of those strange flashes hit her, causing her to recall him saying his brother was the doctor here.
“Bax McDermot—is that your brother?”
“Did I hear someone say my name?”
The voice coming from another man suddenly standing in the doorway startled her so much she jolted as if she’d been hit. But one look at him and Jenn knew he was Matt’s older brother.
He stepped into the room then with a warm, friendly smile on a face that bore a striking resemblance to Matt’s.
And behind Bax McDermot came an attractive auburn-haired woman with topaz-colored eyes.
“Carly Winters,” Jenn said as much to herself as to everyone else.
“You’re close. Carly McDermot,” the other woman amended.
“Of course,” Jenn nearly whispered. “You just married the doctor.”
The two new arrivals to the room both smiled but they looked as if they were waiting for the punch line to a joke.
The trouble was, the joke was on Jenn and it wasn’t a very nice one. Her mouth went dry and her heart started to pound all over again in a fresh wave of alarm at the thought that she still couldn’t tell them anything about herself.
“Uh, we have a bit of a hat trick going on here,” Matt McDermot offered then, his expression once more showing his own confusion. “Our girl seems to know everyone but herself.”
The intensely attractive cowboy went on to explain what had transpired since Jenn had regained consciousness. All the while Jenn let herself focus on him as if he were her anchor.
He was a big man with wide, straight shoulders and a broad chest that narrowed to a sharply V’d waist. His hips didn’t have an ounce of spare flesh—or any room for more—in the tight jeans he wore along with the plaid flannel shirt that stretched across the muscles of his upper body.
And as for his face…well, it was about the best face she’d ever seen on a man. At least as far as she knew. With a high forehead and a long, thin, slightly pointed nose; straight, not-too-thin, not-too-full lips; a strong, square jawline; and a chin with a slight dent in the center of it.
He had great hair, too—thick, coarse and shiny golden-brown in color. He wore it short around the sides and a little spiky on top.
And there were also the eyes she’d noticed before. Slightly soulful, kind and amused at once, and as dark a green as a dense mountain forest.
When Matt McDermot had finished updating his brother, the doctor switched into a more businesslike mode, drawing Jenn’s attention with questions aimed directly at her.
“You can’t tell us anything about yourself? Where you live? If you were on your way to Elk Creek or would have just passed through?”
Jenn again tried to reclaim the information from the storehouse of her brain as Bax McDermot shined a light in her eyes and took a closer look into them. But it was as if that part of her mind was locked behind a steel door to which she didn’t have the key.
“I know I should know and somewhere I do, but I can’t get hold of it,” she confessed with a hearty portion of frustration in her tone.
Bax McDermot shined the light higher up, into the hair he parted with his fingers, looking at about the spot from which her headache seemed to originate.
“How about numbers? Can you remember your phone number or your address?”
Once more Jenn tried. And failed. And felt another surge of panic at the further evidence that she didn’t know the most rudimentary things about herself.
“Do you know your mother’s name? Or your father’s? Or a friend’s?”
Jenn shook her head slowly, feeling tears of pure fear well up in her eyes. But she couldn’t lie there and cry like a baby, she told herself. No matter how terrified she was of what was happening to her. So she worked hard to blink the moisture away and tried to keep her voice from quivering. “No. Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”
“Except a whole lot of details about us and our lives,” Matt reminded from the opposite side of the examining table where he still stood, almost with an air of protectiveness.
“Do you know how you know so much about us?” Carly inquired.
But Jenn didn’t have an answer for that, either. In fact, it was just another thing that unnerved her.
“Could you have been coming to Elk Creek to visit someone for Christmas?” Carly suggested in what seemed to be her capacity as assistant to her husband who was ordering Jenn to follow his finger with her eyes and generally examining her while they all talked.
“Christmas, “Jenn repeated. “Christmas is in a week,” she said, remembering that at least and hanging on to that small victory. “I guess I could have been coming to visit someone for the holiday.” But that was as far as she could go in answering the other woman’s question. And even that had no basis in fact.
“Do you think you’ve been to Elk Creek before?” Matt asked. “Maybe you grew up here or have family here?”
It was as if this had become a guessing game.
Jenn tried to play along, considering the possibilities presented to her as if she were trying on clothes to see how they fit. Wishing something would fit. But again she just drew a blank.
“I can’t be sure if I’ve ever been here before or not. And as for family, I just don’t know.”
“How about anything about where you came from?” the doctor tried. “There’s a Denver address on your driver’s license but we haven’t been able to try contacting anyone there because the phone lines are down. Do thoughts of Denver spark any memories?”
Jenn could only shake her head woefully.
“What do you think?” Matt’s query was aimed at his brother, but Jenn’s glance went to the doctor, too, hoping he had an answer not only to Matt’s question, but to her own dilemma, as well.
“I don’t have a lot of experience with this but I’d say we’re looking at selective amnesia,” Bax McDermot said to the room in general. Then more directly to Jenn he said, “There weren’t any signs of a concussion when I examined you when Matt brought you in and there still aren’t now even though you took a bad bump on the head. And because it doesn’t appear to be an injury serious enough to have caused the amnesia on its own, I’m wondering if you may have suffered something emotionally disturbing or traumatic. Maybe something that spurred you to come to Elk Creek in the first place if this is where you were actually headed. Maybe that, coupled with the blow to the head, has put you into a psychological amnesia. But one way or the other, amnesia is a tricky phenomenon that can obliterate certain parts of memory while other portions are left intact. I’m guessing that’s what we’re dealing with.”
“So what do we do about it?” Jenn asked, hating that she sounded so weak, so small, so afraid.
“We’ve already sent word to the sheriff. He’ll be here any minute,” Carly offered. “But what if we get a message to the local radio station and have them put out an announcement asking if anyone knows a Jenn Johnson?”
Both men agreed that was a good idea and Jenn was more than willing to go along with it. To embrace it, in fact, hoping someone would come forward and fill in a few blanks for her.
And while she waited, left alone in the examining room to rest, she put some effort into working up to sitting in a chair without feeling as if she might faint and regaining some warmth by sipping hot tea that Carly brought in to her.
When the sheriff arrived he asked her much the same questions the doctor had, with no more success. Then he confirmed that with the phone lines down their hands were tied for the time being in regards to trying to reach anyone in Denver. But he assured her that as soon as possible he’d do what he could.
Carly dug up a portable radio for Jenn to listen to after the sheriff left so she could hear the message the disc jockey sent out after each song. Over and over again the D.J. gave her name and pertinent information and asked anyone in town who knew anything about her to get word to the station.
But at the end of two hours there hadn’t been any notification of either to the radio station or the doctor’s office and it seemed clear that no one listening to the radio knew who Jenn Johnson was or why she’d come to Elk Creek.
And even though by then Jenn had managed to gain some control over her fear and come to grips with what was happening to her, she still felt like a lost puppy at the pound that nobody had claimed.
Until Matt McDermot seemed to do just that, reappearing from somewhere outside the examining room as sounds of the office closing for the day drifted in to her.
And even though she didn’t understand it any more than she understood what was going on in her brain, seeing him again made her feel infinitely safer.
He leaned a broad shoulder against the door frame, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Doesn’t look like anything’s going to break for the time being to let us know who you are. Bax says what you really need for tonight is some sleep, so what would you say to coming out to the ranch and staying there until we sort through this or you get your memory back? There’s plenty of room and nothin’ we McDermots like better than having a pretty woman around or a puzzle to solve.”
“I seem to qualify as a puzzle all right.”
He smiled, and when he did, the left side of his mouth went higher than the right, giving it an appealing tilt. “Is that a yes?”
She didn’t have to think about it. Although maybe she should have when she realized that the thought of remaining anywhere near Matt McDermot went a long way toward making her feel better.
She didn’t think about it, though. She just said, “That would be really nice. Thank you. And thank you for everything else, too. I think you saved me from freezing to death.”
“It all worked out,” he said, seeming slightly uncomfortable with her gratitude and with taking the credit he was due.
For a moment their eyes locked and Jenn felt a kind of connection to him that she couldn’t fathom. A nice kind of connection that helped stave off the fear that kept threatening a return.
But Matt McDermot only lingered over that glance for a moment before he drew himself up to what looked to be his full six feet two or three inches of height and said, “Let’s get going, then. Elk Creek’s plow has just made a swipe at the roads so we should be able to reach the ranch if we leave before too much more snow accumulates.”
And with that Jenn seemed to become Matt McDermot’s charge.
Something that felt more right and more comforting than anything had since she’d opened her eyes.
She just hoped that she could trust her instincts more than she could trust her memory.
Chapter 2
Too much snow had already fallen for the plow to get down to bare pavement on the roads. Instead it had left them densely snowpacked with new drifts piling up to replace the old.
But inside Matt McDermot’s truck the heater was on and the view through the windows was of pristine white flakes swirling in a mesmerizing dance.
And even though Jenn tried to stay awake, she just couldn’t.
So one minute she was staring out at the golden swath the headlights cut through the snow and the next thing she knew Matt McDermot’s deep molasses voice was saying, “Jenn? Wake up. We’re here.”
She apparently hadn’t been asleep long enough to have forgotten who he was or the fact that they were going to the McDermot ranch where she’d been offered refuge because when she awoke it wasn’t to any kind of startled confusion about where she was or whom she was with. Instead she slipped out of sleep to the irresistible lure of that rich voice that seemed to roll over her in a sweet, beckoning refrain. And Jenn’s first thought was that she should probably feel less comfortable and at ease with this man whom she had just met.
She didn’t, though.
When she did open her eyes this time it was to the view from the passenger side window. And what she saw was a big ranch-style house with a covered porch that wrapped around twin wings stretching out on either side of the main entrance. All the porch railings and pillars were wound with evergreen boughs and tiny white lights, and more tiny white lights dripped from all the eaves, turning the snow that blanketed the place into glimmering crystal.
It was a warm, welcoming sight.
“When Buzz Martindale owned this ranch the house was only a small two-bedroom farmhouse,” Jenn said, the words spilling out as if from a speech she somehow knew by rote. “But after he turned the place over to his grandchildren—and you all became wildly successful with a new breed of hardy cattle—the original house was turned into not much more than the entryway to the addition that made the place one of the nicest homes in Elk Creek.”
“Maybe in your real life you do a nightclub act as a psychic,” Matt said with a slight, stunned laugh. “Are you having visions of this stuff or what?”
Jenn shrugged. “I don’t know. The information is just there. Nothing else is, but these thoughts keep popping into my head from out of nowhere.”
“Does the place seem familiar? Maybe you were here before for some reason?”
“Sorry,” she said as if another negative answer would disappoint him.
“Well, you’re right about it, anyway,” he confirmed, being a good sport.
“Buzz moved away with his wife for a while—if I’m not mistaken—and that was when he gave the ranch up to his grandchildren.”
Matt nodded. “My grandmother was sick and they moved to Denver to be nearer the hospital where she was being treated.”
“And after she died he stayed on in Denver,” Jenn continued, “until he broke his leg and couldn’t care for himself anymore.”
“He broke his knee. His right knee.”
“And he’s been back here ever since. Doing well.”
“Amazing,” Matt said, more to himself than to her.
“And weird,” Jenn added, wondering at herself as much as he obviously was.
She’d been looking at the house the whole time but now she turned her head to find Matt studying her through the darkness that was only broken by the Christmas lights on the house.
His expression made it evident he was curious but he didn’t appear to be suspicious. Although she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had been. It suddenly occurred to her that if she kept it up she might cause him to be.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say these things out loud,” she said, thinking the minute the words were spoken that maybe she shouldn’t have said that, either.
“I figure you shouldn’t stifle whatever comes into your mind. You never know when one thing might spark memory of another or give us an idea of what’s going on with you and why you’re here.”
She was grateful for that. Not because it seemed important that she be able to go on with these bouts of trivia but because he didn’t think she was some kind of lunatic or con artist pulling a scam—what he could well have thought if he were another sort of person.
But as it was, those dark green eyes of his merely scanned her face as if she were a riddle he was trying to figure out and a clue might be there for him to read.
And as the intensity of that gaze washed over her, Jenn felt a tingling response sluice along her nerve endings. A response she didn’t understand any more than she understood what was going on with her memory.
But the one thing she did know was that this was no time to be basking in a man’s glance. Or voice. Or company.
“Shouldn’t we go in?” she asked then in an attempt to escape the close confines of the truck cab and the enticing scent of a citrusy, clean-smelling aftershave that was only making it more difficult for her to think straight.
“Sure,” Matt agreed.
He turned off the truck’s engine and got out without a moment’s hesitation, coming to the passenger side from around the rear to open her door.
When he had, he offered her a hand to help her down, and before she’d considered whether or not it was wise to take it, Jenn did.
But that physical contact didn’t help her already jumbled thoughts because the moment her hand connected with his much larger, callused one, more of that odd tingling sensation began, shooting all the way up her arm this time.
The reaction didn’t make any more sense to her now than it had when she’d experienced it as a result of nothing more than his gaze. The only conclusion she could come to to explain it was that something purely elemental, something perfectly primitive, was afoot.
But why now and not when he’d placed a steadying hand to her shoulder at his brother’s office when she’d tried to sit up and felt faint?
In the office there hadn’t been bare skin against bare skin the way there was now…?.
Jenn was tempted to indulge in the feeling, to let her hand stay nestled within his, to go on letting the heat of that naked flesh seep into every pore.
But the temptation—along with the pleasure that was skittering all through her—was also very alarming. After all, this man was a stranger to her and certainly the circumstances they were currently in—or at least the circumstances she was currently in—were not conducive to any kind of attraction between them.
So the moment her feet were firmly planted on the ground she pulled her hand out of his as if she’d just been singed by hot coals. For surely it seemed as if she was just as likely to get burned.
If Matt noticed anything amiss in her withdrawal, he didn’t show it. He just stepped around her and grabbed her suitcase and purse from the truck’s bench seat.
Then he closed the door, turned to face the house and said, “Ladies first,” in a friendly way that held no hint that he’d had the same response to her that she’d had to him.
But then, why would something as innocuous as their hands touching affect him the way it had affected her? It was only things in her head that were haywire.
Accepting that as a fact she couldn’t do anything about at the moment, Jenn opted for ignoring it and took the lead to the house, being careful not to slip on the walkway that had been shoveled at some point but was once again covered in snow.
When they reached the double front doors with their elaborate ovals of stained glass in the top halves, Matt went ahead of her to open one for her.
“There you go,” he said to urge her inside.
Jenn stepped into a big brightly lit foyer and felt a blast of heat that chased the chill back outside before Matt closed the door.
“We’ve missed supper by now,” he said then. “So how about I show you to your room and give you half an hour to settle in? Then we can meet in the kitchen and I’ll rustle us up something to eat.”
There were voices coming from somewhere toward the rear of the house and what sounded like post-meal cleanup. No one was in sight but Jenn was having another of those informational blips about who those voices likely belonged to.
Not that they seemed familiar, but for some reason she had a pretty good idea of who lived in this house.
She opted for keeping it to herself though and merely said, “That sounds good.”
Matt pointed his dimpled chin to the left where Jenn was reasonably certain a hallway that matched the one on the right would take her to the left wing she’d seen from outside. “I’ll put you up in the room next to mine. It’s straight down there, the third door.”
Again he waited for her to precede him.
Old-fashioned cowboy courtesy, Jenn thought.
It was nice. And as she once more took the lead down the hall, she wondered if he was this way with all women and if he was, why someone hadn’t snapped him up for herself by now so they could be treated like royalty all the time.
“Each one of these is a private suite,” Matt said as he opened the third door for her. “We—that is, my grandfather and all my siblings—use the kitchen, dining room, living room and rec room—they’re communal. But we each have a suite with a bedroom and a private bath, along with a sitting room so we can hole up in our own space if we’ve a mind to. There are even doors from the suites out to the porch if anybody wants to come and go that way, too.”
Jenn entered the sitting room portion of her newly appointed rooms. A pale blue overstuffed couch and chair and an oval coffee table monopolized the space, positioned to face a stone fireplace on the outside wall where French doors did indeed lead to that wraparound porch.
It was a cozy room, especially with the window on the other side of the fireplace framing a view of a huge oak tree whose branches were all snow-kissed.
“The bedroom’s in here,” Matt said, taking her suitcase through another door that connected a large room furnished with a queen-size bed covered in a downy blue checked quilt. There was also a desk and dressing table, a large bureau with a mirror above it, and another full-length mirror on the opposite door that apparently led to that bathroom he’d mentioned.
“Make yourself at home,” Matt said after he’d set her suitcase and purse on the bed. “Will you be okay on your own for a while?”
“I’ll be fine.” She marveled at the stroke of luck it had been that someone like Matt McDermot had found her on the side of the road. She really wasn’t clearheaded enough to have fended for herself and another person might have taken advantage rather than looked after her so conscientiously and generously.
But before she could tell him how much she appreciated all he was doing for her, he said, “You can get to the kitchen by going the rest of the way down that hallway we just used. You’ll pass the rec room and then you can’t miss the kitchen. I’ll be there when you’re ready.”
He left and Jenn felt a little like Alice after she’d gone through the looking glass.
Trying to get past how dazed she still felt, she took off her coat and stared down at her clothes, realizing for the first time that there were blood spatters on her white blouse and gray slacks—blood spatters that matched those on her coat—from where her head had been cut open in the accident.
She certainly didn’t want to stay in stained clothing so she slipped off her black loafers and intended to shed the rest of her soiled garments when she suddenly wondered what she looked like. Because now that she thought about it, she didn’t have a clear image in her mind of even that.
So she crossed to the full-length mirror on the bathroom door for a look.
She wasn’t tall—that was the first thing that registered. Probably about five-four if she stood straight. She was just about average weight. Except that her feet were somewhat on the large side and her breasts weren’t.
Her skin was clear and not so pale that it had a bluish tinge the way the skin of some redheads did. But still she was pretty fair. Her complexion was clear though, which pleased her. And her features were devoid of any enormous flaws. Well, maybe the cheekbones were on the high side, but that was good.
Her eyes were a nice shade of dark blue. With lashes that were long enough to be notable.
Probably the thing she liked best in her assessment of herself was her hair. It fell a few inches past her shoulders in a thick, wavy mass of burnished red that had a richness to it rather than an orange tint.
Of course at that moment it was kind of a mess, between the accident, the blood from the cut that had matted it just inside her hairline and then the haphazard washing it had taken at the doctor’s office.
She would have liked to shampoo her whole head before she went out to see Matt again but that couldn’t be done in half an hour so she decided it would just have to be brushed well and pulled back.
With that—and getting a change of clothes—in mind, she went to open her suitcase where Matt had left it on the bed.
While she was rummaging around in it for a hairbrush, she kept an eye out for any clue as to who she was, what kind of life she’d left behind, or why she’d come to this small town.
But she didn’t see anything remarkable or unusual inside the suitcase. It held only ordinary clothes, mostly jeans, sweaters and turtleneck shirts, with the exception of a simple jumper and a pair of velvet overalls.
There was also a pair of casual black suede slip-on shoes and a pair of low-heeled pumps. A few lacy bras and matching panties. Some socks, and that was about all.
But after suffering a little disappointment that there hadn’t been anything very telling in the suitcase she realized that there were some things the items didn’t say that were an indication of what wasn’t going on with her. For instance the only nightgown and robe she had were plaid flannel and there wasn’t a single slinky, sexy dress in the lot. So clearly she hadn’t come to Elk Creek for a romantic rendezvous.
She finally found a clear plastic makeup bag in one of the suitcase’s side pockets and even before she took it out she could see a comb and brush in it, along with some makeup and toiletries. But when she pulled the bag free of its cloth cubby she found something else behind it. Something that seemed odd.
A beat-up shaving kit.
The brown leather was soiled and ashy, and one side showed signs of having been crushed and then pulled back into a semblance of its original shape.
Jenn pulled it out, reassessing the other articles of the suitcase to be certain that nothing else in it belonged to a man.
It didn’t.
So why did she have this ratty old Dopp kit?
She set it on top of the other things in the suitcase so she could open it. It wasn’t easy. The zipper was rusty and stubborn. But she finally managed to force its teeth apart.
And when she did, what she found inside was not shaving gear.
The kit was full of money.
Lots of it.
Jenn turned the shaving kit upside down and shook it, causing a fluttering green rain of bills to fall onto the quilt.
There wasn’t anything else in the kit. Just cash.
She did a quick count—$2,157—none of it in anything larger than a twenty.
Traveling money? Her savings? Or maybe moving money? Maybe she’d been on her way to Elk Creek to live.
But would she have traveled with so much cash? And if she’d been moving to Elk Creek, why did she only have one small suitcase rather than a whole carload of belongings?
Maybe she’d come to Elk Creek to buy something. But why in cash? If she were making a large purchase wouldn’t she use a check or a credit card?
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe the seller wanted cash.
But the one thing that made none of those possibilities click in her mind was that something about the money triggered an unpleasant feeling in Jenn. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she had the sense that it wasn’t hers.
And that gave her pause.
Because if the money wasn’t hers, then whom did it belong to? And why did she have it?
Of course just a sense that it wasn’t her money and a bad feeling about it didn’t make it true. Maybe it was hers but it was all she had in the world because she’d lost her job and needed to start a whole new life. Maybe what she’d been feeling before the accident was depression or despondency or natural concern and so the money had triggered a negative feeling now as a remnant of all that.
But somehow she didn’t believe it.
She didn’t feel any kind of ownership over the cash. Instead she felt as if she wanted to hide it away. As if she were ashamed of it.
And why would she be ashamed of it unless it was ill-gotten gains of some kind?
That thought didn’t sit well, either.
Was she a thief?
Oh dear.
What if she was a horrible person who had stolen money? Or swindled someone out of it? What if she hadn’t been headed to Elk Creek at all but had just been on her way through it to somewhere else? Somewhere she was running to escape something terrible she’d done?
Except if that was the case, why did she know so much about Elk Creek and the people who lived there? But then that had been the million-dollar question all along.
Or maybe it was just the $2,157 question.
So what was she going to do with it? she asked herself as she stood there staring down at all that cash on the bed.
She didn’t know much, but suddenly she was very sure of one thing: It didn’t seem like a good idea to tell Matt McDermot or anyone else about it.
It was possible that she couldn’t really trust everyone around her, that someone might help themselves to the money if they knew it existed.
Okay, maybe now she was being crazy. She didn’t actually believe anyone—especially Matt McDermot—would take anything from her.
On the other hand, she couldn’t help being concerned with what Matt might think about it—and her—if she also let him know her negative feelings about the money.
Sure, he might give her the benefit of the doubt. To a man with his kind of wealth $2,157 wasn’t that big a deal. It probably was just traveling money to him.
But what if he didn’t think that? What if he thought she might have come by it by less than honest means?
It was bad enough to worry that she might be a thief, but to have Matt even consider that a possibility, too? To have his opinion of her tinged?
She just couldn’t stand that idea.
Not that it had anything to do with that warm, tingly feeling she’d had earlier in the truck on the way home or when she’d taken his hand to get out of it, she reassured herself. Those feelings had just been part of the mental fog she’d been in since regaining consciousness.
She just didn’t want to inspire any mistrust on his part. After all, she was a guest in his house. A perfect stranger he was allowing into his home, around his family.
And she needed his hospitality. His help. Certainly she didn’t want to alienate him.
So that was all there was to it. She was sure of it.
She gathered up the money in a hurry, as if someone might come in any moment and see it, and she stuffed it back into the shaving kit. Then she hid the shaving kit deep beneath the clothes in her suitcase.
Maybe the sense that the money didn’t belong to her was a mistake anyway, she thought as she did. It wasn’t as if she were cooking on all burners. She was recognizing people she didn’t know even while she couldn’t remember her own name. She was attracted to a man she’d just met. A man she’d just met under the worst of circumstances. So who was to say that nothing more than a bad feeling about the money gave any credence to its origin or what her having it meant?
“It’s probably nothing awful,” she said out loud, as if that would chase away her negative feelings.
It didn’t, though.
Something about that money rubbed her the wrong way.
But it was better that it rubbed her the wrong way than that it rubbed Matt McDermot the wrong way.
Because as much as she wished it weren’t so, the one thing she knew without a doubt was that she cared a whole lot about what he thought of her.
A whole lot more than she wanted to care…?.
Chapter 3
Matt didn’t ordinarily shave at eight o’clock at night. Unless there was something special going on, he didn’t usually shave more than once a day.
But there he was, standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, shaving. At eight o’clock at night. With nothing special going on.
Well, not anything he would have normally considered special, like a holiday or a dinner or a meeting or a party or a date.
It had been one hell of a day, though, he had to admit. Driving through a blizzard. Pulling an unconscious woman out of a snow-buried car. Finding out that that woman didn’t remember who she was but that she did know who he was, and who Bax and Carly and Buzz were. Bringing that woman home with him…
Definitely not a run-of-the-mill day.
But no real reason to shave at the end of it, either.
So why was he doing it? he asked himself.
“As if you don’t know,” he answered, speaking to his reflection as if it were another person in the room.
He was shaving because in just a few minutes he’d be sitting down to supper with Jenn Johnson.
Not that Matt was happy to admit that that was his motivation. Because he wasn’t.
It was one thing to help someone who was hurt and stranded in a snowstorm, to bring her home with him when she had nowhere else to go. That had only been the neighborly thing to do and Matt was nothing if not neighborly.
But it was something else again to be shaving for her.
And thinking about her every minute since he’d set eyes on her.
Those were above and beyond the call of being neighborly. And he knew it.
Yet there he was, doing both.
And why? Was it going to help her remember who she was? Was it going to give him some idea of why she’d been on her way into or passing through Elk Creek?
No. His shaving didn’t serve any purpose at all.
Except that he didn’t want her to see him whiskered and wild-looking.
He didn’t want any pretty woman to see him whiskered and wild-looking.
And Jenn was a pretty woman. Damn beautiful, in fact.
And that was the crux of things, wasn’t it? She was a beautiful woman and even showing the wear and tear of a bad day she’d been pretty enough to leave him struggling to keep his eyes off her.
Trim and petite, with those perky little breasts just hinting from behind her shirt in a way that stirred up a man without even trying.
And all that red hair…?. It was the color of the paprika that Junebug, the McDermot housekeeper, put on her deviled eggs.
And Jenn’s skin—that was like porcelain. Pure, flawless, luminous porcelain.
And that small, perfectly shaped nose.
And those soft, pink lips that were meant for kissing.
And those eyes…
Oh, yeah, those eyes…
The blue of a clear sky at twilight out on the range where no city lights diluted the rich, deep, deep hue…
Those eyes had just pulled him right in the minute they’d opened and he’d had his first look at them.
Not that he’d wanted to notice anything he’d noticed. Because he hadn’t. Any more than he wanted to be picturing it all again in his mind’s eye now.
He wanted to just see her as a passing stranger in need of a little assistance. Tall, short; thin, fat; beautiful or homely as a mud fence—he didn’t want it to make any difference to him one way or another.
“So don’t let it make any difference,” he ordered his refection as he scraped off the last of the shaving foam with his razor.
What he wanted—what he needed—was to put Jenn Johnson into perspective, he decided. And to remember a few things himself. Like the vow he’d made that the next woman he got involved with would be someone he knew like the back of his hand. Someone who had no secrets. Someone so open she verged on the boring.
Because getting burned by a secretive woman once was enough. There was no way he wanted anything to do with any woman he couldn’t read like a book.
And even though Jenn Johnson wasn’t purposely keeping secrets from him the way Sarah had, Jenn certainly wasn’t a woman he could read like a book. She was a woman who couldn’t even recall her own name.
So helping her out, giving her aid and comfort and a roof over her head—those things were just being neighborly and they were okay.
But thinking about her as much as he’d thought about her since he’d found her, feeling that old familiar eagerness in the pit of his stomach, shaving for her at eight o’clock at night and counting the minutes until he could meet up with her again in the kitchen—those were not so okay with him.
Matt washed his face a little rougher than was called for, as if the force could wipe away all those other things he wanted stopped.
He’d be damned if he’d let his inclinations toward Jenn Johnson have reign over him the way his inclination toward Sarah had had reign over him. He’d be damned if he’d invest any kind of emotions in her or let himself get lost in that curly paprika-red hair or those incredible twilight-blue eyes or that porcelain skin he was itching to touch.
He’d been a sap for a beautiful woman once and once was enough. He was nobody’s fool. He’d graduated magna cum laude from Texas A&M. He had a master’s degree in agriculture and animal husbandry. He’d run two ranches. He’d helped his older brothers come up with a new, heartier breed of cattle. He was a man who knew himself, who knew what he wanted out of life and where he was headed, and neither of those things included another woman he didn’t know backward and frontward, inside and out. And that was all there was to it.
He sloshed cold water on his face, committed to not losing one ounce of control to thoughts about Jenn Johnson in any personal sense. Because he was damn sure not going to think about her like that.
He was going to think about ways to figure out who she was and where she ought to be and who she ought to be with, and that was all.
That was definitely all.
But even as he swore to himself that he wasn’t going to get involved with her, another thought played at the back of his mind, taunting him.
Chemistry was chemistry.
And there just might be no small amount of it riding roughshod over him.
Regardless of what he vowed to himself or how strong his controls and convictions.
When Jenn stepped out of the bedroom half an hour later she’d changed into a heavy wool turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans. She’d washed her face and reapplied some mascara and blush, and pulled her hair back into an oversize clip that left a spray of curls at her crown.
Nothing fancy. But at least she’d cleaned up and was more presentable than she had been.
Following Matt’s instructions, she went the rest of the way down the hall to the rear of the house until she found the brightly lit kitchen. The voices and sounds of clattering dishes that she’d heard when she’d arrived were gone now and so were the people making them. Instead only Matt McDermot was there, pulling containers from the refrigerator several feet across the room. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn’t notice her standing in the doorway.
He’d cleaned up, too. His hair was somewhat less spiky than before and his handsome face was freshly shaved.
And the moment Jenn set eyes on him she felt that odd tingling sensation run through her again.
Of course it didn’t help matters that he repeatedly bent over to reach into the refrigerator and a terrific derriere took center stage.
She might have watched him much longer but from the doorway on the opposite side of the kitchen an elderly man came in, spotting her immediately.
“There she is,” he said as if he and Matt had been wondering what was taking her so long.
“Buzz Martindale,” Jenn christened him.
“Yep, that’s me all right,” he confirmed as he limped into the kitchen on a cane, favoring his right leg. “And Matt says you’re Jenn Johnson. Havin’ some head problems, are you?”
“It seems so,” she confirmed, going farther into the kitchen herself until they met at the counter where Matt was taking dishes down from a cupboard after tossing her a welcoming smile that seemed to draw her to him.
“How are you feelin’?” Matt asked, giving her the once-over with those forest-green eyes.
“The headache is better than it was. Still there, but better. The dizziness comes and goes. An ache seems to be settling into my neck and shoulders but I’m not so cold anymore.” Although being near him seemed to be what chased away the chills. Not that she’d ever say that, or even acknowledge it to herself.
“The neck and shoulder ache is prob’ly stress,” Buzz offered. “A good night’s sleep’ll get rid of that for you. Always helps me when I get it.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Your grandson the doctor checked out my neck and said he didn’t see any indication of whiplash,” Jenn told him.
Buzz was staring at her openly. Studying her. Maybe sizing her up.
It made Jenn uncomfortable.
“What can I do to help?” she asked Matt, thinking she’d rather be moving around than merely standing there being looked at like a specimen in a petri dish.
“Take what you can carry over to the table and sit down. I’ll do the rest,” Matt answered.
The table was a huge rectangle nestled within the arms of a breakfast nook at one end of the kitchen. It took up a full six feet of corner space in a U that would surely seat a dozen or more people comfortably.
Jenn set out the two plates, silverware and napkins she’d brought with her, placing one on the end and the other just around the corner. Then she slid in to sit behind it.
Buzz joined her, sitting at the other end of the U, but sideways so he could stretch his leg out along the bench seat as if that eased an ache of his own.
He was still studying her. Scrutinizing her, really.
“You look a little familiar,” he finally decreed. “I’m bettin’ you were headed for Elk Creek, not just passin’ through. Prob’ly to see family.”
Matt made three trips bringing fried chicken, coleslaw, biscuits, mashed potatoes and gravy, honey and two glasses of water to the table before he slipped into the breakfast nook, too.
“Who’s she look like, then?” he asked as the old man continued to study Jenn.
“Don’t know. But she looks familiar. Name doesn’t ring a bell, though. No Johnsons ’round here. Maybe you lived in Elk Creek as a girl and Johnson’s yer married name.”
“Married?” Matt repeated as if he didn’t like the idea.
But then, for some reason, neither did Jenn.
“I don’t think I’m married,” she said with more forcefulness than was warranted. “I mean, I don’t feel married and there’s no wedding ring or mark on my wedding finger left by a ring. And there’s also no pictures in my wallet of a husband or kids.”
“And a husband would have missed her by now,” Matt added as he filled both his plate and hers with food. “Either she’d have been meeting him or he would have wanted her to call when she got where she was going to make sure she’d made it through this storm. And I just checked in with the sheriff a few minutes ago—nobody’s contacted him lookin’ for her. Granted, the phone lines are still down.”
“Could be a husband she left and he ain’t lookin’ fer her.”
“I don’t feel married,” Jenn repeated, thinking that if she were married, surely she wouldn’t be so attracted to Matt McDermot.
“How’s ’bout signs of childbirth? Got any of them stretch marks?”
“Buzz!” Matt chided his grandfather.
“Well, that’d be a clue, wouldn’t it?” the old man defended.
Jenn knew her face was coloring but she answered Buzz’s question anyway. “No, no stretch marks.” And she would have seen them if any existed because when she’d changed her clothes she’d checked out her body thoroughly to familiarize herself with it, finding not only no stretch marks but a narrow waist and a taut, flat stomach.
“Prob’ly no kids, then,” Buzz concluded from what she’d said about having no stretch marks. “How’s ’bout any birthmarks or scars?”
“None of those, either.”
“Got any tattoos?”
“Jeez, Buzz,” Matt groaned, rolling his eyes.
But Jenn only laughed at that one. “No, no tattoos, either.”
“How many toes you got? Knew a family moved on a long time ago—everyone of ’em had six toes on each foot.”
Jenn laughed again, enjoying the elderly man despite his bluntness. “Sorry. Only five per foot.”
“And you ain’t got that rosy hook-nosed beak of the Masseys from way back, so you prob’ly don’t belong to them neither.”
Buzz continued in that vein all the while Jenn and Matt ate, quizzing her, staring at her, trying to figure out who she was.
But he never did.
“Nope, can’t place you,” he finally concluded when both Matt and Jenn had finished eating. “There’s somethin’ ’bout you tickles my brain, though. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“Maybe it’ll come to you,” Matt suggested.
“Sooner or later,” Buzz agreed. “I’ll keep workin’ on it.” The elderly man craned around to look at the clock on the back wall of the breakfast nook and then pushed himself to the end of the seat and used his cane to help himself get to his feet. “But now it’s time for my program. Think I’ll watch it under my heat blanket in bed.”
“Good idea,” Matt said, although he watched the old man with fondness and didn’t seem eager for him to go. “’Night, Buzz.”
“’Night. See you in the mornin’.” Then to Jenn he said, “And don’t worry ’bout nothin’, girl. You’re welcome to stay here long as you need to.”
“Thank you,” she said, telling the older man good-night as he limped out of the kitchen.
“Sorry about that stretch-mark business earlier,” Matt said when his grandfather was out of earshot.
“That’s okay. He was right. It would have been a sign of having kids. But there aren’t any,” she reiterated. “And even though I know it isn’t really a basis for anything, I honestly don’t have any sense of being married, either, so I really don’t think I am.”
Matt just nodded his head, accepting her conclusion but not necessarily committing to it. “Buzz will likely come up with something. He may not be young but he’s still sharp as a tack.”
“Do you always call him by his first name?” Jenn asked then, curious about it.
“I guess we all do.”
“Is that a remnant of not having known him when you were growing up?”
Once again Matt looked baffled. “You know about that, too?”
“I know he didn’t like the man your mother wanted to marry—your father—so she eloped and didn’t have anything to do with Buzz or her mother for years and years. That when they finally healed the rift she had a whole family of grown sons and a daughter that Buzz had never met before. But that you’ve all become close now.”
“Sometimes this is a little eerie,” was Matt’s only comment, referring to the facts about his family.
But his remark again gave Jenn second thoughts about the wisdom of spewing this information she had without knowing where it came from and so she changed the subject.
“Where is everybody else?” she asked. “From the sounds I heard when we came in tonight I expected a lot of people to be around. Did I scare them all away?”
“No. My brothers went out to shovel the walks, and their wives and my sister decided to stay out of the way for the night so they didn’t overwhelm you right off the bat, when you’ve already had a tough day.”
Matt mimicked his grandfather by glancing up at the clock. “And speaking of which, I think we should get you to bed.”
Jenn had to admit—to herself if not to him—that she’d begun to feel as if she were wilting.
“Let’s do the dishes and then I will,” she said.
“No way. No dishes for you. But how ’bout I make you a cup of tea with honey and lemon to take to bed with you?”
“That sounds good.”
Matt grabbed the honey pot and as many dishes as he could carry and slid out of the nook. “Sit tight while I get your tea ready,” he ordered.
Jenn didn’t protest. She was suddenly feeling very weak and worn-out and she honestly didn’t know if she had the strength to do more than get back to her bedroom. So she did as she’d been told and sat tight as Matt put the dirty dishes in the sink and filled a mug with water to heat in the microwave.
Then he took a fresh lemon from the refrigerator, washed it thoroughly and rolled it against the wooden cutting board with his palm and the heel of his hand before slicing a wedge from it.
Jenn knew she was really tired because something about his actions almost hypnotized her and she ended up watching his every move in silence.
Mainly her focus was on his hands. Big, capable hands that seemed to dwarf everything they came into contact with.
And in Jenn’s mind she pictured him rolling the strained muscles of her shoulders the way he’d rolled the lemon—pushing with his palm and the heel of his hand in a gentle, insistent, adept massage.
Those hands would be strong against her tight muscles. Firm. Tender. They’d squeeze the stress out of her the same way they squeezed the juice from the lemon, with just the right amount of pressure.
And she’d grow pliable beneath his touch. She’d melt inside and her head would fall back and she’d give herself over to those hands…
“Here you go. All set.”
Jenn didn’t know when she’d drifted off into some kind of trance but the sound of Matt’s voice brought her out of it and she snapped to attention, raising her gaze to a face too handsome to help matters.
“Are you all right? You look kind of flushed,” he said.
Great. He’d noticed the blush that she could feel flooding her face for the second time that evening and Jenn wondered if he could see past it into her wayward mind and figure out what she’d been thinking to cause it.
“I’m okay. Tired and dizzy again is all,” she lied to hide what was really going on with her. But then what else could she do? She couldn’t admit that she’d been fantasizing about him, could she?
“Let’s get you to your room,” he said, sounding concerned and making Jenn feel guilty for misleading him.
But she did need to get back to her room and away from this man and his effect on her, there was no doubt about that. So she slid around the bend of the bench seat.
Unfortunately it was right into Matt’s waiting hand at her arm to help her up.
Not a good thing. Because this time, even through her clothes, a single touch of one of those hands she’d just been daydreaming about set off a whole new and more powerful set of tingles all through her.
“I’m okay,” she insisted as she got to her feet, hoping he would let go.
He didn’t, though. He kept hold of her, guiding and supporting her all the way back to her bedroom and to the side of the bed.
He set the mug of hot tea on the nightstand and said, “Can you get yourself undressed and into bed or do you need help?”
Oh, what flashed through her mind at that suggestion!
Matt undressing her. His hands on her bare skin. Scooping her up into his arms to lie her gently on the bed. Getting into bed with her…
“No! Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
She’d answered too frantically and he seemed to think she was afraid of him.
He took a step backward, as if distance might help calm her fears. “My sister Kate or one of my sisters-in-law could come and help if you needed it. I didn’t mean that I—”
“I know you didn’t,” Jenn was quick to assure him. “It’s just that I don’t need any help. But really, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me today.”
“It was nothin’,” he said, still watching her and no doubt wondering if she really was all right or if the bump on her head had made her lose her mind.
But then that was something she was wondering herself.
He must have decided the best thing was to leave her to her own devices because he said, “If you have any problems during the night, just holler. I’m next door and I’ll hear you.”
“Thanks. But I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
He took another long, hard look at her then, as if to convince himself she was telling the truth, and those deep, dark green eyes seemed to emit the same kind of heat she’d imagined feeling from his touch, the kind she’d felt when his hand had taken hers to help her from the truck and again when he’d walked her to her bedside.
And in that moment she felt all the more certain that she just couldn’t be married and still feel the way this man made her feel.
“Well, all right, then,” he finally said, as if giving in against his will to leaving her alone. “Feel better.”
“I’m sure I will. I just need some sleep.”
“’Night, then.”
“Good night.”
Matt turned to leave and Jenn watched him go. She devoured every step of those long legs until he was out of her room and the door was closed behind him.
And then Jenn deflated, falling more than sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling every bit as weak as she’d claimed.
Except she wasn’t so sure that the weakness had come from her car accident or her bump on the head or the incredible things that had come out of them both.
Instead it seemed as if her weakness was more for Matt McDermot than from anything that had happened to her.
And that was every bit as unnerving as not being able to remember who she was.
Chapter 4
It was midmorning when Jenn woke up the next day. She’d slept nearly twelve hours and she felt rested and much stronger than she had the evening before.
But as she rolled onto her back in bed and opened her eyes to acclimate herself, she recalled a dream she’d had several times during the night. A dream of herself as an old woman. An old woman here in this house, but not in this house the way it was now. And not because she be longed in it.
Strange. It felt as if there was something very strange about that dream. Even stranger than the dream itself. But since not one whit of her memory had returned as she’d slept, she didn’t know why the dream seemed strange or if it was telling her something.
Lying in bed thinking about it didn’t give her any answers and she was already embarrassed to have slept as late as she had, so she decided she couldn’t stay there pondering it.
Instead she sat up and gingerly swung her legs over the side of the mattress. She wasn’t sure if her head would pound again or if her neck and shoulders would still ache or if she’d still feel as weak. But all the remnants of the accident were gone and she felt fine.
Well, as fine as a person could feel when she didn’t remember who she was.
Fine enough for a shower and a good shampoo, although she had to be careful about that because she still had a pretty good gash from her temple into her hairline.
Once she was finished with her shower, she dressed in jeans and a rolled-neck gray sweater with an argyle pattern on the front. She applied a little blush and mascara to put some color into her still slightly wan face and then blew her hair dry and pulled it back with an elastic scrunchie only inches from the ends in back.
When she judged herself presentable, she opened the heavy drapes that covered the windows.
Outside the sky was just as gray and overcast as it had been the day before, although the pristine whiteness of the snow that blanketed everything helped to brighten things considerably.
The wind didn’t seem to be blowing anymore but flakes were still falling, adding to what she guessed to be about three feet of snow already piled up.
It made for a beautiful sight, though. Clean. Quiet. Peaceful. A good day to be inside, all cozy and comfortable and warm.
She saw two men in the distance then, heading for the state-of-the-art barn, but they were too far away for her to tell if one of them was Matt.
She hoped not.
Until that moment she’d assumed he would be somewhere nearby and she’d been counting on it. More than counting on it. She’d been eager to leave this room, to see him again.
But the thought that he might not be there—and the bitter wave of disappointment that washed through her along with it—told her just how eager she’d been.
Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d chosen her sweater, she realized in a sudden flash of insight. Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d shampooed her hair and left a few come-hither wisps to curl freely around her face and over the cut on her head to camouflage them. Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d applied the makeup that made her look healthier. Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d dabbed on a little of the perfume she’d found in her makeup bag.
But now she had to ask herself what in the world she’d been doing to actually be primping for a man in this, the worst of situations, when she should have been thinking only about how to straighten out what was going on with her.
But she knew the answer to that. And she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the frigid windowpane in disgust with herself.
She was just too attracted to the man.
At least the evening before she’d been able to convince herself that her attraction to him had been a result of her dazed state of mind.
But today she didn’t have the same excuse.
No, she wasn’t completely well. She did still have the knot on her head and her memory was just as messed up. But she wasn’t as foggy-headed as she’d been and she just couldn’t blame the attraction on that anymore.
The plain truth of it was that Matt McDermot was a nice, kind, pleasant, incredibly gorgeous, all-man man.
And she was attracted to him.
Who wouldn’t be, after all? Handsome rescuer. Big, strong, considerate, caretaking cowboy. It wasn’t much of a stretch to find him appealing since that was pretty powerful stuff.
But whether or not her weakness for him was understandable, Jenn knew she had to keep it under control. Because this was not the time nor the place to be looking for any kind of romance.
And she knew it.
She’d just have to bury the attraction the same way she’d buried the shaving kit filled with money in her suitcase so that neither Matt nor anyone else would know it existed.
She had more important things to deal with and she didn’t need the complication of trying to start up a relationship on top of everything else.
But one thing was different—and better—today, she told herself as she opened her eyes and moved away from the window. She might be as attracted to Matt McDermot but she didn’t have to be as vulnerable. She was more capable of resisting his allure now that her strength was back.
And resist it she would.
So, telling herself with conviction that it absolutely didn’t matter where he was, she made her bed, dragged her suitcase into the closet where it was out of the way, and tidied the room so completely there wasn’t a sign that she was in residence. Except for the teacup from the previous evening still on her bed table and she took that with her when she finally poked her nose out the bedroom door, intent on meeting head-on whatever or whoever was beyond it.
But whoever was beyond it was Matt, sitting on the hallway floor just outside her room, reading a newspaper.
“Mornin’,” he said, looking up at her from his lower perch.
“Hi,” Jenn returned, trying to keep the instant rise in her spirits from carrying her away and reminding herself that she was not—absolutely not—going to let her attraction to him have its way with her.
But that was easier said than done when she watched him push himself up the wall with the pure force of big cowboy-booted feet and thick-muscled legs that strained the denim of age-softened jeans until he was once more towering over her in magnificent masculinity.
“How’s the patient today?” he asked, genuine concern wrinkling his squarish forehead above penetrating green eyes that seemed to take in every inch of her.
“I’m much better,” she said a bit breathlessly, working to regain her equilibrium. “I’d say I was almost back to normal except that I still don’t know what normal is.”
“No return of the memory, huh?”
“Unfortunately not. I did have a dream that I was a very old woman, though, if that means anything.”
“Probably your brain’s perception of all those aches and pains you went to bed with last night.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Jenn admitted, pleased with the interpretation and thinking that it made more sense than anything she’d come up with. It didn’t explain why the dream had disturbed her, but then maybe feeling disturbed was just part and parcel of the present circumstances.
“How ’bout some breakfast? Are you hungry?” Matt asked then, interrupting her thoughts.
When Jenn focused on him again it was to find him making sure the tails of his heavy wool shirt were tucked in in back and then bending over to retrieve the newspaper from the floor.
The red shirt was worn over a white Henley T-shirt that peeked from behind his open collar and below the cuffs of his sleeves rolled to midforearm. It made Jenn think of lumberjacks. The look suited the big man, though.
But then she couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t suit Matt. He was just so terrifically good-looking and well-built…
Breakfast. He’d asked if she wanted to eat, she reminded herself somewhat belatedly.
“I’m not all that hungry,” she finally answered. “Maybe just a cup of tea.” She held up her mug. “Besides, I was such a slugabed it’s not long to lunchtime. No sense making a special mess for me, I’ll just wait until then to eat.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he said so easily she believed him.
“Tea will be fine. Thanks anyway.”
Matt nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s make tea, then.”
They went down the hall together and as they did, Jenn said, “The place is quiet. Is everybody gone?”
“The ladies got brave and thought they’d see if they could make it into town. My brothers are workin’ out in the barn. Junebug—she runs things around the house—didn’t make it in because of the snow, and Buzz is glued to the tube for The Price Is Right about now. So you’re stuck with just me.”
“Stuck” with him was not how she felt. She was glad to be alone with him, much as she knew she shouldn’t be. But she wasn’t going to say that.
Once they were in the kitchen, Matt took the cup out of her hand and pointed to the breakfast nook with his slightly but sexily dimpled chin.
“Sit while I make your tea,” he ordered.
“I can do it. I’m really okay today. Well, except for the screws that are loose in my head.” Loose screws that had her thinking more about him than about what she should be thinking about.
“Nope. You’re a guest here and guests don’t make their own tea,” he decreed.
Since there didn’t seem to be a point in arguing, Jenn opted for changing the subject. “Has there been any word from the sheriff or the radio station about me?”
Matt put a fresh cup filled with water into the microwave and turned it on.
“The phone lines were apparently fixed during the night because they’re up and running again. I called the sheriff’s office an hour or so ago. He said there’s still been no response from the general public. He contacted the Cheyenne and Denver police early this morning, but you don’t fit the description or the names in any of the missing persons cases.”
Jenn just nodded, knowing it was probably par for the course for other police departments to be contacted by Elk Creek’s sheriff but feeling uneasy with the thought of it anyway.
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