“Well, that was subtle as hell,” John said angrily.
“About as subtle as someone shoving a gun in your face.” Leaning back in his chair, Buzz scowled at him. “You’ve got too good a head on your shoulders to be spending time with a woman who pulled a gun on you.”
“Maybe she thought she didn’t have a choice.”
“Maybe she sees the way you look at her and knows a sucker when she sees one.”
Curbing the nasty retort on his tongue, John rose and stalked across the room, trying in vain to reel in his temper. He’d known bringing Hannah here wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. An ex-cop, Buzz was suspicious by nature and a stickler for procedure. He also had strict rules about fraternization and appearances when it came to the team. They hadn’t exactly followed the rules when it came to Hannah’s rescue. If it hadn’t been for her injuries—and the bruises—he knew Buzz would have turned her over to the police.
John blew out a sigh of frustration and faced Buzz. “I told you, she was confused and hallucinating. She thought I was someone else.”
“Oh, so since she was hallucinating, it’s okay for her to stick a gun in your face—”
“Dammit, you saw those bruises on her. Maybe she was protecting herself.”
“And maybe you’re a hell of a lot more involved than you should be. For God’s sake, John, I thought you of all people had better judgment than to fall for this kind of cockamamie story.”
“My judgment is just fine—”
“Except when it comes to women. I don’t need to remind you that you’ve had your fair share of problems.”
The words rankled him, but John didn’t bother to deny it. He was more involved than he should be. And he’d definitely had more than his fair share of problems with women. Buzz knew about Rhonda. It had been five years ago, but John still carried the scars. Not the physical variety, but the kind that marked a man’s soul for the rest of his life.
Buzz also knew about what had happened back in Philly. What he didn’t know was that John had made not getting involved his life ambition. John might like the way Hannah looked. He might like her smile and her scent and the way all that red hair tumbled over her shoulders. But he was still in control of the situation. When the time came, he’d have no qualms about walking away. As much the other man’s words ticked him off, he just didn’t see fit to explain.
“I should have turned her over to Lake County the second you told me about the gun,” Buzz growled.
“We both know why you didn’t.”
The older man scowled.
“You saw those bruises, Buzz. You saw what someone did to her. Dammit, she’s three months pregnant. What kind of monster does that to a pregnant woman, for God’s sake?”
“Bruises don’t warrant taking up arms even if she is pregnant. Dammit, this is not our problem. She’s not our problem. I wish like hell I’d put that in my report and let the sheriff’s department handle it.” He shot John a sage look. “Especially now that I see you’re getting cozy with her.”
John stared at his team leader and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not getting cozy with her.”
“Sure looked that way when I walked into the kitchen and saw you making cow eyes at each other. You don’t want to get in the middle of this, John.”
“I’m not involved.”
“As far as you know, she’s got a husband—”
“She’s not wearing a ring—”
“Like that makes a damn bit of difference.”
“It would to her.”
Buzz’s brows shot up. He laughed but there was no humor in it. “Oh, holy hell.”
“I’m not involved with her, dammit.” John rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s in trouble, Buzz. She doesn’t have anywhere to go. No one to help her. She doesn’t even remember her own name.”
“That woman is trouble, John. I have radar when it comes to women and trouble, and believe me, she has it written all over her.”
“Look, Buzz, I don’t mean to make this personal, but just because Kelly burned you—”
“This isn’t about Kelly,” he growled. “It’s about a vulnerable woman with a pretty face and an unlikely as hell story.” His jaw flexed. “Is she staying with you?”
John’s temper unfurled. “Oh, for crying out loud!”
Unfazed by the younger man’s wrath, Buzz frowned and waited for an answer.
“I’m taking her to a shelter in Denver. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”
“What happened five years ago makes it my business.”
John tried not to wince, but he did. And he knew Buzz saw it. “Regret your decision?”
“Hell, no I don’t. I just want to make sure you remember how expensive mistakes can be.”
Turning away, John shoved his hands into his pockets. No matter how hard he tried, he would never forget. Those events had left a permanent mark on his life, a wound on his heart that would never fully heal.
“Do yourself a favor and take her to the shelter, then wash your hands of it. You’ve done your part. I’ll call the police department and have someone standing by to take her prints and run them through the database. I’ll give Missing Persons a call.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“You sure about that?” Buzz asked pointedly.
John glared at him.
“If the media gets a hold of this story, I don’t want RMSAR involved. They’ll turn it into a circus.”
John’s temper spiked another notch. “Are you finished?”
“Look, John, I don’t know what’s going on between you two—”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“She might have the face of an angel, but you don’t know who you’re dealing with. She could have killed you. You don’t know if she’s stable. Or if she’s got a record. Or if she’s lying about the amnesia.”
“I’m a big boy, Buzz.”
“Yeah, and hopefully Bruno, her husband, isn’t the jealous type.”
The thought annoyed the hell out of him, but John refused to let Buzz see it. He didn’t have a reason to be annoyed, after all, since he had no intention of getting involved with her. “Yeah, well, maybe he’s the one who put those bruises on her.”
Buzz stared hard at him across the desk. “Do us both a favor and stay away from her, at least until I can find out who she is. Can you do that for me?”
John didn’t like being told what to do. He could handle Hannah and whatever it was he felt for her. He had the situation under control. Damn Buzz for doubting him. Grinding his teeth in anger, he turned, grabbed his parka from the chair and strode to the door. “Let me know if you hear anything on that SUV.”
Buzz’s voice stopped him. “I could have traced that gun, you know. It’s pretty convenient that she dropped it.”
He turned, gazed levelly at the other man. “Maybe I’ll rappel down and get it just to prove you wrong.”
“Watch your back.”
“I always do,” he said, and walked out.
* * *
“I guess it’s safe to say Mr. Malone doesn’t trust me.”
“Buzz doesn’t trust anyone.”
“He doesn’t believe me about the amnesia, either, does he?”
John stopped the Jeep at a traffic light, then turned left toward the shelter. “Buzz is an ex-cop. Law enforcement has warped his mind.”
A humorless laugh squeezed from Hannah’s throat. “To be perfectly honest, I can’t blame him,” she said. “This amnesia thing is pretty…wild.”
He didn’t like the hopelessness in her voice. He wished he could dispute her words, but he couldn’t and that rankled him, too. Damn Buzz and his uncompromising attitude.
“He thinks I’m some kind of criminal,” she said.
“He probably frisks his own mother before Sunday dinner, for crying out loud.”
Sighing, she shot him a troubled look. “He shouldn’t have doubted you.”
John didn’t have a reply for that one. Maybe because he wasn’t all that sure he agreed with her. Hannah didn’t know about Philly; she didn’t know about Rhonda. Buzz knew about both fiascos and had taken him on anyway.
He pulled curbside in front of the shelter and put the Jeep in park. “Buzz’s wife, Kelly, divorced him a few months back. He won’t talk about it, but I think it hurt him a lot. He’s pretty down on…you know, women.”
“Oh.” That bit of information seemed to hold water with her. “Do you think he’ll help me?”
“He’s going to set up fingerprinting and expedite running them through the national database. He’s also going to check with Missing Persons.”
“I guess I should start hoping I don’t have warrants out for my arrest.”
“That’s not funny, Red.”
“Who’s joking? As far as I know, I could be a…a serial killer.”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he might have laughed. “I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. Believe me, you’re no serial killer.”
“That coming from a man I nearly shot.”
“A man who knows sometimes things aren’t always as they appear.”
She seemed to consider his words for a moment, then smiled at him from beneath her lashes. “Personal experience?”
“Skeletons in my closet. Lots of them.”
“Oh.”
He looked over at her and grinned. “Just kidding. I only have a few.”
Her smile dazzled him. He stared at her, suddenly acutely aware of her proximity, the tangle of hair, the sweetness of her scent, the power of her presence. Shaken by the rush of feelings he had absolutely no desire to explore, he put his hands on the steering wheel and looked at the old house beyond the window.
He knew making eye contact with her now would be a mistake, but he did it anyway, and he felt the impact of her gaze all the way down to his bones. A sweet, sensuous ache that lodged just behind his breastbone and left him feeling pleasantly buzzed and more unsettled than he’d felt in a long, long time.
She stared back at him, surprise reflecting in her eyes. “I’ve got to go.”
“I know.” He’d told himself it wasn’t going to be difficult leaving her at the shelter. She would be safe here. She’d be close to the hospital where Dr. Morgan had arranged for her to speak with the psychiatrist. She would be within walking distance of the police department where Buzz would arrange for her to be fingerprinted and check in with Missing Persons.
John’s responsibility for her had ended. A clean break, just like he’d wanted. He should have been relieved, but the tightness he felt in his chest wasn’t relief. He told himself this was the right thing to do. That it was only natural for him to walk away like he’d done a dozen other times from a dozen other women in the last five years. Women he could have loved, but didn’t.
He told himself Hannah wasn’t any different. He didn’t have feelings for her. Well, aside from a healthy dose of lust that seemed to tie him up in knots every time he looked at her. But John could handle his lust, just as he could handle that hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach as he shut down the engine and looked across the snow-covered lawn toward the rambling old Victorian known as Angela Pearl’s Shelter for Battered Women.
What he couldn’t handle was the forlorn look in her eyes every time she forced that smile they both knew wasn’t real. Dammit, she was afraid and alone and trying like hell to be tough about this. It would have been easier for him if she’d cried. He admired courage, knew what it took to smile when the fear was clamping down like a steel trap.
“Well, I guess this is it.” Holding on to her smile, she stuck out her hand. “Thanks for everything.”
John stared dumbly at her hand a moment before taking it. Without looking at him, she pumped it a couple of times, then released him. “Take care of yourself, will you, John?”
“You do the same.” So, if this was the right thing to do, why did he feel like such a jerk? “I’ll get your bag.”
In an instant, she had the door open and had stepped out into the cold. “No, I’ll get it.”
Giving himself a firm shake, John opened his door and stepped into the brutal wind. Thankful for the distraction the cold offered, he walked around to the rear of the Jeep and opened the door. Hannah stood next to him with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering.
Tugging the single canvas bag from the rear compartment, he put it over his shoulder. “I’ll carry it in for you.”
“No. I’ve got it.”
“Your hands—”
“I need to do this on my own, John. I don’t want you to feel…you know, responsible for me. I may be a little down on my luck at the moment, but I’m capable of handling this.”
“Look, Red, it’s not like I expect you to be indebted to me for the rest of your life just because I was doing my job. That went out about the same time mummification did.”
She didn’t relent.
Clenching his jaw, he handed her the bag, watched her loop the strap over her shoulder. He wanted to carry it for her, dammit, but reminded himself this was not his concern. He was outta there. Back to his cabin. Alone. Where he was in control and didn’t have to worry about feeling something that would disrupt the balance he’d struggled so hard to achieve for so many years.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out one of his cards. “Take this.”
When she only shook her head, he took her hand in his and pressed the card to her bandaged palm. “If you have any problems in the coming days, call me. Anytime. Day or night. I’ll come no matter what. You got that, Red?”
He wasn’t sure why, but she looked stunned, like the young female cougar he’d seen up on Elk Ridge last winter, all restless and frightened and a tad too curious for her own good. John’s heart beat a hard staccato against his ribs as he absorbed the impact of her. The simple beauty of her face. The vulnerability etched into her features. The layers of mystery he longed to peel away. All of it veiled by a thin veneer of bravado that moved him more than anything else could have.
“Th-thank you for…everything you’ve done. I mean that. You saved my life. You bought me the coat.” Her hand was small and soft and warm within his. She tried to tug her hand away, but he didn’t release her. The fact that he didn’t want to unsettled him. He knew better than to indulge in a moment like this. She was vulnerable—not to mention pregnant with another man’s child and more than likely blissfully wed. But her scent was doing funny things to his common sense, and his body had taken note. Blood pooled in places he didn’t want to acknowledge. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to do something really stupid like kiss her.
The thought sent a wave of heat slicing right through his middle.
The wind in her hair made her look wild and inviting. He glanced down at her mouth and wondered if she would taste as sweet as she smelled. If her eyes would glaze with pleasure or if an impulsive kiss would panic her and make her pull away.
His brain told him to release her. He was John Maitland the Untouchable, after all. The one who never got involved. The man who didn’t need anyone. The man who was better at being alone than he was at being with a woman.
His body wasn’t listening to the rhetoric.
Throwing logic to the wind, he put his hands on her shoulders and gently backed her against the Jeep.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’m going to kiss you goodbye, if that’s all right.”
“Well, um…I…” She might not be able to get the words out, but he saw the answer clearly in her eyes. That was all he needed.
He eased the canvas bag from her shoulder and let it drop to the snow. Her eyes widened when he cupped her face with his hands. A small sound escaped her as he lowered his mouth to hers. And with the first sweet brush of her lips against his, John felt the thin ice upon which he’d been treading shatter beneath his feet.
* * *
Hannah didn’t need her memory to know the man knew how to kiss. She would even go so far as to call him an expert. The instant his mouth touched hers, every pleasure center in her body jolted as if it had been hit with a thousand volts of electricity. Her brain shorted out, and she promptly forgot all the reasons she shouldn’t be letting him kiss her, including the fact that she was pregnant with another man’s child and more than likely involved in a serious relationship.
But his breath was incredibly warm and sweet against her cheek. The scent of his aftershave curled around her brain like drugging smoke. His clever mouth coaxed hers into compliance with gentle efficiency. She didn’t have a choice but to open to him. When she did, the ground beneath her feet simply crumbled.
With a low growl, John took her acquiescence to heart and moved against her. The hardness of his body shocked her almost as much as the pleasure it evoked. The ensuing rush of heat made her feel feverish and dizzy and more than a little out of control. Need coiled and sprang free inside her. His hands skimmed through her hair, then roamed over her shoulders and back. When they stopped at the small of her back and pulled her closer, her body went liquid, and she knew the battle was lost.
John’s breath quickened. He deepened the kiss, but Hannah was too involved to think about caution. Instead, she marveled at the silky feel of his mouth, the taste of mint spiked with a hint of male lust. The combination thrilled her, shocked her, pleasured her until she was breathless and shaking and hungry for more.
His hands grew restless, skimming over the curve of her backside, brushing her breasts through the coat. Then he was touching her face, her throat, tangling his fingers in her hair. Angling her head for better access to her mouth, he plundered. When her legs went weak, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.
Thoughts tumbled drunkenly through her mind. The shelter, her memory loss, the uncertainty of her future, even the cold wind cutting through her coat melted away as his mouth worked magic against hers. She didn’t need her memory to know she’d never been kissed like this before. Amnesia or not, a woman didn’t forget something like that. And Hannah knew she would never, ever forget this moment.
But no matter how good John Maitland kissed her, she knew it wasn’t going to help her situation. In fact, falling for that devil-be-damned grin and those vivid blue eyes of his promised to complicate her life in ways she was far from equipped to handle.
It took every ounce of discipline she possessed to pull away. John let her go easily, but reached out to steady her when she leaned against the Jeep for balance. Mercy, the man’s kisses were potent. She felt the effect all the way down to her toes.
“You might not remember your name, but you sure as hell didn’t forget how to kiss,” he said huskily.
Hannah would have laughed if her heart hadn’t been in her throat. She ordered her pulse to slow, her head to stop spinning. If she could just get some oxygen into her lungs, she might be able to say something halfway intelligent. Something that would let him know the kiss hadn’t affected her ability to speak or think or even stand upright without assistance.
“I—I have to go,” she said at last.
His eyes were dark as midnight in the dim light from the street lamp. He studied her as if she were a puzzle he’d just realized wasn’t going to get solved anytime soon. “I didn’t mean for that to get out of hand.”
“It didn’t. I mean, it did, but…it was just a goodbye kiss.”
“Yeah, and Everest is just a mountain.”
She choked out a helpless laugh. “I have to go.”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. His jaw flexed. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You, too.” She didn’t want to step away from him, but she did. The effort cost her, but she didn’t let it show. “Put some ice on that bump.”
She wanted him to smile for her one last time, but he didn’t. He just stood there, watching her, his jaw set.
Aware that her heart was still beating out of control, that her emotions were spinning just as wildly, she picked up her bag and set the strap on her shoulder. “Goodbye, John Maitland.”
Before he could respond, she turned and started toward the shelter at a brisk clip. She told herself it was for the best that she walk away now, while the walking was still good. Another kiss like that one and she might just be willing to stand out on the sidewalk in the cold and let him kiss her until she was mindless—or they both got a bad case of hypothermia.
John Maitland was a dangerous man to a woman in her predicament. She wasn’t a free woman and knew it wasn’t in her makeup to betray the man who loved her. It was just as well that she was walking away from John. After that kiss, it was obvious neither of them would settle for friendship. Hannah didn’t want anything more complex. She needed to concentrate on finding out who she was, not fall for a man with to-die-for eyes, a cocky grin and kisses good enough to make a woman weep for more.
Behind her, she heard the door of the Jeep slam shut. Her heart pinged hard against her ribs, but she didn’t stop walking. If she stopped now, she wasn’t going to make it all the way to that front door. Dammit, she didn’t need John Maitland complicating her already complicated life.
The Jeep’s engine turned over. The realization that she would never see him again hit her hard. The thought was almost too much to bear. Still, she forced one foot in front of the other. She was halfway to the house. He would be gone soon. And the temptation to turn and run to him and fling herself into his arms would disappear as well.
Ice crunched beneath the Jeep’s tires as he pulled onto the street. Hannah stopped walking, felt her throat contract. Only then did she feel the sting of tears on her cheeks. Surprised and more than a little annoyed with herself, she brushed them away with the back of her bandaged hand. Like crying was going to help, she thought with dismay. If her emotions hadn’t been so close to spiraling out of control, she might have laughed at the absurdity of it.
Oh, why had she let him kiss her like that? Why hadn’t she just walked away from him and been done with it?
Determined to get through this with her emotions in check, Hannah hefted the bag. She was going to be fine, she assured herself as she started for the house. She would settle in for the night and get acquainted with Angela Pearl. Tomorrow she’d get her fingerprints taken at the police department. If she didn’t have her memory back by then, she’d make an appointment with the psychiatrist Dr. Morgan had recommended. She’d find out who she was and where she lived. She’d find the man she loved, the man who’d fathered her unborn child, the man who was probably out of his mind with worry and searching for her this very moment.
The sound of an approaching vehicle halted her in midstride. Despite her resolve to forget about John and that blasted kiss, joy burst through the cloak of despair. Dropping her bag in the snow, smiling like a fool, Hannah spun. She’d already taken several steps toward the street when she realized the vehicle wasn’t a Jeep, but a large SUV with dark windows and fancy wheels—and a huge dent in the passenger side door.
* * *
The kiss wasn’t going to change anything, John assured himself as he drove toward the highway that ran west toward his cabin. So what if it was the most mind-numbing kiss he’d ever experienced? Just because he could still feel the low ache of arousal in his groin didn’t mean he was going to forget everything he knew about the costs of caring for a woman. Just because his chest hurt at the thought of her spending the night alone and amongst strangers didn’t mean he was going to do something stupid like turn around and go back to her, did it?
Hell, no, it didn’t.
Walking away from emotional entanglements was what John Maitland did. He was good at it, he reminded himself. He knew what the alternative held, and he’d vowed a long time ago to never take the same path as his father. Even if he had inherited Dirk Maitland’s temper, John would never become the same kind of man. As a boy he’d witnessed the thin line between love and hate too many times to partake in such a vicious cycle. And he’d sworn a thousand times he would never breach that line.
His short but disastrous relationship with Rhonda had reaffirmed what he’d always known to be true. She’d burned him badly, and he felt the scald to this day. The logical side of his brain told him Hannah wasn’t anything like Rhonda. But the caution ran wide and deep, the scars even deeper, and John simply refused to lay himself open ever again.
But Hannah’s wildflower scent lingered, and it wasn’t doing much for his resolve. It made him remember that damn kiss—and what it had been like to hold her. It made him remember the shock in her eyes when she’d realized he was going to kiss her, and how that shock had transformed into pleasure when he had. He’d watched her eyes glaze, felt her body turn to liquid heat. Then she’d sighed and opened to him, giving him the sweetness of her mouth and the most erotically charged kiss he’d ever experienced.
He cursed in the silence of the Jeep.
That blasted kiss had changed everything.
But John knew his limits. His attraction to her pushed those limits and made warning bells clang in his head. The fact that she was pregnant with another man’s child should have him running away like a racehorse from the chute. He was insane to be thinking of her in intimate terms when he knew she was probably involved with somebody else. Still, he couldn’t deny there was a small part of him that didn’t care. A part of him that wanted to take her away from the man who’d put that child inside her, the man who hadn’t been able to keep her safe. And he couldn’t help but wonder if the man she was involved with was the same man who’d put those bruises on her throat and left her up on that mountain to die.
The thought sent the slow burn of fury through him.
Even if she wasn’t attached—she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, after all—Hannah wasn’t the kind of woman he took home for a one-night stand. Not only was she vulnerable because of the amnesia, but she was warm and real and kind with a heart as big as the Continental Divide. A heart he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
“Because you’re a damn hypocrite,” he muttered.
Rapping his palm hard against the steering wheel, he cursed and whipped the Jeep into a U-turn so fast, the wheels skidded.
John Maitland the Untouchable had been touched. The realization thoroughly shocked him. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to walk away. Couldn’t walk away no matter how staunch his belief that it was the right thing to do.
As long as he didn’t relinquish control, he assured himself. As long as he didn’t let his emotions get involved, he would be able to walk away when the time was right. And John knew as surely as he’d ever known anything in his life that the time to walk away always came sooner or later.
Holding that thought, he sped toward Angela Pearl’s.