Midnight Bride

“It’s not a joke. Your hair is natural.”

He wanted to tell her that it was soft, too. Like spun silk. His hands ached to lose themselves in those golden strands. When he saw tears glisten in her eyes, he cursed his lust and let his hands fall to his sides.

“I looked in the mirror in the bathroom,” she whispered raggedly. “A stranger stared back at me. Have you any idea what that’s like?”

More than you could possibly know, he thought.

“Caleb.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I want you to take me into town, to the sheriff.”

He wanted to agree with her. For her sake, as well as his. There had to be someone looking for her-family or friends. And he sure as hell didn’t need an angry husband breaking his door down. Whatever trouble she’d gotten into was her problem, not his. It made no sense for her to stay here. No sense at all.

But he couldn’t let go of the desperation in her voice and the fear in her eyes when he’d found her. If it had been an act, it had been a damn good one. But if it wasn’t, then someone had tried to kill her, and that someone might try again.

“All right.” He stood and looked down at her. “Let’s say I take you in. Then what?”

Her brow furrowed. “I—I don’t understand.”

“As of one hour ago there was no missing person’s report or any car found. My closest neighbors, a German family named Schulz, are two miles from here, and I happen to know they’re away for the month. A rental cabin, owned by the Hamiltons, is another half mile from there, but it’s closed up right now.”

“I didn’t fall out of the sky,” she said with frustration. Although her body felt as if she had.

“Probably not, which means you had to come from the road off the main highway, and that’s way too far from the creek for you to have walked in the storm. Since there’s no car, that means someone brought you.”

Her eyes popped open. “And left me?”

“Appears that way.”

“But why would—” She stopped suddenly as a thought came to her. Eyes wide, she stared at Caleb, her fingers nervously working at the top button of her shirt. “Do you think…is it possible that someone wanted to—”

She couldn’t finish. It suddenly hurt to breathe. She looked away, struggling to hold on to her composure, but with a will of its own, her body started to shake.

“No.” He took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “There was no indication of someone hurting you like that.”

“How would you know?” she whispered hoarsely.

“When I brought you in last night, you were covered with mud.”

Confused, she looked at him. “And?”

“And I had to clean you up. Your clothes weren’t torn that way.”

“Oh…I see.” She was beginning to see. Too clearly. Up to now, she’d been too confused, too disoriented to have given a great deal of thought to her current condition and clothing. “So last night…you had to, that is you—”

“Had to be done, Sarah. You were soaking wet, covered with an inch of mud, and bleeding. I had to get you out of your clothes and in the shower, not only to get you clean and see how badly you were hurt, but to warm you up. You’ll have to trust me that I was a perfect gentleman.”

Trust him? Yes, she did have to trust him. What choice did she have? Still, the thought of him, a stranger, taking off her clothes, seeing her naked like that—

Suddenly the image—no, more like the sensation-of a man’s wet, bare skin against her own came to her again, just as it had last night when she’d awakened the first time. Only this time she understood where it came from. Her face blossomed bright red. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him. “Did you, were you also—”

“‘Fraid so. It was the quickest and easiest way. I was almost as wet and muddy as you, and I’ve never taken a shower with my clothes on yet.”

She looked quickly away as humiliation burned clear down to her toes. “Oh, my.”

Cupping her chin with his fingertips, he lifted her face to his and smiled. “If you have a husband, I’m a dead man,” he teased.

A husband? Did she have one? And if she did, would she be so incredibly aware of Caleb right now? The musky scent of his skin, the heat of his body, the touch of his hand on her chin? She stared at his lips and felt a strange tingling through her body. “I owe you my life,” she said quietly.

He moved closer, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “And Wolf.”

She smiled at that.

His hand dropped away. “We’ll give it a couple of days. You’ll either remember who you are, or someone will be looking for you.”

“What if there’s no one?” Her smiled faded. “What if no one claims me?”

Her worry cut straight to his heart. He understood, more than she could ever know. He saw himself twenty-five years ago, nine years old. Alone. Separated from Carrie, waiting for foster parents that never showed up. “Everyone has someone.”

Her gaze leveled with his. “Do you?”

His jaw clenched. “No.”

Utter despair darkened her soft blue eyes, and he kicked himself for not lying.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Helping someone you don’t know?”

Good question. He could tell her it was because she might be a government agent who had amnesia and it wouldn’t be a good idea to turn her in to the police. Or he could tell her it was because he’d help out anyone in trouble. But, of course, that was a lie.

He looked at her, watched her anxiously searching his face and decided there was really only one answer. Strangely enough, it was an honest one.

“I don’t know.”

She nodded, seemingly accepting that answer. “What about your work, or whatever it is you do here? Won’t I be in the way?”

“I’m in insurance,” he said carefully. “Life insurance. I broke my shoulder, and I’m on medical leave right now.” Mostly true, he thought. His business was a form of insurance, and he had broken his shoulder.

She sighed heavily, then ran her hands through her hair as she stared at the fire.

“Hey, Hunter,” she said after a long moment.

“Yeah?”

“Since you saved me, do you think you could feed me, too? I’m starving.”

Three (#ulink_99274a3f-8f01-5f0f-a0b0-acc3db9035c5)

Sarah sat at the small kitchen table, her gaze focused on the plate of spaghetti in front of her. She pushed the pasta around her dish, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof. She’d been starving a half hour ago, before she’d washed up and made herself presentable, but her appetite had waned the minute she’d sat across from Caleb, and the full realization of her isolation with the man hit her.

Alone.