Hers To Remember

Sam’s fear took form. How would they know who the wrong person was? Of course, it was probably her ex. If so, what had he done to make her turn over her half of their company and run all the way to California?

His mind jumped to the obvious: abuse. “Come on.” He grabbed Casey’s arm and dragged him out of the room.

“Where are we going?”

“To talk to Amy.”

Casey pulled away. “And ask her what?”

So many questions filled Sam’s mind, he couldn’t begin to list them. Instead, he focused on his brother’s doubt-filled expression. “Are you saying we shouldn’t ask her what made her come out here three years ago?” It had to be the ex. He must have hurt her, threatened her. Something had driven her away. How could Sam protect her if he didn’t know what that was?

“I’m saying you can’t go charging in there and demand answers.”

Sam gave a short laugh. “That’s pretty good coming from the original bull in a china shop.”

Casey smiled wryly. “You spent a lot of time trying to teach me patience. Maybe the lessons finally got through my thick head.”

Sam paced up the hall a few feet, then back. “It’s easy for you to be patient. She’s not your wife.”

“She’s not yours, either.”

His brother’s tone was so mild, Sam almost missed the import of what he’d said. Fire filled him. He grabbed Casey’s shoulders and held him against the wall. “Don’t ever say that again.”

Casey didn’t fight him off. “Use your head, Sam. You’re not dealing with Amy anymore. You said yourself she doesn’t remember you. It’s Adrienne Winston you’re going to be questioning. Not the woman you’ve been married to the past two years.”

Sam slowly released his brother. Frustration and anger had driven him, but he had no desire to hurt a man who spoke only the truth. “I’m sorry.”

Casey straightened his jacket. “Forget it.”

“So what do we do now?” He really had no idea. He’d lived with Amy for the last three years. Even before they’d fallen in love, she’d stayed in the home he and Casey had shared. To him, she was one person. Sweet, loving, talented, hardworking, intelligent Amy. To think of her as another person, one who didn’t know him, who didn’t love him, seemed impossible.

“I think we should do nothing,” Casey said.

It was the last answer he’d expected. “Nothing?” No questions? No answers? “How can I keep her safe if I don’t know what I’m up against?”

“She is safe.” Before Sam could protest, Casey rushed on. “I’m beginning to think you’re the one with amnesia. This isn’t three years ago, Sam. She didn’t just fall into the street in front of your truck. She tripped vacuuming, for God’s sake!”

Casey’s voice had risen so loud, a passing nurse shushed him.

Sam laughed. “So much for patience.”

Casey’s eyebrows lowered. “You’re a jackass.”

Amy would have said “headstrong and stubborn,” Sam thought. And as usual she would have been right. He had to get a grip. He was in love with, and expecting a child with, a woman who no longer knew him from Adam. That was enough of a problem to solve, without having to worry about what happened in the past.

“All right, you win.”

Casey looked at him in surprise. “I do? What do I win?”

Sam shook his head at his brother’s clowning. Casey never could hold a grudge. “My patience.”

“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “Well, that was more for you than for me.”

“Amy’s here. She’s safe.” For now, he couldn’t help thinking. “She and the baby are my top priorities.” He started to move down the hall, then turned back. “But that patience won’t last forever. Tell that P.I. friend of yours to get to work. I want to know every move Vaughn Winston makes.”

“Sam…”

Sam saw the uneasy look on his brother’s face. “He hurt her, Casey. I don’t know when or why or how. But he hurt her. If he comes anywhere near her again, I’ll make him pay.”

Casey covered the space between them in three strides, grabbed his arm. “Sam, you have to let me handle this. You’re not trained…”

Sam shook him off. “She’s mine, Casey. Divorced or not. Married or not. She’s mine. And I am going to make sure no one hurts her again.”

Chapter Four

In her hospital room the next morning, Adrienne put on the clothes Sam had brought for her. If she hadn’t already been ambivalent about going home with him, the clothes would certainly have given her some doubts. The ankle-length gauze skirt of watercolor pastels and the long pink cotton sweater definitely belonged to Amy.

She looked in the mirror and studied the woman she’d become. Her hair, which she normally kept chin length, fell below her shoulders. The curl she’d tried to tame had obviously been allowed to take its natural course. Without the mousse she usually applied, the golden-blond color appeared lighter and shinier somehow.

Since Sam hadn’t brought any, Adrienne assumed she no longer wore makeup either. She didn’t really need it. Her lashes were dark enough. She could have used some blusher, since her face was still pale. Lipstick would have been nice. But overall, still okay.

The parts were different, but taken as a whole she looked soft and womanly. It didn’t exactly displease her, but it wasn’t at all the effect she usually tried for.

Her colleagues would have interpreted soft and womanly as weak and less than bright. She would never have worn anything so obviously feminine. The clothes she’d chosen had been boldly colored and of modern design. Suits that emphasized her strength and creativity. Dresses that showed her to be innovative and intelligent. They were more than power suits. They were armor.

This…froth…would protect her from nothing.

Of course, the argument could be made that she didn’t need to be protected. Not from business associates. Not from rival firms. And not from Vaughn.

She had a new life now as Amy Delaney. She was wife of Sam Delaney, soon-to-be-mother of this child she carried, and…what else?

Who was Amy Delaney? Had her loss of memory really changed her as much as her choice of clothing indicated?

In the end, it was that question that decided her. She would go home with Sam. She would learn about Amy Delaney. But she would do it as Adrienne. She didn’t want to hurt him, but Sam would just have to understand that she wasn’t the woman he’d been living with the past three years. She had to go with what was familiar to her.

Adrienne, the survivor.

SAM PACED the hallway outside Amy’s room. He refused to set foot in that waiting room again. This had been the worst two days of his life.

But I’ll get through it, he thought, taking a deep breath to ease the panic that kept threatening to overtake his usually rational mind. Once he had her home and safe, Amy would remember what they’d had together and everything would get back to normal.

“Sam?”

Sam turned. “Amy. You look beautiful.”

“Adrienne.”

“Excuse me?” She looked so familiar, the lack of a responding smile confused him.