Escape for New Year: Amnesiac Ex, Unforgettable Vows / One Night with Prince Charming / Midnight Kiss, New Year Wish

The inevitable had happened. He’d kissed her. Or rather she’d kissed him. And he hadn’t stopped her. But for a brief moment of “what the hell?” he hadn’t even tried.

He’d mulled over how it would feel should he relent. Strange? Pleasant? Knock-your-socks-off fantastic? Check box three. And now, God help him, he couldn’t help thinking about later, because Laura was going to want far more than lip service tonight.

“I was thinking I might come up and see you tomorrow,” Grace said down the line while Laura made herself comfortable in one of the winged armchairs positioned beside a window view in her office.

“I’d like that, Grace, but Bishop and I are going into Sydney. The ballet’s on.”

“You’re going out? Do you think that’s wise?”

“Oh, Gracie, not you, too!” How many times did she need to tell people she was fine? A bit of a foggy memory didn’t count.

“Learn to live with it,” Grace returned. “I care about you.”

Laura laughed softly. “I got that.”

“Will Bishop be staying in town?”

“Tomorrow night? Why do you ask?”

“He’s a busy man. I thought he might want to stay down rather than drive out again Monday morning to the office.”

“I don’t think so.” Laura concentrated on the chess piece, thinking back. No, she was certain. “He didn’t say he would.”

“How is Bishop?”

Laura put on a suspicious tone. “Why this interest in Bishop all of a sudden?”

“Just making sure he’s treating my little sister right.”

“Always and always.”

“Really?”

A prickle of annoyance rolled up Laura’s spine and she held the receiver tighter. “Grace, I know you thought we married too soon. And maybe you were right,” she admitted, knowing she’d thought the same herself yesterday in the hospital. “Maybe we should have waited a little longer to iron things out. But we love each other. That’s what gets a couple through.”

“I take it you’re going to tell him you don’t want to adopt?”

“I brought it up yesterday.” And again today. “We’re going to work it out, Grace.”

Her sister sighed down the line. “Oh, sweetheart, I hope you’re right.”

Six

Laura cooked a roast dinner with all the trimmings and rosemary cream gravy. When Bishop took himself off to his office after dessert, Laura steeled herself against disappointment. He was avoiding her. Or, rather, avoiding that touchy subject.

But as she finished packing the dishwasher and headed off for a shower before bed, she put herself in her husband’s shoes. Analytical. Methodical. He was divorcing himself from her until he thought she was completely well, as well as settle in his own mind the conundrum of adoption versus conception. If he thought she needed rest and he needed to be left alone, she would accommodate his wishes.

Up to a point.

As she’d told Grace, they were going to work this problem out. And if he didn’t want to talk … Well, she’d simply have to grab and hold his attention some other way.

Before her shower, Laura removed the bandage from her head. She fingered the raise and shadow of a bruise in the gilt-framed vanity mirror. Barely a scratch. No sign of a headache. Quite honestly, she thought she ought to have done more damage given the six-foot distance off the bridge to the river rocks she must have landed on.

After a long, hot shower, she took care drying off, dabbing Bishop’s favorite talc powder in all the right places, then slipping into the negligee she’d worn on their honeymoon in Greece. She mustn’t have worn it since then. She’d found the mauve silk pushed to the back of her drawer behind other negligees.

Moving into the bedroom, she glanced at the clock: 8:43. She filled her lungs and, confident, sashayed down the hall.

But a few moments later she discovered that Bishop wasn’t in his office. She found him out on the eastern porch, leaning against a column, seemingly counting the stars, and given tonight’s luminous night sky, there must be more than a trillion.

Crossing to stand behind him, she filed her hands around his waist and set her cheek against the broad expanse of his back. His unique scent filled her lungs, burrowed under her skin. Her eyes drifting shut, she circled her nose over his shirt between his shoulder blades and imprinted the smell … the moment … onto her memory forever.

He must have heard her coming. He didn’t move when she embraced him. Now, however, as her fingers trailed up his shirtfront and her palms ironed over his ribs, his hands covered hers and tightened around them.

“It’s chilly out here,” he said in that rich, smooth voice she loved.

She grinned against his back. “I hadn’t noticed.” Then she twined around and stood between her husband and the view of slumbering mountains. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off by placing a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to hear about doctor’s orders. I’m not cold.” She threaded her arms around his middle. “Not while you’re near.”

As a breeze rustled through the leaves, in the shadows he focused on her brow. “You’ve taken your bandage off.”

“I’m hoping to take off more than that.” She found his hand and shaped his palm over her shoulder until the strap of her negligee slipped down. Then she angled her head to press a lingering kiss on the underside of his wrist. “I love you so much, Bishop,” she whispered as her lips brushed his flesh. “So much … sometimes it hurts.” She dropped tender kisses on his palm then on each fingertip in turn. “How long has it been since we made love?”

He exhaled. “Too long,” he said.

Arching her neck back, still holding his hand, she skimmed his fingers down her throat. “I feel as if you haven’t held me in an age.”

Without her help, his hand continued over her shoulder then down the line of her back until it reached the rise of her behind. Laura sighed as the million sparks zapping through her blood caught light. Humming out a smile she grazed her lips over the hot hollow at the base of his throat and placed his other hand on her breast.

“Bishop, take me to bed.”

As she pressed softly into him, familiar, simmering heat condensed high in his thighs.

Bishop grit his teeth but, although he knew what he ought to do, he didn’t release her. His hold—on her breasts, on her behind—only increased while in his gut he felt an almighty battle raging, a war so fierce, the pull of yes-no threatened to tear him apart. If he did as she asked … if he took her to bed … they would each win and both lose. They wanted this, they’d always been electric together in the bedroom, but this time there’d be a heavy price to pay.

Unless her memories of that time before were lost forever.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Bishop searched her eyes and challenged himself again to do what Laura would want him to if she could only remember. But all he could see was pure clean love glistening in her eyes, pouring from her face. At this moment, she truly loved and believed in him. If he made an excuse this time it would only hurt her. And yet, if he complied …

Breaking, Bishop groaned and brought her closer.

What the hell. If she got her memory back during the night, she could hang him in the morning.

His head dropped lower and as his mouth claimed hers, he swept her up in his arms and headed inside. When he reached the foot of their bed, he released her lips and set her gently on her feet. While his pulse hammered through his veins, his gaze drank in the heavenly sight of her standing in the moonlight flooding in through the bedroom’s ten-foot-high windows.

She raised her arms and, understanding, he folded the light fabric up in his hands and eased the negligee over her head. Before the silk and lace hit the floor, his head had lowered over hers again. He felt her dissolve in his arms as she happily, completely surrendered.

Laura trembled inside and out as her hands wandered over the granite of his chest and muscled sides. Then, only half aware, lost in the kiss, she was helping him tug the shirttails from his belt, unbuttoning the front, winding the fabric off his shoulders, down his arms. His kiss was so skillful, thoughtful, and at the same time, demanding. An avalanche of stirring sensations … of memories … rained down and filtered through her. When his mouth left hers to feather a tingling path over the sensitive curve that joined shoulder to neck, the energy, already so strong, multiplied. Intensified.

Laura’s head rocked back.