A Husband To Remember

His jaw tightened and he hesitated for a heartbeat. “It seemed like the thing to do.”

“Why?”

He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and walked to the door. Pausing, he sent her a look that cut right to her soul. “I married you ’cause you wanted it so damned much.”

“Noble of you.”

“You really don’t remember me, do you? ’Cause if you did, you’d know I was anything but noble.” He sauntered away, leaving her feeling raw and wounded as his footsteps faded down the hallway.

She let out a long, heartrending sigh. Everything was such a jumble. Nothing made any sense. Think, Nikki, think! Trent McKenzie is not your husband. He can’t be. Then who the hell is he and what does he want? Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced her mind to roll backward. He’d told her she lived in Seattle, and that felt right. He’d mentioned she’d worked for a newspaper—the Seattle Observer—and that, too, seemed to fit. But nothing else—not the whirlwind romance, not the quick civil ceremony for a wedding, not the hostile man himself—seemed like it would be a part of her life.

So who was he and why was he insisting that they were married? She tried to force her memory, her fists curling in frustration, her mind as blank and stark as the sheets that covered her.

In frustration, she gave up and stared out the window to the blue sky and leaves that moved in the breeze. Maybe she was trying too hard. Maybe she should take the doctor’s advice and let her memory return slowly, bit by bit.

And what about Trent?

Oh, Lord!

“Señorita Carrothers!”

The woman’s voice startled her. She turned her head toward the doorway and found a pretty girl with round cheeks and short black hair. Her smile faded slightly as she noticed the wounds on Nikki’s face.

“¡Dios! Are you all right? We, at the hotel, were so worried—”

“Do I know you?”

“Sí, when you register—”

“Wait a minute.” Nikki held up a hand but was restrained by her IV. She tried to think, to remember. “You’re saying I registered as Carrothers. Señorita Carrothers?” Nikki asked, her heartbeat quickening. This was the first proof that Trent had lied.

“Sí.”

“Was I alone or was my husband with me?”

“Your husband?” A perplexed look crossed the girl’s face.

From somewhere down the hallway, rapid-fire Spanish was directed at the girl in the doorway, and Nurse Vásquez, her guardian feathers obviously ruffled, appeared. Nikki couldn’t understand the conversation but could tell that the nurse was dressing the girl down.

“Wait,” Nikki said when she realized that Vásquez was sending away her one link to the past. “What’s your name? Where do you work?” But already the girl was out of sight, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. “Please, call her back!” she begged, desperate for more information about herself.

“I’m sorry, Señora McKenzie. Strict orders from the doctor. You are to see no one but family members.”

Nikki started to climb out of the bed. “But—”

“Oh, señora, please. You must rest.... Do not move.”

“Don’t let her leave!” Nikki ordered, but it was too late. The girl was gone and Nikki was left with a more defined mistrust of the man posing as her husband. As the nurse took her blood pressure, Nikki said, “Can’t you at least give me her name?”

“I do not know it.”

“Why was she here?”

“A visitor to Señorita Martínez, I believe.”

“Please, ask Señorita her name and where she works.” The nurse seemed about to decline, but Nikki grabbed her sleeve, her fingers desperate. “Please, Nurse Vásquez. It’s important.”

“Dios,” Nurse Vásquez muttered under her breath. “I will see what I can do.”

“Gracias,” Nikki said, crossing her fingers that Trent wouldn’t get wind of her request. For the moment, she would keep her conversation with the woman to herself.

* * *

Within the hour, she heard his footsteps and braced herself for another confrontation. He appeared in the doorway with two cups of coffee. “Peace offering,” he said, setting a cup on the stand near the bed. Then he resumed his position near the window. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’d like to lie and tell you I’m fine, but I’m not.”

He lifted a shoulder and took a long swallow. “I know. I wish I could change that.”

“You don’t have to spend day and night here.”

“Sure I do.”

“I’ll be all right—”

“Wouldn’t want my bride to get lonely.” He offered her a sly grin, then sipped from his paper cup, letting the steam warm his face.

“I wouldn’t be.”

“I was hoping that being around me would jog your memory.”

Slowly, she shook her head. “Don’t be offended, but...I don’t see how I would ever have wanted to marry you. True, I can’t remember, but you don’t really seem my type.”

“I wasn’t.” He curled one knee up on the ledge and stared through the glass. “You were used to dating buttondown types.”

“So why would I take up with you?” she asked.

“The challenge,” he said, his eyes twinkling seductively.

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” His lips turned down at the corners. “You’ve always been a risk-taker, Nikki. A woman who wasn’t afraid to do whatever it was she felt she had to. Your job at the Observer is a case in point.”

“My job?” she asked.

“Mmm. You’re a reporter, and a damned good one.”

For some strange reason, she glowed under his compliment, but she told herself to be wary. Instinctively she knew McKenzie wasn’t the kind of man who praised someone without an ulterior motive. Her shoulder muscles bunched.