Dangerous Lover (16 page)

She loved him. She absolutely loved him. And there wasn't a single doubt in her mind that he would love her, too, because it was so perfectly clear to her that this was meant to be.

She lay still, enjoying his warmth, his body, his closeness, until he was sleeping soundly, and then she slid carefully out of the bed, too restless to lie still. There was so much to think about. The way she'd found him, in the midst of death and disaster and danger. The way she might not have found him at all, otherwise. Not that she believed her own happiness was so important that Tessa's life had been sacrificed just so she could find it. That wasn't the way things worked. But it was a gift. Maybe the universe had chosen now to send him to her, because he was the only light in the midst of so much darkness. Maybe she couldn't have withstood the loss and the fear without him.

They had to get through this. The current situation, the current disaster, and that was no understatement. They had to find out who was after him and why. They had to put this matter to rest, end it, find Tessa's killer and put him away. Cory had to find the truth about his past, heal his broken mind and regain the still-missing parts of his memory. She couldn't expect him to rush headlong into a future with her until he found his missing past.

That thought brought another, as she paced across the room and tugged on a T-shirt. His brother likely held the keys that could unlock Cory's mind. And while Casey couldn't be of much help to anyone right now, Selene thought maybe there was one way he could.

The planning calendar they'd found on his poor, wounded body in the woods. Surely it would tell them
something.
An address, a last name, a telephone number…something.

She went to the backpack where they'd stashed the thing, dug it out, and moved to the farthest corner of the room, where she sat on the floor and turned on a small lamp. Then she flipped open the pages, and began reading them.

And then she stopped, and everything she thought she knew evaporated like so much mist in the summer sun.

Her breath caught in her throat, but a sob squeaked out before she clapped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes shot to the bed, to the man in it, who was even now, rolling over, blinking awake and frowning at her.

She couldn't digest what she'd read on that page. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be. And yet it was there, in black ink on a white page. Words that were like knives in her soul.

Cory came out of the bed, beautifully naked, and walked to where she sat. “Selene? What's wrong?”

She sniffled, brushed an angry hand across her eyes. “Apparently, I am. Or I was.”

“About what?”

“About…us. Oh, God, Cory, about everything.” She held up the planner in trembling hands, still open to the page with the entry.

He took it from her, frowning as he read what was written there, and then he shot her a look of surprise and worry.

“Does it jar any memories for you?”

He closed his eyes, set the calendar on the small round table, turned and paced away from her, snatching his shorts off the floor and pulling them on as he went. “Actually, a few things did come back to me last night. While I slept, I guess.”

She tried hard to keep the tears from streaming down her face. “I don't understand. I was so sure.”

“Sure of what, Selene?” he asked, and he turned to face her again.

She felt the way his gaze moved over her face, taking it all in, her heartbreak, her tears. He couldn't seem to look her in the eye. “Of you,” she said. “Of us. That we were…meant to be.”

He lowered his head. Seemed he couldn't look at her tears, either.

“What did you remember, Cory?”

Sighing, he walked to the edge of the bed where they had so recently made such exquisite magic together, and sank down. “We were following a truck, Casey and I. I remember us taking our wallets and stuffing them under the seats, in case we were caught. Clearly our wallets were taken by the men who attacked us, or the police would know who I am by now.”

“True…But you said
caught.
Caught doing what?”

He glanced up at her. “Damned if I know. The truck stopped at a diner. We stopped, too, went inside. Ordered coffee. Then the guys from the truck left again, and we took the coffees to go, and followed them again.”

“It was a car that stopped behind you on that dirt road, Cory. Not a truck.”

“Yeah. A red sports car. The truck led us up there, and then—I don't know—things got fuzzy. I couldn't keep up with the truck. I couldn't seem to steer right. I wound up veering off the road, dizzy and sicker than hell.”

She rose to her feet, came across the room closer to him. “Was Casey sick, too?”

“Yeah. He was slurring his speech, nodding off.”

“The coffee?” she asked.

“I think so. Someone slipped us something. As soon as we came to a stop, that red car skidded to a stop right behind us. Men got out. They had guns. We got out and ran, and after that….” He shook his head in frustration.

She came to him, put her hands on his shoulders. “Cory, that's a lot. It's coming back to you, bit by bit. And that was a really big chunk of memory, important memory. You'll have it all soon.”

He nodded. “I wish I knew if he were all right.”

“We can call the hospital, check on him.”

“That would be good.” He lifted his head, and she stared down at him, lost for a moment in his eyes. She started to tip forward, to move in for a kiss, but stopped as the memory of that entry, and what it might mean, came to life once more, demanding attention.

“What about that entry in your brother's planning calender?” she asked, her words a bare whisper. He didn't answer, so she rushed on. “I can't believe it means what it seems to mean. It can't be right. My heart wouldn't steer me this far off base.”

He licked his lips, averted his eyes.

“Cory?” Her heart started to ice over, as if a freezing wind had blown across its surface. “Does that name—Kelly—does it mean anything to you?”

He licked his lips. “I'm not sure. But I think…I think she might be my wife.”

She gasped and flinched away from him, feeling for all the world as if he'd just slipped a tiny, razor-sharp blade between her ribs and right into her heart.

“I'm sorry, Selene. But maybe we'd better cool it for a while. Until I get my head straight, at least.”

She tried to read his face, but her eyes were too wet with tears to let her see him clearly. But even without seeing his eyes, she knew, she sensed that he wasn't nearly as devastated by this revelation as she was. How many times had her sister Mel warned her?
Never let yourself be more into a guy than he is into you. It only leads to hurt. Let him do the chasing, let him pursue you, make him woo you and win you, and don't give your heart too soon. Don't give it at all, not until you're sure of him.

Well, she'd ignored every bit of that advice, hadn't she? Made an idiot of herself over this man, this stranger, all based on a gut feeling. An intuition.

But I was so sure!

Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe she'd been wrong the entire time.

She forced her hands to return to her sides, told herself it wasn't appropriate to be touching him, not if he were married.

But she'd slept with him.

“We didn't know,” she said, maybe to herself. “Neither of us knew.” She focused on him, saw guilt in his eyes. “I give you my word, no one outside this room will ever hear about it from me.”

“I appreciate that. Especially knowing how seriously you take promises you've made, and secrets you've vowed to keep.”

“Are you…are you okay?” she asked.

He lowered his eyes. Of course he felt guilty, he'd cheated on his wife last night. “I wish I could undo it,” she said. “This is totally my fault, Cory, I was so sure…. I'm—I'm sorry.”

“It's all right.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, it's not. It's really not.”

 

He guessed he'd learned something about himself in the wee hours of the morning. He'd learned that he had a conscience. He must have, because it was beating the hell out him. He'd also learned that he was a total asshole.

The name Kelly didn't mean a thing to him. It didn't spur a single memory, or a single emotion. Nothing. It was just lines of ink scrawled on a calendar. Nothing more. Sure, the notation suggested he might be married. But to be honest, he didn't think so. He hadn't been wearing a ring. There was no telltale mark on his finger, as if he'd been wearing one prior to the attack. There was one on his right hand, a nice, wide one, that matched the size and shape of that class ring.

And yet, he'd led her to believe otherwise. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. She was getting way too serious about him. All her talk about fate and predestination—for the love of God—after all of three days acquaintance. What the hell was he
supposed
to do? It wasn't like he could ditch her—not when her life might be in danger because of him.

He shouldn't have had sex with her. He knew damn well that had been a mistake, had known it even as it happened. After that—hell, she was more infatuated than ever. He had to cool her off, had to do something to slow her down, get her to let go of this certainty that they were somehow meant to be. It was insane anyway. And wasn't it just as cruel to let her go on believing that nonsense as it was to shoot her crazy dreams down?

He sat across from her at a booth in a small diner later that morning. They'd stopped for breakfast on the way to Texas. There was a deep hurt in her eyes. Deeper than he thought it should be.

They ordered breakfast, and then he went to the pay phone in the back to call the hospital and check on Casey. By the time he got back to the table, the food had arrived. He had pancakes and sausage. She had a Belgian waffle. He had coffee, she had herbal tea. They couldn't be more opposite if they tried.

“How's your brother?” she asked as he sat down.

He glanced at her. “You tell me.”

She lifted her brows, and he shrugged. “Use your ESP or whatever you call it.”

“Yeah. Right. Don't rub it in, okay?”

He frowned and then got it. “I wasn't. I was serious, you've been right on the money so far.”

She shook her head.

“You knew when those guys were coming to the cabin. You found Casey in the woods. You—”

She held up a hand. “Don't. Don't try to humor me, Cory, you don't believe in it, you never did, and maybe you were right all along. Frankly, right now, I don't believe in it either.”

“Oh, come on Selene, don't say that.”

“Why not? It's true. I was wrong Cory, about the most important thing ever. How can I trust in my own feelings, my intuitions, my powers—in anything ever again?”

“Selene—” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

“I've been stupid and more than that, I've been selfish. Indulging in romantic fantasies when one of my best friends is dead and the rest are in danger.”

“You've been knocking yourself out to protect them, to find the truth,” he argued. “You're doing all you can.”

“Just tell me how your brother is doing.”

Hell. Maybe he'd done more than just break her heart this morning. And he was damned if he knew what to do about it.

“They wouldn't tell me anything. Denied any gunshot-wound victim had even been brought in.”

She nodded slowly. “The police are keeping it quiet. The killer left him for dead, they probably figure it's best to let him go on believing that.”

“Was that a psychic thing or—”

“Educated guess.” She nodded at his plate. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

For some reason he didn't have much of an appetite.

She pushed away from the table. “Be right back.” Then she walked back to the pay phone, and made a call of her own. She returned two minutes later. “He's stable, but still unconscious. They've got him under guard, but discreetly, and the hospital staff are under orders not to tell anyone anything about him. They were all over your phone call until I told Jimmy it was just us. He said he'd call them off, but I imagine they'll know exactly where we called from by the time we tip the waitress.”

“Then we should hurry.”

She nodded. “No reason to panic. There's no way for them to know where we're going. I imagine they'll assume I'm heading for Mexico.”

“Why would they assume that?”

“I disappeared the night my best friend was murdered. In some peoples' minds, that makes me the most likely suspect, even though Jimmy says the chief is pretty much convinced I'm innocent.”