Except for the crackle and hiss from the fireplace, it was quiet. Gina eased into wakefulness, trying to recapture bits and pieces of a new dream, something to do with pool tables and pizza. The man with the military haircut was there, laughing, sliding his arm around her waist. J.T. stood nearby, somber and watchful, wearing a dark-blue uniform. Every time she walked toward him, he disappeared. The other man kissed her—
Her eyes flew open. Disoriented and breathless, she looked around J.T.’s living room, where she’d taken her third nap of the day. The lights were off except for one small table lamp. A glance at the mantel clock told her it was a little past ten o’clock. She’d slept for two hours straight—a record.
And she was safe. Her heart stopped thundering; tension melted away.
“I thought I heard you moving around.”
J.T. came into view, a comforting sight.
“Then you must have incredible hearing,” she said, admiring his long, lean lines for a moment. Pregnancy hadn’t made her immune to him as a man. He’d been good company all day, besides. Not very talkative, but an attentive listener. “I haven’t moved, Chief. I can’t.”
He crouched beside her, concern in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Your sofa is way too cushy. I think I’m embedded for life. Or until I get my abdominal muscles back.”
He helped her to sit up, then sat beside her, his expression serious. The clock ticked. The fire popped. Remnants of the dream knotted her stomach. Still, she was intrigued by him. There had been moments since she’d dropped into his life that he seemed to wish he’d never been saddled with her. Other times he looked so deep into her that heat radiated head to toe at the invasion. She’d felt at ease with him almost from the beginning, but this was the first time he’d chosen to sit so close to her…
Oh. She understood now. His home and office computers were linked. He was about to give her news she wasn’t going to like.
“Some chicken soup?” he asked.
“In a little while.” She linked her fingers, squeezing until they hurt. Her imagination ran wild with possibilities. “What have you found out?”
His hesitation was tangible. “Nothing.”
“Is that the truth?”
“You asked me not to feed your name into the system, but so far no one has reported you as missing.”
“What do you think it means?”
Again a hesitation, this time a little more ominous. “Frankly, I’d feel more comfortable if someone was searching for you through legal channels.”
“Me, too.” Pushing herself up, she walked to the fireplace and held her hands out to the flames. The heat barely penetrated her cold skin—and colder thoughts. “There’s another possibility, though. Maybe no one cares that I’m gone. Which is worse, do you think?”
“Gina—”
“No. Please don’t baby me. I need to know what I’m facing.”
She heard him come up behind her. He didn’t touch her, yet his warmth transferred to her. He would protect her with his life, he’d said. She believed him, and with that belief came trust, 100 percent.
She stared at her wedding ring. Pain hammered her head, vibrated behind her eyes. Instead of ignoring the signal and backing away from it, she tried to focus on what it meant.
“What if there’s a reason that I don’t feel married? Maybe I’m not. I might be wearing a ring so that people won’t think the worst of me.” She shook her head. “No. That wouldn’t explain why Eric’s name is on the health insurance card.”
J.T. stood behind her, waiting for her to reach the next logical conclusion: that her husband wasn’t alive. As soon as she figured that out, memories might come faster than she could cope with, but at least they would know why she was here and where the father of her child was.
And why that phantom man wasn’t taking care of her.
“I can’t think about it anymore. I need positive thoughts right now, for my baby’s sake,” she said with a note of finality. “Chicken soup, you said?”
“Or anything else you feel like eating.” Anticipating her next move, he took a step back as she turned, her belly a whisper away from brushing his.
“Have I said thank you for all you’re doing, Chief?”
“Not in the past two hours.”
The phone rang. He grabbed the portable receiver he’d brought with him. “Chief Ryker.”
“How’s the patient?”
J.T. eyed her. She’d moved to look out the picture window and was staring at the cloudless night sky, her hands gliding in circles over her belly, as if massaging the baby. “You can ask her yourself, Max. She actually speaks English.”
Over her shoulder she smiled at him. He passed her the phone then headed for the kitchen to heat up the soup. He’d already figured out that she was more comfortable eating a small meal every few hours, so he’d adjusted his schedule to her needs. It hadn’t been difficult to cater to her, just a battle to get her to let him.
She came into the kitchen as he started the microwave.
“Max wants you to take my blood pressure, then for one of us to let him know what it is.”
“Okay.” He dug his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll get my bag from the car.”
“So, are you a paramedic besides being the chief of police?”
“No, but I’ve had advanced training. The nearest hospital is forty-five minutes away.” He headed out the door.
“Where do you keep the saltines?”
“The doctor wouldn’t approve.”
“What’s soup without crackers?” she grumbled.
“Easier on your blood pressure.” The snow crunched under his boots as he made his way to the car and scooped up his first aid bag. The cold penetrated his clothes, his skin, his muscles. He filled his lungs with frigid air, letting his mind clear. The attraction to Gina that had gut punched him years ago hadn’t faded, except to add another dimension—her vulnerability, which tempted him way too much.
He could almost hear his brother chuckle. “Knights and damsels again, J.T.?” Mark would have said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “You’ve become tiresome.”
Was it chivalrous to care about a young woman who was married, almost died in a car accident, then was widowed, all within a three-month period? Or was it human decency?
She’d suffered. She’d grieved.
And she’d healed.
Or had she? She was different now, but that was to be expected. Three years had passed. Maturity came with experience. She’d fallen in love with someone else. Then again, maybe someone had taken advantage of her vulnerability after Eric’s death, putting her in the predicament she was in now.
Some nameless, faceless rival had—
Rival? Hell.
He tramped back to the house, stomped off snow as he climbed the stairs. Warmth bathed his face as he stepped into the kitchen. Homey scents teased his nose. Deputy greeted him as if he’d been gone for hours instead of minutes. And Gina ladled soup into bowls.
The whole domestic scene irritated him. He wanted his peaceful life back. He wanted privacy again, to eat when he wanted, to sleep through the night, the only possible interruption being job related.
And he wanted her to stop smiling at him. She’d peeled off her sweater in anticipation of having her blood pressure taken, he decided, and her turtleneck T-shirt clung to her body. He didn’t think she’d gained a lot of weight, except in the obvious places.
“I guess I’m a lot of trouble, huh?” she asked as she pushed her sleeve above her elbow and sat on the stool.
Hell. She needed reassurance, and he wasn’t in the mood to give it. He dug out his equipment from the bag. “You’re no trouble.”
“Which is a bald-faced lie. Somehow I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm and tucked her hand alongside his body. Stethoscope in place, he pumped up the cuff. Then, instead of looking at the dial, he made the mistake of looking at her face first. Into her dark, smiling eyes, full of apology. At her gently curling lips, full of promise.
Her flowery scent jump-started a reaction that he quashed instantly. He couldn’t think of her in that way. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. His only thought should be to protect her and her unborn child.
Yeah, right. So tell that to my—
Her blouse fluttered, as if the baby had kicked.
Damn it, Gina. You know how relentlessly cruel the world can be. Of all people, you should know better than to bring a child into it…
It wouldn’t matter to her, he realized. She didn’t see the same darkness he did, only a bright future with a baby she already loved. He wished he could recapture that long-lost innocence himself.
“Chief?”
He hadn’t been paying attention. “I’m out of practice,” he said, pumping up the cuff again. “Sorry, but I’ve got to redo this.”
Her hand propped comfortably against his warm, hard body, Gina watched his frown deepen into a scowl. She couldn’t imagine him being incompetent at anything, which meant that the news must be really bad, she decided. Her blood pressure was off the charts or something.
“One-sixty over a hundred,” he said, sliding the cuff off her.
“But that’s the same as this morning.”
“I know it’s high as a reading, but is it high for someone pregnant?”
“Max would like to see it a little lower. Aside from thinking good thoughts, I don’t know what I can do about it.”
“The same course of action as for anyone, I imagine. Avoid salt. Exercise. We’ll go for a couple of walks tomorrow.”
Curious at his detachment, she pushed down her sleeve as he stowed his equipment.
Hours later she was still curious. Resting her back against the bed’s headboard, she contemplated how he’d retreated from her. Maybe he’d finally reached the limits of his patience. Maybe it was a character flaw of hers—that she always tested someone’s patience. Her head ached at the thought.
Meaning what? she wanted to shout. Ow. She rubbed her temples. Stupid headaches. Max seemed to think that the amnesia was more emotional than physical. She was hiding from something too painful to remember.
Think good thoughts, she reminded herself. Good thoughts. She imagined the sun setting into the ocean. Gulls soaring. Surf pounding. Sand between her toes. A warm, tropical breeze blowing her hair from her face.
“Can’t sleep?” Wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, the chief was leaning a shoulder against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest.
She admired the purely masculine pose for a moment as she speculated on whether he usually slept in the nude. Her heart danced a quick tango at the wayward thought. Why didn’t she feel faithful to someone? Loyal? Loving? Why was this man making her stomach flutter without any effort on his part whatsoever? What kind of woman was she, anyway?
“The baby has the hiccups,” she said, ignoring the list of unanswerable questions. “Come feel.”
He didn’t move.
“Pregnancy tends to obliterate modesty, Chief. People touch my tummy all the time.”
He’d mastered the silent debate, she decided, trying not to smile. It had taken her a while, but she’d finally coaxed him out of his bad mood earlier by pretending to add salt to her soup. He just needed a little more coaxing. “We won’t bite.”
Low light from the bathroom cast him in a rugged silhouette as he came toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. Deputy lifted his head, then curled into a tighter circle, ignoring them.
“Use both hands,” she told the chief, pushing the blankets past her abdomen. “Her whole body jumps.”
After a slight pause, he settled his hands on her, startling her into a new kind of awareness—only one layer of flannel lay between his hands and her skin. Her pulse escalated in tempo and volume. She tipped her head back into the pile of pillows fluffed behind her, taking a quick mental trip back to her peaceful beach. It felt good having his hands on her. Too good. Comforting…and much, much more.
“I’m going to miss touching her whenever I want,” she said. “I love lying in the bathtub and watching her move around inside me.”
“You can see her?”
“She does a little ballet in there.” She moved his hands higher on her belly, enjoying how he smiled every time the baby hiccuped. “That’s her bottom. Feel?”
He nodded.
She pressed his palms tight against her body, sliding one to each side. “These bumps are her elbows, I think.”
“It’s not smooth, like I thought it would be. You’re actually kind of lumpy.”
“Sometimes I’m even lopsided. The head’s aimed down all the time now. Every once in a while it feels like her feet are hooked on my ribs.”
“Does that hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
J.T. broke contact with her, retreating from the intimacy, irritated with himself. Pregnancy was supposed to be a spiritual experience, yet his need for her was just as strong as the first time he’d seen her.
He tugged the bedcoverings over her. “How did you know that people touch your abdomen?”
She stopped smoothing the blankets. When she met his gaze, she frowned. “I can’t picture anyone specific doing it, but why else would I feel so comfortable letting you?”
Because deep down you remember me. The thought scared him as much as it satisfied.
She yawned and stretched, then snuggled into the pillows.
“Have you slept at all?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm. Did you?”
He nodded. He’d slept. Dreamed. Awakened in a cold sweat. The old, all-too-frequent nightmare that he’d finally laid to rest had clawed its way past the barrier he’d erected, the colors brighter, the ache exposed and raw. He resented her for waking the sleeping monster, exposing its fangs.
“Thanks for checking on me, Chief,” she said, her voice husky with impending sleep. “But you don’t have to keep me company.”
“You probably wouldn’t tell me if you needed anything, but I’m asking, anyway.”
A second or two passed. “I’m fine, thank you.”
He didn’t miss her hesitation. From worry? Or fear, maybe? Her recent past was a blank, her future unknown.
And she didn’t have anyone to lean on.
Well, he had broad enough shoulders—and a more-than-passing interest in her well-being. He wrapped a hand around one of hers. Her eyes widened. She went perfectly still. “What can I do for you, Gina?”
“I would love a back rub.”
So much for his silent hope that her heart’s desire was a mug of hot chocolate. “Get comfortable.”
She situated pillows in a rustle of movement, until she was lying mostly on her side, the blankets bunched at her waist. Her long-sleeved, high-necked nightgown made no blatant invitation, but the fabric was soft, he discovered when he kneeled behind her and curved his hands over her shoulders, and her body was warm. Her sigh of appreciation sent Deputy’s tail thumping slowly, heavily, as if he was the one getting the treatment. J.T. smiled at the dog, who’d abandoned his bed without a look back in order to sleep with Gina again.
When J.T. kneaded her shoulders, she moaned.
“Sorry,” she said quickly.
“Don’t apologize.” He was relieved to discover she wore a bra, although the ridges of her backbone teased his fingertips, and the blunted curve of her shoulder blades grazed his palms. “What hurts?”
“Everything,” she said, humor punctuating the word. “The weight in front constantly drags on the muscles in back. I can’t tell you how good this feels.”
Buried under the guilty pleasure of touching her lurked a stronger sense of rightness. Of destiny. Of lost opportunities. He wouldn’t forfeit this one, as he had before.
“I hope you plan to go back to your normal routine tomorrow,” she said, arching her back a little as he dragged his fingers down her spine, stopping just above her waist, then gliding up to her shoulders again.
“I’ll do what needs doing.”
“Can I go along with you?”
“You want to?”
“I don’t figure you’ll be agreeable to leaving me here by myself, Chief.”
“The way I see it, people will be wanting to see who belongs to the car parked in my driveway.”
Gina smiled into the pillow. “I’ve never lived in a small town. It’s really different, isn’t it?”
“Why don’t you just go to sleep, Gina?”
“Because I’d miss enjoying the back rub.”
“I’ll give you a rain check for tomorrow.”
“Really?” Some instinct told her that no one had pampered her like this. “I sure got lost in the right town, didn’t I?”
“Sleep.”
Obedient, she drifted aimlessly toward slumber. His broad palms and strong fingers found every kink and knot, easing the soreness away. She almost purred as he threaded his hands through her hair to massage her scalp. After a while he gently pulled her hair away from her face, then the bed dipped under her as he climbed off it. The blankets settled over her like a cocoon.
Mmm. Thank you, she thought, unable to form words.
She felt his breath against her cheek, the brush of his lips to her hair. Oh! He was tucking her in.
She opened her eyes.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said as he crouched beside the bed, a hint of irritation in his voice.
Or was it embarrassment?
“I don’t think anyone has ever taken care of me the way you have.” She swallowed against the sting in her throat.
“Maybe because you announce to the world how independent you are.”
“I’m too defensive, aren’t I?”
“There’s probably a reason.”
Urges she couldn’t remember having before welled up inside her, primitive and earthy. He’d taken care of her, protected her, sheltered her. Made her feel like a desirable woman, yet without a hint of impropriety.
“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” she said, her wedding ring burning like a branding iron.
“It’s been a longer-than-average twenty-four hours because we haven’t slept for eight of it.”
“Something tells me that was more than just a logical observation.”
He stood and headed toward the door. “Go…to…sleep.”
“Yes, sir.”
He flashed a look over his shoulder.
“What does J.T. stand for?” she called just before he got out of sight.
“Jasper Thelonius.”
A flash of white light blinded her. A hammer struck an anvil inside her head, bam, bam, bam. She gulped for air. Breathe. Breathe. Visions came fast and furiously, like her dreams, not making sense. J.T., watching her, not smiling, hardly moving. The smell of pizza.
Pizza?
A pool table. The clack of balls.
Nauseated, she pushed herself up, grasped the bedside table, knocked the clock to the floor.
Footsteps pounded. The overhead light came on. The man in her vision, real now, fell to his knees beside her, calling her name.
“Why do I keep seeing you?” she asked, confused.
“What do you mean?”
“Like flashbacks. But they can’t be flashbacks, can they, because I keep seeing you. And I smell pizza. There’s a pool table. I don’t understand.” She moaned. “My head hurts so much.”
“I’ll call Max.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
Amid her protests, he scooped her into his arms, delicately, not jarring her in the least. The moment he set her down in the bathroom, she gasped.
Plucking at her nightgown, she stared at the floor. “I think my water just broke.”