Forget Me Not (13 page)

"If you're talking about Veronica, I didn't sleep with her. I swear to God."

"Then how come you used to stay late at the Spec Ops Building when she was the only one there?"

"How the hell am I supposed to remember?" God, his eye hurt. "Jesus, Helen, she's engaged to Luther, now, if that diamond on her left hand means anything. Can we just leave it in the past?"

They paused at the gates of Oceana Naval Air Base, their conversation on hold as Helen flashed her military ID. "Look, I'm sorry you can't remember," she said as she drove them toward the hospital complex. "But even if I could forget, it doesn't change anything for me. I like my life the way it is. I don't want to go backward with the hope that it'll be different this time."

He recognized that it had taken a lot of courage for her to say those words, which was probably why she'd said them so quickly. At the same time, frustration pounded inside him, beating in time to the tattoo behind his right eye.

Why was she being so stubborn about her independence? It wasn't going to kill her to give him a second chance, damn it. He stared at her hard, wondering how to break through the barrier she'd erected.

It was the firm line of her lower lip that gave him an answer. He thought of their wedding photograph in which they'd been kissing, and he had a sudden, overpowering urge to soften that lower lip, to part it from the upper one and plunder the sweet cavity between. She was afraid to touch him, he realized with a flash of insight—not because she thought he would hurt her, but because she just might give in to him.

It was his last resort.

Helen had just pulled the Jaguar into a parking space in front of the psychiatric offices. She took off her glasses and slid them into the compartment on her visor. He didn't give her the chance to take the key from the ignition. Twisting in the seat, he reached for her, fitting his hand against the side of her face.

Her eyes flared with alarm.

"I'm going to kiss you," he warned her "Maybe I'm not the one who needs to remember. Maybe you are." With that, he leaned swiftly forward, at the same time pulling her mouth to his and kissing her hard.

She gave a cry of surprise or denial, he didn't know which. He was too enthralled with the soft texture of her rose-petal lips to let up now. Her scent, wildflowers and woman, filled his head, and he felt himself sinking into her. Jesus, she tasted even better than she looked! His tongue delved deeper. His hands burrowed into the silky mass of her hair, slid over her satiny skin. Holy hell, she even
felt
better than she looked.

Helen tried to steel herself.
Don't feel the rush!
But the kiss stormed her senses, cascading over her like a powerful waterfall, soaking her instantly, dragging her into its current.

It had been way, way too long since Gabe had worked his magic on her. She craved has taste, his texture, his single-minded intent. The desire she'd tried so hard to resist exploded inside her. She threw an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, breasts aching for his touch, even as her conscience demanded that she let him go.

Without severing the kiss, Gabe somehow found the lever that adjusted her seat. She sank smoothly backward. To her private gratification, he threw a leg onto her side of the car, coming up and over her, fitting his wonderfully hard body against her softer one, a denim-clad thigh between her legs.

"You taste so good," he muttered, devouring her mouth.

She gave a helpless moan, struggling to keep her eyes open. She felt the palm of his hand skim her torso, searing through the fabric of her shirt. As it inched higher, she arched with need, heart thumping in expectation of his palm on her breast.

This is crazy,
she thought.
We can't have sex in the front of the Jaguar in broad daylight.
But then his hand settled on her breast, and the heat of his palm burned that thought away. He stroked his thumb over the taut peak, and grenades of pleasure exploded all around her. She quivered, wanting more. A year of celibacy had done nothing for her restraint.

The sudden blare of a car alarm jarred their passionate haze. Gabe lifted his head, his eyes clearing as he realized where they were. With a look of regret, he withdrew to his own seat.

Helen fought to get a handle on her disappointment.
That was a low move,
she thought, straightening her rumpled shirt.

"Gotta go," he said, glancing at the car's digital clock. Without another word, he pushed open his door, and he was gone.

She sat there, reeling from his touch.
Bastard,
she thought, replaying the kiss instant by instant. In less than ten seconds, the man had made her mindless with desire. She'd known he was dangerous to her equilibrium, but she'd had no idea just how dangerous.

A year of sexual deprivation wasn't helping any, either. Her nerve endings screamed for a continuation of that kiss. God help her, she knew what he could give her, and she wanted it. This wasn't good. If Gabe got his claws into her that way, it would be twice as hard to walk away from their marriage.

She needed help. Groping in her purse for her cell phone, she dialed her best friend's number with fingers that trembled. Leila would talk sense into her again, remind her of all the reasons she didn't need Gabe in her life.

Fortunately for Helen, Leila, who owned a ballet studio, was between dance classes and could take her call.

"He kissed me," Helen said in lieu of a greeting.

Leila heard everything Helen meant to convey in that single sentence. "He just kissed you, nothing else?" she asked.

"We were in the car in front of his doctor's office, but if we'd been anywhere else, it wouldn't have stopped at a kiss. He's still got the touch," she added, her voice tinged with longing.

Leila sighed, clearly understanding what that meant, though as far as Helen knew she hadn't been intimate with a man since her husband walked out years ago. "Well, obviously, the solution is never to find yourself in a place where he could take it to the next level. The car is safe."

"He's got me thinking seriously about the next level," Helen admitted.

"Don't do it," Leila cautioned. "The minute you sleep with him, you're going to want to recommit. You know I'm right."

"You're right. But he said the sweetest things about Mallory on the way here."

"You're at the doctor's now?"

"Yes. He said Mal was neat and smart, and she could be anything she wanted to be."

"Maybe he's using her to get to you. You know he's sharp, Helen. If he wants to stay married—"

"He asked me to give him a second chance."

"Well, there you go. He's figured out your two weaknesses, Mallory and your attraction to him, and he's exploiting both to get what he wants. You need to remember what it is that you want. It's always been about him; now it's about you."

By me time Helen severed the call, a half hour had elapsed and the air conditioner was blowing warm air. With her shirt sticking to her back, she got out of the car and entered title doctor's office, feeling considerably more in control with Leila's pep talk fresh in her head.

She hadn't been two minutes in the waiting room before Gabe wandered in with Dr. Terrien in his wake.

"He wants to talk to you," Gabe said, taking a seat opposite hers. He stretched out his long legs and folded his arms across his chest.

Helen hid her dismay behind a polite smile. The doctor greeted her warmly and gestured for her to precede him down the hall. She glanced back once at Gabe and found him watching her. The vulnerable look in his eyes tugged at her.

"Gabriel tells me," Dr. Terrien said, after they'd taken their seats, "that he's starting to remember pieces of his past. He remembers part of his captivity." The doctor paused. "And he remembers making love to you."

Helen flushed. It was all she could do to appear disinterested.

"He recalls how hard he worked to keep his emotions under control. His fear was that caring for someone might affect his actions as a SEAL, might make him less effective."

"Why are you telling me this?" Helen asked, cutting him off. She didn't want to hear Gabe's reasons. They only undermined her determination.

"I'm wondering if you've noticed changes in your husband," the doctor admitted somberly, "and if so, how has he changed?"

Helen took a deep breath. She'd just been through all this with Leila, who'd pointed out that the changes for the better were probably temporary. "Well, you know, he doesn't have any job to distract him. He's more attentive, more interested in Mallory. I guess he just has so much time on his hands, now." She shrugged, not quite satisfied with her conclusions.

"He mentions your daughter quite a bit," Dr. Terrien agreed with a smile.

Helen mentally rolled her eyes. She didn't want to believe what Leila was telling her—that Gabe was just using Mallory to get to her.

"What about you? Does he treat you differently?"

Locking her hands together, Helen considered how to answer. "He's more like he was when we first met," she admitted, "but not really. There's something different about him, something more reflective, calmer, if you know what I mean."

The doctor nodded encouragingly.

"He seems... sad, I think. I catch him just staring into space and I wonder if he's remembering something. He also holds my gaze more than he used to. I know that sounds weird." She looked down at her interlaced fingers, feeling awkward.

"Is he asking something of you?" the doctor inquired.

"Like what?" The first thing that came to mind was sex, but that was her own subconscious talking.

"I don't know. What do you think?"

She pictured Gabe's eyes, his gold-green eyes, looking vaguely sad, pleading for something. "My support?" she guessed.

He nodded once, profoundly. "He used that exact word in here just a little while ago. He said he needed your support."

Helen felt as if a vise had closed around her chest and was starting to squeeze. "I can't," she said faintly.
Besides, Leila would kill me.

"He said you didn't look through the albums with him. That Mallory was sent to do the job."

Helen swallowed down her guilt.

"What are you afraid of?" Dr. Terrien gently asked. "Do you think he'll hurt you, as he did last night?" He nodded at the bruise on her neck.

Helen shook her head. The vise around her chest squeezed harder. "No," she said. "That was a case of mistaken identity. I know he didn't mean to. It's ... it's something else."

"Yes?" he prompted.

It was time to be frank with Dr. Terrien. The man was astute enough to guess the truth eventually. "Our relationship is temporary," she said baldly. "We're going to separate when Gabe gets his memory back."

"Ah," said the doctor, looking pained

Helen didn't know what else to say. She suffered a strong urge to defend her decision and sat there convincing herself she didn't owe him any explanation. This was her life, after all.

The doctor placed his palms together as if meditating. "Well, then, your support may also speed you in that direction. The sooner Gabriel heals, the sooner you can release him."

Those words struck a melancholy chord within her. Yet they also made sense. There was some risk in getting involved, yes, but if the ultimate goal could be attained more quickly that way, perhaps she ought to do it. Besides, Gabe really needed her help right now; she'd never seen him looking lost, as he had lately. ''What do I do?" she asked, accepting her fate.

"Spend time with him. Go through the albums together. Take walks. Go places you've gone before. Concentrate on the way things smell. The olfactory senses are often the door through which the memory reenters."

Helen drew her lower lip through her teeth. All that meant spending time with Gabe, leaving herself vulnerable to his virility, his new, appealing ways.

"I can see that you've made your decision, Mrs. Renault—Helen," he amended kindly. "But you may find that Gabe is a different man than he was before. Life-threatening experiences tend to change people. If you find he hasn't changed, then you can at least walk away with a clearer conscience for having helped him."

Helen felt as if a weight were slowly lifting from her shoulders. That was it. She'd been battling her guilt for days. The doctor's words made the reason clear. She hadn't given Gabe the chance that he deserved.

"You're right," she said, thinking Leila was going to have a cow.

Dr. Terrien gave her a considering look. "Has Gabriel ever talked with you about his childhood?" he asked her out of the blue.

Helen cocked her head to one side. "He's told me about his parents, who are dead, but not much. I've always sensed a reluctance to talk about the past, so I don't go there."

Dr. Terrien was. quiet for a moment. "What do you suppose a man thinks about during a year of torture and isolation?"

It was a provocative question, though definitely a rhetorical one. Helen stared back at him, her mind churning.

"Why don't you ask your husband about his past?" he recommended.

She gave him a quizzical look. "He's not exactly open about it."

"Give it a try," the doctor encouraged. "He's been quite candid with me. Perhaps if you discuss the past with Gabe you'll understand why he committed himself to the SEALs the way he did. Why he ignored you."

Startled by the doctor's accurate assessment of their problems, Helen nodded. "Okay," she agreed, though she couldn't imagine Gabe opening up to her that way.

"He's pretty hard on himself," the psychiatrist added. "It would help if you could forgive him for what happened last night." His gaze slid once more to her bruised neck.

She touched the sore spot self-consciously.

"He might have killed you," Dr. Terrien admitted, lifting his bushy eyebrows. "But he didn't. Something in his subconscious mind recognized you, Helen. I believe you're safe with him. Still, make sure he's awake next time you surprise him," he added with a twinkle in his eye. "The dreams will come more often now. If you feel the need to wake him, call his name and identify yourself. Let him know he's dreaming. Soothe him in whatever way works."