The Sheriff's Amnesiac Bride

“I haven’t said anything to Rosie about this yet,” the doctor continued. “Because I don’t know if it might spark a memory and cause her some pain. But both of you need to know that there should be someone who cares about her and should’ve missed her by now.”

Rosie sat forward in her chair. “What do you mean?”

“While I was examining you, I discovered you’re around two months’ pregnant.” The doc said it carefully, gently, but there was no way to make that news go down easy.

“No.” She put a hand to her belly. “Can’t be. How could I forget something like that?”

The doc went over to put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s possible that you didn’t realize you were pregnant before you lost your memory. Two months isn’t very far along. If you don’t start getting your memories or haven’t found a family by the time you’re feeling a little stronger, come on in and see me for prenatal instructions.

“And in the meantime, watch your diet. No caffeine. No alcohol, and definitely no smoking. My examination tells me you’ve never carried a baby to full term before, but I’m sure you won’t have any trouble. There are just some things you’ll need to know.”

“Yeah,” Rosie said. “Like who I am and who the baby’s father is.” She shot Jericho a rolled-eye smile.

It was such an intimate gesture. As though the two of them already shared some gigantic secret from the rest of the world. In that split second, her smile miracu-lously swept away one of the invisible shackles to his normal restraint.

He could almost hear the snap of an old, half-forgotten anguish relinquishing its hold on him.

With a competent smile, he offered her a helping hand at the elbow. “Let’s go. All of this will look better in the morning.”

She stood and he did something he hadn’t done in so long he could barely remember the last time. As they walked out of the doctor’s office, he pulled her closer and they walked arm in arm together toward the truck.

Chapter 3

The moment Rosie stepped into Jericho’s huge log-cabin home it seemed clear she’d made a mistake. Oh, the place was beautiful, with its handcrafted furnishings, sleek open spaces and heavy-beamed ceilings.

After taking a few steps past the wide front door, she spied a state-of-the-art kitchen, including dark granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances, that appeared prominently just beyond the stone fireplace.

Decorated in tans, browns and natural woods, the place certainly looked comfortable. And since Jericho was sheriff, it should be safe.

But where were the feminine touches? The walls held few decorations, save for a large fish mounted on a brass plaque and a couple of birds, or maybe they were ducks, stuffed and stuck on wooden planks. A bronze statue standing on a hand-hewed coffee table was the only other decoration she saw. Even the kitchen seemed stark and empty. This was definitely a man’s home. A single man.

“Uh,” she began. “Aren’t you married? Where’s your wife?” Why hadn’t she thought to ask that before she agreed to stay here?

“I’m not married.” He walked to the grand, airy kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “You want something to eat or drink? There isn’t much. I was, ah, supposed to be on my honeymoon tonight.”

She relaxed a bit. At least he had a girlfriend. “What happened? What stopped the honeymoon?”

He turned from the open fridge. “There was a shooting right outside the church. The wedding was called off.”

“Ouch.” She winced and slid onto one of the barstools at the counter. “I screwed it up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”

Leaving the refrigerator door standing open, Jericho crossed the kitchen and leaned over the counter in her direction. He laid a hand on her shoulder and the electric jolt his warmth caused against her skin both shocked and surprised her.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said. “Seems the bride-to-be was about to call the whole thing off. Temporarily, anyway. I’d bet she might even be grateful that you gave her the perfect excuse.” He took his hand away and stared at it, as if he too had felt the sizzle.

With his hand gone from her shoulder, Rosie decided she could almost breathe again. “You don’t sound very upset. Are you heartbroken?”

Turning his back, Jericho cleared his throat and went to the open fridge. “Naw. It was going to be one of those whata-you-call-’ems? Marriages of convenience. Macy Ward has been my best friend since we were kids. I volunteered to marry her and take over being the father to her out-of-control teenage son.”

He glanced around the kitchen and then back into the nearly empty refrigerator as though he had never seen them before. “But I’m not sure where I figured we would make a home together. This place isn’t set up for a wife and kid. I built it with my own hands, me and my dad, and I certainly don’t want to move out of it and go to town.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought the whole thing through well enough.”

Maybe it was because of her jumbled state of mind, but she was having trouble processing everything he’d said. “You mean you two don’t love each other but you were going to get married anyway? I didn’t know things like that really happened.” She shook her head. “Just so you could be a father to her son? Wow.”

What was that she’d been spouting? How would she know anything at all, let alone about marriage? Was she married? She didn’t feel like she was. Damn. The harder she thought, the hazier everything became. She must be more disoriented than she’d thought.

“Yeah, I guess that’s about right.” Jericho shrugged a shoulder. “You want tomato soup? I’ve got a can or two I can heat up and soda crackers to go with it.”

Was this guy for real? “Sure. Soup will be fine.” Maybe the whole thing was some terrible dream she’d been having. Any moment now she would wake up and find herself back to being…

Nope. The best she could do was to remember she’d been running for her life and had fallen at the feet of one deadly gorgeous, single Texas sheriff.

And tonight she would have to adjust herself to a whole new persona. Mother-to-be. Without so much as a smattering of memory of her own mother.

Not to mention, without having the first clue as to who the baby’s father might be.

Hmm. All that might be more than she could handle for one night. Maybe she’d be better off doing what the doctor said and just go with the flow. At least for tonight.

So far she’d learned this Sheriff Jericho guy might be too good to be true. Marrying the best friend he didn’t love in order to give her son a father? Good for him. And by the same token, that ought to mean she wouldn’t have to worry about him forcing her to do anything against her will. Mister Knight in Shining Armor must be the ultimate good guy. Who woulda thunk a man like that really existed?

Rosie tried to let her mind go blank as she watched Jericho fumble around in the kitchen. But she couldn’t get the idea of him being unattached out of her head.

As she looked down at her left hand, it made her chuckle to think that she would know about married women wearing wedding rings on the third finger of their left hands but she didn’t know whether or not she was married herself. Her fingers bore no rings at all. But that didn’t tell the whole story. What if she’d taken off her rings? What if they’d been stolen?

Sighing in frustration, she went back to studying the man.

Then wished she hadn’t.

Wide, muscular shoulders flexed as he reached for dishes in the cabinets. His dark blond hair and sexy hazel eyes made him as handsome as any movie star. Her glance moved down along his torso as it narrowed to lean hips. She forced herself to turn away from the sight of his fantastically tight butt. But she didn’t completely lose sight of his long arms and even longer legs. The whole picture was developing into a hero, all lean and formidable. Like the sheriff in a white hat from an old-time movie.

The good guy. The sexy good guy.

He set a bowl of steaming soup in front of her and sat across the counter with his own. “This must be tough on you.”

Heartfelt concern shone from those deep hazel eyes as he gazed intently in her direction. The more she watched them, the darker the irises became. Soon they were steel gray, and suddenly sensual. Hot.

She quickly took a sip of the soup and nearly burned her tongue. “Uh, yeah. It’s hard not knowing where I came from or who I am. I wish I knew what those men were after.”

Jericho lifted the spoon to his mouth and blew as he studied the beautiful woman across the counter. He was having trouble keeping his mind from wandering. Wandering off to things he would love to do to her, for her, with her.

Her stunning eyes had lost that wild, crazed look, so he’d been studying the rest. The body seemed made for sex. At five-foot-ten or so, she wasn’t quite his height. But she also wasn’t a dainty little thing, one who might break if he didn’t watch his step. Somewhat on the thin side, she looked like a model. But unlike the models he’d seen on magazines, her lean body just made those fantastic breasts seem all the more voluptuous. And those legs. Don’t get him started on those long, shapely legs. Even encased in designer jeans, he could tell how they would look naked—wrapped around his waist and in the heat of passion.

The mere sight of a good-looking woman had never done things like this to his libido in the past. He couldn’t imagine why she was so different. But the why didn’t seem to matter all that much. She just was, and he had to find a way to stop thinking about her like that.

She was pregnant. No doubt she belonged to someone—somewhere.

“Is the soup okay?” he asked, trying to push aside the unwanted thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I settle you down for the night?”