The Husband She'd Never Met

Was she ready for reality?

Did she really want to wake up and find herself reliving every minute detail of her life as an Outback wife?

She slid another glance Max’s way. She had to admit she couldn’t fault her husband’s looks. Yes, he had a distinctly outdoorsy aura, but she was rather partial to well-developed muscles and piercing blue eyes.

She wished she could remember meeting him at Cleo’s wedding. For that matter she wished she could remember their own wedding. She looked again at her left hand and the faint mark on the ring finger and contemplated asking him about her wedding ring and why she wasn’t wearing it, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear his answer.

Of course the reason might be simple—she’d taken the ring off as a practical safety precaution—but the answer also might be complex and awkward, and right now Carrie was quite sure she had as many complications as she could handle. So, although her curiosity about Max was off the scale, she decided it was wisest to choose her questions carefully. Best to stick to the past. The straightforward simplicity of their first meeting.

‘Were you wearing a tux?’ she asked. ‘On the night we met?’

Max looked surprised, and then mildly amused. ‘I suppose I was.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Yes, of course I was. It was an evening wedding. Quite formal.’

‘And what was I wearing?’ She wondered if it was a dress she could remember. ‘What colour?’

He shot her a twinkling sideways glance. ‘The female mind never ceases to amaze me.’

‘Why?’

‘All the questions you could ask and you want to know what colour you were wearing more than three years ago.’

She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling almost playful. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Tell me, then.’

‘It was a slinky almost backless number in a fetching coppery shade. And you had matching streaks of copper in your hair.’

Carrie smiled. She couldn’t remember the dress, but it sounded like the sort of thing she might have chosen, and she’d loved having her hair streaked to match an outfit.

Suddenly emboldened, she asked, ‘Did we sleep together on that first night?’

To her surprise, she saw the muscles jerk in Max’s neck as he swallowed, and then he took his time answering. ‘What do you think?’ he asked finally.

Carrie blushed, caught out by her own cheeky question. As far as she could remember she wasn’t in the habit of jumping into bed with men on a first date. Then again, she couldn’t remember ever dating anyone quite as disturbingly sexy as Max.

‘Well,’ she said carefully. ‘We did end up getting married, so I guess there might have been sparks.’

Max didn’t shift his gaze from the road in front of them, but his hands tightened around the steering wheel and a dark stain rose like a tide up his neck. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘There were sparks.’

Something in his voice, half rumble, half threat, sent Carrie’s imagination running wild. Without warning she was picturing Max in his tux, shedding his jacket and wrenching off his bow tie, then peeling away her slinky copper dress. She saw him bending to touch his lips to her bared shoulder, to cup her breasts in his strong hands and—

Oh, for heaven’s sake. She knew very well that this wasn’t a memory. It was pure fantasy. But it was a fantasy complete with sparks that lit flashpoints, burning all over her skin, and firing way deep inside.

Silenced and stunned by her body’s reaction, she slunk back in her seat, crossed her legs demurely once more and folded her arms. It was time to stop asking questions. Any kind of conversation with this man was dangerous.

* * *

At last the tests were over and Carrie had seen the Townsville specialist. As far as her head injury was concerned there were no serious complications and she had been told that her memory should return, although the doctor couldn’t tell her exactly when this would happen. For the time being Carrie was to follow the normal precautions.

She shouldn’t be left alone for the next twenty-four hours and she should have plenty of rest and avoid stressful situations. She should not drink alcohol or take non-prescription drugs, and there was to be no more horse riding for at least three weeks, when she was to return for another appointment.

‘I’m sure your memory will be restored by then,’ the doctor told her confidently as they left.

It was good news, or as good as she could expect, and Carrie knew she should be grateful. To a certain extent she was grateful. She could expect a full recovery, and she had a husband who seemed willing to help her in every way possible.

But the problem of her lost memory felt huge, like an invisible force field between her and Max. He was a constant physical and highly visible masculine presence at her side, and yet she didn’t know him. He knew everything about her, but she didn’t know him. At all.

Apparently the memories were there, locked inside her brain, but she couldn’t reach them. It was like living with a blindfold that she couldn’t remove.

She was ignorant of basic things—Max’s favourite food and his most loved movies. She didn’t know what footie team he followed, or whether he shaved with an electric razor. And she knew nothing about his character. His heart. Was he a good man? Was he even-tempered or prone to anger? Was he kind to old ladies and kittens? Did he love being a cattleman?

Did he love her?

And the biggest question that dominated her thoughts right at this moment—where did he plan to sleep tonight?

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_f188a2a3-3dea-500f-8164-e906f86330b9)

‘I’VE BOOKED AN APARTMENT,’ Max said as their vehicle crested a hill and a vista of sparkling blue sea and a distant green island suddenly lay before them. ‘I made the booking for a few days, in case you need time to adjust before we head back to Riverslea Downs.’

‘Thanks,’ said Carrie. ‘That’s thoughtful.’ Already, as they’d travelled from the hospital through the city, she’d noticed large shopping centres, several restaurants and cafés, and a movie theatre or two.

‘If you can’t be in Sydney, a big city like Townsville is at least better than a remote Outback cattle station,’ her mother said when she rang to find out how Carrie was.

‘Yes, I guess so.’ Carrie was actually more interested in finding out what it was that her mother had been going to tell her during their previous phone conversation.

‘I can’t remember,’ her mother said now, quite bluntly. And then, in more soothing tones, ‘Honestly, darling, I’ve forgotten. It can’t have been important.’

Carrie was certain she was lying, but it seemed pointless to push the matter.

Now, having rung off, she asked Max, ‘If we stay here for a few days who will look after your cattle?’

This brought a smile. ‘The cattle can look after themselves for the time being. We’ve had a good wet season, so the dams are full and there’s plenty of pasture. But anyway Barney’s there.’

Carrie frowned. ‘Who’s Barney?’

Max looked momentarily surprised, as if he considered this person entirely unforgettable, but then he said quickly, ‘He’s an old retired ringer. He lives on the property. He worked there for nearly sixty years. Worked for my father before me. And when it was time to retire he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the Outback, so he has his own little cottage and does odd jobs around the place.’

‘A kind of caretaker?’

Max grinned. ‘Better than a guard dog.’

So it seemed Max was kind to old family employees. Carrie approved, and wondered if she should make a list of things she was learning about her husband.

She soon discovered he’d chosen an impressive apartment. It was on the fourth floor of a building built right beside the sea, very modern and gleaming, with white walls and white floor tiles and a neat kitchen with pretty, pale granite bench tops. The living area was furnished with attractive cane furniture with deep blue cushions. A wall of white shutters opened on to a balcony with a view over palm trees to the dazzling tropical sea.

‘How lovely,’ she said. ‘I’m sure this must be the perfect spot for my recovery.’